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shushiyuii · 3 years

Note

Here is a writing request! I hope you have fun with it! You can put noms in if you want to! :D : Giant warden hybrid Wilbur lives very deep underground and is very lonely. He meets a lost avian hybrid named Phil and decides to help him out of the cave system. When they get out Wilbur is sad that Phil has to go. Phil then decides its time to adopt another child and brings Wil with him home to a surprised Techno and Tommy.

AAAAAA I LOVE THIS SO MUCH! THANK YOU ANON! I DID HAVE A LOT OF FUN WITH IT and may also have gone a bit crazy with it? lol

(I didn't include Nom's in this story but if you ever wish for a part two with noms or anything i'd be more than happy too!)

Warnings: Injury, (Maybe some heavy subjects such as a child being lonely)

Words: 2.6K+

He doesn’t remember his younger days; he honestly couldn’t be sure who he was or how he even came into existence. One thing for sure was sounds, the tapping of a spider’s legs, creepers occasional hissing, skeleton’s bones rattling and a zombie’s growls.

It was always so dark, he’d seen the light of lava, sometimes even the light of day but the sky was always so high, so out of reach. And he couldn’t quite fit into the cave systems to find a way, so he was stuck.

He’s alone, he hates it. It’s too dark.

…

Phil flew high above the clouds in laughter, it’d been a while since he’d gone out on an adventure. Well, if you counted a much-needed mining trip of coal, iron, and such. But it was nice to be out of the house for once, especially with the kids out of the way.

Not in a bad sense though, he loved his kids but sometimes things were so busy he couldn’t keep track of things. Raising a toddler and a somewhat crazy child is well chaotic.

His two kids, Techno and Tommy. Techno had been adopted by Phil a bit early on, when Phil first met his now-wife, Kristin. He found Techno on the streets of a village, trying to fend off bandits. Phil’s fatherly instincts kicked in, a thing he’d always had and couldn’t help but take the boy in. Much to his reluctance.

Techno grew up with Phil and is now a very healthy and happy 11-year-old, and then there’s Tommy. The most recent member of the family, his little bundle of joy of about 3 years old, Techno found it odd being an older brother, he still does but he copes.

The feeling of his feathers swaying, his hair blowing, him having to attempt to keep his hat on every second, he missed this feeling. He was glad he just managed to find a babysitter since their mother was currently out on ‘business terms’.

…

The vibrant blue sky, below the loving shades of green passing with every flap of his wings. He wondered if his wife was watching over him, with her being a god and all.

He was happy how life was currently going as of late, he only hoped that fate had a good future ahead of him.

He shook himself out of his thoughts as he finally arrived at the destination. He had been well prepared for this trip; it was a mine that he’d been wanting to adventure for ever so long. He could tell there was something about it, something special.

And judging by the vibrant minerals just shining from the sunlight of the entrance, something told him there was more than just iron and coal in this cave, perhaps something more valuable, diamonds.

…

He wasn’t sure how long it’d been, but it had been a long time, he had quite a bit of iron, coal. But not only that gold and emeralds, a valuable currency. He wouldn’t have to worry about mining with the number of minerals he now had. Not only that but diamonds could be used to create powerful weapons.

He knew Techno would be happy, he’d always loved shiny things. Probably due to his Piglin features. And he could make Kristin some beautiful jewellery. It made him happy to say that his family was going to be good for a good while.

…

He picked up different noises, it was odd to hear such things. He could hear strange padding noises, perhaps some creature moving? Not only that but he heard the breaking of stone, which was a rare sound in his caves.

It was somewhat crazy to think something else could be coming closer to him, to hurt him. He knew he was strong not he didn’t even know If he was as strong as the outside monsters.

He wasn’t sure how he came to be in this world, he was always so alone. But sometimes the vines would speak to him, telling him of things like a place called the surface, which was colourful and bright.

…

The breaking of stone could be heard again, it only got louder and louder every minute. Whatever was making those sounds had found him and was coming for him. His antennae twitched anxiously; he was scared he didn’t want to die.

His claws bared as he readied his sharp teeth, he scanned for wherever the sound was coming from and waited to attack.

…

He panted as he broke at the stone, it’d been a while since he’d done so much mining, he was much out of shape. He had no idea where he currently was, he was long lost in this cave with no way of finding his way back. Despite the torches, he had no lead to where he came.

He was now trying to mine into the walls, hoping to find another branch of the cave that would finally lead him to a way to the surface. After the struggles of breaking through the wall for however long, he finally found another branch of the cave.

Big mistake as the first step he took into this cave, there was a loud crashing sound. Something had tried to hurt him, and he barely dodged it, the ceiling of the cave barely supported the impact, rubble falling from the ceiling.

He readied his sword for battle as he ran to behind a rock for cover. Something that caused that impact was definitely big, like strangely big. Not only that but the cave was one of the darkest caves he’d ever seen, the only light being from his torch.

He had no idea of where if he was honest, he couldn’t even tell if he was hiding properly. Anything could creep upon him at the current moment, it was oddly quiet, the only sound being his heartbeat.

…

He heard a strange growl behind him, it scared him with how deep and shallow it sounded, definitely a monster. Hesitantly he turned to the right, and right there was the monster staring right at him. But the monster flinched back when Phil turned around, the bright light in the monster’s face.

It seemed to hurt its eyes as he held his eyes and stumbled back in pain, from what he saw he saw about four eyes, antennae, and dark greenish-blue skin, with some light green bioluminescence that reacted to light. It appeared to be a Warden, a creature Phil had read about.

A creature of great mystery, one that mostly relied on sound, one that could communicate with plants. It was an odd creature, but the thing is about this Warden. It had a set of hair, not only that but it looked a lot more humanoid than what he’d seen drawn of the creatures.

It looked rather young too… No! No fatherly instincts! Monster?...

…

He winced in pain and stepped back from the strange being, he hadn’t seen light in quite some time. This thing was nothing like he’d ever before. He had never seen such a strange light. It hurt. This thing was strong if the creature had that then it could definitely kill him.

It came prepared.

“Hello?” it spoke. His eyes dilated as he scanned for the light, he saw it move around. He could see the creature’s confused features. It seemed almost scared itself, not only that but concerned. Something he wasn’t quite familiar with.

He was surprised by the fact that he could understand the creature, it was an oddly familiar language. “Hello?”, he replied with hesitance. He was scared that the monster’s features would change, and the creature would attack him.

“Oh! You talk? Good, because I think there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding!”. The creature made a strange sound, but seemed relieved and happy? Laughter?

“Sorry about the light, I didn’t realise it’d hurt you, my name is Phil. How about you?”

“What’s a name?”

“Oh? You don’t have one, well I guess a way to describe it would be a sort of title, something people can call you to identify you from others!”.

“… I don’t have one?”.

…

The creature- Phil had come closer, more friendly than before. No weapons, a smile. The once bright light is now dim, more adjustable.

“Well, if you don’t have a name. How about we give you one?”.

“Okay…”.

“Hmm… You look like a.. A Wilbur!”.

“Wilbur?”.

“That’s your name! Wilbur! Do you like it”.

“It sounds nice. I like it!”.

A name? It sounded nice, it made him feel unique, different from others…

…

“Well, Wilbur. Do you think you could help me?”, “How?”. “Well, you see I’m kind of stuck here. I don’t know my way out.”.

“Where do you want to go?”, “The surface.”.

…

“The surface?”, “Yeah! I need to get home!”. “Home?”, “Yeah, it’s where I live with my family!”, “Family?”, “A group of people who are very important to me, I have to get home or my sons, I don’t know what will happen.”, “Okay. I’ll help.”.

Wilbur lent his hand, confused Phil just stared at it. But Wilbur just ended up scooping up Phil and standing up, wandering through the caves.

“So, you live in these caves?”, “Mhm”, “Aren’t you lonely?”, “… Yeah…”.

“How old are you?”, “I don’t know, they say I’m a youngling…”.

…

Phil’s fatherly instincts kicked in, a kid on his own in a fucking cave system? No fucking way. He had no choice; his mind was already made up. This kid was now his, he now wanted nothing more than to smother this boy in the love he never had, care for Wilbur. Like how he met Techno.

The two ventured the caves for a while, surprisingly no mobs. The two at this point had spoken for a while and gotten to know each other a small bit, Wilbur seemed fairly interested in his family too! So, it made him happy to think that he’d achieved a new son!

But he spoke a little too soon, a loud bang frightened Wilbur. Wilbur jumped back and dropped Phil from a height. Phil landed with an oof and looked back at Wilbur who was now crouching in fear, immediately he ran over to comfort the boy despite his aching leg.

“Hey, hey. Wil, it’s alright, it was just a creeper.”. He ran his hand over the boy’s own hand, “I-I, it was loud...”, “I know, I know. But it’s okay! It’s not gonna hurt you anymore mate! I’ll protect you!”.

…

He released his hold on his eyes and looked down to Phil… Protect? As in guard him? Phil’s eyes were enough to reassure him, it brought him comfort despite the small time of knowing him, he’d never known such a kind person before.

He picked up on a sound, the tugging of string. Phil didn’t seem to hear it as he was concentrating on him. He looked back to see a skeleton aiming an arrow at Phil. Scared, he quickly brought Phil to his chest as the skeleton shot the arrow.

Phil screamed but immediately calmed as he heard the arrow hit the ground, realizing that Wilbur had only been protecting him. He smiled and looked back furiously at the skeleton.

He reached for his sword and despite his aching leg, wiggled out of Wilbur’s hold and sliced the skeleton in half, its remains turning to dust and bones. He looked back to Wilbur, “You okay, mate?”.

“I’m fine! How about you? You’re walking differently.”. “Ah, I’m fine mate. My leg just hurts a bit!”. “Hurts? As in pain?”, “Yeah? Wh-“.

Phil was cut off when Wilbur brought him back to his chest, standing up and continuing their adventure to the surface. Being sure Phil was secure in his hold, not wanting to bring any more pain to this man.

…

A bright light could be seen in the distance, “Hey Wil! I think that’s the surface!”. Wilbur looked over in the direction of the light, he winced slightly but his eyes adjusted as he made way to the light.

Once they were outside, Phil took a good breath of fresh air. Wilbur copied, confused as to why and surprised with how fresh the air felt in his lungs. It was refreshing.

“Wil! We’re outside! Thank you so much!”

“It’s nothing but…”

“Hmm, what’s wrong?”.

“Where do I go now?...”

“We can go to my place if you want, you can meet Tommy and stuff.”.

“Really?”.

“Of course, Wilbur!”.

Phil then flew upwards and directed Wilbur to follow him, along the way Wilbur would get distracted by the views and greenery. Phil was more than happy to wait for the boy.

Now that he thought about it, he had a clearer view of Wilbur, who was definitely a lot more humanoid than he first thought, perhaps he was a hybrid of sorts? Only time could tell.

But at the break of dawn, Phil arrived home as was greeted by a worried Technoblade running towards him, a Tommy trying to follow behind him, wanting his father’s hold.

“Techno! Tommy! Are you guys okay?”. “Dad! Where have you been?”.

The worried words of his son and the rambling of his toddler were enough to make him scoop them up in his arms and cover them in kisses. Which seemed to cheer the two up.

But all hell broke loose when Techno stared up at Wilbur, he stood in front of Phil to protect him. “Who are you?!”, “Techno! Calm down! This is Wilbur! Your brother!”, “Brother?! Really Dad?!”, “Yes really”.

…

Despite the reluctance, Techno grew used to his new sibling, so did Tommy who seemed to really like Wilbur. Not only that but Kristin was more than happy to have Wilbur adopted into the family, and that’s how Wilbur joined the family.

… Bonus …

“Bitch!”

“Oi, don’t use those words, Tommy!”.

Tommy was now about 5 years old, a very clingy 5-year-old. One who never left Wilbur alone, not that Wilbur hated it, he loved his younger brother a lot. It was just sometimes he could be quite annoying.

“Wilby! I want cuddles!”. His antennae twitched as he closed his four eyes, pinching his nose to be as dramatic as possible and let out a long sigh, “Finee!” he dragged out. Tommy’s excitement as he ran to grab blankets was more than enough to make him smile.

Wilbur sat down against the wall as Tommy dragged pillows and blankets against the floor, the things being double his height and dragging behind him. Then made his way to throw the pillows at him and attempting to climb onto his lap.

He failed multiple times, “Wil! Help me!”. Finally with the help of Wilbur’s claw he adjusted and cuddled within Wilbur’s hold.

“Tell me that story again!”, “The one about the civilization and the brothers?”, “Yeah!”.

Wilbur laughed, “Okay!”.

Within 5 minutes of the story, Tommy had fallen asleep, so Wilbur changed to a simple lullaby whilst playing with his baby brothers’ hair. Something precious, something he’d always protect.

“Got room for one more?”, Techno stood there in his crowned PJs, who seemed barely functioning, his blanket and pillow dragging behind him. Usually, he’d never do such a day but today seemed to be an exception. “Of course Tech!”.

The three then fell asleep together.

…

“Awwhh! Look at them Phil!”, Kristin whispered as she peered into the room of her son’s bedroom. Phil giggled, “I know! I’m glad I have such a good family”.

Within the palm of her hand, he laid. Thankfully for them, Kristin was a giant, so the house was already pretty adaptable for Wilbur. She placed a kiss on his forehead. “Love you, hun!”, “Love you too!”.

#mcyt g/t #mcytg/t #dsmp g/t #giant!wilbur #tiny!phil #tiny!techno #tiny!tommy #giant!kristin #shushi's writings

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definitelynotsuzumi · 3 years

Text

Zapped to Another World

Genshin Impact x Fem!Reader

I wrote this in my spare time when I was working back in November and thought that I should share this ^-^

Depending on the comments/notes and if I have spare time, I may be updating this.

[Masterlist]

The rain poured down your umbrella. The clouds coloured the sky a dark grey as you ran for the bus. You sighed as you reached the traffic light. Yup, you were definitely not going to be able to catch it now.

School had ended for the year, which meant more free time for you and the new game you had recently gotten into. Genshin Impact.

You could not help but smile at the thought of it. With school out of the picture, you could finally focus on the game completely. There was so many things to do. Farming for artifacts, completing your daily commissions…

You sloshed your way over as the lights turned green. While you love that school is out, you honestly hated the wet weather that came with the winter break and the feeling of wet socks on your feet. After safely crossing the road, you winced as a white truck rushed by, soaking your clothes through as the giant puddle you have been trying to avoid poured onto your skirt and legs.

You let out a sigh as you quickly took shelter under a tree nearby to try and wring out the remaining water when it happened.

“Just my luck…”You muttered as you clumsily balanced your umbrella, “Can it get any worse?”

Just as those words left your lips, it happened. A white flash lit the sky for a brief second. But it was too late. Thousands of volts came cascading upon your body and everything turned white.

“This is your fault.” You heard a voice. It sounded like a young, sulky boy.

“How is this my fault? You’re the one who lashed out when I put down that +4 card down.”

“THAT AIN’T FAIR STILL! I WAS SO CLOSE TO WINNING AND YOU BLEW IT!”

“Uh…What’s going on?” You blinked as your vision settled. You sat in what looked like a library of sorts, with several shelves lining the walls and a long white and gold marble table in the centre of it all. A girl with long, platinum hair glared down at her male counterpart, who huffed in annoyance.

“How about you explain it to her, Artem.”

“Sorry, but I don’t speak to cheaters.”

“Oh for gods sake- fine. We apologize for uhm…Killing you. Truly, a thousand apologies. If only someone can control their temper for once in their life-“ The girl shot a dirty look at Artem.

“LIKE YOU ARE ONE TO TALK! SOLARIA, YOU SINGED MY EYEBROWS OVER KILLING YOU IN AMONG US!”

“Well excuse you! My anger was perfectly justified! You voted me out even when I told you the truth and that I was innocent!”

“DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT WAS TO EMBROIDER AND GROOM THEM BACK TO NORMAL AGAIN?”

“Could you guys please stop fighting for 10 seconds?” You yelled over the noise. The girl and boy finally stopped, leaving you to rub at your ringing ears.

You sighed. Kids were always a handful back in your home. You had to take care of your cousins whenever your aunt was over, and it often resulted with your ears ringing and your head pounding.

“What’s done is done. I’m…well, dead and I seriously have no idea where I am.” You said, trying to stay composed.

“Well…In your human terms, this is kind of like the After Life.” The boy, Artem explained, sighing as he put down his Uno cards.

“Or well, it shouldn’t since…You were supposed to live for like, another 50 to 60 years. But someone messed it up.” The girl, Solaria, summoned a book from a shelf. You blinked as a weathered leather book with gilded, golden pages floated down onto the table.

“Shut up. I said that I was sorry, didn’t I?” Artem groaned.

“Sir Artem, are you losing your braincells? I was the one who apologized. You still owe the human an apology.” Solaria bit back icily.

With a wave of her hand, the pages of the book flipped and she studied it carefully for a minute before looking back up.

“Well, as a soul now, you have an option. You can go into Elysium or be reincarnated.” Solaria sighed as Artem huffed again.

“Huh. What do you know? Elysium sounds real good right about now-“You thought out loud as Artem’s eyes turned wide with fear.

“Please don’t go into Elysium!” Artem yelled. The books shook in the shelves as his voice echoed.

“Ow, inside voice please? Hasn’t your mother taught you better?” You winced in pain. It seems that immortals had a throat of steel, judging from the way they could shout infinitely.

“I’m really sorry, but if Dad finds out I brought in another human because I accidentally killed them…He’s going to banish me…To Earth…” Artem looked down onto the table.

He was unable to meet your eyes as you stared at him with bemusement.

“Yeah, as much as I hate to say it, please…Reconsider on our offer to reincarnate. He is on thin ice with Father and if he is banished, I’d have to take on his duties as well. I’m pretty exhausted with the workload as it is.” Solaria sighed.

