#wing Damn four letters off

[lethalleangue]

day 497

[callofdudes]

I made more because... Because! @aidenlydia again, this is their au but I'm eating it like fish sticks on a plate of mac 'n cheese. Getting this scene out of my head because I love them and I have nothing else to do waiting for dinner.

More Viking SoapGhost.

Ghost watched, his eyes unmoving as John wrote with his charcoal wood pen on some old pages. Geez it must have been four pages with three drawings and eight life updates.

Finally John signed the bottom of the pages and rolled them up with a string.

"You done??" Ghost asked flatly when He finished.

"Yes, now I need these delivered back to Roach."

"You say that like I'm going to do it."

John looks at him, nodding. "You are."

Ghost sighs and groans. "I'm not your dumb messenger bird." He grumbles, shifting closer and standing. John pulls his cloak tighter and chuckles softly. "Actually, you are."

He holds out the folded papers to a pouty Simon. "Go on, shouldn't be long now if you get to it." John encouraged.

"Fine, but I'm bringing back a tab worth my while for it." He grumbled, looking up at the big man.

"Mhm, and I'll happily pay."

Ghost shifted, black wings flapping in the air, snatching the papers between his talons. He squawked at John, who could only smile softly, barely noticable.

And watched him head off. Simon didn't actually mind doing errands for John. If anything the combined stretching of his wings and the inevitable praise he was going to get for completing the assignment would be worth it.

Oh yes indeed.

John kept the fire lit, watching the open snowy land as Ghost's small form had left his sight. He poked the fire, watching the embers flock to the wind of the cave mouth, then over at Ghosts bedroll.

He sighed softly, placing his hand on it, noticing a stray feather stuck to the inside. He chuckled softly, picking it up and twirling it around.

"Be safe, Ghost."

Ghost did as he promised, he made the incredible eight hour journey in the shitty weather back to their small village. Fucking between houses to the main hall.

Stopping at the doors, his feet hit the ground, heading up the stairs and pushing the knocker open.

The large door swing, creaking when he entered. A head poked up, followed by a little smile. "Well well well, hunting season is barely started and you're already back."

Simon rolled his eyes softly, coming over and dropping the roll of papers. "From MacTavish."

"What is it??" Roach asked, undoing the twine.

"Hell if I know, I may be a crow but I do not snoop."

Roach gave him a look, and Simon sighed. "Ok not this time. But I was damn curious."

Roach chuckled softly. "Alright, I'll look these over, you go get some rest. Probably had a long trip."

"Well I got permission to run up a tab so I'm gonna go get my arse drunker than a bat in honey." He flipped the end of his cloth mask back over his shoulder to keep it secure. Heading back to the door and out to go get absolutely hammered.

And you don't want to see a shifter drunk, it's not always pretty. But Ghost has been starting to learn that eighteen drinks is when John has to cradle the poor crow with his talons straight out and wings a mess as he takes him home.

And of course, by the time Ghost had slept off the drunken night Roach had something new written up for him. Returning to the hall and taking the papers.

"Will you be alright to fly?? You look a little..."

"Mmm I'll be fine!" Ghost mumbled, heading from the hall and taking off again. Damn messenger bird. John better congratulate him at least or he's never running him these stupid errands ever again.

It was late when he returned, but he saw the familiar smoke and a crackling fire. Flapping his wings and stretching out his talons when he saw a dark figure among the casting, wobbling shadows.

He latched onto John's arm guard, crooning his neck and fluffing his feathers before tucking them in.

John noticed the letters and gently took them, noticing the scratchy pen writing of Roach.

"Thank you Ghost, you've done very well."

Simon melted, making a little noise and hopping up his arm, craning his head to peck at John's beard.

"Yes, good work." John put the papers down to run his large, calloused thumb over Simon's small head, gently smoothing the feathers down.

Oooh yeah, this is so worth it.

He fluffs his feathers, nipping at his hand when he attempted to pull away. "Alright then, if you insist... Get comfy."

Simon cawed at him. He wouldn't be getting comfortable. Hopping onto the ground and shifting, noticing his bedroll slightly closer.

"You miss me or something?"

"Only warming the place where my cold heart will go after I see that tab." He mumbles as he turns his attention mostly onto the letters.

Simon smiles a tad, laying down and getting comfy. He looks around, then at the fire, watching the flames dance. His head slowly coming down, resting against John's thigh.

It was hesitant, but then again peaceful. The silence only filled by the crackling fire. Simon's head feeling a mess from the last of the alcohol and the flight until Johns hand gently touched his head.

He didn't react, keeping himself stiff as Johns thumb absentmindedly stroked his hair. Eyes still glued on the letters, reading them through.

Simon relented to relaxing, curling up and pulling John's cloak over him slightly. His eyelids felt heavy, and the soothing warmth of John's hand slowly had him coming undone.

Letting himself fall asleep there, letting out soft breaths.

John's gaze finally flickered over to his partner, humming softly. "Good work, Simon. Can always count on you."

He put the papers aside and leaned back, watching the entrance of their camp as Simon slept. He would keep watch, he'd gotten enough of his own rest for now.

It's shorter but hell that first photo had me in a coma. Yes, I am insane, yes, I will make more, respectfully if I'm allowed to keep gobbling up these meals...

[shiny-kaibernyte]

If you're taking requests, I love Drayton (favorite Dragon boy) and as a Fairy trainer, I'm super curious what the romantic (and friend) dynamics would be with him. So, I guess I'm asking for Drayton x Fairy reader content? 😅🩷

This gives me opposites attract vibes. The sweet Fairy type dynamic compared to Drayton being Drayton is a vibe I can get behind!

Pixie Wings | Drayton x Reader (Fairy specialist)

Pokémon Scarlett and Violet Indigo Disk DLC Spoilers ahead!

After growing up together traveling the unnova region side by side; when Drayton moved away to blueberry academy, he felt a small part of him was left behind. But fate seemed to have other ideas when a familiar face shows up to brighten his day.

Warnings: Lots of fluff with a little bit of Lacey hate

SPOILER WARNING: Spoilers for The Indigo Disk Ending

Why is Alcremie so cute? Like look at that lil guy, lil buddy so happy to be here 💗

Today was the day, the day you would travel to the blueberry academy. The school upon the sea! For the longest time, you had spent all of your time inside a stupid office building of a school. So when one of your closest friends and yourself both received letters of enrolment to the school; the stars aligned again! Though that didn’t stop the waves of nerves rushing over you. Seems you weren’t the only one feeling them, either.

Sitting on the plane, the nerves settled deeper and deeper in your gut as the mixture of excitement and dread flooded your every thought. Questions rolling around like the ocean tide below you, covering your mind like a cloud does the sun.

“What's got you so quiet?” A voice piped up from your side, “Nerves getting the better of you?”

With a deep sigh, you scrunch your noise, fingers placed on the bridge of it. “Sorry, sorry, I just keep thinking about everything that's going to happen when we arrive. I've never gone to a place like this. Sylveon was acting up all morning too, she isn’t much of a flying fan.”

“I get that, Mimikyu is the same, I can feel his ball shaking in my pocket.” A laugh escaped the both of you as the small talk wafted the clouds away from your mind. “I know you are going to be fine! You're the best damn fairy type trainer I know, and I know a lot of them! I went to a prep school for two years. You don’t get more fairy type than a blonde teen obsessed with make up.”

“That is very true.” The smile on your lips grew bigger as you leaned back into the plane seat, looking out the window to see your destination below. “I wish I could tell Drayton about this…”

“I know…”

Time went by quickly. Upon arriving at the school, a fellow Fairy type user gave you a tour of the building and the terrarium to boot. Teaching you all about the BB League and the other clubs around the school. A nice bonding session as well with your mutual feelings on fairy type Pokémon. She was nice, her outfit was cute too, though there was something you didn't quite get along with about Lacey. “And that about sums it up! To recap, the terrarium is split into four sections, the savannah biome is where the school entrance is! If you are a battler, the BB league is located inside to the right of the stairs. The elite four bases are spread out throughout the terrarium. Be careful when you go for the dragon trial, he, um, tends to get a little full of himself. Nothing new though. Just be advised to not fuel his ego any more than it already is.”

“Will do, thank you again for this. We look forward to seeing you at the trials!” You pipe up, disregarding the comment she made about her ‘friend’. With a small wave, Lacey spun on her heel and headed off for the coastal biome.

“Well, that was something.” Your friend piped up, trying not to laugh about how awkward that last part was. “Considering she calls everyone in the BB league club her friend, the way she speaks about the Dragon elite four members says otherwise. I mean she didn’t even use his name? How can we go off of toothpaste for a name?”

“I don’t know, but I'm sure we’ll meet him. Who knows, maybe it's a sibling rivalry sort of thing between them. Kinda felt like it to me.” You question, attempting to come up with any reason she may have been particularly pokey about one member and not the rest.

The sound of a poke ball stopped your conversation dead in its tracks. Your Archaludon had decided he was bored with the conversation and wanted attention now. Sylveon may have been your first Pokémon, but Archaludon held a special place in your heart; being the only reminder of Drayton you had. It was his Duraladon after all, a parting gift he gave you. It may not have been a fairy type, but that didn’t stop you from putting a fairy tera on it. Just for argument's sake.

Sitting down on a random rock, you quietly feed Archaludon a poffin, keeping him entertained whilst your friend rummages through her bag, finally zipping it back up once she was happy with whatever she did. “Well, I'm a head inside. Lacey describing the science club got me all giddy. Joltik agrees with me.” A small chirp followed your friend's voice as her tiny joltik popped out from her hood. How you didn’t notice it this whole time is beyond you. With a silent wave, you watch her walk into the distance. You weren’t alone for long though

“Two new students in one day and no one told me!?” A voice chimed up from along the beach. A boy, taller than others you had seen during the tour. His hair was spiked up at the front in one big swoop, kind of like, toothpaste. Just like Lacey had said. Though you could only see the back of him. From his outfit, he definitely fits the bill of dragon trainer. 

That's when it hit you. Something about that hair seemed so familiar to you, and it hit you like a tauros. “Do my eyes deceive me!? Drayton? Drayton!! I can’t believe it!”

His neck snapped so fast, it was a surprise he didn’t give himself whiplash. The sound of your voice being music to his ears. Seems his feet began moving on their own; he didn’t even register he was moving till he was already hugging you tighter than a mousehold. “How are you here? What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that!” You respond, wrapping your arms around him tighter, still trying to comprehend the fact he really was there with you. “You moved to the other side of Unova!”

Drayton’s laugh coated your ears, causing your already beaming smile to brighten even more. “Well I didn’t say exactly where, probably should have mentioned the ocean school part huh.”

“Yeah, I've missed you so much, Drayton. Things just haven't been the same without your lively presence.” He had no response to that, only a simple hum as he moved away from you, his hands on your shoulders, a smile on his face. 

That's when your entire team all decided to join Archaludon outside. Sylveon comes out first, running around Drayton’s legs, her blue coat fluffing up with every pass she makes. Your Archaludon was already watching the scene, if it had a tail it would be wagging. The sight of his old trainer and his current trainer looking so happy made the bridge happier than a yamper. Vanilla Alcremi came out not long after Sylveon, doing a little happy dance alongside your Hattereen. Silently your white florges admired the situation, being the newest of the team she simply watched, enjoying the reunion that was unfolding.

“Seems you were not the only one who missed me!” Drayton chuckled, running his hand along Archaludon’s side.

“Would seem that way. When Lacey described you earlier, you were not the person I pictured.” You admitted thinking back to what Lacey said.

Drayton smiled and pulled you into his side to allow the Archaludon to nuzzle into him, his arm around your shoulder. “Ah don’t pay Lacey any mind, she isn’t too fond of my fighting style, she thinks my attitude is unprofessional. Her words, not mine.”

“Well I think your fighting style is great, even if I can beat you no problem.” A cocky grin painted on your face, teasing him.

“Oh is that so!? How about we put that to the test, then?” Drayton offered his signature smirk appearing

[project-isles]

More incorrect aga quotes

freddy: What’s it like being tall?

chica: Is it nice?

goldie: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards?

bonnie: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get what they want.

bonnie: sees someone doing something stupid

bonnie: What an idiot.

bonnie: realizes it's goldie

bonnie: Wait, that's MY idiot!

goldie: Guys, I have a question.

freddy: kys ❤️

goldie: I love you too.

chica: Ah, yes. Siblings.

bonnie: How are we supposed to put a tracker the size of a penny on goldie without them noticing?

freddy: Hey, goldie, I bet you 5 bucks that you can't swallow this penny.

goldie: takes and swallows tracker Pay up, loser.

bonnie: …

bonnie: Someone take me to art museums and make out with me.

goldie: But they said not to touch the masterpieces.

bonnie: Well somebody's got to pin the artwork to the wall.

chica, on a walkie talkie: This is chica, those idiots are f***ing around in the East wing again.

goldie, sweating: bonnie, there’s something I need to ask you-

bonnie: Finally! You’re proposing!

goldie: How’d you know?

bonnie: goldie, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

bonnie: I even picked it up once.

freddy: What do you have?

goldie: A KNIFE!

freddy: NO!

foxy: Are you an ‘arr’ pirate or a ‘yo ho ho’ pirate?

TB: I’m a ‘I’m not paying $600 for photoshop’ pirate.

freddy: Oh, they left the bowl out?

freddy: It says, “Take two pieces of candy.”

goldie: Nobody around though…

goldie grabs the entire bowl and runs off with it

freddy: NO—

goldie: Oh gosh I wish I got more sleep I only got six hours!

mangle: Six? I only got three!

mari: You guys got sleep?

freddy, comes stumbling out of their room and grabs a jug of coffee before saying: What year is it??

freddy: Just be yourself. Say something nice.

goldie: Which one? I can't do both.

goldie: Reading a letter

mari: Well, what does it say?

goldie: It’s a confession letter. It turns out Finn killed my pet rock.

foxy: Go to sleep or you'll hate yourself in the morning!

Freddy: I'll hate myself in the morning regardless.

chica: When's the last time you slept?

freddy: Uh… a few days ago, I think.

chica: A few- how many?!

freddy: Uh… starts counting on fingers I need more fingers…

chica: What you need is sleep!

freddy: I'm feeling it! What am I feeling? Death, probably.

freddy: What is wrong with you?

goldie: Many, many things…

goldie: And most of them are your f***ing fault.

mari: Heyyy freddy, how’s your… drink??

freddy: What do you mean drink? It’s coffee.

mari: You sure?? Looks to coffee maker

freddy: Looks to coffee maker

Cement sitting beside the coffee maker

freddy:…I’m on my third f***ing drink right now, I should be dead.

mari: Hey, goldie, where are you going?

goldie: Well, it depends. When I die, probably hell.

goldie: But right now I’m going to McDonald’s.

mangle: Comparing goldie and freddy is like comparing apples and oranges.

goldie: We’re both unique in our own ways?

mangle: Apples are superior in every way and all oranges should be eliminated.

freddy: Which one of us is the orange?

goldie: Good morning. As you begin your day, remember that violence is always an option and often the answer.

finn:

goldie:

finn: …Please, go back to bed.

goldie: closes a cabinet

a crash is heard behind the cabinet door

mari: What was that?

goldie: The sound of someone else's problem.

goldie: You f****** don’t know about my knife stick. It’s a knife taped to a stick and it’s the ultimate weapon.

freddy: Spear.

goldie: BLOCKED.

mangle: Why are you two always out during rainstorms?

freddy: It’s so peaceful and refreshing. I love the smell of rain.

goldie: foxy bet me I couldn’t get struck by lighting, but they’re WRONG.

bonnie and freddy playing minecraft

bonnie: Oh no, oh no, oh no-

freddy: What’s wrong?

bonnie: I did a thing.

freddy: You regret the thing you dID-

bonnie: screams

freddy: What the f*** did you do- sees mass of aggravated Piglin Damn it-

bonnie: screams again

goldie: I prevented a murder today.

bonnie: Really? That’s amazing! How did you do that?

goldie: Self-control.

freddy: GET BACK HERE YOU DUMB F***!

goldie: LET ME RUN FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS!

[shy-urban-hobbit]

If you're still taking prompts, can I suggest ♡ "stay away from me" from the were-vamp au, with Lambert caught unprepared for the full moon and fearing he will lose control of the beast, if you want to <3

😁😁😁 I love this au so much!

Lambert was driven to all fours by the expected but still sudden pain just as they reached the treeline. Even after almost a century his body starting to remould and reconfigure itself was something he'd never get used to. Fuck human literature for making it out to be something which took mere seconds. It was a long, torturous process: every second feeling like an hour as your entire body feels like it's been engulfed in hellfire both inside and out as bones and muscles tear and break, every sense trying its damned hardest to torture you as they danced along the fine line between too dull and too sharp. He'd known ones younger than him who had attempted to tear out their own teeth and nails or gouge their eyes out during their first transformations in an effort to do something to try and make it stop.

He'd forgotten. A werewolf who'd fucking forgotten it was a full moon tonight!!

He wanted to blame Aiden for his current predicament but even his pain-addled mind knew that that was unfair. Nobody had made him accept his vampiric friends invitation, but after nothing for two months thanks to Aiden's itchy feet (wings?) followed by the letter saying that he was staying in the neighbouring kingdom for the foreseeable and for Lambert to send a reply back with the messenger if/when he wanted to meet... Lambert may or may not have forgotten to double check his calendar in his haste to scrawl a reply saying his was free to meet at the Inn Aiden mentioned at twilight in two days time (usually awakened just as the sun dipped below the horizon, the vampire always did enjoy the apparent 'grey area' and likened it to humans who enjoy rising to watch the sunrise, taking advantage of the cover provided by fully lengthened shadows and the rapidly encroaching dark to bask in the last dregs of daylight).

They'd enjoyed a grand total of 30 minutes together before realisation had slammed into the both of them and Aiden had ushered him back out through the door before taking off running, trusting Lambert to follow him and not caring that both of them were moving a little too quickly for what could be considered normal.

He would have laughed at the situation if it wasn't absolutely, balls to the wall, horrifyingly, horrifically bad.

Having never transformed away from pack territory before there was no way of knowing how the wolf would react, and Lambert could already feel that its interest had been piqued in a way he really did not like. This was going to be an absolute fucking bloodbath one way or another and he had no idea how to stop it. He wanted - needed - pack.

"Lambert, can you stand? We need to keep moving, just a little further in."

A loud, low, canine whine echoed through the dark before Lambert could stop it from escaping.

"Leave." He bit out, the word slightly slurred and muffled whilst his new teeth were still slightly too large for his mouth forcing his slowly elongating jaws apart.

"No." Came the instant reply. The urge to pounce, to grab and tear and bite surged up inside him as he felt Aiden take his elbow.

"Get away from me!" He half screamed, half roared. He was pretty sure the only two words which ended up being coherent were "Get away" but that would still get the message across and Aiden would be wise enough to run. He wasn't sure he'd be capable of forming an argument - let alone voicing one - for much longer.

No such luck. Aiden gave a catlike hiss in response before throwing Lambert's arm over his shoulder and hauling him to his feet, staggering under the unexpected weight of Lambert's extra muscle, "I'm not leaving you like this in unfamiliar territory. I know somewhere we can go, just try not to go feral on me for a little bit longer. Count to one hundred or some shit."

Lambert didn't know where Aiden was taking him, all he knew was that at some point the vampire ended up more or less having to bodily drag him as it became too slow and painful for him to continue walking upright. All of his concentration went towards keeping the beast at bay; trying to ignore all of the unfamiliar noises and smells and how tantalisingly close and accessible Aiden's soft belly was until he felt the vampire lower him to the ground, at which point his mind became blank static as pure, base instinct took over.

Lambert's entire body ached as the feeling started to return to it. He forced himself to take deeper breaths, wincing as his lungs responded with stabs of pain in protest before running through the rest of his checklist, starting from his toes and working upwards. No aches or pains that felt too serious and full movement: always a positive. Finally, he forced his eyes open, not recognising his surroundings.

It looked to be some sort of cave, he got up to unsteadily, brushing off the remaining rags of his clothes as he began to look around curiously. Deep gouges which were recent enough to have only been caused by him littered every single wall alongside an opening which Aiden must have dragged him through last night as it appeared be the only way in or out. Wide enough for a humanoid to pass through but too narrow for his wolf when fully transformed. Lambert smiled to himself, holding a hand out in the weak stream of sunlight it was letting in. Smart man.

Wait...Sunlight.

Lambert's smile dropped and his innards turned to liquid as he hurriedly scrambled through to the outside, not caring about his nakedness.

"Aiden!" He yelled, turning in a rapid circle as he searched, eyes wide despite them screaming at him to close them again in their post transformation sensitivity, "Aiden!!"

"Over here."

Lambert had missed the cloaked figure the first time. Hunched in the narrow sliver of shade against the rock face as they were, they were almost invisible. Exhausted green eyes met his from under the hood with a tired smile.

"...What the fuck are you doing sitting out in daylight?!"

Aiden shrugged, "I told you I wasn't leaving you alone. Don't worry, it's only about an hour passed dawn. I've never been sure how long the effects of transformations linger for so I was going to join you in another hour or so and just hope you were more you than wolf."

"And if I wasn't?"

The silence that followed was heavy, they both knew the answer. By that point Aiden would have been fighting his own instincts for hours. Vampiric rest after all more closely resembled death than sleep and could only be fought for so long after sunrise. An exhausted vampire would be no match for an aggressive werewolf.

"Get the fuck in here." Lambert growled, making to head back into the cave.

Aiden following with a tired shuffle and making sure to keep to the shadows and removing the cloak once he was safely inside and holding out to Lambert, "You need it more than me at this point I think."

Lambert accepted it, wrapping it around himself before sitting against the wall and pulling a spluttering Aiden down into his lap, tucking the other man's head under his chin, "You made sure I didn't do something horrendous last night, least I can do is give you somewhere a little better than the floor to sleep."

"Hmm. You do have a nice lap," he gave a little wiggle as he snuggled deeper into Lambert's chest, eyes already closed, "Comfy."

Lambert huffed a laugh, "Good to know. Some reunion, huh?"

Aiden didn't reply, already quite literally dead to the world.

[blakelysco-pilot]

oooh those prompts are so cute bestie!! I’d love to see 64 & 74 for Ev and Val, and 52 & 87 for Rosie and Jo?

Prompts from this list; ask box is, as always, open chickies! 💗

More of everyone’s favorite pilots & their sweethearts under the cut

Ev & Val

64. “Are you ticklish?”

74. 74. “Don’t let go.”

With the band playing on long into the night, and the Silver Wings Club full of chatter, no one had even heard the rain battering down on the roof. The rain itself wasn’t uncommon on base, but at near midnight after a few drinks, it seemed to stop everyone in their tracks.

“Damn; wasn’t expecting that.” Ev sighed, shrugging off his jacket.

“It’s pouring, why are you taking off your jacket?”

“To keep you dry,” Ev looked down at Val as he draped it over her shoulders. “I’m a gentleman, remember baby?”

“How could I ever forget.” She grinned, slipping her arms into the sleeves, and watching as they fell straight down past her hands, engulfing her.

“So cute,” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Now come on, let’s see how quick I can get you back to your rack.”

“Wouldn’t mind stealing a jeep right about now.” She grumbled, pushing the sleeve of her right arm up so she could take his hand.

“Oh now she wants to steal a jeep!”

“Come on,” Val pinched his waist, watching as he jumped from where he was standing. It couldn’t be. She pinches his waist all the time. “Ev, what was that?”

“What was what?”

“Are you ticklish?!”

“No…”

“You are!”

“I’m not!”

To prove her point again, she pinched his waist, and he jumped just the same as before.

“How come when I do this while we’re dancing you don’t get all squirmy?”

“Cause I’m wearing my jacket,” he grumbled. “I don’t feel it as much, but I always know you’re there.”

“Oh honey, that's so cute!”

He fixed her with an eye roll before turning back to the door, the rain now somehow coming down harder than it had been a moment ago.

“Alright, you ready to make a break for it?”

“No, let’s go back inside and curl up in one of the big chairs until it passes.”

“Val,” he chuckled. “Mike already kicked us out.”

“Mike doesn’t know it’s pissing rain!”

“Alright, I’ve got an idea…”

Bending at the knees, Everett scooped her up like a bride, cradling her close to his chest as she wrapped an arm around his neck, her head thrown back in glee.

“I thought I’d at least have to wait until we got married for you to carry me this way!”

“You’re wearing a skirt,” he pecked her cheek. “I can’t carry you the other way without everyone else getting a show.”

“Oh no, we can’t have that,” she grinned wickedly, face pressed close to his. “Not when the show is only meant for you.”

“Sometimes I wonder how you got so fresh, and then I remember.”

“It’s four letters and he’s insufferable.”

“Remind me to thank him whenever he gets out of the stalag, yea?”

“Sure thing,” she mock saluted. “Now, let’s get to bed.”

“Don’t tempt me, I’ll sneak in there.”

“I’m counting on it.”

With a wink, Ev tightened his grip on her before stepping one foot out the door, the rain soaking up his pant leg in seconds flat.

“Don’t let go.” He looked down at her, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled, asking her in the moment, and then some, to always hold on.

Rosie & Jo

52. “Can I kiss you?”

87. “You were never just my friend.”

He thought he had it all figured out that morning when he left for work. He was Major Robert Rosenthal. He was smart. He was capable. He was still unable to pull the wool over his mothers eyes.

“Ma, I’ll be home late tonight, we have a big case and I’ll probably-“

“Spend the night at Josephine’s?”

Mrs. Rosenthal fixed her son with a look, one that said he wasn’t fooling anyone. That woman knew exactly what he was up to. With her parents once again visiting Mrs. Harris’ sister down south, Josephine was home alone, and unlike the last time, Rosie was home too, and didn’t like the idea of his girlfriend puttering around in that house by herself.

“I don’t like the idea of her alone, Ma.”

“I know,” his mother sighed. “Go on, just, be respectable for the love of god, Robert.”

“Love you Ma!” He passed her on his way out with a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll call later, okay?”

“Yes, yes of course, now go,” she shooed her son out the door. “Have a nice day at work, and give Josephine my love.”

Now, it was early evening and he was walking down the block towards her home. His briefcase in one hand and a bouquet of peonies in the other, he couldn’t help the extra pep in his step at the idea of spending a whole weekend with her with no one watching them. Quickly ascending the stairs, he knocked on the door, his smile growing as he saw her silhouette approach the door. Then she was there, standing in front of him with a bright smile, stepping forward to wrap her arms around him.

“Hi!”

“Hey, honey,” he sighed, feeling his entire body relax as she hugged him. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” she pressed her lips to his cheek, and Rosie felt himself yearning for every night after work to be this way. “Come in, I’ve got a surprise for you!”

“A surprise? And here I thought I was surprising you.”

Jo stepped back to assess him, and it was then she saw the bouquet of pink and white flowers in his hand, and the twinkle in his eye.

“Robbie, they’re beautiful,” taking them from him, she pressed her nose softly into the petals to take in their sweet scent, smile growing. “Thank you!”

“I know peonies are your favorite.”

“Second favorite.”she grinned.

“What? Wait, I thought -”

“You’re my first favorite,” she took his hand and led him into the house. “Always have been, and always will be.”

He shook his head thoughtfully, her sweet remark lingering between them as he followed her further into the house. He had dropped his briefcase by the door on his way in, and was surprised to see that she had cooked dinner for him while the house was hers alone for the day.

“I made dinner,” she turned back to face him, and he could see she looked a little nervous. “I got the recipe from Jean…”

“Honey pie, I would have been perfectly happy with a club sandwich and some french fries, but this smells amazing.”

“If it’s no good, I promise I won’t be offended. Or upset.”

“Jo, come here…” he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. Here she was, one of the best bakers he knew, self proclaimed world's best chocolate chip cookies, and she was nervous over dinner.

“We can always go out…”

“Shh,” he pulled her into his arms, cradling her face gently. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Oh!”

“Can I?”

“You don’t have to ask permission, you know. My kisses are for you, always.”

Rosie closed the gap between them, his lips covering Jo’s with zero hesitation. One hand slipped up and into her hair, pulling her closer just so he could feel her body pressed against his. Feel her hands gripping his arms with such force that it felt like she’d never let go. He never wanted her to. She giggled when his mustache tickled her lip, but never wavered in her kiss; her hands slipping up from his biceps until she could wrap her arms around his neck. Nothing but the need for oxygen could separate them, and even then. Rosie was convinced if he was going to die, he’d want to do it in her arms.

“All those kisses just for me,” he whispered against her skin as they broke apart. “How lucky for me… we should have stopped being just friends a long time ago.”

“You were never just my friend,” she purred, nosing at him softly. “I hope you know that.”

“I know. I’m just sorry we wasted so much time dancing around it for so long.”

“I’m not sorry. All my greatest moments have been with you, and we get to keep doing that now. The only difference is, there’s more of this…”

She kissed him again to prove her point, and he agreed in earnest, hands coming to grip her thighs and hoist her into his arms.

“Much more of this,” he grinned. “I promised Ma I’d be a respectable gentleman this weekend…”

“Your mother isn’t here.” Jo winked.

“Then let’s go work up an appetite, sweetheart…”

[sirendeepity]

[ SJM Romance Week, day 7: Free Day ]

A/N: I might be completely and unashamedly biased, but I love those kids to pieces. In my mind, there are one too many options on how the triplets have come into the world, but this is the one I hold dearest, so I tried to put it into words. Hopefully, I did it justice. A short summary would be a canon-compliant fic of sorts, set years into the future, where Nesta and Cassian had kept their pregnancy a secret from the world, but not anymore. Enjoy <3

@sjmromanceweek

T/W: occasional mention of past traumatic events;

W/C: 3.9k

It’s been four years since Cassian had last felt the “jumping off a cliff with tied wings would be less stressful” kind of nervous.

You want this, he reminded himself. And gods damned him, he did. He had all but howled when Nesta had given him the green light. He had written a letter—little more than a scrap of paper with a date, place, and time scribbled on it—, and counted down the days. Eleven. He had double-checked that everything was how it was supposed to be before stepping out of the house—still fifteen minutes earlier. Cassian didn’t want to take any risk. He simply leaned against a tree and waited, looking at the hollowed-out trunk they had used as a drop-off point for their letters during those past few years. A couple of years shy of a decade had passed since he’d last seen his family, so Cassian took those moments of quietness to let his memories flow. How the last war they’d fought had taken everything from his mate, leaving an empty shell of the fierce female she used to be; how he had kept his promise and took her far, far away, to a place no one knew about. A place where they could both rest and heal. Their friends had been distraught when Cassian had told them they would leave for an indefinite amount of time and asked them not to contact Nesta in any way—to give her space and, most importantly, time. And they had. Rhys and Feyre had rarely spoken to him using their daemati abilities, asking for updates, if they needed anything, when could they meet again. Even Azriel’s shadow had kept their distance. Kept their secret, too. A little more than two months and Nesta had held out a closed envelope to him. “For Feyre and Elain,” she said simply. So Cassian had found that very place in the middle of nowhere, tied a white ribbon around one of the lowest branches, and let a simple thought travel out into the ether: “I’ve got something for you.” That had been their first contact. But even as the letters became more frequent, Cassian could see how Nesta’s eyes shuttered every time he tried to bring up Velaris, or the House of Wind. So they all waited. Time flew by, and before Cassian could take a full breath, weeks turned into months turned into years, and now—

“Cass.”

Cassian blinked, turning to face the owner of the voice. Feyre stood a few steps from him, tears already filling her eyes. Rhys was at her side, and Mor, and Az. Everyone had come, right when he’d told them to. Not a minute before, and not a minute later. Words failed him, so Cassian just opened his arms wide, inviting his friends and family back into his life. Tears fell, and laughter soon filled the air around them as hugs and kisses were exchanged. Even Amren, for a fleeting moment, wrapped her slender arms around his middle, squeezing him tightly despite her furrowed brows. Cassian wasted no time, kissing Gwyn on both cheeks in congratulations, careful of her round belly, before setting off into the woods and beckoning them to follow. “There’s something I want to show you.”

“I told you Nesta would turn the wolves prowling this place,” Mor gestured at the mountains around them with a manicured hand, “and make puppies out of them.”

Feyre laughed. It must’ve been a recurring joke between them.

Cassian only grinned, “Something like that.”

A few minutes later they reached an opening, a meadow big enough for comfort, and a house came into view. His house, the one Cassian had built from the grounds up. It was two stories high, with a small patio on the front—mirror to the much larger one in the back— and a tall stone chimney. He had flattened out one side of the rooftop, making a little terrace of sorts—which Nesta had decorated with pillows and plants and candles—, and every door and window had been painted a bright red. It had taken them some time to turn that place into a home, but now there was something unequivocally theirs about it all. Cassian had come to cherish the peace of mind granted by its four walls, and it had turned into a safe space for him as much as it was for his mate. Instead of opening the doors to them, Cassian guided his friends to the back. A couple of stray trees dotted the space, with flowers ready to bloom. They hosted swings and knotted ropes. A sheet had been tied between two trunks and turned into a makeshift hammock.

Planks of wood were still piled up beside the furthest tree. Once upon a time, Cassian had promised he would pick up the project again, but he could hardly bring himself to look at it without bile rising up his throat. That broken tree-house was all he could see.

“Daddy’s back!”

A small figure wrapped in a yellow dress ran toward him, chubby arms already raised in the air. Cassian caught his daughter as she launched at him, swinging her in the air before bringing her close to his chest. Gasps echoed behind him.

“Look, look!” Nora exclaimed. Twin pigtail braids swayed this way and that, following the movements of her head. “Mommy put her ribbons in my braids! Now I’m a valykirie, too!”

Cassian laughed at his daughter’s words. “Valkyrie,” he corrected her, kissing her rosy cheek. “You look so pretty, Ladybug.”

Nora giggled, hiding her face in the crook of his neck and wrapping her arms around him.

“Cass,” Mor choked on a whisper. He winked at her, inclining his head as he moved deeper into the garden. A large blanket had been laid onto the grass, almost every inch of it covered with small plates and trays filled with hard cheese, cured meats, and veggies of all kinds. Nesta had even made fresh rosemary and olive bread that morning, filling the house with its aromatic scent. Thankfully, the Mother had blessed them with a sunny day—a rarity in Illyria, especially during that time of the year, when spring and summer met in uncertain weather. Sometimes it was so warm they had to strip off layers of clothing, others the sky was raining down on them, or the wind sneaked into their home and tried to steal anything light enough to be carried away. That day was perfect, with white clouds sheltering them from the harshness of the sun and a light breeze to keep them cool. The trees helped, too. It was there, under the shadows of rustling leaves, that his mate was. She was seated on a plush pillow, one of the many they had thrown around, with a baby curled over her chest. Two, actually. Maya left a kiss on her brother’s cheek, patting his soft curls as he wiped at his eyes. His wings were relaxed, low on the ground, and Nesta was rubbing his back in wide circles. Nora’s excitement must have woken him from his nap. Athos tended to be grumpy when someone disturbed his dreams. With one last kiss, Maya parted from her brother and ran to Cassian.

She stopped at his side, barely reaching his knees, and Cassian bent down to place a hand on top of her dark hair, braided in a crown—so I can look like Mom, she had said that morning. But it was not at him she was looking at. Her gaze was fixed behind him, where Emerie stood. As Nesta rose, Athos still in her arms, and walked closer, Cassian watched his daughter study the female, waiting. Everyone held their breath.

“Are you Em…” Maya’s blue-gray eyes, Nesta’s eyes, turned to him, and Cassian nodded in encouragement, “..Erie?”

Emerie sniffed once before clearing her throat. “That’s me.”

Maya gasped, joy lighting up her soft features. She pivoted, pink skirts and all, and spread her little black wings. The right one stretched open, while the left couldn’t go past half its length. A brutal scar ran down its inner side, covering leather and skin alike. Cassian’s throat closed at the memory of his daughter, his Butterfly, falling from the tree house. The one he’d built for them. The one he should’ve built better, making sure everything was safe before letting three toddlers get in it.