“As long as it’s not Earth, I’m cool with it.” You looked up at the ceiling, which took your breath away. The entire solar system was on it. With it, was the familiar sphere of white, green and blue.

“Hm, that is easy enough. I could reincarnate you into my world.” Artem brightened up.

Solaria sighed with relief.

“And to make up for it, I could buff you up with a couple of blessings here and there-“

“Within reason.” Solaria cut in, with a sharp look at Artem.

“Psssh, as if it’s hard to make a Gnosis.” Artem had considerably relaxed after hearing your statement.

“Are you serious? Don’t you even know the situation down at Teyvat?!” Your eyes widened. Were they talking about what you were thinking of?

Artem rose to his feet, the ivory wings on his lower back flaring. His eyes gleamed gold as he stared down his sister.

“It’s my world. I do what I like with it. If you don’t like it, get a world of your own.”

“You only got your world because Mother took pity on you. Don’t act all big when you have killed so many humans.” Solaria hummed, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll only grant this human the bare minimum. Anything more, and I’ll let Father know of your deeds thus far, even if it means more work for me.” Solaria glared back. Her eyes gleamed silver as she did so. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

“That’s all that I’ll need then. Work on your blessings and gifts. I’ll work on mine.” Artem turned away from his sister. The siblings set to work, the atmosphere of ice cold professionalism now in the air.

Solaria rose from her place on the table. With a flick of a finger, the Uno cards vanished with a burst of gold sparkles. The leather book floated beside her as she constantly referred to its pages while flying around the room.

“Hmm…Not much of a combatant, I see. Polearms and swords will probably be hard for you. Perhaps…A catalyst?” She pulled out a bright blue book adorned in gold, with feathers sticking out.

Blowing off any dust from the beautiful book, she casually tossed it over her shoulder and onto you. You instinctively brought your arms up to protect your face but as the book hit your arms, it disappeared into a burst of gold.

“Huh?” You blinked as you saw the book reappear beside you, its pages flipping.

Solaria returned with a satchel and a bag of gold coins. Looking satisfied as she noticed the book beside you, she inserted the bag of coins into the satchel before sliding it over your shoulder. Solaria hummed to herself before smiling again.

Reaching behind her neck, Solaria detached a shimmering teardrop necklace before slipping it around yours.

“There’s nothing special about it, apart from it glowing. I thought it would be a nice touch.” Solaria winked at you.

Tilting your chin up, you froze with shock as she pressed her lips against yours.

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR?” You felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“Oh, please. Don’t be flustered. That was merely a blessing of mine. It will help you when you need to speak with the natives of the land.” Solaria coolly said as she wiped her mouth.

You were still reeling in shock. Your throat seemed to tighten as you coughed.

“..Thank you, for agreeing with us on our selfish request. To be forcibly stripped of our powers can be the worst pain and humiliation a god or goddess can bear.” Solaria murmured to you as she hurried to the end of the room, where she knelt and seemed to draw symbols in gold.

You held back your tongue. ‘What about me? I got zapped to death here.’ You thought to yourself.

“It is done. Please step into that summoning circle there.” Artem held a floating, golden cylinder in his hands. Solaria rose from her place on the floor, gesturing for you to come over.

It was a Gnosis! You were quick to obey as you hurried to Solaria’s side.

Stepping into the centre, you turned to face Artem and Solaria, who stood side by side. They flared their wings as you sensed an energy swirl around you.

“I, Artem, God of the Moon, grant you passage and dominion over my world, Teyvat. Do you accept, (Y/N) (L/N)?” Artem’s voice echoed in your ears.

“I accept.” As the words left your lips, the Gnosis within his hands flew into your chest. You gasped as it did so, a heat spreading rapidly across your chest.

“Be safe on your travels, (Y/N) (L/N).” Solaria flashed a warm smile as you coughed.

“Resigno!”

The gold summoning circle glowed bright blue and you found yourself falling through the blue skies.

You screeched ungracefully as you fell from the sky headfirst. The green grass was coming up way too fast.

‘Am I going to die again?’ You thought as you held out your arms to break your fall, only for a huge gust of wind to cushion your fall.

“Huh?” You blinked in surprise as a person clad in green floated beside you.

It was a young boy with 2 braids, which gleamed blue in the light. His eyes were a beautiful mix of green and blue.

‘Venti?’ You gaped as he grabbed your hands and guided you back onto the ground.

“Never thought I’d have an audience during my practice session. Are you okay?” Venti grinned at you.

“Never...Never better. Thank you...”You gave a thumbs up as you got air back into your lungs again.

His deft fingers plucked at his harp as he sat down on the soft grass.

“It’s no problem. But what brings you here anyways? Not many people know of this spot.” Venti tilted his head. It seemed as though you uncovered his secret place.

“I- uh well...Accidents happen. I’m not a mad fan or a stalker, I swear. Well, maybe I am a fan but still.” You rambled but you forced yourself to stop talking and to breath. Venti is real and he is in front of me. Venti is real and he is in front of me.

Your heart was beating fast.

‘I should say something smart, introduce myself or something.’ You thought to yourself as you composed yourself.

You wanted to at least tell him your name but the words are out faster than you can stop them.

“Wanna grab a drink?”

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #readerinsert #fanfiction #childe x reader #genshin x reader

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athina-blaine · 3 years

Text

MoMM Chapter 4 - The Storm, Part 1 (Preview #1)

(Note: this is not the finalized draft; anything featured is subject to edits or deletion!)

Chapter 3: The Empty Corridors

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure I deserve that. Your friendship. After everything I’ve done since…”

“Of course you do. Listen to yourself; it’s not like you wanted to frighten me.” An inch of space sat between their hands. “Is this …? Um. Is this okay …?”

The winds continued to howl, and Martin's hand lay limp on the bed sheets. His face grew hot, and he started pulling back. Stupid idea. But then Jon slid his hand closer until their fingers brushed. Emboldened, Martin wrapped his hand around Jon's, his burn scar grazing the soft skin of Martin's palm.

He squeezed gently.

“No one deserves to be lonely, Jon.”

Jon had no response, staring out to the storm that continued knocking on their windows. He stared, and he let Martin hold his hand.

Chapter 4 - The Storm, Part 1

Martin was an optimist. He had to be. Anything else would have been utterly unbearable.

That being said, he was… relatively confident things would get better. Jon had confided in him the terrible secret of Magnus Manor and the truth of this hellish storm. The Lonely. And understanding a problem meant you were one step closer to solving it, right? It meant one step closer to getting out of the cursed estate you’d found yourself trapped in.

Most importantly, though, the two of them were talking again. Above all else, that gave him hope.

Jon was waiting for him in the foyer the next morning. His nose was buried in a book, but when Martin approached, he looked up, and Martin liked to think he looked pleased.

“Good morning,” Martin said, hoping he didn’t sound too flustered.

“You as well. Would ... would you be amenable to sharing some morning tea? If ... if you're still offering ...”

“Y-yes, of course.” So yesterday hadn’t been a fluke; Jon wasn’t going to leave him alone again. “That sounds great. Um. English Breakfast, then?”

Jon smiled, nodded, and fetched them both a pot and one cup apiece. The porcelain warmed Martin’s aching fingers, a refreshing respite from the chill that crept so subtly through the halls.

They drank, and they talked about very little. Martin’s tongue burned with questions (–what’s it like living with these entities? How do they manifest? Will we get out of here soon?–), but he restrained himself; the age lining Jon’s face had soothed as he sipped his tea, and when he asked Martin how he’d slept, there was a shy twist to his mouth.

Right now, Martin wanted to enjoy himself. Enjoy Jon and a warm cup of morning tea. There would be plenty of time to agonise later.

In the meantime, he’d just need to keep busy. Now was as good a time as any to give cleaning the manor another chance. Masochistic, maybe. Impossible, certainly. But at least this time he didn’t have to worry about being reprimanded. Probably.

One of the many study rooms that littered the estate would be a good place to start. Small as it was, its sooty fireplace and dusty couch was enough of a time sink for his purposes.

He was in the middle of battling a particularly stubborn stain when the door opened and Jon peered inside. Despite everything, Martin couldn’t help his trill of anxiety, made all the worse when Jon kissed his teeth.

“Must I iterate that it’s not necessary for you to – ”

“I want to.” It was still such a shock to just see Jon, to have them talking, that the words came out in a breathless, jumbled mess. “I promise. I-I like cleaning, honest. It keeps my mind off … you know, things.”

Jon paused mid-stride. For a moment, Martin thought he was going to be chased off anyway, and then he’d have to actually beg to clean, because the thought of spending another minute with nothing to do but contemplate their situation–

“I–” Sighing, Jon brought a hand to the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Yes, fine, if you insist. So long as you understand that it is absolutely not an expectation of you.”

Martin’s shoulders sagged with relief. Another hurdle crossed.

He’d just convinced himself to relax and finally let his mind wander, soothed by the familiar, tediousness of cleaning a fireplace, when Jon unclasped his cloak, lying it over the sofa.

“What are you doing?”

“Assisting you, obviously. Having you clean it in my stead when I’m the one responsible for it falling into disrepair doesn’t bear thinking about.”

Doesn’t bear thinking about. What didn’t bear thinking about was a man of Jon’s stature doing menial work like this in the first place. But Martin was hardly about to refuse his help … or his company, so freely given. “Um. Thank you. You don’t have to be so hard on yourself, though. There’s literally no way you could have kept this place clean all by yourself.”

“I appreciate the reassurance, but the point is moot.”

Well, if Jon wanted to roll up his sleeves and work at a grimy fireplace, Martin wasn’t about to stop him. When Jon literally rolled up his sleeves, he bit back a smile. The skin of his forearms was paler than that of his hands and face, smooth and free of blemishes. When was the last time he’d enjoyed a bit of sunshine without his shirt buttoned up to the chin?

Not that Martin had any business considering a thing like that in the first place. God, his face was burning again.

“I hate cleaning,” Jon murmured as he dunked the spare cloth in the water bucket. “Nothing ever stays clean.”

“Yeah. Gotta do it, though. Oh, you should keep your elbow up. You won’t tire out your arm as quickly.”

“Oh. Yes, I see.” Jon sighed. “Perhaps the fault lies with me. I’ve never been particularly good at domesticity, after all. The rare times my grandmother was home, the only thing we talked about was how untidy my room was.”

Martin’s ears perked. The opportunity to learn more about Jon and his past? It was too enticing to resist. “Your gram wasn’t home much, then?”

“Not often. She was the matriarch of our family, so important business kept her in the capital most days.”

Oh. How … odd. Martin didn’t know anything about how noble families handled representing themselves, but … “I figured your mom or dad would take care of that sort of thing after a while. Did your gram just enjoy the work?”

“Both of my parents passed when I was a child.”

Martin’s stomach plunged to his feet. What a stupid blunder to make. “I’m … I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” Jon said, waving him away. “I was barely more than a baby at the time. I simply don’t remember enough of them to mourn their loss.”

Martin wasn’t sure if that made it worse. For all that Martin mourned the absence of his father, at least he had fleeting memories of warm hands and a deep voice to prove he’d existed at all. That he’d had a father once. “Still, that must have been … a bit lonely.”

“Not at all. I always had my governess’ supervision. She provided the structure and discipline I required.” Jon laughed, a wistful, breathy thing, and lowered his head. “I was … a rather troublesome child.”

That did even less to make Martin feel better, because he suddenly had this image, unbidden, of a little boy with big eyes and gangly knees, head hanging as his grandmother told him off in clipped tones, before leaving once again to the bustling capital. No hugs, or gentle forehead kisses. Just a scolding about his messy bedroom.

I’m sure you were wonderful, he wanted to say. I’m sure you deserved better than that.

But he was probably just projecting again.

“I’ve always liked cleaning,” Martin said, instead. “Makes me feel useful. My mum, she’s … she’s been sick most of my life. Nothing too serious,” Martin added quickly as Jon turned his head. “She just gets tired a lot. You know, hard to stay upright most of the time. There wasn’t a lot I could do to make her feel better, but keeping things clean helped.”

“I … I’m sorry to hear your mother is ill.”

“We were really lucky, actually. We lived in the same town as a really good doctor. He was really generous with us, but eventually … I-I couldn’t keep up with the bills running the farm all by myself, especially after our last goat died. We had to sell a few years ago, and I had to find work in the city.” Even after all this time, his throat tangled at the memory of leaving his childhood home. “Managed to land a really good job at the lord’s castle, so I always had money to send home. Every month. Haven’t been late once, yet. Until …”

“… Until now.”

Martin opened his mouth, because, well, he wasn’t late yet. There was still time for Martin to send his letter: about a week or so. That was plenty of time. But he refrained, because saying as much to Jon felt … dangerous. Like he was tempting fate.

Things were going to work out. They had to. The storm was going to clear, they were going to get out of here, and then …

“Your devotion to your mother is admirable,” said Jon.

Warmth ballooned in Martin’s stomach, spreading to the tips of his ears. It was an absurd thing to receive praise for (oh, you love your mother, really going above and beyond), but … well, it was still nice to hear, every once in a while. Or at all. “Thank you.”

It took most of the morning, but, with their combined efforts, they managed to restore the fireplace to an off-colour white. Martin stepped back, basking in the glow of a job well done. Jon, however, didn’t appear quite as chuffed as Martin felt. Rolling out his wrists, the man collapsed onto the couch, kicking up a cloud of dust in the process and triggering an intense coughing fit.

“Break time?” Martin asked, taking a much more gentle seat. His only answer was more coughing. Poor thing looked utterly done with the whole enterprise, if the curl of his nose was any indication. “So, what do you do for fun around here?”

“Fun?”

“Yeah. Unless you really intend to help me clean this room all day?”

Jon laughed, turning away sheepishly. “I … yes, um … Well, this and that, I suppose. Reading, mostly. I’ve always had a penchant for it, and I’ve yet to make my way through the library. Um. Music, although it’s been quite some time since the gramophone worked. I took to baking for a time. I like to think I’d gotten rather good at it.”

“Wait, so you did bake that bread? When I first got here?” Martin thought back on it, how crispy the crust was, the soft and tasty inner dough, how fresh it had been. Martin couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten fresh bread. “That’s seriously amazing.”

“It’s hardly a complex task. But … yes, thank you.” Martin wasn’t sure if it was the haze of the dust, but Jon’s face looked a bit darker, a bit flushed. But then, the good humor in Jon’s eyes fell away. “And then there was the garden, of course. It was … well. A disaster, to put it mildly.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I killed everything, didn’t I?” Jon’s eyes dropped to his lap, shoulders sinking. “Not a single bulb flourished under my care. I … I eventually figured it was more merciful to give up than keep trying.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not that bad.” Would be better to start with anything but roses, he wanted to suggest. You’re just setting yourself up to fail. But that would certainly come across as annoyingly patronising. “Maybe I can lend a hand?”

“Pardon?”

Wait. No. What business did Martin have making an offer like that? It wasn’t as if he knew any better about keeping things alive. But something about the resigned nature of Jon’s tone tore at him; his mouth had fallen open of its own accord.

“I-I mean … Well, it might be fun, yeah?” Martin tried. “Personally, I’ve always wanted to learn how to garden.”

“Is that so?”

Martin nodded, intending on leaving it there, but Jon was watching him, waiting. Oh.

“W-Well, uh, when I was a kid,” Martin said, face warming, “I’d always dreamed of having a, um, like a little cottage? That I owned? With a great big plot of land in the middle of a forest somewhere. Would get married, settle down, grow flowers and all kinds of food together. It’s … it’s a bit silly.”

“Not at all,” Jon said, eyes softening, and Martin’s heart fluttered something fierce. “I think that’s lovely.”

He smiled, hoping it didn’t come out as a grimace, because it had been a long, long time since he’d indulged in that particular fantasy. It just wasn’t feasible, these days, having a little cottage of his own or … or finding someone who’d want to marry him when he’s never even had a serious relationship before.

“Thank you, though, for your offer,” Jon said, cutting through Martin’s thoughts. “I’ll … be sure to consider it.”

The tight knot in Martin’s stomach unwound just a bit. “‘Course.”

By that point, the dust had become utterly unbearable, and they were forced to evacuate.

The brass of the door handle glimmered under the lamplight, rusted with age and disuse. How long had Martin been standing here, knees locked and shivering beneath the thick chill? Ages, by now. Griffiths was going to have his skin peeled for shirking his responsibilities like this, and the head butler would be perfectly within his rights.

But every time Martin tried to remind himself, that he still had so much work to do –

“… Hello?”

That voice. Still out there, somewhere behind the old door. Distant, but not beyond Martin’s reach. If Martin had already been here for ages, then that voice …

Wasn’t anyone coming for them?

If he opened the door, he could just take a quick look. Call out, see who needed help –

“And what do you think you’re doing, young man?”

Martin yanked his hand back, hand burnt on the molten brass.

“M-Mum?”

“I always knew you’d leave for good someday. I could see it in your eyes, you know. You couldn’t bear to take care of your poor, sick mother, and now you’re off to traipse about the countryside with some invert.”

“I didn’t leave.” Tight pressure strangled Martin’s throat, the back of his eyes burning. “I’d never do that. Where are you? I’m coming, I-I’ll find you–”

“And what, pray tell, would be the point of that?”

“Mum, please, just tell me where you are, I’m coming–”

“You’ve always been a wretched liar.”

Martin lurched upright, sucking painful gasps through his aching teeth, his sleep shirt sticking to his sweaty skin. No light permeated the windows— he may as well have been in a tomb, for all that he could see.

Jon was out there somewhere. Alone. As was his mother.

I’m coming back to you. I’ll find a way out of here. I’m doing everything I can–

Liar.