One of the floor planks had given out when Maya had jumped on it, the wood breaking beneath her tiny feet, and in her fall the exposed shards had dug into her back. Had cut through tendon and bone alike. They had managed to save her spine—fuck, they had managed to save her life—but there was nothing they could do for the little wing. It had been devastating. For weeks, Cassian had barely been able to eat, to sleep, to look his kids in the face. He’d been ridden by guilt and shame. He still was, the darkness lurking toward him, hitting him in waves, and more than a year had passed since that awful day. A warm hand grabbed his, holding gently, and Cassian turned toward his mate, exchanging glances. She knew, he knew, neither of them would let the shadows take control of their thoughts, their emotions, again.

“Mama said I’m like you!” Cassian could’ve sworn pride laced his daughter’s words. Nesta had told her, told all of them, countless stories about Emerie, and Gwyn, and even Feyre and Elain. About those females who had not allowed the blows life had dealt them to break their spirit, to bend their will.

“Did she now? Well,” Emerie said, voice thick with emotions as she bent down and stretched her open palm toward Maya, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, then.”

“I’m Maya,” she said, grabbing Emerie’s fingers with both hands. “And she is Nora.” On cue, Nora started wiggling in his arms, so Cassian placed her feet back on the ground and wrapped his newly free arm around Nesta’s waist. “And that is Puppy.”

“He is Athos!” Maya scolded her sister, both of them bursting into a fit of snorts and giggles. Athos blinked once, twice, golden-brown curls falling into the hazel eyes they shared. With skin one or two shades paler than his sisters’, he was the one resembling Nesta the most—save for the pair of leathery wings on his back, now tucked in tight as he turned his head the other way and hid in the safety of his mother’s arms. He had her same quiet nature, too, but that didn’t stop his sisters from luring him into trouble at any given chance. Nora, on the other hand, was Cassian’s carbon copy. Not just in looks, but in spirit too. She laughed as hard as she cried, living her emotions to the fullest. Much like the day they were born, she was always at the lead, always the first to act, to make way for her twins. Believe it or not, she was not the mind behind their shenanigans. Maya was. Their eyes were the only feature that set them apart. One from forests and mountains, the other from skies and seas. Maya was a little devil in disguise, already too clever for her own good.

“Oh, my,” Elain breathed, cheeks stained with tears. “Are they-”

“Triplets,” confirmed Nesta. The waterworks began again.

“When?”

“How?”

“Girls, finally!”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Congratulations, brother.”

Cassian raised his hands, exposing his palms in surrender, and said, “We’ll tell you everything, but we should eat first, or only the ants will enjoy my bread.”

Cassian took Athos from Nesta’s arms so she could greet her sisters properly, and edged Nora and Maya toward their embroidered pillows, the others following suit.

As he caught Azriel’s eyes, his brother left his mate’s side and inched closer.

“Hey, Puppy,” Cassian murmured into his son’s ear, guiding his attention toward Az. “Do you see this guy?” A nod. “If you don’t like the noise, or if there are too many people, or you just don’t feel very good and your mother and I are not around, you go to him, okay?”

Azriel inhaled slowly, his shadows swirling with the movement. A black curl reached out tentatively, and Athos studied it. His warm eyes rose to Azriel’s then, who patiently waited for the boy to make the first move. “Do they hurt?” He asked, one little finger reaching back.

“No.” To prove his point, he let the black tendril wrap around Athos’ finger. “They’re very curious, though. They like puppies, I’ve been told..”

Athos’s gasp turned into a quiet giggle. “They tickle.”

Soon they were all seated, letting fresh food and berry juice pass from hand to hand, talking about everything and nothing at all. From the projects Nyx wanted to explore to modernize Velaris—the male, now more than 50 years old, had a mind so brilliant it turned Dawn’s thinkers green with envy—, to the journey across the continent Lucien had promised Elain as a gift for their latest anniversary—only a couple of arrangements left to make before their departure—to the obvious new double-addition to their ranks, Azriel and Gwyn’s twins. There was so much to tell, so much to catch up on.

Cassian looked at his brother and found him smiling tenderly at the boy, love and gratitude filling his eyes.

“But let’s focus on the real stars of this day,” Mor said, face still splotchy from all the crying. Her brown eyes jumped from one little face to another, as if she wanted to imprint their soft features into her brain as quickly as she could.

“When is your birthday?” Rhys asked, taking a sip from his glass. “We have missed five of them. We must fix it.”

Maya didn’t even finish chewing her food before replying. “Four.” To prove her point, she raised three jam-sticky fingers in the air. Rhys chuckled, bending his head. “My apologies.”

“At the crack of dawn on the 23rd of September,” three curly heads turned one after another, entranced by their mother’s voice. “After ten hours of labor,” Nesta added pointedly, twisting Maya’s dark strands around her finger, “Came Nora, then Maya, and then Athos.”

Nesta exhaled heavily, Cassian replicating the gesture. “Our brave boy.”

At his words, the groups shared a sort of understanding.

There was this belief, among Illyrians, that every time a baby was born, they were faced with two options—two mothers. If they got too scared by the world surrounding them, so dark and cruel and full of terrors, the Mother would cradle them in her arms and take them someplace else, where no harm would ever find them. Nesta, Cassian knew, was still plagued with nightmares of her pained, desperate screams filling the silence left by their son. He’d come out of the womb with the birth cord wrapped around his neck. Despite the midwife’s lightning speed in freeing his airways, it hadn’t been enough. But then, just as the sun peeked from behind the mountain tops, time had seemed to slow as a small, frail, tentative wailing filled the room.

“Really?” Gwyn exclaimed with too much enthusiasm. She placed a hand on her bump, forcing her lips to curve in a smile despite the tears brimming her teal eyes. “They’re supposed to be due at the beginning of August. Close enough.”

“Sissy’s birthday is in August, too!”

“No, Nora,” Cassian laughed, grateful for the distraction. He placed a cheese stick in her hand. She chewed on it without hesitation. “Her birthday is in June.”

“Who is Sissy?” Lucien asked. “Are we missing someone?” He looked shocked, as if he couldn’t believe there were more.

“Trixie—Beatrix,” Nesta amended, “is our oldest.” By the look on their faces, Cassian knew they were all doing the math.

“Don’t worry,” he grinned, “She will be here, soon.”

“She already is.”

All eyes turned toward the house, to the proud female stepping out the backdoor.

Joyous screams rose from the kids, their smiles lighting up like fireflies as they stood and ran to their sister.

Trixie crouched, arms open, bracing for the collision. She kissed their cheeks, their little noses, their soft curls. Cassian’s heart swelled in his chest at the sight.

“Such cute overalls, Puppy,” she said, taking his hand and guiding him into a spin.

His son smiled from ear to ear. “You gave it to me!”

“I did, didn’t I?” She gestured for the kids to sit down again with one hand, the other holding the ribbons tied around a box. Trixie bent to leave a soft kiss against Nesta’s temple, placing the box on the grass at her side before rising again and making her way to him. She knelt behind him, and Cassian moved his wings to make space for her body as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him, moving to sit at his side. Nyx, to her right, looked anywhere but at her, the tips of his pointed ears turning a deep shade of red. Cassian was tempted to call him out, but knew his “over-protectiveness” would only piss off Trixie.

“Everyone, this is Trixie,” Cassian said, grinning like a cat. “Trixie-”

“Everyone,” she cleared her throat, bobbing her head once in acknowledgment.

Maya made her way onto Trixie’s lap, passing food to her older sister, and they flowed back into easy conversation.

From the opposite side of the blanket, Amren nodded in Trixie’s direction, “How did you find that one?”

“She found us,” was Nesta’s reply. She opened the box containing the Illyrian’s typical pastries Cassian had asked Trixie to buy, and found a little corner to place them among the rest of the food. “She had made the house her own. I found her sleeping in our bed when we came here.”

Cassian, Mother damned him, had come dangerously close to losing it when he had realized they were not alone in the house. The dagger was in his hand within moments, ready to take down any threat, when Nesta had climbed down the stairs on nimble feet and told him, in that no-nonsense way of hers, that there was a little girl asleep in the main bedroom, and he should cook dinner for three that evening. Cassian had kissed her senseless, and just like that they had found themselves with a daughter. Well, Cassian wished it had been that easy. Trixie, who had seen and lived through more than any fourteen-year-old should, had waged war on them for months, trying her very best to push them over the edge. But Nesta was relentless, and so was he. Nothing she could’ve said or done would have made them turn their backs on her. So she stayed, and soon enough Beatrix became Trixie became Sissy. A blessing, that’s what she’d been. She had healed some intrinsic part of Nesta that not even Cassian had been able to reach. He would forever be indebted to her for that reason only. Her wings had not been clipped, so he’d been able to teach her how to fly, and fight, and dream again. His daughter in all the ways that mattered, and then some.

“The house was big enough for all of us,” Nesta glanced pointedly at her, adding, “It still is.”

Trixie stared right back at her, one of those wordless conversations happening between the two females. Cassian was used to it.

“That’s amazing,” Elain smiled brighter than the sun. “I am so, so happy for you guys.”

“Please,” Gwyn whined, “Don’t cry or I’ll cry, too.” The two laughed, tears slipping free anyway.

“I can see why you kept contacts to a minimum,” Lucien passed a napkin to Elain, gently pulling locks of hair away from her face as she dabbed the corners of her eyes. “I would’ve kept this little corner of heaven a secret from the world, too.”

Cassian glanced at Nesta and found that she was already looking at him. Now, her eyes seemed to say. A tug on the bond confirmed that.

“Speaking of which,” Cassian exhaled. Should he break the news gently? Or should he go straight for it, and adapt to the consequences?

Nesta, it seemed, had already made that choice for both of them. “We’re coming back to Velaris.”

Feyre could barely contain her enthusiasm. “Really?”

“Really,” Cassian echoed. “It will be good for the kids. They should make friends and play with other kids their age and drive us crazy. Am I right?”

Maya looked up at him, a mischievous gleam in her bright eyes. Nora, closest to Nesta, was already giggling.

“Mother spares us all,” Rhys murmured. They had their hands full, and they had never left this mountain. Cassian already felt weak in the knees at the idea of unleashing the triples on Velaris. But, fuck, how he wanted to take them on walks along the Sidra, or see the House turn into an even bigger mother-hen for Nesta’s kids, or teach them how to fly on one of its many balconies. And Starfall! They would love Starfall, he was sure of it. And the week-long celebrations for Solstice, with presents and hot cocoa and-

“Oh, no,” Trixie’s voice called him back to the moment. She was facing Nyx, answering a question he must’ve asked her while he was lost in his thoughts. “I’m going to stay here.”

Nora gasped, and Nesta was instantly there to calm their daughter down before she started what they had taken to call “the domino cry”.

“It’s okay,” Trixie said while rubbing Maya’s arms. The pout on her face was not a good sign. The trembling chin was even worse. Cassian gazed down at Athos, looking for any hint of distress. Trixie went on, “We’ll see each other every week, I promise.”

“But why can’t you come with us?” Nora sniffed. “It’s unafaire.”

“Unfair,” Nesta murmured to her, “And she can’t come with us because there are other kids who need her here.”

“Other kids?” Athos scrunched his little nose.

He nodded. “You three have each other, but other kids might not be so lucky. Trixie was among them, a long time ago.”

“But Sissy is our Sissy.”

“I am, yes,” Trixie said, “But maybe I can be that for all the other children who need a Sissy as well, don’t you think?”

Nora blinked at her a couple of times, mulling over the words. “Will they become Ladybug, Butterfly, and Puppy, too?”

Behind her, Nesta shrugged. “Why not.”

Cassian’s heart made a backflip inside his chest. He met his mate’s serene gaze, the most delicate pink staining her cheeks. They would end up with a legion of kids if Nesta had her way. Cassian couldn’t think of a single reason why she shouldn’t.

Cassian mirrored her smile with one of his own. “We should start thinking about names, then.”

“You guys are out of your minds,” Amren commented, but the concern in her voice didn’t match the grin stretching her red-painted lips.

Athos started laughing, the giggles turning into full belly laughs as his sisters joined him. And as the wind made lullabies of rustling leaves, and the smiles of his family outshone the sun itself, Cassian knew with absolute certainty the one reason he was still there, alive and content. Or maybe it was three.

[mastersoftheair]

So just to clear the air (and I guess my massive confusion) Harry never slept with Sandra, correct? I gotta say I need to read his memoir at this point as he is so intriguing to me, as well as masters of the air book, but like you said it’s a “blink and miss it” thing. I didn’t interpret it as anything more than having a few friendly conversations. It was more about emotional infidelity to me than physical, but given the circumstances and that exact heartbreaking point in time for Harry I can’t find it in me to blame either of them.

for me, ig i'm coming at my position from a place of bias. i'd read crosby's "a wing and a prayer" sometime in either 2021 or 2022 (those years blend together tbh), so i've had a lot of time to think about those 2 and their relationship and i lean towards "yeah, it likely happened" (this is a long response btw bc i'm quoting from the memoir):

crosby introduces his new friend, alexandra "landra" wingate (aka sandra westgate), in the chapter "learning about americans from the british" (this chapter was basically what we see in episode 6). moving on from this tho–

in the chapter "with landra in london", he expands on their growing relationship and the reader learns more about landra (she is genuinely Such an interesting person, and probably a spy). crosby writes about her with such admiration, regularly bringing up how smart she is. also, she's a captain!

this chapter's pretty important in how i formed my opinion on the matter. i understand the argument that the closeness of their relationship was intentionally left vague, but this chapter reads in a way that makes it feel Heavily implied despite not saying a lot (especially alongside crosby's emphasis on his wife jean being "four thousand miles away", as well as his own loneliness and despair wrt to all the missing and dead). there are some standout lines here:

-"I had Jean at home and Landra in England." (not a red flag, but it's a flag) -"I started seeing Landra every time I could." (cool) -"All I knew was that [Landra] was making my life much more endurable." (also cool) -"I did not tell Jean about Landra." (the last sentence of the chapter. it gave me pause and almost instantly reshaped the way i viewed that whole chapter)

the next chapter, "r&r with jean", crosby recalls how much the war took a toll on both him and his relationships. for a time, jean wrote more letters to croby than the other way around ("I began to skip writing to her."). i assume crosby must've been radiating Exceptionally negative energy bc he gets told this: "Croz, we can't stand to have you around. We want you back, but we want you to go home for a while." (i found the phrasing here really funny tbh. your vibes Suck! just Get Out of here!!)

so, crosby contemplates seeing jean again, wondering how both of them may have changed. he also brings up landra, for Some Reason: "What would I think of her? Protected in the States as she was, how would she compare to Landra? Now that I had grown so much, had such experiences, how would Jean and I fit together?"

the rest of the chapter Is about meeting and catching up with jean, however, and you can tell that he loves her a Ton. it's very sweetly written (he also basically ends the chapter saying "btw, we conceived our first child ;) ")

the final chapter about landra is "london junket" which begins with "When I returned from the United States and my idyll with Jean, I knew I had to do something about Landra." i think that sentence alone is pretty damning. if landra was just a friend, why would you be anxious about calling a friendship off? is it a guilt thing?

the context here is that crosby feels Far less lonely and depressed. he's met up with jean, life in london is finally "a delight". i found that important bc it gives me the impression that crosby desperately wanted companionship (possibly of two kinds), and he found that in landra– a friend and a maybe a [REDACTED]. now that he's having a great time with his friends in the 100th And he's met up with his wife, that itch's been scratched (that's just my opinion tho). bc of that, he decides to say goodbye to landra. they have this exchange:

"When a month passed after you were to return, and you did not phone me," she said, "I suspected that it was over. You found things good with Jean?" I told her about R&R in the U.S. I told her more about Jean. I told her about Stephen Patrick, Jeffrey Allen, or Evalyn. "When I realized you were gone," she said, "I no longer said no to a nice American at my office. I have been with him several times. I like him." (interesting) "I’m glad." (also interesting) "He is not married, He is not so dashing as you, but we have good times together." Me "dashing"? That was not my self-image. So much for Landra."

all put together (and with over 2 years to think about it), i Really kinda saw That Scene coming. but, like i said, i had that bias. and since i'd had a good amount of time to think about them, i came out the other end still excited to see them on screen. i found (and still find) landra a fascinating woman who must've had an exciting life (crosby's okay too ig lol). i also see them as a couple of imperfect, even selfish, 20somethings (speaking as an imperfect and selfish 20something). not to be corny, but "it takes 2 to tango". landra is Very intelligent, and crosby recounts how that aspect of hers left him in awe. she'd've 100% known the guy was married. and if signs point to her having had sex with the man, then she either made peace with it or simply didn't care (a lot of women are like that). plus, they're real people and real people contain multitudes idk. maybe some wife somewhere across the atlantic is hard to care about if you've never met her and never will. maybe it's hard to consider your wife's feelings in the midst of your own misery. a female character doesn't have to be wholesome and pure to be considered well-written. that certainly doesn't apply to most male characters. like you said, no one is perfect!

maybe, crosby left it vague out of respect to his wife. maybe it's vague bc nothing happened anyway (funny way to write it tho). maybe the wingate family wanted to avoid association with MotA bc it Literally didn't happen. or maybe they know it happened, but want to keep her name clean out of respect (who wants one brief relationship that happened 80 yrs ago to define you/your loved one decades later? that's 100% understandable). whichever the case, even crosby's kids are in a 50/50 split. i still lean towards "it happened", but it doesn't make me dislike either of them. they're flawed and i can respect that more than the show portraying either as picture perfect.

NONE of this is to say that i'm cool with cheating (or giving a "world war cheating pass", so to speak). while i find it realistic, it still wouldn't have been fair to jean, whether she knew about it or not (being a woman in the 1940s wasn't easy by any stretch). this Also isn't to dismiss anyone else's opinion on the matter, bc cheating on your partner is still a shitty thing to do. this whole spiel of mine is bc i like to share my opinions and i'm allergic to being concise. i write like i talk and on all levels except physical, anon, i'm giving you a long-winded rant over coffee and croissants lol

thanks for the ask!

[theeyoungalabastor]

Technoblade and his Apprentice: The Shattered Totem- Kill or Be Killed (Part 1)

Part 1, Part 2

(Art by: Jammie on Twitter)

Where does this take place?:  The Arctic Empire, New L'Manberg, The Greater SMP

What event takes place?: Technoblade's and (Y/n)'s execution

Character pairing: Piglin!Hybrid!Technoblade and Bear!Hybrid!Reader

Information on chatacter(s): Both hybrids have a human like form but when feeling threatened both are able to shift into a bigger more animal like form that will add onto both strength, agility, and height (height to look more intimidating)

WARNINGS: Blood, character death, descriptive but mild gore, angst, explosions, murder, manipulation, foul language, freezing,

Status: Platonic, Angst, Fluff, Familial (Technoblade sees reader as a sibling)

Pronouns: They/them

Word count: 7,306 (7K)

Page count: 21.4

​​​Summary: Having been included with the aid of destroying L'Manberg with Technoblade both the Piglin man and dear reader soon become the main target for a certain quartet. Nailing wanted posters to the wooden poles around New L'Manberg the ensemble set off with the intent of having the duo pay for their crimes. Public Execution.

        A disk spun on its needle, the haunting like melody soaking into the wallpaper that layered the drywall surrounding them. A fire cackled not far from their pawed feet, hot flames lapping away at the charred wood, it's fuel radiating just enough heat to warm the bear hybrids toes. Shadows dancing with each flicker of the orange blaze.

        E/c eyes drifted to the compass that sat heavily in the palm of their hand, it's sheen surface shining with the loadstone enchant which only became more apparent with the fire's illuminance glinting faintly off of the glass surface, it's red pinpointing north.

        Nervousness gnawed hungrily at the pit of your rather empty stomach as the thick skin of your thumb traced the letters dug into the cold iron back, careful not to damage the devices surface with your keen talons. Ever since The Blade himself handed you the device it had been clipped to your belt safely. Every so often you would spare a glance in hopes the pin would click, directing you towards your friend's new home. 

        At times you would stand timidly at the end of the dock where you last saw the other hybrid, where he told you he was going to retire from everything. 

The conflict.

The government.

The violence...

        "Y/n..." Technoblade stare at the sun that began to rise above the horizon as if it were to be his last, tired eyes tracing over the water line as the ball of flames arose giving birth to a new morning. His hair reeked of soot and gun powder from the recent events, here and there a patch of his roseate fur was littered in dark splotches from where clumps of dirt and gravel had landed during the nation's destruction done by the hands of its own founder. But the hybrid seemed to pay no mind to his tainted coat but more on the effervescent ball of flames that bathed the smoke-filled firmament in ravishing hues of orange and gold. 

        He lost the man he considered a brother. Wilbur. To his own father. Impaled through the chest by a glistening diamond sword, if Techno didn't know any better, he would have mistaken the glittering blade as the one that Tommy had gifted the winged man on their last Christmas together. 

        "Yes Techno?" Your voice was dry, hoarse even, noticeably wavering and damn near dead of all emotion, along with the dull sheen that glossed your e/c eyes. His ruby hues drifted to meet your own. Pain pooling deeply in those blood tinted orbs. Not only did The Blade lose a brother, but you had also lost something as well. 

        Your home. 

        And your friends. 

        You lost their trust the minute you turned to face the Piglin hybrid, hand held out demandingly as he had already placed two of those ebony skulls atop of the four blocks of inklike sand that wept, but their cries fell onto deaf ears as he afforded his gaze to your stony features. The third skull sat in his clammy palms, ready to slam onto the last block of soul sand; but he hesitated, looking down at your outstretched hand that itched to feel the smooth bone of the skull. Without a second glance, he placed it into the heel of your palm with a firm nod. 

        That is probably where the two made their mistakes.

        "I think I'm going to retire." His words were stern but soft as he glanced at you almost as if you were a kicked puppy cowering with its tail between its legs. Your eyes remained on the still waters that skipped across the shoreline, the sound was painful reminder of what once was. "Where will you go? Will I see you again?" 

        Technoblade knew you didn't hold what happened against him, especially knowing his unexplainable hatred towards governments, I mean shit. Look what it's done. He lost his brother for God's sake, to the unquenchable thirst for power that he had at the tip of his fingers.

        Techno shook his head, unsure. "I honestly don't know, wherever the wind takes me I guess." Digging a hand into one of his pockets the taller male ferreted around before fishing a handheld object from its depths. You watched with a quirked brow as the taller man held out a large hand, gesturing for you to take what sat in his grasp. 

        "For when things go south. Go north."        

        At first when Techno said those words, you didn't think he meant literally, but here you were, eyes glued to the red needle that pointed north. Ever since the day of Wilbur's passing you didn't intend on living in L'Manberg- or NEW L'Manberg that is- after Tubbo took the title of the shattered nations president you had turned away from that unfinished symphony. You now resided within the barrier of the Greater SMP, atop the hill of where a certain tumultuous British boy's home was dug into.

        Some people blamed you for the way things went down, Technoblade unleashing the hellish three headed beasts with the help of your traitorous hands, the TNT that tore the nation's structure, sending everything skyward. They blamed you for helping the Pigman fight against the government that drove his brother to insanity. The Government that exiled its two original founders or the same one that drove the once great leader whose eyes shown with pride's son to destroy the very walls that were made to protect him. 

        You glanced towards the dingy window another content smile splayed at your thinly lined lips.

        You remembered the time Technoblade- the man to who you looked up to with much pride- taught you how to correctly plant potatoes.

        "No, you don't plant them like that, they'll grow wonky." Pulling the vegetable from its hole, the one that you nonchalantly dug and tossed it into. You looked at the taller man that towered over you with a deadpanned expression, the six-foot something man paid no attention to your bored expression. Reaching into his pant pocket the fucia haired man ferreted for a moment. "Why? This is just a waste of fucking time they're just potatoes, nothing to get fussy or even get excited over." You spoke with the roll of your eyes and a shrug before standing beside Technoblade, dusting your soil caked fingers against your filthen and slightly tattered pants, perfect for farming.

        "Yes, they are just potatoes, but these potatoes' are what is going to fuel out battalion and keep our bodies from shutting down on themselves." Pulling a blade from his pocket the other dug its sharp edge into the middle of the vegetable and skillfully cutting it in half. Glancing at your curious figure his long tail snapped back and forth with entertainment. Just a moment ago you were groaning about how potatoes weren't much to be excited about and how planting them was a waste of time. 

        Extending his hand towards you he held the small handheld blade in his scarred clad hand. "Cut them in half, we need to ration as many as we can so there's enough for everyone." You glanced up at the older man with uncertainty glinting in your (e/c) hues, a brow quirked to add into your iffiness. 

        Chuckling softly Technoblade bounced his extended hand expectantly with a soft groan. "Are you gonna take it or not? I'm trying to do a whole bonding moment with my apprentice- and my arm is starting to ache." Now it was his turn to deadpan at your stiffened figure below him. Your round ears flickered as you jumped, fingers softly surrounded the blade, face bloomed with blushing embarrassment. Clutching the blades handle you glanced innocently up at the other, eyes glinting with questioning.

        Crouching slightly beside you Technoblade placed a large hand atop of your shoulder, a finger directed to the bottom of the knife. "Use this part the knife, it divides the meat in the potato better, but when you plant it make sure the small roots here-" He let his acute nails poked at the white spikes that protruded from the plants skin. "-Plant that part in the soil, make sure the cut part is facing the surface so that when it grows the plant's stem can break the surface better." Nodding you watched intently as he explained. 

        "Alright." Reaching into the small potato bag that hung from your hip you pulled out another potato as Technoblade turned away from you to plant the potato that he took from your hole and planted both halves in his own dug holes before scrubbing his palms against the knees of his pants as he covered the crops. 

        You held the potato gently, eyeing it with a faint smile before digging the tip into the skin.

        That was when the days were long and grueling but empty of most problems, the most you had witnessed within the walls of Pogtopia was Wilbur's constant and rabid mental decline that plummeted like a stone in water.

        Blabbering about being the villain and that if he couldn't have L'Manberg, then no one can. And with that, it was blown into the sky with the help of two shape shifting hybrids.

        You clutched the compass, pulling it to your chest. Not many ever forgave you for helping destroy the same thing that they were all fighting to protect, throwing all of their work down the drain like expensive wine. Sometimes it ate at the core of your brain, no matter how badly you wanted to apologize to the children that had to face the wrath of the man with big dark horns, or even witness the once lively leader loose his ever-living mind to the nagging voices and now a boy sent to exile by his own friend, the one who he saw as an actual brother. 

        Is this how Eret felt? When he expressed his remorse for the final control room? 

        Heaving a sigh your e/c eyes drifted out of the window as your mind settled on the boisterous blonde's home, one that use to bound pridefully down the prime path that just so coincidentally happened to lead up to his doorstep, chest puffed, and head held high. It was eerily quiet without his high-pitched laugh or passive aggressive threats. A spark of memory flashed through your mind as you recall a conversation with a certain winged man. 

        "That kid, I'm telling ya, he's given me more gray hairs than my own son." He chuckled humorously as he watched his adopted blonde son clash his skull against the firm horn of his friend. Crying out in pain before rubbing the soon to be bruised spot that blossomed due to their recklessness. Tubbo on the other hand, clutched his stomach that grew tense with laughter a few breathy taunts leaving his cavernous lips.

        He spoke about how incredibly corrupt that government was, how it tossed the presidential titles around like it were a game of Ga-ga ball, and whose ever feet the ball just so happened to hit was the new ruler of the damned nation. The blonde man spoke of how that government drove his one and only son to dementedness and now cast the other aside, doomed to bare exile with the ghastly apparition of who once was. After your departure from L'Manberg, much like Technoblade, you gifted the two a compass that led to your home located just off the prime path, a way to locate you faster when needed. 

        A content but solemn smile tugged at the edges of your lips as you began to reminisce the better times, the times you were still considered a 'good person' but you too, had shoved the goads of violence to the back of your mind. Now, you did not have the voices that sang out in demand for blood, but you did have the invasive or intrusive thoughts that would dance around your mind like a ballet dancing the nutcracker. They were tempting, urging you to wrap your large palms around the throat of anyone who stepped foot on your doorstep, watch as their lively eyes glazed over with the thin sheet of death or maybe see your clawed fingers tainted with the said crimson whine. 

        This is what war does to a person.

         No matter who they are. 

        A person could have the kindest heart and brightest eyes that one has ever seen before being tainted by the trauma of war that could make any man go berserk.

        But it's not the memories that were left behind that made these impulses bubble to the surface, it was the blood that stained your tongue during it. Once an animals tongue collides with the copper relish of blood, it lingers like honey, like a craving even. And that is exactly what it was for you, a nagging craving that had turned sour as of the recent months. You blamed the damned hybrid side of you, the rabid bear. 

        The snap of the fire awoke your dazed figure back to reality as you glanced over, eyeing the glowing ember that sat on the waxed wood of your floor, with a groan you heaved yourself to your pawed feet before padding towards where the smoldering chunk of charred lumber lay, nonchalantly kicking it back into the hot pit to smolder into ash. 

        'Get ready my dearest friend they have bound my wings, they've found you.'

        Gaze snapping to the communicator that sat atop the end table next to the hard leather cover of your recent read the screen illuminated. No one ever messaged you unless they wanted something from you, or it was an emergency. 

        Nimbly dancing around the furniture that littered your path, your large, clawed manus lifted the device to your line of sight. It was from Philza. The text a whispered message.

        >(Y/n) whispered to Ph1lzA< What do you mean 'they've found you'? Who is it?

        Panic slowly installed itself into the core of your stomach as the whisper sent, jumping around like an energetic puppy being taunted with an afternoon walk. 

        Who found you?

        What did they want?

        They bound his wings? 

        Did he mean Chat?

        Seconds felt like eons as your (e/c) hues stare daggers into the electronic device. If looks could kill, that communicator would be fine ribbons.

        >Ph1lzA whispered to you< The Buther army, they found your compasses. I don't have much longer for they are confiscating the communicator, be safe m8.

        Shit.

        The Buther Army, a battalion of men who seek vengeance on the ones who've wronged them, and it looks that you were one of the people at the top of that list.         

        Your rounded ear flicked as a stoic expression stoned your features into a thin but serious line. You needed to prepare. 

        Instantly your hands got to work, thumbing through the pages of your brewery book, collecting the needed supplies to whip up the potions you would undoubtably be needing to face multiple men alone. The house reeked of panic as your lip pulled into a focused snarl, revealing the sharp edges of your canines, jabbing the stick to your grinding bowl against the fragile blaze rod you spun the wand, crushing the rod into a fine powder to then be turned into strength potions.

        Your dark tinted armor sat on a nearby armor stand prepared and enchanted, ready for usage, in the stands hand a glistening netherite sword that shone with enchantments, in the other a bow that too sang with advanced enchants. (Technobalde had helped you find the best enchantments and how to get them).        

        A nearby stand bubbled as the brewing came to a finish to which you swiftly slid into your hotbar, storing the rest in the slots of your inventory. Minutes turned to hours as your grueling work was done.

        Fixing the strap of your armor your pawed feet slid into the metal of your boots that had been tailored by the great Puffy herself, lords bless that woman's soft soul. With the dusting of your shoulder to rid of the red stone dust, gun powder and blaze powder you were ready, body reverberating with fluctuating anxiety that gnawed at the core of your mind, clouding it with blurry cotton.

        They were bound to approach you first since you were undoubtedly closer to the reconstructing nation built off of corruption and pain and you were sure Philza had messaged Technoblade to inform him of the approaching battalion that approached your home radiating malice. 

        Fixing your sights on the carpet that sat at the foot of the rocking chair that you sat in just moments ago you eyed the fabric remembering what lied beneath. Swiftly making your way towards the said furniture you tossed the carpet aside revealing the trap door it concealed.

        A growl left your throat as the front door vibrated from the vigorous pounding as the lock held it in place.

        "(Y/n) Step out of your home and surrender your weapons." A venomous voice demanded firmly as the sound of metal on metal made it to your rounded hybrid ears, four, that's how many shadows' you'd counted from beneath the door. 

        The power behind each knock grew potent as you slipped down the hatch, the voice of Quackity being deafened by the banging door. 

        Grabbing the legs of the rocking chair you swiftly pulled it over the hatch as it rested on your head against the cold metal of your helmet. At this point the knocking was no longer but the hard thud of a boot colliding with the now splintering wood you lowered the hatch still covered with the carpet down. And with that you began climbing down just as the door was thrown against your wallpapered walls. 

        "WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU!" The duck hybrids voice reeked with sour venom as he spoke, you could hear the group of boots thumping against the floorboards over your head. "WHERE THE FUCK��IS THAT BEAR!" His voice seethed hatefully. 

        Your boots hit the stone of the tunnel that stretched farther than you would have liked but this here hall of cold stone is what divided you from being captured and possibly killed and freedom that shown just beyond that faintly glowing opening just a few yards away.

        "Look at this," Fundy spoke deathly close to your hatch as the sound of furniture being tossed aside like a child's toy made it to your ears a deep odious chortle radiated the bird man's throat as the hatch was thrown open. Thats when the two of you made eye contact. A snarky smirk pulled at the corners of your lips as a two fingered solute was directed to the seething Quackity clad in netherite armor. 

        enraged vociferation erupted as you slid a speed potion from your belt and popping the cork before again glancing up at the winged man who scaled swiftly down the ladder, earth brown hues that burned with a dangerous fire still locked on your form. With a playful chuckle and wink you downed the vials contents that took effect almost as soon as it made contact with your lips, legs pumping, creating distance between you. Capture. And freedom.

        The illuminated opening approached rapidly as a crazed adrenaline-filled grin spread across your features. Blood pumped loudly in your rounded bear ears. But as fast as it came it was gone as your euphoria only lasted a few moments; the familiar sound of hissing sounded faintly, even the sound of racing blood and thinning adrenaline it made your whole world slow almost to a stop. 

        As if time were being manipulated as said, it seemed to slow as you frantically tried to stop your speeding form from the now crumbling wall, the shards blooming from beside your head, the sight just out of your prefrail vision as your armored hands lifted to shield your face.

        Like the flip of a switch time returned, your door to freedom slammed shut as your fingers brushed its closing knob. So close but again, so far. Your body was flung back to skid across the stone floor, a few hot morsels slicing through the flesh of your cheek. The sound of shattering glass made you curse loudly as the contents of your potion bottles spilled against the cold floor. Your shock was momentary as you regained your composure, jumping back to your pawed feet clumsily.

        The exit was blocked by debris. 

        There was no way out.

        Ringing enveloped your erratic senses, vision blurring together.

        The exit was blocked by debris. 

        There was no way out.

        You had to fight. 

        Guess it's time to sooth your hunger, your thirst for blood. 

        Turning to face the four who stood in the narrow hall, you lifted your netherite blade in comparison to their four diamond axes that were too raised, ready to strike.        

        Quackity's chest bounced with entertainment as your form took a battle stance as he lifted his axe, directing the point towards your now bulked form obscured in tainted and matted fur as you huffed, still out of breath from running."(Y/n) (L/N), you are under arrest for the assistance of destroying L'Manberg and being associated with Technoblade. You are here by sentenced. To death..."

.

.

.

.

        "That's great. That's wonderful, but you gotta get outta here Wilbur." Technoblade stated firmly pushing a finger to his temple to sooth the raging voices that roared in his ears whilst pulling the blade from its place on his mantal. The pale skinned ghost turned to face his younger brother as stress knitted into the skin of Techno's brow. "They're gonna come, they're gonna see you- and they- I don't know what they're gonna do to you-" Technoblade turned swiftly to another brewing stand, removing the potions from their spots on his counter, "-I don't know what they're gonna do to me but- I don't think it's gonna be good." Fixing the round vials to his belt, Technoblade lifted the shawl from its hook before swinging it around his shoulders, locking the chain that held it in place. 

        Ghostbur held his fist to his chest anxiously as he hovered over the wooden floor of his piglin brother's cabin. Technoblade turned to face the transparent male with a sigh, placing a hand on his shoulder before opening the door. "Alright, there are some bad men Wilbur that are coming to get me-" The pink haired male's words halted in his throat as the said ghost exited close behind the taller male. Swiftly making his way towards the spruce fencing that lined the staircase Ghostbur leaned over with wide oxy eyes. With a gasp the man pointed a directed finger to the open field of snow. "Techno look..." Scarlet hues following the older of the two's finger to the open tundra the piglin froze with furrowed brows. "It's a sign!" Wilbur turned back to his younger brother excitement swirling in his glossy black orbs. "Blue!"