Martin curled up onto his side, wrapping trembling arms around himself. Even though there was no one else to hear him, no one to stifle himself for, he drove his teeth into his lip until his mouth filled with the dull taste of copper.

Check out the Monster of Magnus Manor here!

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Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero @magic713m @ccboomer @aubsenroute @somebodyswatson

Chapter Fifteen The Heist

Luna Lovegood hated Hogwarts. Yes, she was in Ravenclaw, and yes, she loved learning, but school? School was where curiosity went to die in a long, slow, stretched out sentence.

For Luna, the transition from her family home, where her father had encouraged her explorations and experiments, to a place of high stone walls and demanding bells had been terrible for her, and she’d nearly quit after her first year.

Now she was glad that she had persisted, because school had one thing worthwhile: Ginny Weasley.

When Ginny had hexed those boys for calling her Loony, the stars in the dark night had burst into existence, and school had become not just bearable, but pleasant. Luna had skipped everywhere for the rest of the that week.

This year, however, there was no skipping. Even Herbology, one of Luna’s favourite subjects, was overcast by the horrid cloud that Snape and the Carrows left on the school.

At least Ginny and Neville were in Herbology with her. N.E.W.T.-level courses often combined sixth and seventh years, and Luna was glad to have her closest friends with her at least once a week.

They were currently repotting Venomous Tentacula, which involved lots of soothing whispers and gentle strokes to the stem and vines. Neville worked easily, and Luna did too, even humming a lullaby to her knot of vines as she transferred the plant into a larger pot and carefully aerated the soil.

“Ow!” Ginny hissed, drawing her hand away from her plant.

Luna patted one of her vines and paused her melody. “Did it bite you, Ginny?”

Ginny pressed her wounded hand to her mouth. “Just got me with its leaves. Bloody bastard hates me.”

“You have to be gentle,” she sang, and reached for a watering can.

“I am gentle!”

Luna giggled. Ginny could be gentle, but it was not her natural state by any stretch.

Once Luna had finished repotting her Tentacula, she moved to Ginny’s station to help her work.

“You have to be kind and patient.” Luna ran her fingers along one of the vines. “It’s a sensitive plant.”

Beneath Luna’s hands, the vines no longer lashed out with sharp, sudden outbursts of movement, but instead swayed in time to her humming.

“See?” Luna paused her song. “Now put your fertilizer in that pot.”

Professor Sprout praised them all for their hard work, and congratulated them for finishing the lesson without any bite accidents. “There’s usually at least one of you turned bright purple and on your way up to the hospital wing, but you all did excellent work today,” she beamed at them.

“Hospital wing’s full up anyway,” Hannah Abbott mumbled, just out of Sprout’s earshot, as she cleaned up her work station.

Hannah looked unusually wild today. Her thick plaits were uncharacteristically loose, and dirt streaked her cheeks. She wrestled her book into her bag with the sort of determination one might use when salvaging Snargaluff pods.

Neville reached across his station to hers and picked up her shovel and trowel. “Ernie will be fine,” he murmured, and returned her tools to the greenhouse shed.

Hannah tried and failed to regain control of her trembling lip, then hurried out of the greenhouse before Neville could come back.

It wasn’t just Ernie, who was recovering from a detention after he had called the Daily Prophet “rubbish” and added that he hoped Harry would show up at Hogwarts so he could “put Snape in his place.”

It was Parvati and Padma Patil, who had refused to attend Muggle Studies. Each night that they refused earned them a night of detention, until after three weeks both girls had become too ill to attend any of their classes.

It was Hugh Ward, who had defiantly announced to the boys in his Slytherin dormitory that he was a half-blood.

Luna didn’t know what curses the boys had used to try to punish Hugh for being so proud of his Muggle lineage, but he had been in the hospital wing all week. Luna had visited him, and the Patil twins. She made a point to visit anyone who had been in Dumbledore’s Army, because they were her friends.

On these visits, it was not uncommon for her to find Hannah, helping Madam Pomfrey change linens and administer medicine to those who needed it. Though Hannah never did any of the Charm work in the hospital wing, she watched closely each time Madam Pomfrey cast a spell.

Luna knew that Hannah wanted to become a Healer. Each time Luna visited the hospital wing, she thought about becoming a Healer, too. She liked caring for people, and she was taking enough N.E.W.T.s for it. But so much of Healing was urgent, and Luna had never done well with urgent.

“Must you always move so slowly?” Ginny snapped.

Luna frowned at her gloves as she packed them away. She much preferred the greenhouse to the castle and couldn’t understand why Ginny was so eager to get back. She’d much rather be down here with the fresh air than back with the Carrows.

“Come on,” Ginny whined, “I’m starved.”

Luna squeezed her Herbology textbook between her personal field guide and the thick tome for Transfiguration. With those three texts and her scaly Care of Magical Creatures book, her bag was nearly bursting at the seams.

“Why didn’t you eat breakfast?” Luna shouldered her heavy bag and hurried to the door where Ginny and Neville were waiting.

“I wasn’t hungry at breakfast.”

“Helen said she was sulking in the Owlery after a row with Harry,” Neville whispered, but not as quietly as he should have.

“We didn’t have a row! And anyway, don’t use his name. Someone might hear you.”

“Should we just call him You-Know-Who?” Neville asked with a grin.

Ginny shoved him, none too gently, and picked up her pace, leaving Neville and Luna trailing behind her.

Luna pursed her lips and looked up at Neville. There was something different about him this year, but Luna couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Did you grow taller over the summer?” she asked, and tried to gauge if she was looking up more than she had looked up last year.

“What? Oh — yeah, I did. Gran sent out for a whole new wardrobe.” He wrinkled his nose. “It was only like, an inch I think, but she insisted. I think it was her way of apologising that Mum and Dad were gone most of the summer.”

Luna tilted her head. “I suppose they work quite a lot.”

Neville laughed. “I haven’t seen much of them since… well, I guess since Voldemort came back. I mean, a meal here and there, but usually only one at a time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not bad.” He adjusted his bag. “Their work’s important. And I’ve always had Gran around.”

Luna looked down at her hands. There was dirt under her nails, and she supposed she ought to clean up before lunch, but she liked when her hands were dirty. It reminded her of her mother, who had always smelled like earth and soot. It also reminded her of her father, whose fingers were often stained with ink.

“But you miss them.”

It wasn’t a question. Luna didn’t ask questions she already knew the answers to. There were plenty of other questions to be concerned with.

“What do you think we should call Harry?” she asked. “And I suppose we’ll need names for Ron and Hermione as well. Should we all have secret names? Like cats, perhaps? I should like to be Turnip.”

When she and Neville reached the castle, Ginny was waiting impatiently at the door.

“You both walk slow,” she complained, and stormed inside.

“My,” Luna said, “it must have been quite a bad fight with Parsnip.”

Neville frowned. “No, I don’t like that one.”

“Butterscotch?”

“Hmm…”

“Pickled Herring?”

“Must it be food?”

“I like Pickled Herring, because it sounds like him, but backwards.”

“I suppose.”

Luna waved goodbye to Neville and joined the Ravenclaw table. She sat next to a girl named Kim Sheringham, who Luna did not consider a friend, exactly, but they had lived together for the better part of six years, which might count for something to other people. It just didn’t count very much to Luna.

“Hi, Luna,” said Kim.

“Hello,” Luna said, but remained focused on her lunch

“How was Herbology?”

Luna hummed. “Warm. Pleasant.” She reached for the pitcher and poured herself a glass of water.

“Sounds nice. Listen, do you think you could do me a favour?”

Luna stared at Kim and took a sip from her cup. She waited for Kim to ask for what she really wanted.

Kim faltered, but she’d always been more keen on small talk than Luna. Finally, she said, “Could you tell Flitwick I’m not well? I need to review for the Muggle Studies exam tonight. Please, I just can’t keep all the Sacred Twenty-Eight straight. Just tell Flitwick I fell ill after lunch or something. Any excuse will do.”

Ravenclaws, as a rule, did not skip lessons — unless they had an exam to prepare for.

“I could review with you,” Luna offered, and pretended not to notice the way Kim’s brow furrowed.

“That’s alright, thanks. Just tell him I’m not well. He’ll believe whatever you say, you know.”

Now it was Luna’s turn to frown. She didn’t understand what Kim meant, but she didn’t get to ask because Kim was already leaving.

Luna finished her meal alone, still puzzling over Kim’s comment, and wandered to Charms by herself. She apologised to Flitwick for Kim’s absence, and promised to take notes for two. Flitwick readily accepted her vague excuse, and this only puzzled Luna more. How had Kim known that Flitwick would not press her?

She was distracted throughout class, but her notes were no less for it. She was not sure that they would help Kim — no one ever asked to borrow Luna’s colourful, pictographic notes — but Luna would not mind explaining them.

After Charms, Luna had a free period, while the Gryffindors took their Charms lesson. She passed Ginny and Neville outside Flitwick’s classroom door and smiled. Ginny grinned back, which worried Luna. It was not the sort of grin that suggested Ginny was truly in a better mood; it was Ginny’s mischievous grin.

Luna waited until she was in the library to check the Galleon in her pocket. She had not noticed it grow warm during her Charms lesson, but it must have, for there was a new date and time inscribed where the identification number would be. Tonight, an hour before Muggle Studies.

Whatever Ginny had planned would get them all into trouble, certainly, but Luna at least knew that it would be fun, and fun was in such short supply these days.

There was plenty of time between now and then, so Luna set about working on their personalised field guides for Herbology. She had started adding to it, not just for Herbology, but also for Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid was sweet, but Luna did not find him an adept professor. She could appreciate the practicality of his lessons, at least, but had started recording what she learned from their field experiments into her Herbology project. She enjoyed this sort of work, collecting information and organising it. And decorating it.

Professor Flitwick had suggested a career studying magical plants and animals, doing field work, exploring, traveling and notetaking, making discoveries. Luna liked the idea of it, but the way he had presented it sounded tedious. He had mentioned the Ministry and paperwork, almost as if he had been trying to put her off from the job. He had even suggested that she spend her summer reaching out to people at the Ministry to try some job-shadowing, but Luna had a hard time finding people in the Ministry that were not involved with either the Death Eaters, the Rotfang Conspiracy, or the Heliopath Army.

Was it not enough to simply wander?

Luna had never been good at purpose. It was one of the many things she had always admired about Ginny. Ginny had always known who she was and what she wanted. Luna, for all her appearances of self-assurance, wondered and doubted far more than anyone knew.

Luna finished her note about Fire Crabs in preparation for tomorrow’s lesson and waited for the ink to dry. She swung her legs back and forth and stared out of the large window. Neither of her parents had ever made a living on the things they were passionate about. They did things that were uninteresting to fund their curiosities. She wondered if she would end up doing the same.

With a sigh, Luna closed her field guide and headed down to the Great Hall for dinner. Again, she ate alone, but she watched Ginny talk with one of the girls from her dorm. Ginny’s smile was wide but empty, and she tapped her fork anxiously against her plate.

Neville sat alone, picking at his food, and Seamus and Lavender sat together, but they had more interest in the professors’ table than in each other.

Luna shook her head. Gryffindors were always so obvious. If the Carrows were even a little bit smarter, they might have known to be suspicious.

Neville left dinner first, and after an exact count of thirty, Ginny followed. The rest of the D.A. made their way out of the Great Hall in staggered exits. Some relied on a count of their own choosing. Some relied on waiting until a certain number of people had exited before they made their way to the seventh floor.

If Umbridge had taught them anything, it was how to avoid getting caught.

Luna waited until Michael Corner loudly announced that he was going to check on Padma, and trailed after him at her usual aimless pace. When he headed for the hospital wing, Luna went all the way back to Ravenclaw Tower, but instead of climbing the stairs, she slipped down another corridor to the Room of Requirement.

The Room no longer looked as it had for D.A. meetings. In fact, Luna thought it looked rather like a proper classroom. There were even stacks of reference books on some of the desks.

“I thought if anyone did walk in on us, it would look like we were studying,” Neville said, when he saw Luna’s curious glance.

She hummed thoughtfully. “You should ask it not to let anyone walk in on us.”

Neville looked surprised, then frowned and sank into one of the desks. He drummed his fingers thoughtfully.

Luna always appreciated the way Neville took her ideas seriously, rather than laughed at them, or dismissed them instantly, the way so many of her peers and professors did.

Padma and Parvati returned from the hospital wing with Michael, and a small crowd surrounded them, asking if they were alright. Hannah and Susan were notable outliers, clustered by themselves and whispering quietly. Ginny, too, stood alone, trying to count heads, and another girl in a green headscarf, someone Luna had not spoken to since those early days of the D.A., sat by herself.

Luna slipped into the desk beside Atalanta Shafiq. She smiled pleasantly.

“Hello. It’s Atalanta, isn’t it?”

The girl stared at her with large brown eyes. Luna thought she was in fourth year, the same Dennis Creevey would have been in.

“You’re Luna.”

Luna’s smile widened. “How did you know?”

“Everyone knows you. You’re one of the people who went to the Ministry with Potter two summers ago.”

“Oh, you mean Pickled Herring.”

Atalanta stared at Luna as if she had lost her mind, a look Luna was used to, though she hadn’t seen it in a while. She hadn’t spent much time with new people recently.

“You’re friends with Hugh, aren’t you?” Luna asked her.

Atalanta nodded. “I know you visit him. How is he?”

“Oh — he’s well. Don’t you see him yourself?”

The girl turned to stare straight ahead. Her face was hard and her voice tight. “He asked me to stop coming. As if everyone doesn’t already know we’re friends — as if he has anyone else to bring him notes —” She broke off abruptly and her nostrils flared. “Everyone knows we were friends with the Creeveys anyway. My lineage doesn’t protect me as much as he thinks it does.”

“It sounds like he cares about you.” Luna hummed. “But you seem like someone who can take care of yourself. It’s okay for both of those things to be true, you know.”

Atalanta did not say anything. Luna appreciated the way the girl considered her words. It was like watching someone put together a puzzle, and Luna loved puzzles.

The door opened and closed one last time for Pearl Lais and Ginny announced, “I think that’s everyone. Let’s get started.”

All conversations ceased as she spoke. Ginny commanded a room with more ease than Harry had. Luna could not help but smile dreamily.

“So as you all know, tonight we have an exam for Muggle Studies.”

“I won’t take it,” Zacharias Smith announced loudly.

“And we fully plan to resume our protest,” Parvati added, voice defiant. Padma looked less confident, but she nodded when Parvati looked at her.

“Standing outside the Muggle Studies classroom is great,” Neville said, “but if we could do something more coordinated and subversive, we might be able to get more students on our side, and you wouldn’t have to go to detention.”

Padma raised an eyebrow. “You have something planned that won’t get us in trouble?”

“As long as we don’t get caught,” Ginny grinned. “I heard Snape threatened to take your Prefect badge. Your protest has been great, but it’s not worth that. We need people like you in charge as much as possible. Let me show you what we have in mind. It’s so easy, even Neville could do it.”

Neville did not look upset by the remark in the least, and pulled a stack of loose parchment from the desk at the front of the classroom. He began passing it out.

“It’s partly a Muggle-trick,” he said, “so it’s perfect for Muggle Studies.”

“There’s a bit of Charm, of course,” Ginny said, “to make it more interesting.”

Ginny and Neville explained the procedure of the prank to the members of Dumbledore’s Army. Everyone had several sheets to practice with, but Luna took to it right away. She found it a rather endearing bit of spellwork, but she knew that Alecto Carrow would hate it. Still, it was a harmless and funny prank. Even if they did get caught, the punishment couldn’t be too severe.

As Luna finished folding her third sheet of parchment, just for something to do with her hands, Ginny slid into the desk next to her.

“Hey,” she said, “I have a special job for you.”

Luna looked up from her parchment as Ginny pressed a small bottle into her hands.

“Neville got that from Herbology today. Can you smear it into Carrow’s book before the exam?”

Luna held up the colourless vial. “Should I wear dragonhide gloves?”

“No, it has to be ingested. Just the corners of the pages will do.”

“How will I get the book?”

“Just ask her for it. Say you need to check your notes or something. She’ll believe whatever you tell her.”

Luna stared into Ginny’s deep brown eyes. “Why?”

“You have an honest face. If I ask, she’ll know something’s up.”

Luna wasn’t sure what it meant that she had an, “honest face,” but it was the nicest compliment Ginny had given her all year, so she took it and pressed it into her memory like she pressed flowers into her field guide.

“I should go now, then,” she said. “So I’ll have time.”

“Don’t worry about getting caught,” Ginny said. “I’ve got something else planned and she’ll probably single me out for the whole thing.”

Luna didn’t mean to smile, but she did. “I would be honoured to have detention with you,” and she punctuated her statement with a curtsy. Ginny laughed, and it made whatever punishments Luna might receive for smearing poison into Alecto Carrow’s book worth it.

As Ginny had predicted, Professor Carrow did not suspect anything was amiss when Luna arrived at her office early and asked to check her notes against the enormous tome that she read out of during their lessons. She muttered something about Ravenclaws and perfectionism, then left Luna at a desk with her notes and the book.

Carefully, Luna dabbed some of the poison onto her finger and smeared it onto the upper right corners of each page. She pretended to skim some of the pages, and even made a few marks into her own notes to sell the lie, but she wondered if she even needed to. Professor Carrow hardly paid her any mind.

When she had finished, she thanked Professor Carrow, and waited until she was alone in the hallway to wipe her hands clean.

All students were required to take Muggle Studies, and the curriculum was entirely new, so everyone, from first year to seventh, took it together in the Great Hall three evenings a week. Luna found it slightly more entertaining than History of Magic, because while Professor Carrow could drone on much like Professor Binns, Carrow at least took questions, and Luna loved when her friends asked questions.

In their very first class, Neville had challenged every line of Professor Carrow’s reading. She had snappishly asked for his lineage not twenty minutes into class. With a wide grin, Neville had said, “Longbottom and Fawley.”

The other day, Ginny had asked Professor Carrow why they weren’t going to evaluate the Carrow family tree the way they had the Bones family. Professor Carrow had turned red and Luna had expected her to hex Ginny then and there.

Luna had not asked any questions yet, though she had, at one point, raised her hand to point out that it was unfair to accuse Muggles of being liars and cheats when Thicknesse was a continuation of Scrimgeour’s evil plot to bring down the Ministry through the horrors of gum disease. The other students had laughed, and Professor Carrow had given her a condescending smile.

“How could the Ministry allow such plots to happen right under their nose?” Professor Carrow had asked with a sickly smile.

“Same way they allowed Death Eaters to infiltrate and Voldemort to take over,” Neville had said loudly, and he’d gotten a week of detention.

The dining tables were removed from the Great Hall each night of Muggle Studies and were replaced with rows of desks. Students sat by year and by house, so Luna took a seat near the back of one of the Ravenclaw aisles. She thought it was a good thing that the D.A. was largely composed of upper-years. Professor Carrow would be less likely to notice them folding up their exams.

The Great Hall was quiet as students worked on their exams. Quills scratched against parchment and occasionally Luna heard the sound of a page turning as Professor Carrow licked her finger and turned the page of her heavy tome.

As she folded up her exam just like they had practiced in the Room of Requirement, Luna watched Professor Carrow closely. The woman coughed after five pages and reached for her tea. After ten pages, she rubbed her throat and finished her drink. By the fifteenth page, her cheeks were already flushed purple and she looked uncomfortable.

“Professor!” Ginny shouted. She didn’t need to shout, since the hall was as silent as O.W.L.s had been, but as her voice echoed, every head turned to her.

She had her hand stretched as high as she could and she bounced anxiously. “Professor!”

Professor Carrow stood from her desk and frowned down at Ginny. “This is an exam, girl. Be quiet.”

“It’s an emergency, Professor. Can I go? I’ll only be a minute.”

Professor Carrow’s mouth lifted in a sneer. “No.”

“Please, Professor? I mean, I’ll use my exam if I have to, but —”

Laughter rippled across the hall and Ginny grinned.

“Make it quick!” Carrow snapped at her, and Ginny sprinted from the hall.

She really was gone only a minute — both Luna and Professor Carrow counted — and Luna wondered what she possibly could have accomplished during that time.

Ginny maintained an appearance of studiousness as she returned to her exam, and Professor Carrow returned to her book. She rubbed her throat again and looked at her empty tea cup. She snapped her fingers impatiently. A house-elf appeared with a pop and poured her a fresh cup, then vanished just as quickly.

Luna forgot all about the clusters of parchment that decorated her desk. Her focus was wholly on Professor Carrow as the woman inspected the cup of tea. She sniffed it, tapped her wand against it, took a small sip, and seemed satisfied. She finished the cup and went back to her book.

Luna kept watching, and it was another seven pages before Professor Carrow licked her finger and paused. She looked at her hand, at the book, and then directly at Luna. Luna tried to shrink into her seat.

Carrow got to her feet and started down the aisle of Ravenclaw desks with a look of fury that might have cowed a dragon. Luna, however, was spared immediate consequences by a squeak that began on the Gryffindor side of the room, followed closely by a squeak from the Hufflepuff aisle.

Hastily, Luna Animated the collection of parchment mice that she had so carefully constructed during the exam. They joined the chorus of mice that now filled the hall, leaping off of desks and scampering towards Professor Carrow.

Luna didn’t think Professor Carrow was a woman who feared mice, but it at least startled her, and it certainly upset several of the other students, who screamed as the parchment creations scurried over their feet and onto their desks. Students leapt up onto chairs and desks, and the entire hall descended into chaos.

It was impossible to tell, as Ginny and Neville had probably planned, where the mice had come from. Carrow pointed her wand at the ones nearest to her, and they went up in flames, but they were quickly replaced with more. Some tried to climb her skirt while others scampered across the room, nibbling on exams and tearing every piece of parchment to shreds.

“Everyone out!” Carrow snapped, crushing one of the mice under her heel. “Orderly!” she added as a few of the more skittish students bolted for the door.

But even those that ran reached a wall of students who had, for some reason, stalled in the doorway of the Great Hall.

“What now?” Carrow elbowed her way to the front, and Luna stood on her tiptoes to peer over Draco Malfoy’s shoulder. She saw a message painted on the floor of the entrance hall in bright red, impossible to miss.

DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY: NOW RECRUITING

Professor Carrow tried to vanish the mess, but it sparked with fireworks and she leapt backwards. A pair of first years stared in awe. A few upper years laughed.

“Weasley!” Carrow snapped, and a few of the older students waited for the inevitable joke of, “Which one?” before realising that Ginny was the only Weasley left at Hogwarts.

Ginny leaned against the pillar that framed the door into the Great Hall. She smiled at Carrow. “Yes, Professor?”

Professor Carrow lifted her wand. “You’ll get more than detention, brat —”

“Say, Professor,” Ginny said, “you’ve got a little something on your —” Ginny gestured to her face, then paused and gestured to Carrow’s hands, “well — everywhere.”

Professor Carrow looked down at her hands, now bright purple.

“That looks like Venomous Tentacula poison,” said Neville. “You ought to be careful around the greenhouses, Professor.”

Carrow whipped around and aimed her wand at Neville, then searched the crowd for Luna. “You,” she snapped.

Luna raised her eyebrows.

“What’s your name?”

“Lovegood,” Luna said, before it had even occurred to her to lie.

Carrow ran her tongue across her teeth. “Lovegood? Your father runs The Quibbler?”

“Er — yes, Professor.”

“You and Weasley, to the Headmaster Snape’s office immediately.”

Luna started for the stairs, but Ginny folded her arms over her chest and refused to move.

“Weasley!”

“Snape isn’t Headmaster.”

“I’ve had just about enough of you. Pureblooded or not —”

“Last week you called me a blood traitor, but this week you’re suddenly all concerned with —”

“Imperio.”

Luna watched, horrified, as Ginny’s posture relaxed and her dark eyes widened.

“Stop!” Luna cried, which, futile as it was, at least provided cover as Neville drew his wand.

“Stupefy!” Neville shouted, and Professor Carrow fell backwards, sprawled over Ginny’s message on the floor.

A few of the students cheered and footsteps thundered down the stairs.

Amycus Carrow and Argus Filch shoved their way through the crowd of students. They took in the mess of paint on the floor, the unconscious and purple professor, and Neville with his wand drawn.

“What did you do, you filthy brat!” Amycus snarled.

“She was only Stunned,” Seamus Finnigan shouted. “Seemed fair since she was using a bloody Unforgivable!”

“Another week of detention then?” Neville asked, with more bravery than Luna thought anyone should have, considering how many detentions had landed students in the infirmary.

“No, I think your punishment should be a bit more public and swift —”

“Professor?” Malfoy interrupted. He grabbed Luna’s arm and pulled her forward. His Head Boy badge glinted in the candlelight. “Professor Carrow was just about to take Lovegood and Weasley up to the Headmaster’s office. Shall I help you escort them?”

Amycus Carrow did not do well with being interrupted. It was a challenge for him to hold so many thoughts in his head at once.

“Lovegood and Weasley?”

“Yes, sir. They’re responsible for this mess, too. Pansy can help Professor Carrow, here, and I’ll help you get this lot to Professor Snape.”

Luna did not fight Malfoy’s tight grip on her arm as he took her to Snape’s office, not the way Ginny pushed and pulled on Amycus as he dragged her up the stairs. Neville, too, was more docile in Filch’s grip, and he eyed Malfoy suspiciously.

Carrow announced the password, “Asphodel,” and the gargoyle that guarded the stairs to the Headmaster’s office parted with ease.

Luna was so rarely angry. Anger was a concept, something she witnessed in others, and maybe glimpsed in herself the way she could glimpse the edge of the Black Lake on a clear day. She did not feel true anger very often, but as she was pulled up to the Headmaster’s office, it rose in her chest with each step.

It was horribly unfair of Hogwarts, who had denied Umbridge access to the Headmaster’s office, to allow Snape control over it, when Snape was the very one who had killed Dumbledore.

Luna tried to swallow down her anger, but it refused to budge. She hated Hogwarts.

Carrow pounded his fist on the heavy oak door at the top of the stairs and pushed it open.

The Headmaster’s office was different from what Luna remembered. She’d only seen it once before, but she had adored it. There had been so many trinkets bobbing and whizzing about; it had been full of noise and life. It had reminded her of her mother’s office.

Now, however, it was cold and empty, with nothing but a Pensieve in a corner and a desk stacked with parchment. Fawkes’ perch remained, but was empty, and behind the Headmaster’s desk were the frames of all the previous Headmasters, including Dumbledore, fast asleep. She looked away, and settled on Snape’s face. As much as she disliked Snape, looking at him hurt less than looking at Dumbledore’s portrait.

Snape, seated at the Headmaster’s desk, kept his eyes on what looked to Luna like a letter.

“No, please, come right in,” he drawled. “I’m not busy or anything.”

“These students cursed Alecto,” Amycus said. “Stunned her right in the entrance hall.”

“They had nothing to do with it!” Neville snapped. “I Stunned her because she used an Unforgivable on Ginny! It was just me!”

With an eerie amount of care, Snape set the letter aside and finally looked at the group that had invaded his office. His face had no more displeasure than it usually did as he looked at each of them.

“Then give Longbottom a detention,” he finally said to Carrow. “Five feet of lines reading, ‘I will not hex my professors’ ought to do it.”

Luna could not tell if Snape was serious. Amycus appeared to be having the same problem. His jaw worked fruitlessly before he finally sputtered, “That’s it?”

Snape stood. “What would you like me to do? Expel him and send him back to his Dumbledore-fanatic parents? You’re in charge of discipline, Carrow. So discipline them. Can’t you control a few children?” He opened a cabinet and pulled out a cloak. “I have business off of the grounds tonight. I expect that this will be dealt with by the time I return.”

Snape held the door open for them, and Carrow reluctantly led them back down to the corridor. Snape swept past them, dark cloak billowing the way it had as he had paced the aisles during his Potions lessons, and disappeared down the stairs.

Carrow watched him go, a hard look on his face. “Are the dungeons ready, Filch?”

“Oiled the hinges this morning, sir,” Filch said. “Haven’t put the chains back in yet —”

“It’ll do for now.”

Ginny’s thrashing did not hinder Carrow in the slightest as he, Filch, and Malfoy took the three of them downstairs into the dungeons. Their wands were set on a nearby shelf, tauntingly visible but well out of reach, and then the three were left alone until Carrow could come up with something more creative.

“Did you see it?” Neville’s voice was steady, and he leaned almost comfortably against the stone wall.

The iron-wrought bars rattled as Ginny kicked them, but they did not budge. “Of course I saw it. We ought to go for it now, while Snape’s gone.”

Luna eyed a trickle of water that slid from the ceiling and into a small puddle on the floor. She wondered if it came from the Black Lake or a leaky pipe. “What did you notice?” she asked.

“The Sword of Godric Gryffindor,” Ginny said. “Didn’t you see it hanging under Dumbledore’s portrait?”

“Oh. Is it important?”

“Dumbledore left it to Harry,” Neville said. “He needs it. I don’t know how we could get it to him, though.”

“I can talk to him,” Ginny said. “If we could just get out of here —” She kicked again, but the bars did not budge under her assault.

“We aren’t getting out of here.” Neville retrieved a worn piece of parchment and a golden feather from his pocket. He searched for a dry spot on the floor and unfolded the old parchment. “But we can make a plan. Halloween would be good, when everyone’s at the feast.”

Ginny gave the bars one more kick for good measure, then joined Neville on the floor.

Neville pressed the tip of the feather to the parchment like a quill and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

—————————— ✶✶✶ ——————————

Ginny was forced to scrub the entrance hall clean until there was no trace of her graffiti, and students could see their reflection in the polished floor. It took her the better part of three full weeks and her hands were blistered and cracked when she was finished.

Luna spent every night reading out loud from Alecto Carrow’s horrible book, and if she faltered or hesitated in any way, she earned a welt and had to start over. It went on for two weeks.

Neville was left in the dungeons for a week, and did not appear for lessons nor meals. He said nothing about what happened to him, but he flinched when Seamus clapped him on the shoulder at his first meal back.

It wasn’t even an hour later that Susan approached Neville and asked what the revenge plan was. Neville told her to keep her head down until the Halloween feast.

To an outsider, it might have appeared that the Carrows had won. Muggle Studies lessons passed without incident. There were small protests in Dark Arts, but nothing more dramatic than civil disobedience. It was quiet at Hogwarts, until Halloween.

They started small. Seamus and Parvati slipped some of the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes Exploding Whizz-Bangs into the eggs at breakfast with a Switching Spell. After the chaos of breakfast, Alecto Carrow promised to hold the entire school for an extra hour of Muggle Studies that evening if no one confessed or gave up the perpetrator.

No one said a word.

Lavender took the leaflets from the Daily Prophet with Harry’s face and the bounty and modified them. Instead of “Undesirable No 1” the leaflet read, “Desirable Chosen 1” which was enough of a change to get their point across. She lamented that Dean could have done better, but the rest of the D.A. praised her work.

The leaflets were blown up to twice their size and pasted into windows all across the castle, with the help of everyone in the D.A. Every common room, from Gryffindor to Slytherin, was plastered with Harry’s face.

By lunch, the Carrows were scorching walls left and right, and Atalanta Shafiq told everyone that the Carrows had accidentally blasted a hole through the Slytherin Common room right into the Black Lake and flooded the dormitories.

Neville’s job was an unfortunate one, but he took it with grace. He waited until lunch was nearly over, then shouted at Crabbe and asked, “I know you said you’re a pureblood, but isn’t there a bit of troll in your tree? Was it on your mother or father’s side?”

Crabbe threw a hex that sent Neville flying five feet backwards and when he got up, he was puking up something slimy. Hannah escorted him to the hospital wing.

Ginny’s role for the day revolved around being as suspicious as possible without getting into real trouble. She ducked through hidden corridors. She paused to fiddle with her bag or her shoes. Luna stayed close with her for most of it, until after Transfiguration, they ducked out of Amycus’ careful watch by slipping into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

Demelza was waiting for them. “Ready?” she asked.

Ginny nodded and plucked out a strand of her hair.

Luna left the bathroom with Demelza, but Amycus Carrow saw exactly what he expected to see: Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley heading down to the Halloween feast.

Luna watched Demelza sit next to Helen Donoghue and engage Helen as easily as if she really were Ginny. Amycus stood at the door, eyes intent on Ginny. Luna could not help but smile, despite her trepidation at her own task.

She ate slowly, unsure how full her stomach ought to be. She looked at the professors and bit her tongue when she noticed that Snape was missing. Their plan hinged on Snape being out of his office.

Well, it was too late for them to change course now. Neville was waiting for her in the hospital wing, and Ginny was probably already hiding out by the Headmaster’s office.

Luna took a deep breath, pulled the bright yellow half of a Fainting Fancy from her pocket, and swallowed.

She woke with a headache in a corridor not far from the hospital wing with Neville and Michael Corner leaning over her. She licked her lips and tried to swallow down the spiced pepper flavour that seemed stuck to her tongue. She decided that she didn’t care for the second half of those Fainting Fancies.

“Are you alright?” Michael asked her.

Luna sat up and rubbed her throbbing head. “I fell,” she said.

“I tried to catch you. You should have warned me when you were going to do it.”

“It’s alright,” Neville said.

Luna gagged. His breath smelled like Porlock dung.

“You’d better get back to the feast,” Neville told Michael. “The less time you’re with us, the better it’ll look for you.”

“Are you alright?” Luna asked Neville as Michael hurried back to the Great Hall.

Neville grimaced. “I was hoping for boils. Madam Pomfrey says I’ll be tasting acid for a week, but she was at least able to stop the puking, so we can go ahead with the plan. Everything seems to be going well so far.”

“Oh… there is one thing…”

Luna told him that she had not seen Snape at the feast. Neville checked the map while they walked.

“I don’t see him at all,” Neville frowned. He ran his finger across the Marauder’s Map. “Oh — he’s just arrived at the gates. What do you think he left for?”

“Perhaps he’s joined a league of vampires. Halloween is a special holiday for them.”

“Then I guess we’d better hurry up before he finds us and drinks our blood.” Neville squinted at the map. “You catch up with Ginny. I have an idea. Peeves is just around the corner and if he can stall…”

Neville was still talking as he disappeared behind a tapestry of Mordicus Egg cooking over an open fire. Luna paused to watch the heavy tapestry resettle in Neville’s wake. The threads of the flames seemed alive as they rippled back and forth, until finally the tapestry stilled.

She skipped on ahead to the gargoyle at the end of the corridor. She spun around once in a circle, and did not see Ginny. So she spun again, and this time Ginny stepped out from behind a suit of armor.

“How’s Demelza doing?” Ginny asked.

“She’s very good at being you,” Luna said, then said, “Asphodel,” to the statue. It stepped aside easily and Luna hummed. “I really thought he would have changed it.”

“It’s a good thing he didn’t. Where’s Neville?”

“He said to go on without him.”

Ginny was already halfway up the stairs. “Alohomora,” she said, and the lock on the office door clicked open. She shoved the heavy door with her shoulder.

Ginny ran in for the sword, and Luna listened at the door. While she listened, her eyes roved over the portraits. Their oily eyes were fixed on Ginny as she lifted the Sword of Godric Gryffindor from its display.

“Breaking and entering!” one portrait shouted. “In the Headmaster’s office!”

“Put that sword back, child,” Dilys Derwent said in a kinder voice. “I’m sure you mean well, but —”

“Thievery!” Phineas Nigellus Black shrieked at her. “Unheard of! In my time —”

“Treachery!” one woman with a thick wand shouted.