        "Ghostbur, I need you to take that sheep." Using the tip of his sword to point tot he said animal he looked the ghost of Wilbur Soot in the eyes before speaking again. "And get as far away from here as possible." 

        Ghostbur's features shifted happily as he excitedly heeded the others warning. "Can I have a leash?" The man questioned innocently rubbing the knitted cuffs of his yellow sweater anxiously. He did NOT like the way the pinkette was acting. The said male rushed back into the house as Ghostbur sat atop of the plywood that connected the fencing rails.

        "Yeah, I can go far away," glancing back towards the taller male he watched as Technoblade's large pink ears flicked prudently. "Would it be easier for you if I went far away?" 

        "Uhh, I just want you to be safe Ghostbur!" Technoblade replied as he lifted the top to another chest, ferreting frantically through it before jumping to another letting the lids fall closed with a loud thud.

        "I'm always safe Technoblade, I'm already dead." The ghost floated towards his twin who hastily shoved the lead into his transparent hands, "what are they gonna do? Double kill me?" The brunette chuckled humorously at his own joke but stopped as he saw the glint of desperation in the other man's crimson hues.

        "Ghostbur, it's stopped snowing- go as far away as you can or go and hide over a hill or something, alright?" Leading the ghost out of the door he raked a clammy palm through his infrared locks as the said other contently bound from the lifted porch, lead in hand as he approached the animal, latching it to the lead and softly tugging it towards a nearby hill cameoed in thick pine. "Bye bye Techno, have fun preparing for the event!"

        Returning back to sporadically searching through the many chests that lined the walls he retrieved what he saw fit for battle, the paranoia that devoured his mind making things all the lot harder.

        Were they only going after him?

        What if they hurt Ghostbur?

        Was Phil okay?

        Were you okay?

        It had been a good long while since the God of Blood had fought another, it had been too long since his hands knew the form of his hands wrapped around the hilt of a sword tainted with blood. Maybe if things weren't as he seemed it wouldn't come to that, maybe he could negotiate with the ensemble to prevent spilling blood. He was a retired man, he sworn against violence a long time ago and sought refuge within the snowy tundra to live out his retirement.

        Chatter awoke the man from his thoughts as a pink bore ear flicked towards the source, crouching low the man clad in red and netherite tip toed his way towards the window where the voices seemed to grow louder. Using his index finger to lift the cloth of his drapes Technoblade peered through the thick sheets of glass softly blanketed with frost and fog. 

        Swiping a hand across the glass he peeked into the night where he saw Ghostbur chatting contently with the netherite wearing men. "He got captured IMIDIATELY, I've never seen a man get captured to quick holy Hell." The said ghost glanced towards the cottage every so often he gave a polite wave before pointing excitedly towards the windows. 

        "Shit, no, no don't wave at me- NO, DON'T POINT AT ME! DID HE JUST TURN AND POINT AT ME!" Pinching the bridge of his nose Technoblade groaned out in despair before sighing heavily before again peeking out the window, a bead of sweat dripping down his chin.        

        "Oh crap, they have full enchanted netherite- I thought they were broke-" The man chuckled to himself before lifting the curtain a bit higher to see what was happening despite not being able to hear the conversation. Almost instantly Ghostbur's face brightened impossibly bigger as he frantically waved at the man in the window. 

        Dropping the curtain, the man pressed the heels of his palm into his eyes with a groan of complaint. Standing from his crouched position he pulled the curtain all the way open only to cry out in complaint as Ghostbur ran enthusiastically towards the cottage.

        "HEY TECHNOBLADE! They say they're gonna kill you Technoblade-" Opening the wooden doors Ghostbur invited himself in approaching the nether beast.

        Technoblade lurched forwards to catch the door handle as Ghostbur again made his way outside, "Ghostbur- why- why are you leading them over to my house Wilbur- why are you doing this?" Ignoring his brother's words of betrayal Ghostbur turned to face the others scarred face. "What would you like me to say back to them?" Glancing towards the hill that the group of now four stood Technoblade eyed them wearily.

        "Uh, how about you look at them and tell them that I'm not here."

Ghostbur's brows furrowed tightly. "But that'd be lying, I don't like lying!"         

        "We- THEY'RE GOING TO KILL ME WHY ARE YOU NOT OKAY WITH LYING!? Aaand they're all here- and their all right outside my house- Thanks Ghostbur" standing on the flight of stairs Technoblade puffed out his chest as he clutched the hilt of his sword closer unsure to use it or not.        

        "Oh, Hello again Technoblade." Quackity's lips pulled into a wicked grin as Tubbo fixed the handle of his hatchet in his hand.

        "Uh, hello guy's, why have you guys come all the way over here- to my humble abode?" The said man descended the stairs where he stood a few moments ago as he eyed the Four before him. Quackity, Fundy, Ranboo and Tubbo. Where was the third? 

        Tubbo stepped forwards with a slight tremble in his stance as he spoke with a wavering voice. "Technoblade." He inhaled. "You need to pay for your war crimes." 

        "Woah, woah, woah, that was in the past man, alright? That was a different Technoblade. I'm a changed man now! I'm in retirement, I'm a good person now Tubbo." Here he went, negotiation, maybe he would be able to change their minds with assurance.

        Quackity hummed in denial whilst shaking his head, nose scrunching with malice as he lifted his axe to point at the man who stood before him the sheen of antipathy grew thicker with each passing second. "Techno, you and (Y/n) exploded L'Manberg with fucking-"

        "You two literally spawned withers EVERYWHERE!" Tubbo cut in, placing a firm hand to the ravenette's shoulder. 

        Shrugging the brunette's hand away the duck hybrid stepped forwards slightly, mock understanding lacing his already ill toned voice. "I'm sorry Technoblade, but you two need to be brought to justice for that. And there is nothing I can do to change that" The male shrugged boldly, spinning the blade of his axe in his hand.

        "Okay- Listen you guys, I've gone through so much effort over the past months to change my violent ways, I have reformed alright?" Lifting an empty hand to his head an index finger jabbed into the flesh of his temple as he spoke again. "The VOICES demand blood, and I- I have been denying THEM! I've been fighting back! PLEASE, please don't make kill all of you." Letting his hand drop the other that held the hilt of his sword directed to the four who stood before him before backing away a step. "Please just leave."

        A tenseful silence fell upon the men before one spoke again. "Technoblade, please just come peacefully..."

        Quackity lifted a hand to silence the president of the broken nation as he nodded firmly with a nonchalant shrug, "you know what, yeah, how about you show us around? Show us what you've been doing while in retirement. Let's do this peacefully."

        Technoblade tensed at the raven-haired man's tone as he side stepped away from the four, swiftly approaching the far side of his house hesitantly sliding the sword into its spot on his hip. "I- huh- Well I have Bees' here, aren't they nice?" 

        Tubbo's eyes lit up slightly now with relaxed shoulders at the mention of his favorite mob, approaching the small makeshift bee farm he placed a hand against the glass as one shimmied its chunky body from the hole of its hive to nuzzle into the flowers that lined the wall. At the sight of this the four others openly approached the bee farm. 

        With a few wary backpedal steps, the pig hybrid turned on the ball of his heel, sweat gathering at the hair of his brow as he began to run from the distracted battalion of four.

        After a few moments and a few feet away shouts of panic instilled as multiple footsteps followed behind the taller male who then skidded to a stop, hands raised in mocking surrender. "Hey, hey, hey, it was just a joke-"

        "You know what, fuck it Techno, we tried to do this civilly, but we won't let you out of here in one fucking peice, we are going to fuck you up techno. It's either going to be the easy way or the hard way. We're going to go back to L'Manberg and you're going to come with us. There's no other way around it." Quackity spun his axe skillfully as he took a battle stance.

        Technoblade's brows knit together tightly as the voices began to chant.

        Blood for the Blood God.

        Blood for the Blood God!        

        BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!

        His top lip pulled into a snarl revealing the sharpening canines, his figure seeming to take on new heights as patches of fur bloomed across his skin, the armor that sat loose across his stature grew tight as he revealed his full glory. 

        It was time to sooth their hunger.

        With a huff from his snout and the snap of his jaw's he growled. "If that's how it is... I CHOOSE BLOOD!" Ripping the leather belt from his waist he slammed it down, the glass splash vials that lined it shattered coating the beast in its contents as his muscles bulked, eyes grew dilated with speed and the screaming voices, followed with his body ached with regeneration. Technoblade ripped the sword from its sheath as he sprung, blade raised high with the intent to kill.

        The sharpened edge dug into the handle of Quackity's axe before unloding it from the wood and hacking down again as the said bird hybrid spun away, avoiding the deadly strike.

        Panicked shouting ensued as the group of four scattered, slipping against the sheet of snow.

        Turning his attention towards a certain fox featured boy Technoblade dug the hooves of his feet into the frozen forest floor, launching himself forwards delivering an armor crumbling blow. Clutching his now aching ribs Fundy scrambled to escape the beast's power whilst crying out about how God damned heavy, he hit even with the performance enhancing potions.

        Sliding just a few feet away was Tubbo, axe at the ready as he charged the pink coated beast that snarled, clouds of hot smoke bellowing from his nostrils as he too charged, scarlet hues glazed with the intent to annihilate to cut down each and every single one of the men who dared disturb his retirement and force him back into the ways of violence, forcing him to collapse under the pressure of the voices to sustain their unquenchable thirst.

        Fear replaced the once confident look that crossed his face as the boy turned to run, netherite boots sliding against the frozen ground. A cry of panic escaped the ball in his throat.

        "BIG Q DO SOMETHING, BIG Q!" The hook in his boot caught the root of a tree, sending the president tumbling to the forest floor, diamond axe raised as Technoblade's sword collided with the base of the smaller blade, applying pleasure to the hilt of his sword the Piglin beast snarled as Tubbo's arms trembled under the unbearable weight as his emerald hues met with the dilated pair that danced with pain. 

        Strings of curses fell from Quackity's lips as he glanced about, looking for something to use for leverage, knowing full well he could use his gift but that was needed for more drastic measures.

        The blade of the hybrid's sword dug into the flesh of Tubbo's shoulder as he cried out, struggling to push the massive creature away from him in order to escape, but it seemed that no matter how hard he tried, his attempts always went down in vain.

        The familiar sound of hooves awoke The Blade from his stoper, snapping his head to the sound he saw Quackity perched on the back of a rearing Carl who whinnied in displeasure before shaking his head in a final attempt to rid of his new rider.

        Panicked, Technoblade tore his blade from the other's before turning to face the ravenette.

        "WOAH, WOAH, WOAH, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT HORSE QUACKITY!?"

        "Technoblade, stop what you're doing, stop right now-"

        "Woah, woah, woah, woah, stop what you're doing. Get away from that horse Quackity." Lifting the blood tainted sword, the oversized beast directed it to the man who stirred the reigns of his stallion with a grin, satisfied that he finally found a weakness in the Legendary Technoblade. 

        "No." Quackity stated with a slight jerk of the reigns that willed the horse into a standing still as he held the handle of his axe to the horse's beige fur. "You get away from them Technoblade. If you pull any shit, I am going to kill Carl. I will fucking slay him if you don't get away from them." 

        The piglin beast's breathing stuttered as he widely stepped away from the two other hybrids.

        "Technoblade, I am going to kill your horse-"

        "-Why would you do that?"

        "Unless you cooperate." 

        Technoblade's eyes narrowed as he hesitantly stepped away from the raven-haired man who sat atop his noble steed. "What do you want from me?"

        "I want you to drop your shit, drop your shit Techno and Carl doesn't get hurt."

        With that being said the beast formed man threw his axe into the snow. 

        "All of it, this is not a negotiation. Drop it all"

        Technoblade glanced down at the blood slicked blade that sat light in his large palm before he huffed in what seemed to be amusement. "I can get a new horse if I need too. It doesn't matter." (I know he wouldn't really say this, but for plot's sake, he is.)

        Quackity looked slightly taken aback at the statement as the war criminal before him readjusted his grip on the swords hilt. With a stunned huff followed by demented and amused laughter the man on the horse shook his head with a nod. 

        "For some reason, I knew you'd say that. So that's why I brought you a gift, Technoblade." Digging the heel of his boots into the horse's ribs Quackity approached a small thicker part of the forest where he stopped and turned to face the oversized hybrid.

        Lifting a hand, the beanie wearing man spoke with wallowing pride as the gift was shoved from behind the thicket, the sound of chains rattling filled the tense thick air. "May I present to you-" Watching as it landed limply in the snow, Quackity slid from the horses back before hopping towards the thing like a child who was told they could have whatever they wished at the candy store. 

        Skidding to a stop, Quackity planted both feet on either side of the figure before gripped a fist full of hair, tugging the figures blooded face up from the soiled snow to reveal who it was. 

        "YOUR ONE AND ONLY APPRENTICE, TADA!!" He sang in excitement that he was finally able to reveal his plan B. 

        (Y/N) grunted painfully as Technoblade's breath caught in his throat. 

        Their (h/l) (H/c) locks were matted with dark and now frozen blood that had dripped down the crown of their head before drying, their nose busted and bloodied as clots of blood plugged each nostril, both lips that were now blue from the cold were split so deep that he was sure he could see the younger one's gums that were too painted crimson from their harsh faceplant into the icy ground as shallow and stuttering breaths wheezed past your swollen. The once nice thin clothes that they wore were torn and tattered, tainted with their own crimson whine, you had not been dressed to embark on a trip to the frigid tundra. Your hands were bound behind your back by a pair of copper cuffs.  (Copper is what keeps shape shifting hybrids from shifting into their animal form)

        But what made his blood turn cold was how deathly pale you were. From what he could see you lost quite a bit of blood while on your way over but the bruises and deep cuts that littered your figure did not make you look any better in any way shape and or form.

        Quackity held the handle of his axe with bubbling excitement as he glared challengingly at the shifted man. "Drop your shit Technoblade..."

        Technoblade was frozen where he stood, eyes glued to your weakened form. You looked to broken, your (e/c) hues that once glistened with courage and power now sat dull and defenseless, he could have sworn that he saw guilt swirl in those dull eyes of yours.

        Gripping the tufts of hair in his hand tighter Quackity lowered the sharpened edge of his diamond axe to rest tightly at the ball of your throat.

        "Or I will kill this kid, right in front of you."

        "Don't..." Your voice came out hoarse, tone just above a whisper, but he was still able to catch it. "You still have time to r-run." 

        Tearing his gaze from your shivering form, Technoblade dropped his sword.

        His potions.

        His crossbow.

        Trident.

        Golden apples. 

        All of it, before finally unlatching the hold-knob of his cloak and tossing it to the side and finally letting the glistening crown that sat atop his head clatter to the forest floor alongside his netherite armor. 

        His hands raised in surrender. 

        Quackity's brown eyes burned with victory as he removed the weapon from your throat, both of his feet from either side of you were no longer there, letting your head again fall into the snow you were then hoisted up from under your shoulder. Whimpering painfully, you unwillingly leaned against the ravenette for support as he danced giddily before his energetic facade dropped to look Technoblade dead in his rage filled eyes. 

        "So here is what's going to happen Technoblade, (Y/N). We are going to take you both back to L'Manberg to face trial. Alright?" His voice seethed as the other person he was supporting weakly lifted their head. 

        "Sounds like... Bull shit..."

        Tubbo stood, lips pulled into a thin line. "They just insulted our government..."        

        Technoblade snapped his head to face the ram. "Oh, we just insulted your, oh your government has been insulted. OHHH!"

I had to put a few of Technoblade's funny moments because I am missing the hell out of that man.

Edited and not proofread

Masterlist

[it-was-written-in-the-stars]

♡Dorian Havilliard x reader♡

A song for those who weep

Chapter two ○●○

Warning(s): contains mild spoilers for throne of glass and crown of midnight by SJM, angst

Word count: 1270

[Characters featured in this story do not belong to me]

♡♡♡

He stumbled over the threshold, his gaze flitting through the unnaturally empty room. Realisation struck him like a powerful wave. A rock colliding with the surface of a still lake, sending rings of water cascading outwards. You were gone. Vanished. As though the wind had picked you up and carried you away from him. He reverted back to when he had last seen you. He vividly recalled that vivacious smile which had decorated your face. What had provoked you to leave without a farewell?

He felt hollow, as though his insides had been carved out and he was cast aside as just a husk of a human being. Had his father done something to you?

A pile of leather bound journals lay on your four poster bed, its weight supported by a thick burnished book, letters engraved with gold decorating the cracked spine and cover. 'A song for those who weep'.

◇◇◇

You loosed a breath, aiming for the Palace library where you had intended to meet with Dorian. The interaction you had shared still buzzed around you, fluttering gracefully like the wings of a butterfly. It felt so natural to share such moments with him, to be around him. "I've missed you"

Your fleeting moment of elation was interrupted as you took note of one highly portentous thing. It was wrong of you to think something could blossom between the two of you. Afterall, his heart belonged to another.

You became painfully aware of another presence as you strode through the second floor corridor. She moved like the breeze, swift and unyielding.

"Celaena, it's lovely to see you" you muse as she falls into step beside you. She gives you a sceptical look, as though she doubted the sencerity of your words. "I need your help" she states, successfully blocking off your path. You quirk a brow, visibly intruiged. "I must inform you of something important but not here- there are far too many prying eyes" Celaena mutters, itching closer before looping your arm through hers. You fumble trying to evade whatever conversation awaited you, highlighting that you were in the midst of completing a highly cardinal task, but she brushes aside your complaints, opting to haul you into her lavish chambers.

It was just like how you had remembered it, the sprawling lounge fitted near the ornate golden fireplace. That same floccose rug spread out across a deep oak floor. An open doorway leading to her bedroom, and that beautiful wall mural tieing the arrangement together with a soft silk ribbon.

Your gaze lingers on that damned back wall. The place where you had last seen them. Exchanging a heated gesture of sizzling romance. A reciprocated one, unlike the cold hard blow you had received. If Celaena noticed a change in your demeanour, she didn't mention it.

She sucked in a breath, her eyebrows furrowing. "There is something rotten in Adarlan- and I intend to unearth what it is" Celaena began, her back straightening.

"But to do so I need more allies- and you are one of the few people I can trust to aid my cause". A grin stretches across her face as she peers over at your positively baffled expression. "I'm glad to see you back in the palace- there has been an absurd amount of testosterone circulating around here" she drawled. You blink. Once. Twice.