“You’re the traitors!” Ginny shouted back at them. “Letting Snape in here — helping him — and after what he did to Dumbledore!”

She broke off and stared at Dumbledore’s portrait. It’s gold frame glistened, and the impression of Dumbledore stared back at her, as still and as unmoving as any Muggle portrait.

Luna abandoned her post at the door and came to Ginny’s side. She stared at Dumbledore’s portrait and felt her heart grow heavy, the way it did each time she passed her mother’s office in the basement of their family home.

“Ginny,” she whispered, “we should go. You can’t argue with what’s been done.”

“It isn’t fair.” Ginny turned her fierce glare on all the portraits, then back onto Dumbledore’s still portrait. “You know what the sword is for, what it can do. Tell them.”

The portrait did not so much as blink at her.

“Ginny.” Luna tugged on her arm.

Ginny’s lower lip trembled, and she turned away from Dumbledore’s portrait. Luna pulled her towards the door, but froze on the first step.

Ginny heard it too — footsteps coming up for them.

They backed into the office, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run as Snape and the Carrows burst into the office. Ginny brandished the sword as she might a wand for a duel. Luna did not have time to reach for her wand as Amycus Carrow thrust Neville at her. He fell into her and she staggered under his weight.

“You two,” Alecto Carrow sneered, “are supposed to be in the hospital wing.”

“Oh, but I feel much better,” Luna said. Neville only groaned.

“How’d you find us?” Ginny snapped.

“Hogwarts is a castle filled with portraits, Miss Weasley. I think you can figure out the rest.” Snape waved his wand and Ginny jumped as if the sword had burned her. It clattered to the ground and she clutched her hand to her chest.

“I thought,” Snape drawled, “I asked you two to control these children.”

“We did —” Amycus protested. “We have — she was just in the Hall, I swear.”

“I think a detention in the Forbidden Forest ought to teach them a lesson or two. Every night for the next week. From sundown to midnight.”

Luna tipped her head to one side. “But —”

Ginny squeezed her wrist and she stopped talking.

But that meant they would be with Hagrid instead of at Muggle Studies lessons. She wondered if Snape just didn’t realise when Muggle Studies lessons were. Did he think they were during normal lesson hours?

“And what if they try it again?” the Carrows asked.

Snape removed his cloak and pulled out a smudged piece of parchment from his pocket. “I expect you’ll prevent them from trying again.” He glanced at the sword on the floor. “I’ll have it removed from Hogwarts, then this will no longer be a problem.”

As he tucked the parchment into a book on his desk, Luna was certain that the smudge of ink was actually a small black pawprint. She supposed if Snape was a vampire, he must have a familiar by now.

Snape took a seat at his desk and surveyed the small crowd in his office. “Well? Is there a reason you’re all still here?”

The Carrows shoved Ginny towards the door, and Luna helped Neville limp down the stairs.

“Yes, I know,” she heard Snape say as the door closed. “I can have a duplicate ready in days.”

And as the latch on the door clicked, Luna thought that she heard the familiar rumble of Dumbledore’s voice.

—————————— ✶✶✶ ——————————

It was midnight, but no one was keen on heading back to the castle just yet. Ginny sat down in the grass and leaned against one of the trees on the edge of the forest, still in view of Hagrid’s hut, but away from where Neville was helping Hagrid pick Moondew for Madam Rosmerta’s Butterbeer.

Luna crouched down beside her.

“Do you think the Carrows will come and collect us?” Ginny asked. “Or could we stay out here all night?”

Luna ran her hand over the trunk of the tree. She loved the transition from the soft moss to the rough bark and back again.

“It’s just so empty in the common room,” Ginny said. “Is it like that in Ravenclaw?”

Luna crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. She thought for a moment. “A bit. Terry Boot never came back. Mandy checks for his name in the paper every day. Anthony Goldstein wasn’t a Muggle-born, but his family left for Canada after Dumbledore’s funeral, and they don’t plan to come back any time soon.” She plucked a small dandelion flower from the grass by her knee. “I expect it’s worst in Hufflepuff.”

Ginny folded her arms over her chest and looked up at the stars over Hagrid’s hut. “I miss him, Luna. I miss him so much, but when we talk it’s like he isn’t there. And I — I know you probably don’t want to hear it — I’m sorry — but I don’t know that I have anyone else —”

Luna reached for another dandelion and folded the stems into the beginning of a flower chain. “I will never take half of you,” Luna said, “and I don’t believe that you are one to give halves.”

Ginny’s laugh was sad. It made Luna’s chest ache. She leaned against Ginny and continued working on her flower chain.

They sat in silence, until nearly two, when Hagrid insisted they return to their bunks.

“I’ll walk yeh ter the castle,” he said, “but don’ let Filch catch you on your way up.”

Neville waved the map. “We’ll be alright. As long as any portraits don’t get involved.”

Luna tied off the flower chain into a crown and stood. She spun in a circle and dropped the circlet on Ginny’s head. “Up we go,” she said, holding her hand out to Ginny.

Ginny took it. “Thanks, Luna.”

Luna smiled. She pulled Ginny along and hurried to catch up with Neville. She took his hand as well.

Luna hated Hogwarts, and she had no desire to go back behind those high stone walls, but at least she did not have to go alone. At least she could go with friends.

#luna lovegood #hp fic #hp everyone lives #hp everyone lives au #harry potter #hp #dh

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 3 years

Text

Empires on the Horizon XIV

Jason is a CEO: Part XIV

masterlist for other parts, more jercy, bad headcanons, and an abundance of crackships

SURPRISE!!! i finally got my laptop back and thankfully they didn’t have to wipe anything so i still had all my work! Between you and me i was more worried about all my fanfics than my uni work...... But I’ve learned my lesson. Do everything on google docs now!! Anyway this is a Percy POV and i hope you enjoy because i’ve missed this little universe more than you could possibly know and we’re finally (only fourteen chapters later) getting to the jercy part of this fic?! LOL it’s been wild.

i know i’m releasing a ton of fanfics at the moment so i hope you guys don’t feel overwhelmed. You know i adore your comments and thoughts but please don’t feel pressured to read all the fics i’m posting. I’ve just had a lot of time in the last weeks so it’s been easier to create. Please take care of yourself, i love you very much and i hope you have a magical holiday season!

Percy Jackson stretched his legs out in front of him and draped a blanket over them. There were few things he indulged in, but a good plane seat was one of them. He was spoilt for it but having the space to lay his unreasonably tall body down for eight hours seemed like a worthy investment. The announcements that continuously filtered through the crackly speakers were background noise as the bustle of people getting to their seats flowed throughout the cabins. He stared out his little window at the neon-jacketed guides and airport officials directing people to wherever they needed to be. He loved watching people just do things. There was something calming about knowing others weren’t interested in him in any way. That people got on with their lives despite the turmoil nobody knew about.

A flight attendant stopped next to him with a polite smile, “Champagne sir?”

“No thank you, a water please. Too early for alcohol.” He grimaced.

Mirth danced in her eyes as she glanced up at the rest of the passengers, some dangling flutes between their fingers. “Absolutely sir, anything else?”

He shook his head, before leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. His pre-flight ritual, which consisted of him snuggling as comfortably as possible it his seat and trying to fall asleep, was already behind. The presence of a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed CEO taking up the scattered pieces of his mind. It was crazy to think they had met almost a year ago, crazier still to think that about how much they had changed in that time. Percy at least felt like a completely different person to the one who had stepped off a plane from Hawaii all those months ago and attended his alma mater’s dinner. Although the university had surprised them with plaques honouring their contributions, it was seeing Jason Grace, learning about him that felt like the real reward. Hell, he was only half joking when he said he’d marry the guy the next Tuesday.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen. Please take your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We will be taking off shortly. In the meantime please turn your attention to the screens in front of you for a video detailing the safety measures you will need to know while aboard this flight.”

He blinked back into the world and turned half his attention to the screen and the other half to locating the blonde he couldn’t seem to keep away from. He knew the safety briefings by heart, but he always felt bad for not paying attention. Someone worked hard to make those. He didn’t spot Jason in the two minutes the video played and then it was too late because the plane gave a low rumble and suddenly, they were lurching into motion. His heart climbed to his throat and he gripped his fingers underneath the blanket.

“Okay Percy,” He mouthed to himself, “You can do this. It’s at most fifteen minutes of instability and then you’ll be up in the air and you won’t even feel it.”

“Just fifteen minutes.” He kept repeating, taking deep shaky breaths. “Fifteen minutes.”

The plane jaggered down the runway, slow enough that he could still read the road signs indicating altitudes and compass directions and all sorts of fun information he didn’t care about. He felt the huge machine turn into the long stretch of tar that led them to the sky and his stomach clenched painfully. This was always the worst part. Take off. It felt like his entire body flew off with the plane while he stuck to the ground, superglue cementing him to the floor with no escape. He didn’t feel free. He felt torn.

The plane gave a horrible lurch and then it was screaming down the runway, grass and yellow lines blurring past them. They were going so fast he’s sure they’d break the sound barrier. He squeezed his eyes shut. Knuckles white as he twisted his hands together. The plan flew down the road and into the sky. His whole body felt suspended in space. He wanted to come down. He didn’t want to be here. Even with his eyes closed he could feel how high they were. He hated it.

Slowly, the plane started to level out until he felt his body realign: feet under him, hands beside him, head above him. He opened his eyes, spots dancing in his vision as they got used to the light once more. The seatbelt sign dinged above him, and a series of clicks followed. People got up to use the bathroom and grab things from the overhead compartments. He wasn’t going to get up until he was out of this plane. So he shoved his headphones over his ears and pressed play.

I will always love you how I do

Let go of a prayer for you

Just a sweet word

He gazed out the window, clouds close enough to whisper to, and his lips pulled up in a soft smile. The sky was beautiful. It just sucked that they had to get into a death trap to get to it. With his ocean eyes pinned to the balls of cotton hanging in the blue expanse his mind drifted. Reyna. He blinked. It was almost shameful how little he had thought of her since their breakup considering their year together. She had taught him tai quan do and baked him blueberry tarts. They had escaped to a little bubble in the forest and watched the leaves turn brown as they tumbled in bed. He knew she tapped her right foot when she was annoyed but her left fingers danced when she was excited. He knew she liked her eggs fried hard because she didn’t have time for sloppy yolk, but she liked them scrambled soft because it meant a richer croissant. But despite this she did not light his soul on fire. And he did not light hers either. They were merely striking matches without wood to burn. He heaved a sigh as he watched the threads of his relationship flutter before his eyes and fell asleep to them disappearing in gold strands leaking into the clouds. He succumbed to the bright sun and the soft warmth of memories and he didn’t wake until a loud announcement gave the signal that they were landing.

It was over so fast he didn’t have time to panic and he was grateful. Finally he was collecting his bags and walking out. A driver with his surname scribbled on a plaque stood front and center and with a quick flash of his ID and a hello they were piling into the car. He didn’t get a chance to see the blonde beauty, but the island was small and time was a plenty. They would find each other again.

“To the hotel sir?”

“Yes Luca, and then please stick around for half an hour. It’s just a quick freshen before I go to work. We have a lab meeting.”

The man nodded and then focused on the busy Italian streets they were navigating. He took in the colours and sounds as they whizzed by. It felt like a different universe. People were loud and excited and full of life and the little markets seemed to pull energy from the sun and direct it into joy. He wanted to tell Luca, to pull over, screw work, and take in the beauty of this little section of the world. But his phone buzzed in his pocket and he knew with a disappointed sinking in his chest that adventure would have to wait.

“Hello Percy,” Rachel Elizabeth Dare bubbled, ‘I assume you’ve arrived?”

“Yes Rach,” He sighed but amusement caught between his lips, “Have you got news for me?”

“No,” She sounded suspicious, “Why would I have news for you?”

“Because you only track my exact times when you want something but you’re too scared to ask me so you wait till I’m halfway across the country before asking.” He wanted to laugh as she made an indignant sound.

“Okay fine,’ She grumbled, “I wanted to know if I could close up the scuba for the weekend. I met a girl and i wanted to go out on Friday night with her.”

He couldn’t hold in his laugh any longer, “Of course you can Rachel. But I’m curious to know…” He trailed off.

“Ugh you are impossible.” He could imagine her eye roll so vividly. “It’s Clarisse. The principal from your old school.”

“Well, well, well,” He grinned, “I better be getting premium seats to the wedding.”

“Why does everything always end in weddings for you?” She groaned.

“Scuse me for wanting a happily ever after.” He scrunched his face, “Oh and guess who’s here?”

“Is this a good guess or a bad one?”

“Good.” He smiled, “Very good.”

She gasped, speaker crackling at his ear, “Tell me!”

“Jason Grace.”

“What?” She squealed, “Are you guys going to have hot rebound sex and then realise you like each other more than just casual fuck-buddies and end up getting married and adopting like six children?”

He burst with amusement, “Slow down there Rach. I know I throw around the marriage idea, but kids seem like a big commitment.”

“You right,” She said decidedly, “Kids are a lot of effort. Just get married then. But no eloping!” He pictured the crease in her freckled brows. “I want to be a bridesmaid.”

“Can’t promise anything,” He giggled.

“Perseus Jackson!” She scolded.

“Oof the full name.”

“I will tell your mother and she will kick your ass.”

“Okay, okay,” He laughed, “No eloping. I have to go. But remember to take the keys for the scuba with you. We do not need the fire department breaking the door again.”

She grumbled about hating him and then blew him a kiss and ended the call. With a smile still playing on his lips he thanked Luca and rushed into the hotel. Thankfully the check in was painless and fast and he was stumbling into his room in no time. He barely had time to appreciate the gorgeous floor-to-ceiling windows and the ocean view it laid out before him. He promised himself he would take the time when he got back.

Quickly he hopped into the shower cursing when he realised he’d forgotten to take his socks off. With a horrified shudder he peeled them off and chucked them into the laundry basket, thankful it gets emptied every day. The water beat against his back, fogging up the glass and calming the racing in his veins. He gave himself the luxury of one extra minute to just take a deep breath and screw his head back onto his shoulders and then he jumped out and shoved on a pair of black slacks and a white button down. He didn’t bother to do the top few buttons, figuring he’d have time in the car. Instead he fastened a watch to his wrists, rolled up the sleeves till they sat at his forearms– any attempt to bear the Italian heat– and then he slid his feet into a pair of sleek ankle boots and mussed his damp curls. With half a moments glance at the mirror to make sure his face didn’t have patches of sun-cream and his collar was straight he grabbed his briefcase and walked out.

Glancing at his watch distractedly he rounded the corner, only to bump right into a hard chest.

“Oh,” He frowned, stepping back into a door. “Jason.”

“Hey,” The blonde smiled, “What a coincidence?” He laughed.

“You’re staying here?” It was really starting to feel like the universe was trying to tell him something.

‘Yep,” He gave a shy smile, blue gaze bright. “Guess you’re going to see a lot more of me then you expected huh?”

“I think you may be at more of a disadvantage than me.”

Jason looked at him, eyes dragging from his face down his body and eventually dropping to his shoes. Percy gave an involuntary shiver as the blonde tracked the same slow pace back up. “I think this could be very advantageous.”

“If you don’t stop staring at me like that I’m going to be very late for my meeting.”

He laughed, the previous sultriness giving away to a sparkle and flashing white teeth, “See you around Jackson.” He started walking away.

“Wait!” Percy called, “Date? Tonight? We can explore the city together?”

Jason smiled as bright as diamonds, “Sounds fun. Meet you in the bar at?”

He realised their time depended on when his meeting finished and suddenly, he wanted to cancel the whole thing and start now. ‘Seven thirty?”

“See you there. And have a good meeting.”

The blonde walked away, and Percy felt this time like he was floating away while his body remained superglued to the floor. He wanted to live in this feeling. Because this did not feel like being torn apart. This felt like coming home.

The elevator dinged down the passage and he crashed back to reality. With a string of curse words he raced for it and jumped in just as the doors began to close.

The meeting and subsequent lab tour felt endless and he concentrated on little less than half of what was being said, his mind more interested on the things waiting for him at the hotel, the person. But eventually it was over and him and Luca were cruising towards the Casa de Vita.

“Anything else you need sir?” His driver looked at him from the rear-view mirror as they turned into the hotel road.

“Recommend any good places for a first date?”

“Already met a lady sir?” Luca’s dark eyebrows almost touched his hairline in surprise.

“A man actually.”

The Italian chuckled, nodding his head as if in on some invisible joke, “The Tesora. It is just down the path and near the ocean.”

“Thank you Luca, have a goodnight.”

“And you sir.” Luca winked before peeling out of the entrance and fading into the setting sun.

Percy strolled to his room with a smile on his face, lost in a world full of possibilities. It was unsurprising then that he didn’t see the extra bag against the wall, or the shoes neatly placed by the door that weren’t his.

He took off his watch and undid the few buttons on his shirt, head lost to the glimmer of the ocean. He let his shirt fall open as he slipped off his shoes and walked towards the windows. The view really was spectacular. No matter how much he travelled it always blew his mind the places that existed, that he had yet to learn of. It was irresistible. It was perfect. It didn’t fail to cross his mind that the ocean was the exact same colour as a certain pair of gorgeous blue eyes. He blinked the image away, turning around, and his gaze landed on that exact aquamarine gaze.

“Jason?” He gasped, clutching his chest in surprise. “What are you doing in my room?”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Tags (if you want to be added/taken off the tag list just let me know. All my channels of communication are open):

@lesbian-peanuts

@leydiangelo

@queen-of-demons-and-hell

@msdrpreist

@sparkythunderstorm

@nishlicious-01

@lucyisblue

@pjo-hp-things

#empires on the horizon #part 14 #jercy #jason is a ceo #jason grace #percy jackson #baby fanfic #baby fanfic series #pjssg fanfic #pjssg series #pjjg fanfic #pjjg series #jason #grace #percy #jackson

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maggicsorceress · 4 years

Note

Dream from your mermaid AU, finding out just how dangerous the ocean really is? Maybe he gets rescued by his brother's pack of sharks, or maybe his friends manage to drag him out of trouble

Oooooo yay! Mermaid AU one!!! 😌

Not me doing copious amounts of research so I can make sure this isn’t just my creative brain speaking lololol

I love writing these so thanks hon!

Daily reminder that I don’t own any of these characters, just the specific mermaid AU XD

Fish types:

Dream: Blueback herring

Blueberry: Blue Striped Grunt

Ink: Caribbean Reef squid

Nightmare: Mimic octopus

The bad guys are in here too but they only make an appearance.

Hope you like it!

Dream would admit that he grew up a little sheltered. His mother was a little over protective, knew too well the dangers of the ocean, and kept him and his brother on a tight leash as a result. When he was younger, he hadn’t really minded. He was content staying with her and Nightmare, but as he grew older it became excessively annoying. Dream wasn’t surprised Nightmare had taken off as quickly and early as he did.

He was older now, they both were, and Dream liked to think he knew enough about the ocean around him to be able to function and live in it without a problem.

But...he was wrong.

He was out on his day off with Blueberry and Ink, which wasn’t anything new. They were out on the far side of the reef, about thirty minutes from town, chasing each other around in the clear water, laughing and playing. It was the same thing they had done a hundred times before...

Only, it went a little different this time around.

They were playing tag and Blue had just managed to tap Dream on the arm before darting away, giggling. Dream went to give chase when a shout from Ink made him freeze.

“Dream! Look out!” Ink cried.

Dream whirled around and let out a shriek, jerking away as a large shark careened towards him from the side, snapping sharp teeth into the water where Dream had previously been. He didn’t hesitate for a moment, speeding away. When he chanced a glance behind him to see if the shark was still following him, which it was, Dream practically dove for the reef, maneuvering between large structures of coral and darting through large openings in the reef. The shark stayed hot on his tail and, in a moment of panicked desperation, he dove into a hole through the reef that was a little too small for him. The rough coral tore his arms to bloody shreds, but the shark momentarily lost sight of him. Dream floated, his back to a large mound of rock and coral, and held his arms with a wince, blinking back tears as the water around him turned a murky shade of pink.

He wasn’t entirely sure what happened next, only that he saw the barest glimpse of the shark moving towards him from ahead of him before something slammed into him from the side, hard and fast, and latched onto him, sending both Dream and whatever tackled him to the sandy ocean floor. At first, Dream thought it was Ink, given the way the shark was thrashing blindly in the water, a jet black cloud dissipating slowly around it, and the tentacles that gripped him and kept him down in the sand, but Ink couldn’t change colour, at least, not to this extent.

“Don’t move.” Nightmare commanded above him.

Dream stared up at his brother, watching with wide eyes, barely breathing, as Nightmare’s tentacles went pale and blue rings appeared along them. Not even blinking, Nightmare stared down the shark as it swam circles around them, clearly debating whether or not risking a venomous bite was worth getting to finish off his meal for. Dream wasn’t sure how long the stare-down lasted, but eventually a few other mers made their presence known, emerging from behind the coral. They placed themselves between the brothers and the shark, and Dream was paying enough attention to recognize them as Nightmare’s friends.

The group of shark mers bared their teeth at the larger predator, watching it with wide, protective eyes. The shark backed off, but even then the mers trailed after it, ensuring it left the other two alone.

Nightmare seemed to deflate, colours returning to normal as he slid off of Dream and onto the seabed.

“Are you okay?” Nightmare asked, voice uncharacteristically soft.

Dream raised himself up on shaking arms and gave a small nod, adrenaline wearing out and making him all the more aware of just how lucky he was. Trembling, he lifted his hands to his face and curled in on himself, fear and overwhelming relief making tears spill from his eyes.

“Oh, come on, don’t...” Nightmare muttered and suddenly warm, gentle hands were prying Dream’s own away from his face. “Hey...talk to me. Are you okay?”

Dream nodded vigorously, head bowed and voice breaking. “I’m fine, I promise. I just...oh gods...”

Not quite sure what to do, but hating seeing his brother cry, Nightmare reached out and tugged Dream into a hug. Dream returned it easily, clutching Nightmare’s shoulders and sobbing as everything caught up to him. Suddenly, he felt like a child again, awoken by a bad dream and turning to his brother for comfort. He was thankful though, for as much as Nightmare put up a front, Dream knew Nightmare would forever have a soft spot for him, and he would happily admit that he abused it. Especially at the current moment, when Nightmare’s comfort was the most welcome thing in the ocean. Dream realized how much he missed this sort of thing.

“I saw your friends back there.” Nightmare said. “They were really worried about you. I’m glad they knew which way you swam off, or I might’ve been too late.”

Dream chuckled, hiccuping. “Yeah...I’m glad you got here.”

“I’m glad I got here too...” Nightmare mumbled, grip on Dream tightening. “...Don’t scare me like that again.”

“I’ll be more careful.” Dream promised as his breaths evened out.

“Good.” Nightmare said.

He peeled away from the hug, glancing down at Dream’s arms and rising into the water, extending a hand down to his brother.

“Let’s go back to your friends and get your arms patched up.” Nightmare said. “I want to get out of here in case that shark comes back around.”

“Yeah...” Dream said, taking Nightmare’s hand. “...thanks, Nighty.”

“Yeah, yeah...” Nightmare said, tugging Dream along with him. “I’m just doing my job.”

#I missed these dorks #I need to write more of this AU tbh #I working on a big thing for it!#but idk when it will be out #hope you liked it hon! feel free to send more!#undertale au #my writing #mermaid au #dream sans

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elysicndrcvm · 3 years

Text

━♡ guess the 23 YEAR OLD FEBRUARY baby just arrived to dallyeog! it makes sense, because CHU EUNHA is just as BEDAZZLING as the month of FEBRUARY. wait, why do they remind me of JACOB BAE? beyond that, they seemed JOYOUS and SAVVY upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of DELICATE and QUIXOTIC though. i hope they get acquainted here in COMPLEX 1 / APARTMENT 0215 / FLOOR 3 ; HE seem(s) to have a lot going on with HIS job as a PATISSERIE OWNER/NUTRITIONAL SCIENCE STUDENT. ( ez, 21, she/they, gmt. )

well hey there !! im ez but you fellow dallyeogers can call me ezzy, i have been in dallyeog before so some may remember me as having someone v different to my new bb i bring u now, i joined before with miss tam carmen !! anygays i return with this lil angel who i am all ‘ i say that’s my baby and i’m proud ’ over already even tho i literally came up with him like two days ago. you can find his pinboard here ( which btw i fuckeN love like he’s so aesthetic to me u go king ) and i made him a lil playlist which u can vibe to here. you can learn more about him under the cut but he’s a super soft-hearted gentle dove of a muse and quite...simple for me ?? sdhdh that’s not the right wording but U GET IT djjflg he isn’t super full of angst or trauma he’s just kinda viBIN livin his best life so that’s fun !! but ye without further ado:

so as u kno from his app he owns a patisserie, it’s his lil babey and he is very dedicated to his craft and makin sure all his ideas for the place and the baked goods he sells are like rlly quirky and avant-garde. like he is so passionate about it u dont even KNOW, he tries to make sure most of the stuff on his menu is something like fun and new u wouldn’t get at just any old patisserie or cafe and that it’s super varied and also kinda aesthetic af? the place is very like trendy. it’s called patisserie d’elysian cause ya know he’s an extra biTCHH and proud.

he has three pupperino’s. all as adorable as each other, snickerdoodle is his golden lab and often ppl shorten it down to snickers, butterscotch is his dapple daschund pup, shortens the name to scotchie often. toulouse is his fancy toy poodle boi, shortens the name down as toto. if u are on the shortened name basis with his pups then u can consider urself one of his close pals.

he’s actually adopted by his aunt but she raised him like she was his mother so that is what he considers her, she’s on his mother’s side but they are half-siblings. in terms of first name reasoning as well she just liked eunha as a name and didn’t even think about how it is traditionally for a female, she liked that it meant gift from heaven so it stuck. his father is still around, he’s just quite elderly so it felt like a better living situation for him to be raised primarily by his auntie. unfortunately his mother has passed on but no tragic story, she just went peacefully in old age.

he dyes his hair quite often, it’s currently like a really pastel blue with black streaks consistently throughout like lil ones so it looks super cool. but he’s also had it be a more electric blue, lilac, and a duck egg kinda faded silvery blue. it’s naturally dark brunette. has brown eyes kind of a hazel hue.

his style is kinda androgynous ig?? he just lives for soft retro fashion, lots of color in his wardrobe but also lots of tapered short and t-shirt fits frequented, sweater vests, rolled up jeans, high skater boi socks, soft jumpers with shirts, shirts in bright colours or satiny texture worn over plain white t-shirts, cardigans, pastel denim jackets, jeans with printed patterns on like clouds, flowers etc, favors yellow and blues. sometimes does eye makeup, occasionally wears heels bc he’s a baddie or super heeled boots/chunky shoes.

obsessed with music, can play violin and guitar. he’s a big mitski and rina sawayama fanatic, likes anything that sounds peaceful or calming or has like a good fun vibe to it. also likes the trademark gay icons like carly rae jepsen, lorde, etc. he’s not ashamed. obsessed with mamma mia movies. but also likes rap which is rlly funny cause its like the bad bitch female rappers only and like he’ll listen to it while arranging his sock drawer or making his bed or something ajdjdj it’s like hype anthems for being a baddie and a hoe and he’s just doing his night sleepy routine adkfkf.

showers, blankets, music, baked goods especially bagels are his happy places.

very much a sensitive lil romanticist, falls in ‘love’ like five times a day, he just likes to giggle and smile around pretty people and admire the artwork hnghdh, he’s like yeARNS though ya know?? like he’s all i will flirt by making prolonged eye contact, i made you a playlist, this song makes me think of you etc. it’s either memes as flirting with him or elaborate love letters u never know what ur gonna get akdkd.

awful sense of humour, loves his friends more than anything on earth except his pups, would fully live in a huge house of just like his pups and all his closest buds for all eternity. likes fruits way too much, enjoys puns about fruits way too much. milkshakes, sushi, orange hues and bus rides are some of his absolute favorite simple pleasures of life. clouds, flowers, salt lamps, the sunrise over the sea, skateboarding, fresh soda, teddy bears, busy street markets, parasols, fish tanks with exotic fish, sorbet, bike riding, polaroids, record players, rain at night against floor to ceiling windows with a fresh steaming pot of tea on the desk beside it and warm fresh sheets from the laundry on his bed, ponds, skateboarding. all little joys in life that give him like the biggest pleasure dopamine hit in the world.

his cousin actually owns a florists so he has flowers just littering his apartment like a lot and it just looks like he has ten million suitors from the late eighteenth century attempting to court him but no all these flowers are from him to him or worse from his aunt djfjg she sends him some for valentines every valentines, pls help him, pls send him flowers.

studies nutritional science and he fucken hates it. do not ask him shit cause he doesn’t KNOW OKAY? he doesn’t understand it either. he took it because he needed something to go alongside the passion for baking that was a real ‘qualification’/job so that is the only reason he’s doing it. no point doing a baking degree after all when he’s already a baker with a business, he’s super young still he gotta keep his prospects open. so YAH. he’d rather be doing culinary arts but eh. nutritional science sounded better and more logic based. the real miracle is he still gets top grades all the time even tho he spends his life like wtf am i even doing is this even legit akdkdk. school is the worst thing in the world for him watch his mood instantly deflate the second its brought up.

despite being a quixotic, he’s a lil afraid of intimacy. like oh god does he love it, those small touches and acts of affection u kno? the subtle things that normally go unnoticed, eye contact, brushing of hands, linking of little fingers, rubbing a thumb, kissing eyelids or foreheads or palms or shoulders in little gentle pecks, back massages and rubs or finger tracing patterns absent-minded, shoulder massages, laying your head on someone’s shoulder or on their lap, knocking knees together, exchanging a small glance only the two of you get before bursting into laughter, smiling into kisses, napping together, having blankets placed over you warm and fresh, or towels put ready like it, someone making you something they know you like a lot. that’s his sHIT. but like he’s terrified still, someone skimming their fingers on his skin makes his breath hitch like he’s a scandalized and alarmingly aroused victorian woman sjdjd. he’s literally still a virgin, he hasn’t even had his first kiss okay my baby is delicate be gentle with him akdkd but he still LIKES PASSION AIGHT kfkf.

real soft spoken, honey tinted voice like i shit u not this boy talks like he’s an angel sent from heavens above to guide you to the paradisaical garden of eden or some shit akdkd. ur gonna fall in love with eunha’s voice before u even fall in love with any other part of him like his adorable beaming smile or stunning eyes akdkf.

has dance parties around his room when getting ready in the morning, listens to bella’s lullaby unironically yes from twilight yes u heard right, bit of a himbo streak sometimes in his obliviousness djfjf. quite silently subtly funny actually much like jacob himself.

he is gay, afraid of driving, cannot do math, blanks out often and he is valid for all of those things. has a collection of cartoon and disney animal movie dvds. has a dream notebook. always has blue painted nails in some kinda shade.

does not enjoy turning in assignments bc he is scared he’ll fail, avoids looking at his grades for weeks after they’re released and hates knowing that they’re out.

cannot dance, dances often. collects vintage stuff esp clothes and mostly sweaters. likes midnight trips to corner stores and fields where he can just lay and look at the stars. makes friends rlly easily but has super bad performance anxiety. cannot ever have a messy room like even the tiniest bit messy. even like clothes being stacked on a chair instead of away.

bakes peanut butter, banana and choc chip muffins (they r called monkey bites normally) whenever he’s super stressed. if u want to cheer him up when he’s anxious or stressed then u should give him french lavender honey, chia seeds and caramelized pear on toast/bagel. it is his comfort food. he fancii when he needs a pick me up. treat urself and all that.

#dallyeog:intro #i'm literally in love with him he's the softest most goodest boi muse i have ever made and i just #im that meme of the samari sword guy with the cat in his arms akfkfk #IVE ONLY HAD EUNHA FOR TWO DAYS BUT IF ANYONE HURTS HIM I WILL KILL THEM AND THEN MYSELF AKKDK

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ashes-and-ashes · 4 years

Text

Something really quickly before I go to bed :)

The house looked exactly the same as it did the night he left. The same hallway - the cabinet pushed up against the right wall, the closet door with it’s floral screen, the paint dark and dull. There was a vase on top of the cabinet, full of some sort of faded silk flowers - Remus can’t tell what colour they originally were, can’t see past the thick layer of dust on top of the petals.

Memories. That’s what this house was full of, memories and ghosts and the whispered echoes of actions long done.

He hated himself for coming back, running to his parents like he was at their beck and call. He couldn’t stop himself though - it was ingrained in him, that fatal sort of loyalty that kept him coming back.

He closes his eyes. The house felt suffocating, the walls and the windows, drips of golden amber and he was the fly that was caught in it. Remus takes a deep breath, holds it, tries not to pass out.

There’s a warm presence at his side - he knows without looking that it’s Sirius. He loses a small breath, opening his eyes to stare into Sirius’.

“Hey,” Sirius says. “Listen to me. We can go home. We can go home right now if you want to.”

“This is home,” Remus whispers. Sirius’ face tightens.

“Back then. We can go back. Those pieces of shit don’t mean anything any more.”

Remus swallows hard. The message had come a few days ago, on that rose-scented paper that his mother had always used. He couldn’t even get past the first line, her handwriting so familiar it hurt.

Dear Re,

Would you like to come over for dinner...

He couldn’t. His parents were flames and he was a moth - no matter how hard he tried to escape he couldn’t. He envied Sirius sometimes, his utter lack of regard for his parents. He wished he could do the same.

Remus grits his teeth. He allows himself a moment, just a moment to catch his breath, to lean into Sirius’ side before opening his eyes. “I’m good. I’m fine.”

Sirius nods, stepping back. Beside him, James slings his coat over one arm, eyes unusually cold.

He couldn’t do it alone. Sirius and James had agreed to come with him at once, to this house of silence and memories. He didn’t think he could bear it otherwise.

With a sigh, Remus tugs at his hair. James at least had made an effort - he’d combed his hair, dressed in a nice sweater and a button down shirt. Remus wore something similar, his jumper too scratchy and his shirt too tight. Sirius though hadn’t bothered to do anything - he’s in his ever-present leather jacket, his hair pulled into a bun at the nape of his neck.

Remus had asked him about it, before they left. Sirius just gave hiom a vicious smile, one that let Remus know that tonight wasn’t going to be easy.

“I don’t actually give a shit about your parents,” Sirius scoffed and that was that.

Light filters in from the kitchen - Remus can smell things cooking. With a sigh, he pushes the door open revealing the dining room.

It was exactly how he remembered it - wallpaper and china cabinets and that glass chandelier. Remus swallows the lump in his throat, looks down at the floor.

When he sees it, he actually flinches, so hard that Sirius grabbed his wrist. He ignores it though, the pain shooting up his arm as he stares at the rug, the gold and the red, the flowers embroidered on the side.

For a moment he can hear his father, the whistling of the belt and the snap of impact. He can see the keys dangling in his hands, disappearing into his pocket, mockingly close and so far out of reach.

James shoots him a concerned look and Remus opens his mouth - to explain or to laugh or to scream he doesn’t know when -

Sirius goes tense, every muscle in his body going rigid. Remus lets out a slow breath, drags his gaze upwards reluctantly until he locked eyes with his father.