When the assassin had first waltzed over the threshold to the Glass Palace, she had swiftly barrelled into your tight knit group of friends. The two of you appeared to be tied at the hip, never missing a beat and dancing to your own boisterous songs. But she had known. She had been well aware of your feelings towards the Crown Prince. It hadn't just been heartbreak that had induced you to leave. It was also betrayal.

You took a steadying breath. She was your friend. You couldn't blame her for falling for Dorian. Right? It was your duty to help her.

"What do you mean by 'rotten'?" You ask, tearing yourself away from your seemingly endless well of self pity. Celaena crosses her arms over her chest, standing with the stillness of a statue. "You know what I mean- something vile is brewing and it somehow correlates with magic". You turn her words over in your head. You had a vague sense that this said 'rot' was linked in with the infamous King of Adarlan.

"But magic has been gone for years" You counter, a sudden feeling of dread embedding itself within you and rooting you to the spot. Celaena let out a distressed sigh, casting a sideways glance towards the glass balcony doors. "That's partially why I need your help". "I've been thinking a lot about this whole mess since you left-" she pauses, shifting back to face you. "-Why did you leave?". Your heart seems to halt. You should have expected your impulsive choice to be brought up.

"I needed some time alone- to think" you say rather somberly. It was a half truth, which happened to be the most you could offer. "I saw you" she suddenly muses, her tone tender. The words echo in your head. You feel your shoulders cave in, your heart cracking, ignoring the deplorable glue with which you had mended it. "That day after we retreated from the ball". It was getting hard to breathe.

You were plunged back into a recollection you had vowed to purge, a memory which had marred you in a way no other had. You were drowning, a floundering figure trying to grip onto some surface only to come to the harsh realization that nothing could save you from the lethal current shoving you deeper and deeper.

♡♡♡

You had been pacing along the corridors leading to the Crown Prince's chambers, preparing yourself for the confession you had been concocting for what felt like years. Your heart was beating wildly, threatening to escape your chest as you passed by Celaena's rooms. That's when you heard it. His laugh. In her chambers. Your feet moved on their own accord, propelling you back to the door of your friend's room. You peered through the opening, your heart dropping at the sight-

♡♡♡

"I have to go" you manage to get out before pivoting towards the door and rushing out. She calls after you, but you fail to acknowledge it. "I saw you". It was the final blow you had not been primed for. It was a mistake to return. You cursed yourself for having deemed yourself ready when you were still a crumbling mess. A heap of emotions sloppily strung together.

"Y/n?" A voice rasps from somewhere to your right. You halt your brisk trek, turning to face Dorian. "You weren't in the library- I was beginning to worry so I went to check if perhaps you were in your room but- is everything alright?". You try to force yourself to smile, to mask your pain but another memory hits you.

♡♡♡

Your gaze refused to leave them as they waltzed and twirled along the dancefloor with pristine, refined ease. They seemed to have been molded together, two perfect halves. You had asked him to save a dance for you. You had been seventh on the list he were to entertain. But he was currently dancing his twelfth dance, still nestled in the embrace of Celaena whom he had danced with first. Perhaps it was wrong of you to think you stood a chance but it was then that you had decided that you would share your feelings with him.

[abstractdiagram]

I’ve reformatted chapter four three times now to get it to Ao3 with my italics intact. I’m not going through it a fourth time. So stuff for Harry thinking to himself should be italicized but I’m not doing it here. Please see Ao3 for correctness. That being said. Holy forking shirtballs! This one is loooooooong. But we leave the hospital and meet more people and use more magic. So yay!!

Love you darlins!!!! Leave me comments and kudos so I keep wanting to write for people!

Chapter 4

It took three days for Dippet to get in touch with Harry, which pissed him off slightly. It wasn’t that the hospital wasn’t nice. The food was decent once they let him have any; they’d started so slowly with what he could have “‘cause, ye ‘aven’ been eatin’ in four months an’ yer body don’ likely know what t’ do wi’ food, ye ken?” The nurses were nice enough - Meranda especially took extra time with him and the older night nurse made sure to refill his water and check in on him she her shift started before “leaving you to your rest dear.”

It was Thursday night and Meranda had told him it’d be a colder one so he was tucked in under his blankets on his side with his long legs curled up. The tap-tap-tap on the window first registered as Aunt Petunia’s thud-thud-thudding on his cupboard door and he groggily hunkered under his pillow. Tap-tap-tap. “It’s too early for breakfast” he muttered. Finally the owl outside let out a short but loud and frustrated HOOT before he startled awake. His wand was in his hand before he finished sitting up and he huffed when he saw the feathered silhouette. It held its leg up as if to say “take the damn thing and let me go hunt you wholloping great tosser.” Or maybe that was just Harry’s mood after waiting for so long and dreaming that he was back under the stairs.

The window opened, surprisingly. Maybe because I’m in a storage room? No hospital he knew, including St. Mungo’s had windows that could open at any rate. “I don’t have any treats. I’m sorry. But this is a muggle hospital and I’m a patient. They’re not generally equipped for owls.” Harry untied the letter and the owl fluffed itself indignantly before taking off. The light whap of its wing against his head telling Harry without doubt that the owl was displeased. “Oh, sod off you feathery git!” The owl, though out of sight, was not too distant to hoot back with a distinct air of “bite me, magic boy.”

Great. Arguing with and losing to an owl. Just great. Harry closed the window, turned on the bedside lamp and settled to read. The script was a spidery slant written on parchment with the Hogwarts crest and motto across the top.

“Dear Mr. Shelby,

We must say, we were quite shocked to receive a corporeal Patronus from so great a distance sent by such an as-yet-unknown and young wizard. As such we took our time to do our due diligence in researching you and your circumstances before reaching out in response.

We are saddened to learn of your situation - we send deep condolences for your losses - and wish to express the reassurance that had we been aware of your family’s entrance to the country we would have extended a thorough and warm welcome. As it is, we wish to extend to you this welcome at this time.

Please note that a representative will be making himself known to you and the Muggle Caregivers at Whitchurch on September 22nd, 1944 at ten in the morning. Also be advised that you should have your things ready to depart. The representative will be bringing you to Wizarding London to the Ministry of Magic for evaluation and planning for the future. This is not a formal matter, but a way to assess your needs and what help can be provided in what ways.

We look forward to joining you and our representative at the Ministry on September 22nd.

Sincerely,

Headmaster Armando Dippet”

The 22nd. Today. I’ll be getting out of here today! Harry was excited by this aspect but also newly worried. He’d expected to be whisked away right to Hogwarts given his age and orphan status but this letter made it seem like he’d have to answer questions and complete evaluations before perhaps never even setting foot in the school. Well then. He’d just have to play along and give the answers that would get him to Hogwarts.

Why he wanted to go back to the castle so badly he wasn’t entirely sure. Mostly to help himself become grounded in this new body and new time frame in a familiar setting. Maybe a bit to put off having to re-enter adulthood in what was admittedly a semi-daunting situation. But mostly to reorient himself and get a better grip on his new life he told himself.

When Meranda came in early that morning he told her that he’d be leaving. She was shocked and concerned, “Bu’ ‘Arry, ye’ve no’ got yer strength back! And where’d ye be goin’ wi��� who?” He felt guilty about lying to her but the story he wove about a distant relative discovering him and coming to take him to a hospital nearer his family members - helped a tad by a Confundus charm that he felt absolutely gutted to have had to do - mollified her quickly and she gave him a long hug. She left soon after to fetch him some toast and he winced when she bounced her shoulder off the door frame as she went. “Oops!” She laughed to herself as she walked down the hall. “Didn’ see tha’ comin’ did I?”

When ten o’clock came he was wearing grey trousers that were too big at the waist and a white cotton undershirt that Meranda promised had “been washed enou’ ye can’ tell they were a right mess when ye came in.” -Dudley’s duds all over again these pants are. Ah well. It’s better than meeting a representative in an arseless hospital drape.

A double knock sounded and the door opened. Harry’s jaw almost dropped but he schooled himself into lesser shock as the man entered.

“Professor Albus Dumbledore, pleased to meet you Nathaniel.” He was so much younger than Dumbledore Harry knew. This Dumbledore had greying hair and beard but not nearly as long. And he wasn’t dressed in robes but a smart muggle suit. He shook his head to jostle his brain into gear before extending a hand to meet the one Dumbledore was extending as he crossed the small room.

“Nice to m-meet you professor. But you can call me ‘Harry’ please. Sir. From my middle name.”

“Right, right my boy. Harry then. Well. Have you gathered your things?” He looked around expectantly.

Harry raised the paper bag containing the wands and other things he’d yet to properly go through. “Here sir. Not much I’m afraid.”

“Ah; of course of course. Well. We will have time to remedy that when we get to London. Here, drink this up. And this one too.” He pulled first one potion vial and then a second from the suit coat pockets.

Harry took them without hesitation; he trusted Dumbledore not to poison him. He caught the bemused look in the older man’s eyes as he gulped them down though. He supposed he had just showed some quality or characteristic that would surely be tucked away and evaluated by that brilliant mind and he winced inwardly. He probably should have been more wary. After all, he was supposed to have no idea who this man was, much less trust anything from a Wizarding world he was not supposed to be very familiar with. Too late now. As it turned out it was a variation of a Pepperup potion and a Strengthening Solution. Harry felt instantly less fatigued and much more able to face the coming ministry interrogation.

“Thank you sir.” Harry was ready. He stood and crammed his feet into the shoes Meranda had brought. “My brother’s. ‘E… well. ‘E don’ need ‘em and ye do, righ’?” Her momentarily melancholy made her eyes glossy with tears and he realized that her brother must have also died in the muggle war. Before he could say anything she had chirped brightly that she’d be back to see him off and hurried out the door.

He grabbed his bag and Dumbledore led the way out into the hall. It felt odd to be walking and he knew he probably shouldn’t be able to do so yet without the vials he had been given. Thank Merlin for magic.

They stopped at a desk that sat at the junction of three hallways and Dr. Basil tottered around it to shake Harry’s hand. He didn’t seem too perturbed by Harry’s newfound strength. In fact, Harry was almost sure he heard the doctor mumble “Goodbye Daniel” instead of “Nathaniel” and he cast a side-eye at Dumbledore who was picking through a small dish of wrapped taffies.

They were almost out the door before rapid footsteps behind them made Harry pause. When he turned he smiled to see Meranda headed his way. She had a small knapsack with her and she pushed it into his hands. “I nipped down ‘ome on m’ break. ‘Ts no’ much bu’ is more than ye ‘ad. Don’ open it ‘ere. ‘M no’ sposed t’ give th’ patients things, ye ken?” Harry took closed the distance between them and wrapped her in a hug. She was shorter than him and rested her cheek briefly to his chest. “‘M no’ sposed t’ do tha’ neither.” She said when she pulled away.” She smiled at him and took two backwards steps away before turning from them, calling over his shoulder. “Lovely t’ ‘ave met ye ‘Arry! Keep gettin’ well, yeah?”

He had to wipe his eyes as he too turned back and, settling the knapsack’s strap over his shoulder he started back to the exit. Dumbledore watched quietly and said, “You’ve made a friend. Lovely young woman, I’m sure.”

“Yes sir. She is.” He spoke quietly and stared down at the floor. Less than a week he’d known her but he knew she’d be in his memories forever.

Once they stepped out into the blustery morning Dumbledore took the lead. They headed for the car park and Harry momentarily wondered if he had driven a muggle car to pick Harry up. He was quickly dissolved of that notion when they stepped around a corner to an unobserved patch of grass. Fumbling through his pockets Dumbledore muttered to himself, “now where did that portkey go… where is it.. aha!” He pulled a paper clip from his trousers. “Now, you hold this tight. We took a bit longer to exit than I had planned so any second now we’ll be - oh ho!” The hook-behind-navel feeling yanked into him and the hospital and grounds spun away.

They popped to in an alley full of bins of rubbish, startling a scraggly tabby cat that bolted under an upturned carton. Harry didn’t stumble, long ago having got used to portkey travel. Again, Dumbledore seemed to be filing that information away somewhere.

“This way my boy.” Dumbledore strolled down the alley in his suit and shined shoes looking for all the world like he was entering an office and not traipsing through old cabbage leaves and detritus. They stopped at the corner of the alley. There was a half brick wall here, jagged and showing that it hadn’t -always- been a half wall but part of a building. A wooden door was hanging crookedly ajar in its frame and Harry could see that there was nothing on the other side of it but an empty room. Without hesitation Dumbledore clapped a hand on his shoulder and led them through the door and into

“The Ministry of Magic! We have a meeting with a few minor officials to settle what will be done with your situation. This way.” Harry followed the hand still on his shoulder. He didn’t see anything familiar; it was too crowded and it was noisy and he was moving too fast until they stood before the golden grille of the lifts. “Minister Spencer-Moon, of course, won’t be part of this little meeting. Just myself, the headmaster of Hogwarts, whom you seem to know of, and maybe two or three others from different departments invested in keeping Wizarding youth out of harms way.”

Harry almost snorted. Out of harm’s way. That’s rich considering what happened to Nathaniel and his family. And what happened at Hogwarts every year I attended. And how the Dursley’s treated me while I was there. And Tom Riddle’s whole existence. And Circe knows how many dozens or hundreds of others they don’t and never will know of.

When the lift stopped they got out into a hallway he’d never seen before. There was less foot traffic here and it was quieter. They entered a room a few doors down and everyone rose to shake Harry’s hand.

“Headmaster Armando Dippet of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy.” introduced himself first before sitting at the far end of the table.

A squat witch with a crooked smile was next. “Dorietta Thomas. I’m from the Introduction and Reintegration department. I’ll be assessing what type of help you may need to get settled into your new world.” She sat to the left side.

A very tall, painfully skinny middle-aged man with a wheezy voice shook Harry’s hand next. “Ignatious Hornwald.” He gave no title or clue as to what he was there for but Harry shivered as the man stepped away and took his seat on the right, nearest the back corner as he could get. An Unspeakable maybe? Why?

Last but not least was a woman who sounded like what he imagined a poodle would sound like if it could talk. French accented and almost a barking voice. As kind as he was sure she was trying to be, it still sounded like an irritated dog was yapping at him. She was “Belinda Strongholm. I’m just taking notes.” When she sat she rested her hands on a stack of blank parchment and readied her quill and ink. She sat on the same side as Mr. Hornwald had, but much closer to Harry, almost as if she didn’t want to be near the skeletal man. When Dumbledore took his seat next to Dorietta, Harry was left at the last spot at the head of the table.

He sat and tried to not squirm uncomfortably. He may look seventeen but he was a twenty-five year old Auror and these men and women didn’t scare him. Ri-ight they don’t.

“Mr. Shelby -“ Professor Dippet started.

“Harry please. Just Harry.” He interjected. He wasn’t sure he could sit through the whole meeting being called “Mr. Shelby.”

“Harry. If you could please state your name and date of birth?”

Belinda’s quill scritched quietly as he recited “Nathaniel Harrison Shelby. January 3rd, 1927. And before you ask: my mother and father and I lived in Cardiff. We were surprised when shelling from the muggle war came to town. They were killed. I was found and taken to a muggle hospital in Cardiff where I have remained unconscious since May until a few days ago.” He looked at each of them in turn as he spoke but avoided meeting the eyes of Mr. Hornwald. He felt an odd slow skittering sensation in his mind. Like a spider trying to tickle its way into his brain. Harry threw up his Occlumency shields at once. He’d been practicing for years, both during and after his school years. Once his teacher no longer actively hated him, he found that he was quite good at sussing out when Legillimency was being directed at him and blocking it out. Hornwald sat back abruptly but minutely in his chair and Harry knew he was right - the man was Unspeakable and probably there to ascertain how much, if any, threat Harry posed. Harry sent a brief smirk towards the man. No, you don’t. Not to me.

No one else seemed to notice and Dippet carried on.

“How is it that you have never been to Hogwarts, or any other wizarding school, given your age?”

Harry paused a moment, listening to the memory whisper. “I was homeschooled. We moved around too often and my folks were adamant that I could learn as much as I needed with a mixed muggle and wizard education. I attended muggle schools throughout the years, sporadically but I did well enough that were I so inclined I could have graduated secondary school. I am proficient enough in the areas of magic that my parents always said were ‘main curriculum’ for testing students.” Here he injected his own ideas on the matter. “Having been unconscious for months, and waking up to no home, no immediate family and no prospects in either the muggle or Wizarding world I reached out to Professor – Headmaster I mean - Dippet as his was a name I had heard from my parents in passing as being someone of note and ability to ‘help sort things out’ as it were.”

Belinda took down his every word. Dorietta looked misty-eyed at his semi-sob story, as did Dippet. Hornwald and Dumbledore stared at him as if waiting for The Truth or some such was to be forthcoming. Harry resisted the urge to smirk again.

Dorietta spoke but her voice was thick and she had to cough a little to clear it. “Ha- *cough* Harry. You’ve been exposed to various magics throughout your childhood and teens as you say. Do you have a wand and is it present?”

He reached a hand under his shirt to pull his holly wand from his waistband. Dumbledore looked surprised, perhaps thinking he had stored it in the bag that now sat on the floor at his feet with the knapsack Meranda had given him. But Harry hadn’t been without his wand within reach more than a handful of times in years, the most recent exception being that he was, oh, say, in a coma.

“I do. Eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather. I’ve had it as long as I can remember.” He fibbed the last bit but no one seemed to notice.

“If I may see it dear?” She held a hand out and he looked at it reproachfully. “Only for a moment. And I won’t do anything untoward. I merely wish to make sure it is of working order.”

Stiffly, he placed the wand in her hand. She ran through a few spells causing sparks and stars and water to pour out and then making Belinda’s inkwell dance. Belinda slapped a hand to it and her nostrils flared at Dorietta.

“Fine fine. One more spell…” She concentrated and a tiny wispy blue stag half emerged from the wand tip. She was using Priori Incantatem. Shitballs what spells did I do before that? He was worried that a stunning spell or shield charm would pop up next, thinking of his Auror moments. Or what if it channels Nathaniel’s last spells? What had he been up to? But a new trickle of water and some confetti came next instead. Spells from his birthday party. The wand remembered.