They stand like that for what feels like eternity - his father’s stony gaze, Remus’ empty one. For a brief moment, Remus wonders if he’ll ever end up like his father - stagnant and unrepentant, forever left longing the things he could never have.

Lyall looks awkward. He shifts his weight from one foot to another before finally coughing. “Remus.”

“Dad. Where’s mum.”

“Kitchen.” Lyall drags his gaze up, holding out his hand. “I see you’ve brought guests. I’m Lyall. Remus’ father.”

Sirius snorts, rolling his eyes. James quickly cuts in before Lyall can say anything. “Hi. I’m James. I go to Remus’ school.”

Lyall nods, turning to Sirius. “And you are?”

“Oh please.” Sirius’ voice is cold, utterly blank and full of rage. He doesn’t make an attempt to calm the fire in his eyes, the utter loathing coursing through his body like blood. “You know who I am.”

“Sirius.” Lyall’s voice is disapproving. “Remus’...friend.”

“Dad,” Remus says. Fear floods his body at the look Lyall gives him. He lifts his chin though, refuses to look down. Sirius is grinning at his side, a manic, emotionless smile, the kind of boy who delighted in tearing others down. “Dad, we’ve been over this.”

Lyall doesn’t say anything, just takes his seat. There’s a clattering in the kitchen - Remus’ eyes widen as a woman rushes into the room.

She’s wearing an apron, her hair styled in a careful bun. There’s a large covered dish in her hand - she sets it carefully down on the table before taking her seat. “Hi. I’m Hope. Remus’ mother.”

Sirius turns that manic grin on her as well and she flinches away.

“So,” Lyall says, clearly trying to cut some of the tension in the room. “How are you doing today?”

Sirius cuts in before Remus can say anything. “Absolutely horrible thanks. My day just got shittier and shittier when I found out I had to come here.”

“No one is forcing you,” Lyall says, his voice like ice. “In fact, I’m surprised Remus even approved, seeing his questionable group of friends.”

The barb hits home, sliding underneath his skin like a knife. Remus shakes his head, glaring at his father. “Lay off.”

“Don’t talk to your father that way,” Hope says. Remus ignores her.

“Don’t make comments like that. We’re not stupid. We know what you’re trying to do.”

“And what is that, Remus?”

Remus looks down, at the stone floors. He can feel the memories, barely submerged underneath him.

The whistling of the belt, the cold stare of his mother, the way he dug his fingers into the rug at his feet -

“Looks like you finally got all the blood out of the carpet then.”

Lyall whips around, eyes like ice. Remus holds his gaze, refuses to drop his glance. This only seems to infuriate Lyall more.

“What are you - “

“Blood?” Sirius throws back his head and laughs. “Try Utcunque. Great for those nasty stains.”

“Young man,” Hope says. “What exactly are you trying to - “

Sirius just snorts. He’d rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, exposing the scars carved into skin. “It looks like you and my mother would get along.”

Lyall stares at the scars for a bit then shakes his head. “I have no idea what you are talking abut.”

“Don’t you?”

Hope cuts in. She turns to James - perhaps thinking he was the least hostile in this explosive mix. “So. How did you and Remus meet?”

James glares back at her. Remus doesn’t think he’s ever seen him like this, all empty and cold, eyes like stones set into his face. “On the train. To Hogwarts.”

Hope waits but James doesn’t provide any more answers. With a sigh she turns to the covered dish in the center of the table. “Alright. Re...I cooked your favourite...”

Remus watches with a sinking feeling as she scoops out macaroni and cheese onto his plate. He glances around the table - everyone is sitting rigidly in his chair except for Sirius. Sirius is slouched, arms flung over the back, head tipped up towards the ceiling. Lyall clears his throat a few times to no avail.

“Stop,” Remus says. He realizes that his hand’s clenched firmly around the prongs of the fork, the metal cutting into his skin. “Stop this. Stop pretending everything is okay.”

Lyall and Hope exchange cautious looks. “Stop what, Remus?”

“This.” Remus waves his hand, indicating the House, the room, them. “This...subfuckery. This idea that we’re some perfect family.”

Lyall shakes his head. “Remus, look - “

“Dad.” Remus cuts him off. “You are - “

“Did you know,” Sirius cuts in, eyes flashing in the dim room, “That I’ve seen Remus’ back? It’s beautiful really, all threaded with scars and cuts. And you know what else? Some of those marks match the ones on my own back. And God, I do hope that’s not what’s happening. Still, I don’t know how a werewolf can leave a mark so clearly in the shape of a buckle in the middle of someone’s shoulder blades.”

Lyall is shocked into silence for 3 whole seconds before turning on Remus furiously. “You told - “

“Oh yes,” Sirius says. “Well. We figured it out.”

“You disrespectful - “

James shakes his head, setting his cutlery down. “Disrespectful? Us?”

“How dare you come into my family’s home - “

“Oh it’s not my home,” Sirius laughs. “And Remus ran? Remember?”

Dread floods through Remus’ gut. He reaches out - Sirius’ hands are balled into tight fists at his side, nails cutting into skin. “Father - “

“How. How could you let - let him know about - “

“That what?” He can feel the anger now, coloring his words, adrenaline pulling him up into the clouds. “That I’m a Werewolf?”

A clatter makes him jump - Lyall had knocked back his chair in fury, eyes bulging. “Shut your mouth. You - “

“And an example of the extreme anger demonstrated by Lyall Lupin,” Sirius says and James lets out a low laugh. “See Remus has told be quite a bit about you. Including your temper.”

“Until you become a parent - “

“My parents tortured me, Lyall. You think I can’t recognize another one in a heartbeat?”

Remus swallows hard. Lyall levels a hate-filled glade at him. “How could you tell this - this whore that - you’re - a “

“And who’s fault was that, Father?” The anger is coming now, in waves of white hot fury that made him want to puke. “If you hadn’t criticized Grayback - “

“He deserved it!”

“That’s what you said about me. I deserved it. Didn’t I?”

Lyall’s eyes burn a hole right through him. “You were always an ungrateful brat. Coming into my house with this - this fag - “

“Don’t,” James says quietly, “Ever call him that again.”

“How could you tell a random - “

“He’s not random!” Remus spits, his vocal cords so tight he thought he’d rip them to shreds. “I’m in love with him!”

Hope gives a faint faint of gasp. “A...it’s just a phase - “

“No.”

“Re.”’ Her gaze was pleading. “Pleas. You’re already making it so hard by being a...a werewolf. Why must you make it harder for yourself?”

Remus laughs, low and wicked and brutal. “Father stared it when he challenged Grayback to prove one thing he had that Father didn’t. I can’t, Mum. I can’t live in this lie.”

“You,” Lyall says, “Will come home. We will enroll you in summer programs - “

“Like what?” Sirius spits. “Conversion camps?”

Lyall’s gaze is steady. “If that’s what it takes.”

“No.” Remus stands, chucking his napkin on his untouched plate with the same motion. “No. We’re leaving.”

Lyall just points at the door. “Get out.”

Remus flips him off and stalks out of the dining room.

#wolfstar #wolfstar angst #wolfstar fanfic #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius black angst #remus lupin angst #sirius black fanfic #remus lupin fanfic #james potter #lyall lupin #hope lupin #marauders #marauders era #marauders era fanfic

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pluviophile-bookworm · 4 years

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AWAE 2x8 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

This goes out to Kyla Matthews for her birthday today. She’s brilliant as Ruby and I hope to see her in something new soon (unless AWAE finally gets renewed, of course #renewanneewithane).

“I plan to have several beaus and be proposed to several times.” Oh sweet Ruby, always such romantic aspirations. I love her.

Anne is really good at proposals. I hope she gets to propose one day. I know that’s not how it happened in the books, but this is a different take on them, so why not in this continuity? Somebody please write me a fic.

Phillips, on the other hand, is not as eloquent. But he gets the blessing. Too bad (not!) there won’t be a wedding after all.

I like how Anne’s hair is growing back. I plan on drawing her in every stage of her hair growth, so I’ll probably do this one right after I’m finished with this review.

The girls are so fascinated by the idea of a wedding. I just hope all of them truly appreciate what an empowering move it will be of Prissy to choose herself over societal expectations at the end of the day.

Will Billy’s cruelty ever stop? And will internalised homophobia stop tormenting Phillips into bullying his students? I unfortunately think the answer to both of these questions is no.

“Sometimes I find bigotry very inconvenient.” I love how well Bash is taking this. But the part about the bog... I don’t want to think about it. And the bigotry doesn’t stop here. Billy, of course, who else.

I’m glad Rachel is trying to apologise, but she seems to lack the vocabulary to do it well. And the bigotry won’t end with one apology, unfortunately. #blacklivesmatter

“I hope whoever we get next will actually be interested in teaching.” You go, Gilbert! I’m glad someone is finally addressing Phillips’ incompetence when it comes to educating young people. They’ll be a lot better off with Miss Stacy.

“Anne Shirley-Cuthbert is a passionate individual, alright.” Yes, she is, and of course, Gilbert’s always known it for as long as he’s known her. Also, I love how he and Anne are, in a way, sharing a snack in this pair of parallel scenes.

Sweet Ruby! “I’ve already monogrammed several kerchiefs with the initials G.B.” Too bad you’ll have to change it.

“ A beautiful wife to her husband.” What does Josie know about that? There are more important things than beauty and I’m glad Anne is well aware of that. Books are a great thing to “enter your new life” with.

I bet this is the moment that made Prissy think twice about getting married. Being denied her human right to pursue higher education is a good enough reason for any young woman to run away at the altar.

Breaking the window with Cole’s clay - how unfortunately clever of Billy. I bet Phillips will lay the blame on his usual target now, even though Cole had nothing (but the piece of clay) to do with that. And look how Phillips picks up the clay like it’s a piece of... a different substance that my blog type doesn’t quite allow me to say out loud, or type here. I guess you cna figure it out for yourselves. You know what I mean.

No, Phillips can’t be seriously doing that. I can’t even watch. But I do love the dignity with which Cole stands up to his so-called “teacher”. “If you want to hate someone, you should look in the mirror.” And then he just walks out. We stan a legend.

You know, eye health is important, and it seems to be one of the more underrated messages of AWAE. Plus there’s absolutely nothing wrong with reading glasses, regardless of age. Both my parents have reading glasses, though they’re “too young”, as some might say. Taking care of your health has nothing to do with age. I hope Marilla realises that.

I’m beyond pleased to see there is no trace of bigotry in the doctor’s treatment of Bash. There are some decent people at least.

A good doctor Gilbert will be, for sure. If he passes out at the sight of a shot (not that I don’t but I’m not aspiring to become someone who might give them on a regular basis), how is he going to handle the profession he aspires to? Remains to be seen.

“Why do you think Mr. Phillips hates you so?” Good question, Anne, and I know the answer well. He just can’t accept himself, so he’s bullying anyone who reminds him of what he is. And right now, that’s Cole. Internalised homophobia is horrible. I almost feel bad for Phillips himself.

There, Cole came out to Anne. And she has the best reaction ever, even though neither of the two possess the vocabulary to describe what Cole just said he is. Gay. Used to mean “happy, bright, colourful”. Such a beautiful word. And some really important topics are being discussed there. Seriously, this show had a bright future that was cut short. #saveannewithane

There, Anne proposes that they have a friendly marriage if they don’t find their “romantical kindred spirits”, as she so beautifully puts it. This might have been so beautiful. Too bad it won’t be after all, but I’m sure that, in Charlottetown, at least, where people seem to be more open-minded (or is that just Aunt Jo and her friends? Even so, they’re enough.), he will one day find a lovely young man and the two of them will never feel unlawful together. I love thinking about that.

“A beautiful place where black people dance beautifully in the snow” Poor, poor Bash. What he’s about to see will unfortunately be far from pretty. How many times will I say “unfortunately” within this review? There’re too many of them already. But what can I say? Sometimes things get a little bit... unfortunate. Unfortunately.

The guy from the train is kind of like Phillips in a way - he despises Bash for dealing with similar problems better than himself. I feel bad for him.

Prissy’s mother seems to be a good woman. “Educated wives who think for themselves.” Sounds good. And also, Prissy, yes, you are a child. And no, you don’t know what you want. Not yet at least.

Hey, there’s Mary. I guess Bash had to go to the bog after all. Otherwise he wouldn’t have met her. All clouds have a silver lining, I guess. Even this one.

“Pretty-ish piece of property”. Nice alliteration. Bad notion. I’m glad Anne wants to be “equals and partners”, and “life mates”. Also, didn’t Topanga once use that last one in an episode of Boy Meets World? Wait, I’ve got it noted somewhere... yes, as early as episode 1x9. She used it to describe a spouse. I guess it’s sort of universal now. Life mates. I like it.

“I don’t shy away from the truth of how I feel like some fellas I know”. I see Bash’s position as captain of the Shirbert ship and his love for teasing Gilbert about it haven’t changed one bit.

Marilla “bequeathing” the brooch to Anne was a lovely mother-daughter moment, and an underrated one at that, given their history with that brooch.

Maybe it wasn’t Phillips’ words about Prissy not going to college; maybe it wasn’t her mother’s words; maybe it wasn’t even Anne’s innocently insensitive words that made her reconsider getting married. Maybe it was a compound of all those things. But whatever it was, I’m glad it happened. Still, even under the circumstances, as someone who has never seen a wedding from the bride’s side of the family (one of my male cousins got married a couple of years ago, so I’ve seen the groom’s side), I can’t but feel the thrill of the wedding preparations. Even under the circumstances.

The way Gilbert’s looking at Anne, one’d think he wants it to be him and her up at the altar. And it will be - someday in their bright future. But their wedding will be nothing like this one.

As I said, this is a supreme moment of female empowerment. Prissy as a runaway bride, I mean. And I’m happy the girls got to share it with her. And that they could laugh about it despite all that the people will surely say soon enough about the whole affair. A beautiful ending to the beautiful essay about weddings and marriage that was this episode.

Let’s sum up: Ruby wants multiple proposals; an elegant pretend-proposal coming from Anne and a not so elegant one from Phillips; Billy is a douche to Cole and Phillips acts as an outright monster; Cole faces bullying with dignity; Bash faces bigotry with no less dignity, wants to see the bog, meets Mary; eye health is important; the good doctor faints at the sight of a needle; Cole comes out to Anne; a friendly proposal; Marilla bequeaths the infamous brooch to Anne; Prissy is a runaway bride in a supreme moment of female empowerment.

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melancholicvampires · 4 years

Text

Amalia backstory pt. 2

„Shit, shit, shit", she mumbled, slamming the door behind her and running down the floor and stairs.

Perhaps she was lucky and the guest was one of those aristocrats, who were too busy making forced jokes and boasting with their much better and more expensive curtains, not noticing anything around them. Amalia found a little comfort in that thought.

„My husband and I hope you will enjoy your stay here. Later we…“.

Stomping down the last steps, too busy in her thoughts about not wanting to embarrass herself by being late, she reached the entrance hall. She sighed in relief, only to notice perplexed stares with a hint of pity in her direction from the servants, standing in a row on either side. Disoriented, with her hands awkwardly hanging down her sides, Amalia let her eyes wander among the people, searching for Odile. Her midnight blue dress made it easy to find her among the black and white uniforms. There was also a black collier adorning her neck. Amalia didn‘t remember putting it on her nor did she ever saw a piece like this among Odile's jewelry. The deep black seemed to absorb the the light, showing no reflection of light. Though one component seemed out of place. Red gemstones were hanging in regular margins from the collar. The red was of a deep colour, almost like blood. Amalia blinked with her eyes. She could have sworn to never have seen such deep red gems. However perhaps her mind deceived her.

Odile gave Amalia an almost not noticeable nod, directing to the entrance door. There she saw the slowly in anger wrinkling face of the madame, the monsieur, sighing and shaking his head, and who she assumed was the guest. The fear of the insults and a slap in the face, she was certain to get, was forgotten when curiosity overcame her for the stranger, standing there in the middle of the hall in front of the entrance, exactly opposite to her. He looked up, giving Amalia a chance to examine his face.

He was tall, even taller than she was. And his suit was of another, much better quality. His attire was primarily black, except for a red silk waistcoat, that was richly decorated with black embroidery, a ruby brooch on his cravat and a few rings on his fingers, he wore over his black leather glover. The rings were similar in design to the brooch, some were black with a ruby, others only silver. The black was the same pitch black as the collier Odile wore. Perhaps jewellery like this were in fashion in France currently. Although none of the guests, who visited before were comparable jewellery.

Something else catching her eye was, that he looked like he hasn’t slept in days and how pale his skin was. Almost like there was no blood flowing in his body. His black hair and grey eyes only gave stronger contrast to his paleness. Normally Amalia would assume someone looking like this was sick or dead, but he didn’t appear to be nor made the impression on her and was very much alive.

Although he did look up at her little scene, he didn’t seem much surprised or care about her interrupting the welcome ceremony, but rather tired. Not in the sense of being weary from the long travel, more like he was already tired of this place. Amalia noticed herself agreeing with him. It still struck her as odd, considering the countless nobles, hungry for favour, she’s seen before. Always eager to be better than the last guest, always repeating the same compliments on how lovely the house is, always expressing a great interest in the question about how to come by such great wealth. Amalia attempted an elegant bow. Certainly this guest might not be as boring as the usual deceitful visitors, she thought. She took her place with the other servants. Her bow was too fast and clumsy to appear graceful, but was enough to appease the Madame at least to a certain amount. She rolled her eyes. The hard wrinkle from anger faded into a deceiving softness.

„Please apologize this little intrusion“. She shook her head and put on a pitiful undertone. „That girl is our little troublemaker. She’s an orphan, not able to comprehend the ways of sophisticated society. We tried so often to teach that child, but it’s like talking to a wall. We picked that poor thing up from the street. What a savage creature she would be without our mercy. You have attended far more places in this cruel world than it was permitted to me due to poor circumstances, so you must know of those pitiful lifes, I imagine“.