Dorietta chuckled and passed it back to Harry who’s visible relief at having it back made Dumbledore squint and Hornwald twitch.

“Could you perhaps show us how you produced the water, Harry?”

He nodded. “May I, Ms. Strongholm?” He motioned to her no-longer-dancing inkwell and she slid it to him, confused. With a soft spell he transfigured it into an empty pitcher. “Aguamenti.” Water poured into it from his wand. When the pitcher was full he carefully made a swish and flick motion. “Wingardium Leviosa.” The full pitcher rose a foot off the table. “I could make it dance but I’m afraid it would spill.” He lowered his wand and the pitcher landed with a small thump. Another spell and the pitcher was gone; Belinda’s now very-full inkwell sat in its place.

“Remarkable!” Everyone was staring at him now. Dorietta was beaming. She turned to Headmaster Dippet. “I’m sure with a little help and a few weeks he’d be ready to start his seventh year at Hogwarts!”

Dumbledore hmmmed softly but Dippet was nodding slowly.

“Perhaps. We need to discuss this as a group.” Dumbledore interjected, now watching Mr. Hornwald’s expression.

Harry wasn’t surprised when they dismissed him, asking him to please wait in the hall for a few moments. He was pretty sure he’d secured a spot in Hogwarts, at least on a trial basis. He was very sure that Dumbledore was wary of him and once the Unspeakable spoke about Harry shutting down his Legillimancy the old wizard would trust him even less. It hurt in some ways to know that they wouldn’t be so close as they had been years ago. At the same time though he had to remember all he had learned about Dumbledore and the plans and fibs and mistrusts after he had died and how maybe they’d never been as close as Harry had wanted to believe. It lessened the sting somewhat. It would be what it would be and this time he would live for himself and not as The Boy Who Lived until it was convenient for the greater good.

Harry leaned back against the wall and waited.

[azsazz]

Will you please please give us your thoughts on Iron Flame?!?!

Fourth Wing/Iron Flame Spoilers below cut!

So...

First off, there was so much world building that I was kind of confused. I just kind of gave up at some point and read it for the characters lol. maybe it's because i didn't re-read fourth wing before.

the names of everything was a little annoying because they were all so unique i spent like two minutes trying to figure out how to pronounce everything. like she has four basic names (liam, sloane, violet, jack) and the rest I'm like ?!?!?!? WHO?

Speaking of Jack...I'm not sure I liked that whole thing. There wasn't any alluding to the fact that he'd be back in the first book, and I feel like he basically appeared out of nowhere in the second. Yes, we knew the healer was helping mend his soul (which is interesting af to me because how many others could they have helped? or is it just because he was a venin?) but the man literally had a fucking mountain dropped on him?! No way he would've survived I'm sorry.

I thought all of the fighting between her and Xaden was kind of annoying...like come on. And we learned so much about xaden but not at all at the same time?! like, now he can read minds, which means violet misinterpreted the sage/venin dreams because I'm assuming they came from xaden now, he was probably projecting them on her subconsciously.

chapter 48 was hot tho, the throne sex stuff, always a banger in my book.

why the hell was everyone keeping so many secrets from violet. like xaden, the dragons, her family...they keep saying how smart she is and stuff but like, that doesn't mean she should have to figure out everyones secrets for themselves?! betrayal.

also, how the fuck does someone become venin? was that explained in the first book or this one because now xaden is somehow one and idk how that happened?!

low-key i'm happy dain and her are getting closer again, but also your childhood's best friend's dad trying to kill you? i feel like that was unwarranted tbh. then he got sent away because of it and i wonder if he's going to make a reappearance.

also, andarna...she was hardly in the damn book. and i didn't think her lines were anything really special. i feel like she's basically only in the book for one specific plot point and the rest she's just off sleeping or with the elders or doing something else so ry doesnt have to write her?

omg the part where nadine said she was violet and that guy immediately snapped her neck was fucking WILD.

and the whole thing with cat was like petty as fuck but her power seems interesting. i enjoyed reading the challenge violet had when she was messing with her emotions.

let's see...i wonder what violet's second signet is going to be. she kept mentioning how well andarna could blend into her surroundings so im wondering if invisibility is one that could happen...or maybe the transportation one that they said hadn't been a thing for a long time. i feel like why mention that if she isn't going to bring that back too.

also, the headers before each chapter scare me. RECOVERED letters from xaden to violet....recovered from where and why whats going to happen 😭

wow, this was a lot of thoughts lol...i also want a bonus chapter from tairn or another dragons pov because i feel like him and sgayl were fighting a lot this book but i want to know what they're saying to each other.

overall, i enjoyed the read and the midnight release experience was so much fun and cute and clever and i def think they should bring those back. maybe for cc3 they'll do that!

[wellpresseddaisy]

On a Wing and a Prayer pt 2

Harry took a deep breath and tried to stop fidgeting. He’d wear a hole in his cuff if he didn’t, and he didn’t want Mrs. Weasley to feel like she needed to mend it. She’d already brought them all over-robes to wear to the appointment and some of the clothes older Weasleys had already outgrown for him. He appreciated things that fit better than Dudley’s cast-offs…and just the consideration of it. He knew they didn’t have a lot extra, but she still wanted to help in any way she could. Even the thought that he now had four adults in his life who gave a damn what happened to him boggled his mind. Granted, one was a potentially former Dark Lord, but that was four more people than he’d had previously.

(Five, if you counted Snape. Harry wasn’t certain he wanted to count Snape, no matter how tetchy the man got about him being put in mortal danger on the regular. At least that’s what Sirius hinted at in his last letter…if he could trust it. Sirius, he’d learned, was a terrible gossip. Anyhow, did it count when the adult’s personality could curdle milk?)

The goblin (no name given, just an irritated sneer, which Mrs. Weasley had explained was normal for the bank before they arrived) stared impassively at them from the other side of his desk.

“And why has Mr Potter chosen now to attend Gringotts, and not answered any of his post?” He asked.

Mrs Weasley sighed and looked unimpressed. It was the kind of unimpressed you could only manage if you’d raised Fred and George, Harry reckoned.

“Headmaster Dumbledore has, as per the rules explained to him by the Potter account manager, sent the appropriate form each quarter day by return receipt, informing this institution of the post redirection on Mr Potter. You can see the entirety of his correspondence here. He made copies of the forms sent and has attached the original receipt received in the post.” She pushed a bulging file folder over the desk. “He did try removing the redirection in this past Autumn term as Harry is fourteen and certainly responsible enough to manage his own trust account. It lasted about twenty-four hours. There should be correspondence regarding that incident as well. We’ll be meeting with the postal service after this to see what we can do about getting Harry his Gringotts post.”

The goblin perused the file, looking more annoyed than ever. Harry expected that, Mrs. Weasley having explained to them all that sometimes one needed to be rather forceful in requesting less commonly sought services. Most in the magical community just went to the Ministry. Mr Weasley insisted on anything that needed to remain private being done at Gringotts, so long as they held shared jurisdiction. He'd heard enough in the canteen to keep him from ever using Ministry services for inheritance or other family record keeping, even it it was free.

“This appears to be in order, though I will be opening an inquiry on just why the Potter account manager did not make note of the post redirection. You are certain you wish to do this here and not at your Ministry?” That was directed at Harry.

“Er, yeah. Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley said that if you want private things kept private then you use Gringotts services. After this past year I don’t want my business spread around. I know there’s a fee here, but I’d rather pay that and have some privacy than use the free service at the Ministry.” Harry sat up straighter and folded his hands in his lap. No use looking like he was going to pieces, no matter how he felt inside.

“And, as Harry’s trustee, Headmaster Dumbledore has approved the expense.” Mrs. Weasley produced another piece of parchment and handed it to the goblin.

“All is approved for the complete lineage plus any squib lines. Creating the lineage itself is simply a matter of writing your name. Any interpretation will be done by the Inheritance department. I will send a copy to them and they will owl you with any findings within the month. You will receive the original document and three copies will be filed, one in your vault and two with this department. Do you understand all this?” ‘Or do I need to explain it again in smaller words’ underscored the question.

“No, that’s easy enough to understand. Thanks.” Harry swallowed hard.

He knew there wouldn’t be any immediate answers, but he’d waited two weeks already and the whole process seemed to drag on forever. He couldn’t help some nerves.

Hermione practically vibrated in her seat next to him. Surprisingly, her parents looked just as interested and engaged in the process. She’d be doing it after him, of course, but it still surprised him to see how interested Mr. and Mrs. Granger were. They weren’t at all like Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. They dressed better, for one, and they actually seemed to like Hermione as a person, for two.

“Wonderful. This,” the goblin held up a quill so black is seemed to suck the light out of the room. “Is a blood quill. It uses your blood as ink to interact with the specially treated parchment. You will feel a pinch or sting on the back of your hand as you use it. It will be destroyed as soon as you have written your full name. The space on the parchment is marked.”

Harry stared at the neat line at the bottom of the sheet and took a deep breath. He picked up the quill (should it feel cold in his hand?) and wrote his name. The goblin spoke truthfully — the shallow sting as he wrote nearly had him dropping the quill. He finished and handed the quill back, watching as the goblin dropped it into a container on his desk and pushed a button. An acrid reek slipped free as Harry watched some liquid pour into the container through the window on the front. The quill dissolved into a pool of oily black.

“It smells terrible but destroys both quill and any blood residue. If you take this, your results should start to appear in the next few minutes.” He handed the parchment over. “Now, we have another for a lineage today?”

“Yes, please.” Hermione answered brightly.

“We opened a vault for our daughter yesterday. You should be able to draw the fee from there,” Mrs. Granger explained. “Hermione has the key to it.”

“Your key then?”

Hermione handed it over without hesitation. The goblin pressed it into a recess in the desk and watched as it glowed gold. Harry kept his attention firmly on Hermione. He didn’t want to look like a complete wally staring at a blank parchment.

“Payment received in full. You can stop by the tellers for an updated accounting of your vault. Do you understand the process?”

“Oh, yes,” Hermione answered. “It seems straightforward. In addition, I understand that the Inheritance department may find nothing. This is more for my own curiosity than anything else.”

“And family is important,” Mrs. Weasley added.

“You may sign, Miss Granger,” the goblin prompted, handing over a blood quill.

Hermione took a deep breath and added her neat signature to the parchment. She handed the quill back immediately and they watched as it disintegrated as well. Harry peeked down at his parchment. His parents had filled in already, and it looked like his Dad’s parents had too. With difficulty, he wrenched his attention away from the sheet and gave it to the goblin.

“Now that you have both signed, there are some final instructions. Your parchments are linked to a master copy that will be kept under heavy security in this office. Your lineage charts should finalize within the next twenty-hour to seventy-two hours. For particularly old families, this may take up to a week. The print will become smaller as the chart grows. When you wish to view the chart in its entirety,  tap it twice with your wand. You may still need a magnifying charm, as it will not enlarge past eight feet by six feet.” That seemed directed more at him, Harry thought. “Once the chart has completed, I will make copies from it and deposit them as per the mandate of this department. If you wish a copy to be deposited with the Ministry, you must write, pick up a copy, and bring it yourself. There is a charge of fifteen gallons for a Ministry copy. Is this understood?”

Harry and Hermione chorused a yes.

“Good. You are much less troublesome than most. I appreciate that you have followed instructions without quibbling or complaint.”

Harry wondered just who the goblin had to deal with. And what had they complained about?

“All the names on your charts will appear in black and will append birth and death dates. Magical lines will be traced in violet. Squib lines are traced in light green. Any line for which you are a potential heir will be traced in gold. The Inheritance department will arrange an appointment should they find any of these. Do not write me about it. I have nothing to do with inheritances. Mr. Potter, your account manager would like to see you, though I recommend you wait to make an appointment. There may well be changes made. I am exceedingly put about by his failure to note your trustee following our regulations so precisely. Further, I will open an inquiry as to precisely why you have been left in the dark regarding your finances. Your trustee made a specific request that we accommodate you with an appointment at age eleven. Clearly, someone missed the notice on the board.”

“I’d, er, no idea so much was in my file?” Harry ventured.

“In general, we do not bandy personal files about. In this specific case, I requested access and was granted it by the head of the Accounts department. He is most displeased with his department. He asked me to see to you today in addition to the lineage chart.”

That probably had some significance to goblins, but Harry wasn’t one.

“About Dumbledore as my trustee…” Harry trailed off.

“He has asked us to keep him well out of your spending decisions unless you decide to go on a broom-buying spree. Quite right and proper, as all his actions have been. He has only acted in your best interest.”

“Oh…oh good. Thank you.” Harry hadn’t even considered feeling anxious over his spending until that moment.

A curious glint appeared in the goblin’s eye and he shuffled some papers on his desk.

“There is, of course, the question of access to your maintenance account. Your non-magical guardians refused access on no less than seven occasions and then threatened to have the bank brought up on harassment charges if we continued to owl. Is there anyone who may qualify for it? Your parents, sensibly, wished you to be properly cared for should they be unable. You needn’t reside with whomever you select.”

Harry couldn’t answer for a minute. His mum and dad had…they’d made sure he’d be fed and clothed and housed properly and…he just knew it was Aunt Petunia who’d refused the money. Uncle Vernon would never. Frankly, he couldn’tbreally imagine Aunt Petunia turning down anything like that, unless they wanted to see receipts or something like that.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, please. They’ve had me often enough during the summer holidays that it would be perfectly appropriate.”

He'd known his answer immediately. It was one way Mrs. Weasley might actually accept something…and then they wouldn’t have to stretch to have him stay. Even with the home farm, he knew it was difficult, feeding an unexpected extra person.

“Harry—” Mrs. Weasley started.

Ron gave him a not terribly subtle thumbs up behind her back. They’d talked about it a few times, Ron’s parents refusing any money from Harry.

“You and Mr. Weasley have looked after me more than anyone else, Mrs. Weasley,” he cut her off. “And you’ve made sure I had things to wear that…that fit better and all that. And I trust you.”

She looked a bit misty at that. “If you’re sure. Of course we’ll submit receipts for any amount drawn.”

That was more to the goblin, who looked…perhaps pleased? Harry wasn’t great at parsing the subtleties of human facial expressions sometimes. Goblins completely escaped him.

“Gringotts has no worries the the Prewett Materfamilias will behave any way other than honorably. We will, however, appreciate the receipts and will send you a list of the account’s regulations in the post by tomorrow. Here is the Mark for the account. Ah, and Mr. Potter, you are of an age to carry a Mark as well. It will draw the funds automatically when pressed to the bill of sale. It will only work for you.”

Harry took a solid little seal and cupped it in his hand. The seal plate looked gold plated with a crest embossed in it, and it had a little wooden handle. He’d never had anything like it before.

“Now, if you will all please cease cluttering up my office.”

They knew a dismissal when they heard one. The whole group of them exited, Ron bumping shoulders with him as they made it into the corridor.

“Well, that was a wonderfully successful afternoon,” Mrs Weasley said brightly. “Why don’t we all have a nice tea and then we can tackle the post office.”

“Do you think they could put a redirection on Hermione?” Mr. Granger asked. “We only just saw…what was it…Witch Weekly?”

“Of course,” Mrs Weasley answered. “With what Ron said she received after those horrible articles, I’m certain they’ll oblige. I cancelled my subscription.” She didn’t mention the howler Ron sent her after Easter.

With that, Harry found himself chivvied out of the bank and into the cool of an early Summer evening. Diagon had calmed greatly from the throngs of people buying and selling and window shopping that afternoon. A few couples strolled together, looking slowly into shop windows. Others sat about with ice cream, just watching the world pass by. A harassed-looking young man strode down the street, his boot heels ringing against the cobblestones as he checked his pocket watch.

“How do we get to the post office?” Harry asked.

“We go out the Shaftesbury gate. We’ll be able to pick up an omnibus from there that will take us to the GPO,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“I don’t think the lines connect like that, Molly,” Mrs. Granger frowned.

“Oh, no, they don’t in your London. They do in magical London.”

“I beg your pardon?” Mrs Granger coughed. “Did you—”

“Did you not get the pamphlets?” Mrs Weasley looked dismayed. “Oh dear. Why don’t I explain a bit on the way…and…it’s a late day for the shops. We’ll stop at a bookstore so you can get the proper explanation.”

Curiosity satisfied for the moment, Mrs Weasley led them onward to the post office. Harry wondered what more the week might hold. His head already fairly swam with new ideas and information.

[peachonified]

To The Setters I have loved

aaaaages ago I had this idea. We all know Kageyama is obsessed with setters, so I wanted to write his obsession. This isn't quite what I imagined (although I am very happy with it) so if inspiration strikes me I will revisit. But for now, enjoy Kageyamas letters to the The Setters I have loved.

(if you would prefer to read it on AO3, follow the link!)

To the Setters I have loved

Rating G

Ship: KageHina

Characters Kageyama, Hinata, Oikawa, Sugawara, Sawamura, Kenma, Kuroo, Atsumu, Akaashi,

Tags: post time skip, setters, admiration, background ships: akbk, krkn, daisuga Olympic team,

Summary: At Hinata’s urging, Kagayama lets some people know how he feels

~o~

“You should tell them how you feel.”

They’re lying in bed, where they’ve been for the last little while. Kageyama has been daydreaming about volleyball plays, and Hinata’s been on his phone. While Kageyama has no idea what Hinata is referring to, he’s pretty sure it’s not something he wants to do.

“Shut up.”

Of course it’s not enough. Hinata rolls over until he hits Kageyama’s back. Kageyama can feel the intense boring into the back of his shoulder. It would be off putting if he hadn’t been putting up with it for years.

“No! I mean it! You should tell them how you feel. You’ll feel better.”

Turning his head, Kagayama stares at him, and Hinata just sends him a delighted smile. “Okay, fair, what I mean is I will feel better cos you will stop talking about them in bed.”

Brow furrowed, Kageyama thinks back to the previous four hours with no talking. None. Zero. “I… talk about them?” This is a dumb conversation. He doesn’t talk, let alone about <i>them</i> and who even is <i>them</i>?

“You’re making this up,” he decides, only to be met with a pillow to the face.

“Just write the damn letters Bakayama.”

Oikawa

“Oikawa-se-san. Oikawa-san!”

And yeah, that voice is a blast from the past. He wasn’t expecting to run into Tobio like this. On the court yes, but running down the hallway calling his name? Absolutely not. And Oikawa’s moved on from it all, he really has. But it’s not like he doesn’t have a few unresolved issues from that time.

“Tobio-chan,” he says all smiles, only to have an envelope slammed into his hand.

“I hope you’ll accept my feelings,” he says seriously, before walking away.

While Oikawa prides himself on having a quick wit, what the fuck is he supposed to say to that? Ignoring the jeers and catcalls of his team, he opens the letter. It’s a card.

Dear Oikawa-san,

Hinata told me to write a letter, but there was too much space, so it’s a card instead. I hope you like it.

Flipping to the front it’s a cartoon loaf of bread giving a peace sign. He can’t help his ugly-snort. While he’s somewhat bewildered – this is what Tobio thinks of him? – he’s a little charmed.

I know we haven’t always got on, but I had to let you know that I have admired you since we were in middle school. That admiration only grew – your serve, your ability to lead your team, the way you can take total strangers and set for them with the greatest of ease. I always admired that. I always wanted to be like you. Did I ever tell you when I ran into Ushijima-san at Shiratorizawa I told him that I would surpass you. That was – and still is – my aim. were, and always have, been the pinnacle of setters to me.

My deepest respect,

Kageyama Tobio

“What’s that? A love letter?”  He gets a hearty slap on the back as his wing spiker walks past.

Although they don’t wait for an answer, he responds, “Yeah, I think so.”

Because it is, isn’t it? It is a love letter! Happily, he puts it in his pocket. He’s definitely showing that to Iwa-chan when he sees him.

Suga

It was caught up in a pile of letters, but Sugawara recognises the terrible handwriting. “He really hasn’t improved has he,” Daichi says, leaning over his shoulder.

Laughing, Suga swats him, but agrees. “He’s only got so much capacity and all of it goes on volleyball. I wonder what this is?”

Daichi stares at it for a moment. “It couldn’t be…”

“Couldn’t be what?” Not one to put off anything interesting, Suga rips it open.

Before he can pull out the card, Daichi’s arms tighten. “You don’t think that’s a wedding invitation, do you?”

Suga’s hands crumble the envelope. “It better not be, because if our kohais get married before us you’re in big trouble.”

Pulling out the card, Suga decides it’s probably not a wedding invitation. Hinata and Kageyama are weird, but the pineapple with sunglasses is probably not the flavour they’re going for.

Probably.

Dear Sugawara-senpai

“Aww he still calls me be senpai!”

“He’ll do that until the day he dies.”

I want to say thank you. When I came to Karasuno you were the setter – The Setter. You were a strong and steady presence, who the whole team trusted – me included. Even when you came on just for a few serves, the team lit up. When you stepped onto the court it was an inspiration.

Despite our positions, you mentored me, you supported me right from the start. Even though I came to Karasuno with a dark history, even though I was a setter who took over, you gave me a chance and trusted me. You were a real senpai and for that I can never thank you enough.

Yours very sincerely,

Kageyama Tobio

“Wow, he’s grown up. The kids have grown up, Suga!”

“Oh my god,” Sugawara’s voice is all choked but he can’t help it. “Look at his signature Daichi! It’s got a heart!”

3. Akaashi

He doesn’t get many personal letters. Occasionally a postcard from Bokuto, but to get a proper letter in the mail is something unusual. The writing is so terrible it’s probably a volleyballer, but other than that, Akaashi can’t even hazard a guess who it’s from.

Grabbing his letter knife, he slits the top and pulls open a card. It has some very nice owls on it. He can’t help but nod approvingly.

Dear Akaashi-san,

I’m not sure if you remember me, but my name is Kageyama Tobio

Akaashi puts the letter down and laughs. He has to. Who wouldn’t remember Kageyama Tobio. Who also plays professional volleyball. Who is also currently on the national team with his husband. For the second time. Good grief. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he picks up the card again.

I met you when I played with Karasuno, back in high school. I met you at a training camp in Tokyo, and from the start I admired your calm and collected nature. Even more than that, I wanted to model my behaviour off you

He snorts a laugh. Yes, there are a few similarities between Bokuto and Hinata.

I have even more admiration now that I have played with Bokuto-san. I don’t mean anything by this! Bokuto-san is very talented, and even helped me pick out this card.

Thank you for your time and best wishes,

Kageyama Tobio

Still such an awkward kid, he thinks fondly. While it’s true he and Kageyama didn’t have much to do with each other, Akaashi has received a play-by-play run down of anyone who has ever set for Bokuto, and of course he’s attended games where MSBY played the Adlers. He’d been an amazing since he was a teen and he’s even better. Bokuto is spoilt by the setters in his life.

Taking the card, Akaashi looks to the wall covered with all the volleyball accolades. Bokuto gets so many he’d put his foot down early on: one wall, and if it can’t fit on the wall it goes in a box. The wall is covered and every single one of them is important and special. Of course they are all for Bokuto, but the wall gets rearranged depending on how they feel. Right now Bokuto’s favourite is a signed copy of him with an adult actress, both showing off ample cleavage. She signed his and Bokuto has been laughing ever since. Akaashi’s current favourite is the thank you card from the school where Bokuto and Kuroo did some coaching.

Akaashi has nothing up there… but this card… Akaashi pins it over the adult actress. This way Bokuto will see his card when he goes to check out his own cleavage.

4. Kenma

“Mails in.”

For the first time perhaps ever, something lands on Kenma’s desk. It’s an envelope.

“What’s this?”

Kuroo sticks his head back in. “It’s a letter? Don’t tell me don’t know what a letter is? Back when we were young, people used to communicate by-“

“I know what a letter is,” Kenma says peevishly. “Why do I have one?”

“Open it and find out.”

Kenma does not want to do that. He is not a fan of surprises and everything about this is unexpected.

Who even has his address? He wonders as he rips it open.

Inside is a card. It’s got… a cat at a computer? Does this have some deeper meaning? He ponders a few moments before opening the card.

Dear Kenma-san,

Through you I learnt how a team is so much more than a setter.

Although I wish I could have asked you more questions, watching you I learnt a lot. If you ever would like to have a conversation, I would be more than happy.

Hinata wants to know if you liked the card.

Yours sincerely,

Kageyama Tobio

“So, what is it?”

“I’m not sure,” he says before offering to Kuroo. Who reads it and laughs.

“You want me to throw this out.”

Kenma reaches for it. “No,” he decides. And it’s not just because he likes the cats.

5, Atsumu

Kageyama hasn’t changed much since they were teens, Atsumu decides. He can feel the glare burning into the back of his neck, and he’s not sure what the problem is. <i>Kageyama</i> is the starting setter, not him so what’s the-

“Miya-san? Please take this-“

“Tobio-kun, it’s been years and you still – wait! Where are you going?”

Kageyama is somehow already around the corner. Shaking his head, he looks at his hands and it’s a letter? Why has Kageyama Tobio given him a letter? Ripping it open he pulls out a card that has onigiri on the cover. Did… did Kageyama think he was his brother?

Shrugging, he opens the card.

Dear Miya-san,

The first time you set for me, was a moment of joy. It felt like I could conquer the world, and I knew I wanted to make my spikers feel like that.

From the first game we played, you were nothing less than perfect. You think so fast. You move so beautifully. I was inspired. I am inspired.

There’s some scribbled-out words. Atsumu is pretty sure he can see Hinata’s name, and even though he can’t read it, he has a pretty good idea what he wanted to write. He remembers that game, pointing at Hinata telling him he’ll set for him. And he has, he thinks smugly. Atsumu is good. He knows his good. But he also knows that Kageyama is better. God, it’s frustrating, but Kageyama really is a good setter.

I am sorry about the card. Hinata chose a picture of twins, but I thought this was the better option,

Your teammate on the Japan National Team,

Kageyama Tobio

He laughs. Kageyama put it directly into his hand. Did he think Atsumu would think it was from someone else? Some other Kageyama? What a crazy kid. Reaching for his backpack, he zips it into a safe, inner pocket. He’ll show this to Samu. He’ll love the blast from the past.

Ahhhh! It’s annoying, but Kageyama Tobio, despite being a terrifying powerhouse is still a sweet kid. He’ll definitely save this.

+ 1 Hinata

“Well, how did it go?”

Kageyama glares at him, but Hinata can tell it’s half hearted.

“What do you mean? I posted three of them, and the other two I gave to them before leaving.”

“Whattt? You didn’t stay? But that’s the best bit!” He pauses. “No, that’s fine. I’ll go find out. I want to know what they say anyway.” It’s Hinata’s turn to glare. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t let me read them!”

“That’s because you would have laughed. Or rewritten them.”

“Not true,” he pouts, knowing full well it’s true. Still. He wants to know what’s in the letters. And the reactions. Oh well. He’ll find out in due course.

“Here.”

His hands come up automatically as something is shoved in his face. It’s an envelope. Kageyama looks utterly embarrassed and Hinata is here for it.

“Can I open it? Can I read it now? Are you going to run away?”

“Just open it, dumbass.”

Cheering, Hinata does that. It’s a cute little card, it’s got a heart and a rainbow. “You’re so cute, Tobio!” he teases, before he reads it and runs out of words.

I’d like to be your setter forever.

Will you marry me?

“Tobio!” he shrieks, throwing himself into Kageyama’s arms. He’s pretty sure he’s crying and shaking, but all he feels is steadiness of Tobio beneath him.

When he finally gets his breath back, Kageyama is looking at him soft, and uncertain.

“Is that a yes?”

He’s so stupid. Bakayama. <i>His</i> Bakayama.

“Yes, Tobio. That’s a yes.”

He’ll find out about the other cards tomorrow.

[goldeneyedkim]

The WIP List - Aged WIPs

Okay, so irl is kind of... high stress at the moment, so let's see if I can just bury myself in some writing.

In particular, I'm starting to get super itchy about fics that I haven't finished and keep intending to. Going to start this as a way to kind of keep myself accountable for actually making progress on these things.

On this list:

After the Light - the Stony MCU/Old Guard crossover that was originally a oneshot, I probably should have left a oneshot, and really probably only need one chapter left to finish--just have to decide what to do it with.

The Real Monsters - the Naruto/CM crossover that I originally thought was going to be 5 chapters, and now I'm hoping to just finish in four. My friends all laugh at me when I say I hate Plot and Plot is a four-letter word? This fic is everything I mean about "I hate plot." It has an 8-year-old Naruto and Sasuke, so there is no romance to play off here, it's just actual plot, and fuck me, I hate this so much. Why did I do this to myself? This is a plotfic, and I know the end, but it's how to get there I'm fucking stuck on, and this one has a lot of people who have been very patient. I just want it done.

Boundless - EraserMight soulmate fic I started for-fucking-ever ago. It follows canon very closely, so I just really need to sit down and speed-watch the relevant parts, and just finish the last chapter where they decide that, yes, they want a romantic relationship with one another.

Prepared to Sacrifice - Ugh... this one has one or two chapters left, maybe, and I'm already 2k into the next one, it's just a very particular type of headspace to write, and I'm having trouble figuring out how to finish it off. I was going to write a sequel but that's almost certainly not going to happen, so the final chapter might just be the opening chapter of the sequel I wrote. It would work as an open-ended epilogue. So just need to finish the damn thing.

A Dragon Among the Ashes - a DekuBaku slavefic that I started for a big bang a while ago and... realized in the middle of writing it that I don't actually like BakuDeku enough to make them the center feature of anything more than a short fic. Like, I do ship them in the lowkey, background way that I kind of feel like "this is basically a good as canon" for a lot of things, and I include them as a background ship a lot, but... Shouto has become my blorbo, and if it's not focused around him, ugh, it's a struggle. I really just need to finish the last damn chapter.

Fireworks and Warnings probably belongs on this list. I probably need to just figure out an end and write it. It's been on hiatus for like 3 years. *sigh*

Basis for Human Hope - Gundam Wing omegaverse fic with 13x2 (yes, you read that right) and endgame 5x2. I need to see if I can remember how to write short stuff and see if I can crunch this one down. I'm, uh, just noticing how many hits that fic has (relative to most GW fic lately), and... yeah, should work on that next chapter.

On the Things Not Posted But I Really Should Work On:

Sequel to my EdRoy darkfic - dealing with the fallout of Ed being mated against his will, for public spectacle no less, and also being knocked up. If I could knock this out in 20k, I'd be delighted. I... uh, have no such faith it's going to be under 30k.

Sequel to my consensual bitching DekuTodo fic - This one has actually been started. I'm, like, over 2k into it (might be more), but uh, kind of missing the endgame here. Probably should just be Shouto having the baby (babies? I honestly don't remember what I was planning), so this should be relatively (I know, I know, don't laugh) short.

Firsts series - This is the high on the list to immediately finish. I started this idea way back when writing Stand Without Flinching. Since finishing the Stars That Have People Names mainfics, this is literally the last piece of the series I plan on writing, and I have had the worst time making myself work on it. I finally kicked my ass into gear last night, and got about 3.5k written on it, and two more of the 5 "firsts" written. That makes 3/6 done, three more to go, and 2 are smutty (which are usually easy, I just really was not in a mood to write smut last night). I really, really want to put this series to bed and mark it complete, so I think this is going to be the next one on the list.

All right--and of WIPs that are not on this list:

Surviving the Fire - weekly updates on this one, and I tend to be very good at keeping to a strict schedule. Next chapter of this hits today. Not a concern.

If You Have Been Brutally Broken - on a schedule, every other Wednesday, I also have at least a couple more chapters pre-written, so hopefully by the time I'm live writing this one, I'm done with Surviving. I love this fic, and I'm excited to force myself to finish it.

A Bun in a Hidden Oven - I basically have it finished. I can add another chapter; we'll see if I bother. No concern here.

When You're Married and No One Told You - this has always been open-ended, and I'll add to it if/when I get the inspo.

To Be Alpha - this is the BakuTodo alpha quirk fic. I have no damn idea where I'm going with it. I'd like to move it up to the WIP list but it's been sitting where it is for years b/c I'm stuck and I disclaimed that when I posted it.

Beware of Alphas - NaruSasu omegaverse. I love the idea of this world (where alphas are locked out of society), but mostly going to see if I find fun prompts to keep it going. Low pressure, as inpso hits.

Okay, now that I've wasted time typing all that up--let's go write. Surviving is due today, so it gets first priority. We'll see what else I get done after that.

[outpost51]

Happy WBW!

Tell me one of the details of your world building that makes you the most excited! What do you want to talk about the most?

Happy WBW!!!!

Well, I’ve talked about the vampire council — how about where the vampires came from?

When a mommy bat loves a daddy bat very much—

Just kidding, follow me!!

SO!! Vampires were Oopsied into existence by angels — “But Kobbl I thought angels were Life’s children!!” You are correct! But pobody’s nerfect in this world, not even the goddesses, they all live and love and fuck up and sometimes they do a bit of all three.

If you recall I’m being so pretentious asdfasds, there are four “levels” of fallen: parvia, mediocri, indigni, and nefasi. And as I’ve said before, only three angels have ever become nefasi, and only one has survived getting booted off the Edge (hard to fly when they’ve ripped off your wings): Phada, one of the vigilisi. She was patrolling the Veil when she came across what she thought was a half dead human woman being dragged through the Veil by imps — angels aren’t supposed to interfere with living humans, humans get burned or sick or worse, but it was Phada’s job to prevent Abominations from crossing the Veil, and a human dying on Their Side was a surefire way of making one, so they could… forgive this interference, right? Her mother is curatori, so she’s bound to have some of that healing in her, just enough to get the girl back on her feet so she can run.

Fun fucking fact. You know how when indigni (violent offenses, third “worst” fallen, subjective) are cast out, their wings are shredded and they’re left for dead at the border? They look pretty damn human when laying on their backs.

Fun fact numero second. Ever wonder what happens when a fallen drinks from an angel? BAD SHIT. BAD SHIT HAPPENS, PHADA.

Isri (the indigni in question) got her wings back! Oops!! And then went on a rampage! Double oops!! And then Miss Bleeding Heart, in an effort to fix her fuckup, went after her! Triple oops!! She’s not supposed to leave her fucking patrol!! She’s supposed to call the praesti!! So Isri has herself a fucking FEAST in a nearby village, and Phada — y’all know Phada, our “hero” — manages to behead her with a shovel stop her just in time to leave one (1) person mostly alive.

Fun fact letter 3. Remember how angels aren’t supposed to interfere with living humans? How they get burned or sick or worse? Yeah, this falls under “or worse”. So the girl — Josseline, if you’re wondering — “survives” her injuries thanks to Captain My-Mom-Is-Curatori and gets elevated to not-quite divinity, hovering somewhere between angels and Something Else.

Of course, being a good little cloudbaby, Phada went home and fessed up, hoping that admitting what had happened would—

Yeah, she got about halfway through “so the body was an indigni” when the Seven (imperatori, they’re the angel judges) were like:

… and dragged her kicking and screaming to the Edge. Her wings hang above the central seat in the hall of justice as an example — Altael (imperatori primus, that’s his chair her wings hang above) loves telling that story.

Phada survived her fall and vanished into the Wilds (the place where even Outlands residents refuse to go).

Josseline found herself a town to rule over, Tagnan, and unintentionally Turned the governor’s wife, Sophie; Josseline didn’t quite drain her all the way, because Sophie fought back and got Josseline’s blood in her mouth.

Friends, Romans, countrymen— that is our first bloodline. Sang-d’origine.

“But what about the other twelve bloodlines!!” Haaaaa about that.

See, angels are busy making New Shiny Souls and keeping the Holy Holding Tank and patrolling the Veil, someone has to deal with the Icky Nasty Corrupted Souls that get stuck on the humans’ side. Enter Death’s cleanup crew: demons. They eat the Icky Nasties. But angels got to make a new Thing!! What if we made a new thing also!! Well one of ‘em figured out the Vampire Formula and made the Phystrokhi — our first daywalkers. (Lightsiders, they call themselves).

The Fae are just greedy little shits. Some Unseelie asshole worked out the Vampire Formula and made the first Darksiders: the Shadow Watch. And if the Unseelie get something, the Seelie are petulant until they Also get that Thing. Enter the Midnight Descendants.

And shit spiraled from there!! There was a fucking vampire-werewolf war!! There are dhampires now!! This is why we can’t have anything nice!! PHADA.