Amalia clenched her jaw and formed fists, pressing so tight until the skin became white. How she would have loved to stand still without a trace of anger on her face, but her emotions wouldn’t allow it. She looked down to the ground to hide her furrowed brows and ashamed red face. If only the ground would swallow her, she would have been thankful for it. A problematic child only causing trouble, isn’t exactly who one expects to go to university. She always heard how well mannered and disciplined the students. That’s what the other guests told at least, when they were talking about their children attending expensive universities with high titles. And that was the only thing she heard. How good ones behaviour and family title, or rather wealth, is, but there must be more to it. There has to be. Amalia couldn’t offer either.

„Pitiful indeed", the guest agreed. „It’s a pity how this sophisticated society has a clouded mind and blinded eyes from the ecstasy of their nights, spend with wasting coins and spilling wine“.

The wide smile from the Madame disappeared. Her cheerful expression seconds ago changed to a hateful frown. The servants exchanged glances. Odile and the Monsieur looked at each other with worry from one another to the Madame.

Amalia remembered the constant hymns about the flawless, shining, sophisticated society, only people fulfilling certain standards could be part of. She also remembered visits from those members and the red stains she had to clean the next day. She had to bit on her lip as not to break out in laughter.

Instead the Madame began to laugh like in hysterics, holding her hand in front of her mouth.

Even when she laughs like a maniac, she still stays in her role, Amalia thought. She couldn’t count the number of times, she got scolded for laughing like a ‚roaring brute'.

The Madame assumed her composed posture again. „Apologize my emotional outbreak. Our last meeting ended on such grim terms, it surprised me to hear you jest. Quite amusing. Correct, my dear?“. She turned to her husband who replied with a not very convincing nod. She continued, „We hope our hospitality will change that last unfortunate impression. Everything is prepared in the most splendid arrangements for your stay, you will find. Nothing will be to your miss“. At that last sentence she looked at the rows of servants.

„I am thankful for your grande arrangements, of course. However I believe the efforts of your servants were in vain, as is your hospitality. I don’t plan on staying for long. I would prefer to discuss the matter of my visit this evening, rather than wasting your time with lavish courtesy and unnecessary keeping up the unavoidable“.

Though the words were hard, even Amalia must admit, there was a certain pity in his voice, she thought to have heard.

„Oh, we do not need to speak of that now, do we?“, she said in a delighted tone and offered a sweet smile, ignoring what his refusal of her offer, „You had travelled quite a distance from lovely France and must be so tired, I imagine. We have prepared the nicest room, opened our best vintage and plated the best foods from the region, though not comparable to the standards of France of course, though good enough for here. What a shame to refuse generous hospitality as such. After all our work and preparation through sleepless nights, that is truly pitiful".

Amalia didn’t miss how she pronounced ‚our work and preparation‘. Their work seemed to insist of testing the comfort of the armchairs in the house.

„I'd like to hear about Paris", Odile said after an uncomfortable moment of silence, „I aspire to visit this marvellous city in the foreseeable future and would to know more about the places, the arts, attractions and amusements I ought to see. And about the famous universities, I heard so much, but still not enough. The only thing I know of France is the taste of wine, feeling of their clothes and drawings and articles in books. But I enjoy much more to hear about Paris from a living person than from written words in a travel guide. May you give us the honour? I'm certain some of the servants would love to hear about it as well".

Odile gave Amalia a quick glance, making her smile. Odile truly had a way with people. Her mother appeared relieved not having to continue the futile attempt of having a conversation. Her father didn’t mirror that relief, but unease instead.

„Odile, we talked about this", he said in a menacing voice. His interruption earned him the angry wrinkles of his wife.

Amalia listened carefully. It was odd, Odile didn’t tell her about an argument or something of that sort with her father. He was always distant regarding his daughter, rarely talking like a parent to her, but rather like a stranger. Still there seldom were conflicts between them. Each of them going their way usually.

„Father you must allow me this much at least", she replied and turned to the guest again, „Please be our guest, even if only for a night. It is an honour for us to have a guest from so far away, as long as he wishes to stay“.

The guest was quiet for a few long seconds until he eventually answered, „It would be unjust to decline your request, so I will accept your hospitality. However I cannot promise to stay for long the next day nor do I promise being able to answer all of of your questions to your full content. The city changes within the blink of an eye“.

A quick city that changes every moment. It was hard to imagine what this must be like. The village was slow and the only excitement brought chickens breaking out of their coop and the market with ist loud sales men and women, each trying to scream louder than the next. One gets accustomed to those after a while though.

Odile made an elegant courtesy before the guest, giving the Madame a sign to take over the situation. Amalia thought about asking her for the necessary courtly manners, she might need them in Paris' elite university. Then again they were so stiff and rehearsed. She couldn’t imagine people only slightly older than her to behave in all seriousness around each other with ridiculous greetings and courtesies.

„If you would follow me. We have prepared a splendid meal and the finest wine“, she chattered.

A quick hand sign from her, ordered the servants to resume their work.

Amalia caught up with Odile with quick steps. As always Odile was collected, even after that troublesome entrance from the stranger.

„Hey, you really saved the Madame“, Amalia whispered, cautious to keep her voice down, not to be heard from the person in question, who was a few steps ahead, busy with leading the guest to the dinner table. Usually she'd chatter about what a wonderful ambiente she and her husband build, but she was quiet.

„Did I?“, Odile whispered back, trying to maintain an elegant serenity, „I only did what was required. I have to stand up to my duties“.

„You don’t need to be so humble. And you might say this, but I see your smile“.

For a second they looked each other in the eyes before a mutual snicker burst out of them.

„We need to talk, young woman“. The harsh voice of Odile’s father cut through their amusement.

Odile looked to the ground and stammered, „yes, father, but…“.

Amalia glanced back and forth. What was he doing? Wasn’t he making a bad impression to the guest?

„What about dinner? After Mademoiselle’s invitation, it would surely disappoint to have her be late, Monsieur. Our guest seemed very convinced by her speech“.

The Monsieur cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, though there was nothing wrong with it.

„Good, you may attend dinner“. He changed to a harsher tone. „But we'll have a discussion later".

As soon as he turned around to follow his wife, Amalia rolled her eyes. He nor his wife seemed capable of calming the situation. Any parent would be proud, seeing their child apply what they have learned from then.

Amalia grunted, annoyed by his demanding tone and demeaning attitude. „After dinner we'll hide in the attic with some snacks from the kitchen".

„Perhaps this time, I participate in your offer", Odile snickered.

They used to hid, when one of them was about to be in trouble. Though Amalia was the reason for their hiding game in most cases. However in recent times Odile joined less and less. Something about fulfilling responsibility she said.

Amalia eyed the black collier with the unnatural red gems again.

„Did you have it in your jewellery box? I don’t remember seeing it on there. I could have put it on, if you told me you wanted to wear it“.

Odile touched the collier, letting her fingers wander over the jewellery. „Your memory doesn’t fool you. My mother gave it to me, when I went down. It’s made of antique foreign gems and the design is rare and needs to be made from highly skilled hands. Isn’t it extraordinary? I do love the contrast of the deep colours of the gem stones and the dress“.

„Sounds like a very unique piece of jewellery“. She didn’t like it. She couldn’t help but notice the unsettling deep red colour of the gems and how tight the collier clung to Odile’s neck.

„Can you breath in it? You still have to eat and drink at dinner as well", she asked, frowning her eyebrows.

„I don’t even notice it’s around my neck. The collier must be made of very light material, I assume. You need not be worried. Or do your books say colliers choke someone’s throat?“.

„No, but it looks so uncomfortable to me". Amalia cleared her throat and thought of something nice to say. „Then again I don’t understand much of fashion and jewellery“, she laughed nervously.

Why would the Madame give Odile a collier with gems filled with blood anyway? Her eyes must have played a trick on her.

„Come on, you must go the other servants. The Monsieur is already staring at you".

Amalia turned around and indeed she saw a very warning glance in her direction.

„One last question, what’s his name?“, she whispered. It was embarrassing enough to have missed part of the introduction, but even more so to not know the name of a guest. Especially when that very guest knows one or two useful things.

„Valère Delacroix, if I heard correctly“.

She mouthed a silent ‚thank you' and hurried into the kitchen, where orders get exchanged, plates and cutlery clatter and the scent of roasted meat fills the air.

„Please take the bottle of wine and fill their glasses“.

She nodded and took the bottle with a handkerchief.

„And don’t fill too much into their glasses. It’s supposed to be noble and we want to have something as well“, someone shouted on her way out to the dinning room.

In the middle sat the Monsieur, on the left the Madame and Odile and on the right sat Valère Delacroix, or whatever he was called. The starter got served. He however refused with a hand gesture. Meant more to eat later, Amalia cheered in her thoughts. Though it was unclear why someone would refuse such good food. The cheerful thought quickly got forgotten, when a worry raised in her head. What was the right order again? Pouring the glass of the guest first, of the women second and then of the Monsieur's last made the most sense to her. After all the host should appear humble and generous. She remembered something like that being told from Odile and the wine has to be opened in front of the guest.

She looked around for a corkscrew. It should be on the table, but there was none to be found. She put her free hand in her pockets, but there wasn’t one either. She must have forgotten it in the kitchen, but she couldn’t go back now. The Madame rubbed the foot of her wine glass with two fingers. Not a good sign.

The only one other servant was in the room, watching the situation for when to serve the next meal. When Amalia looked to him in her despair, he shook his head and went back into the kitchen.

Amalia stood there next to door, shifting weight from one foot to the other.

„Do you not miss french cuisine? I heard it’s a long travel from France to Ireland, over the sea even, and the food rather requires getting used to it on ship. I that true?“, Odile asked, saving the situation once again.

„I cannot give you my opinion on the food they served for I haven’t eaten it. The other passengers were complaining the first few days, however, later they simply took their meals without further commentary. You can get used to everything after a while, when there’s only one option available“, he explained, „Although I must admit the food looked horrendous".

Amalia snorted. She didn’t expect a joke from someone as serious looking as he did.

The door next to her opened and the servant gave her the missing corkscrew. She nodded with a quick smile, indicating her thanks, opening the bottle.

„What did you eat instead? You must have eaten something. Did they have a secret storage room with better food?“.

„It seems like our wine has finally arrived!“, declared the Madame as Amalia went to Valère. „It’s almost like the wine had a journey from France to our humble estate itself".

She meant it as a joke, but no one laughed.

Amalia went around the table to Odile, filling her glass, relieved no one else seemed to mind her belated serving.

„May I fill your glass, monsieur? It’s a french vintage. Many say it’s one of the best and rarest with exquisite aroma", Amalia tried to sound convincing, but she didn’t know much about wine. Only time she tried wine, was when the other servants urged her to try. The taste never lured her into trying more than one sip however. The intoxicating effect and headache the next morning they told her of, she fancied even less.

„Sounds like an excellent wine. Yes, I'd appreciate a glass", he said, „Thank you“.

As she was about to fill the glass of the Madame, she waved with her hand and turned her head slightly. Amalia bowed towards her, expecting another sharp comment.

„Keep your eyes on the glass of our guest and refill whenever his glass is empty or about to be. We don’t want him to miss anything, do we?“, she whispered.

Amalia nodded. Wasn’t that normal custom?

„You messed up the order, in case you haven’t noticed".

Amalia finished pouring her and the Monsieur’s glasses, acting like she didn’t hear it. She was prepared to hear one criticism at least anyways.

She went to the corner behind Valère, always having his glass in sight. The other servants will be sad they have to wait. Better for her. Then she doesn’t has to listen to their tiresome entreaties to try just a sip.

The Monsieur raised his glass of wine, a little bit too low for a cheerful opening of a meal though, not even standing up from his chair.

„May this meal and drink be blessed. So on and so forth. Santé“. He raised his glass unmotivated and took a long sip.

Amalia bit on her lip and looked into the round.

The others replied „Santé“ with varying motivation, and joined in.

Odile kept her sweet smile. Valère had no visible reaction or deceived it well. The Madame however had a tight grip around her glass and a forced smile on her face.

„My daughter is so eager to hear about Paris, so please elaborate on the current situation. I would also like to hear of it", she said with a sharp glance directed towards her husband.

„Not much has changed since you left, I'm afraid. The streets are still filled with people in expensive gowns and those with only rags", he said, swirling his wine, „What about you, young lady? What would you like to know?“.

Amalia looked over to her, hoping her eyes spoke clear enough.

„There’s so much I'd like to hear about. As I've mentioned, I've only seen drawings and paintings of Paris, of Versailles and the Louvre Palace. They look as large as a city on ist own. I read it’s near impossible to walk through one quarter on one day. Is that true? I cannot imagine that to be true. Our estate is so big already, though I can walk every inch on a day with ease“, she went into raptures.

All the books about those places on her shelf came to Amalia's mind, so of course she'd ask about those. But Amalia didn’t want to hear about fancy palaces and castles, though interrupting her was rude. Then again she could still apologize later. Odile would surely understand, probably having more chances to engange in conversation tomorrow. She knows how much this meant to Amalia. And if not now, when else does she get a chance like this again, considering he’d leave soon?

„I can’t quite say, if that corresponds to the truth. My knowledge is as good as yours on that matter, I'm afraid. The only accounts I have are from a dear friend of mine, who's estate is quite large. Larger than the one you reside in, young lady. And richer in light and splendour. She calls it ‚petite Versailles‘, says it’s similar in decor and architecture. Though she may call it ‚petite', it would proof a challenge to walk through all the hallways and rooms in one day without getting lost in the beautiful interior. I imagine it’s much the same for Versailles and the Louvre Palace“.

Odile listened with wide eyes, having not touched the wine or food in front of her. Amalia gave her best not to yawn.

„It sounds wonderful! How I'd love to visit those magnificent places. You must have a lovely friend. Do you believe I'd be welcome to visit this ‚petite Versailles‘?“.

„Yes, she’s the kindest person I know and has a warm heart for everyone, no matter who. I'm sure she could tell you much more about Paris than I would be able to. There’s no corner, she hasn’t seen and no person, she doesn’t know“. Amalia noticed a smile, but not the lying kind. „You must make do with my poor descriptions for the time being. What else would you like to hear of?“.

„It makes me look forward to seeing this estate even more! Though I'm surprised, I've never read about it in books. What other places do the books not tell of, that are a match to those with high names?“.

„What about the university quarter in Paris? How many universities are there? Do they have medical studies there?“, she blurted out.

The Madame hissed a sound to quiet her down, so that she kept her head down again.

„I feel the need to apologize again for the troublesome inconvenience earlier and her loose tongue. We are all glad to finally sit here and enjoy dinner together, that just got interrupted to our dismay". She stroke the hand of her husband and fluttered with her eyelashes. „Is it not so, my dear?“.

Amalia felt the urge to gag. She wanted to know more about the universities of Paris and not see those awkward flirtations between the people she serves.

„Yes, yes, very much so", he droned, taking the next long sip. „More wine!“

Amalia went to fill his wine glass, but he snatched the entire bottle from her hands, pouring into his glass by himself and waving her away, when she wanted to take the bottle again. She hoped the guest wouldn’t be in need of new wine anytime soon. It was when she noticed his glass was still full, except for the sip from the toast.

„There’s no need to apologize. It was not troublesome nor an inconvenience. ‚Fashionably late‘ is an idiomatic expression gaining in popularity“. Valère turned to face her. „Tell me, what is your name?“.

„Her name is not of much importance. She isn’t even. You don’t need to waste your attention on her. She’s just a stupid young girl, too curious for her own good", the Madame joked.

Amalia bit on her lip again, gripping tighter around the wine bottle and blinked quickly with her eyes to fight tears back. She wished she could leave, run into her room, press her face against a pillow and cry until she could cry no more.

„Asking questions and being curious is something I would not consider dumb. It’s rather intelligent, especially for such a young person. That only show a bright mind, I believe. I do consider it rude to dismiss curious questions and someone’s name“, he corrected, „What is your name?“.

Amalia took a deep breath through her nose, so her voice didn’t break. The embarrassing moments were enough for her to wish to disappear for as long as it takes for others to forget her. There was nothing she found more embarrassing than others seeing her cry and being weak.

„Amalia Callahan, monsieur", she answered, hoping her voice wasn’t giving anything away.

„That’s a beautiful name. Callahan is an irish name, correct? I'm sure your parents would be proud to have such an inquisitive daughter“.

Amalia smilled. No one has said something like this to her again. Most people were too afraid to speak of her parents. „Thank you, monsieur. That’s correct. I'm very proud to carry their name".

The Madame rolled her eyes, but kept quiet this time. To Amalia’s relief Odile was smiling and nodded encouragingly to her.

„You wanted to know about the university quarter, correct? You find it under the name ‚Quartier latin' nearby the Seine. However it is easiest recognizable through the hundreds of young students, walking through the streets, always in a hurry and with a book under their arm. And through the frequently visited bars at night. There’s a variety of courses, medical studies as well“.

„Did you study there?“, Odile asked, finding interest in this topic as well. Amalia gave her a smile.

She already saw herself sitting in the lecture hall, writing notes, reading books, drinking in the bars at night. Perhaps she wouldn’t even be alone.

„I did, but not in the medical. I studied law, but that was a long time ago. Much has changed since I last visited the university and received my degree. Probably for the better. There’s more about the bars I could tell you than about the lectures“. He took a sip of wine. „You must excuse me for the rest of the evening, I feel the exhaustion from the travel and need to rest. It was an honour to speak with two bright minds as you are, I apologize I can’t talk longer for today and not having been able to provide you with all the information you requested“.

Amalia was about to open her mouth to ask him to stay and talk just a little longer, but the Madame was faster.

„We understand, of course. The girls asked you so much for today and your journey must have been tedious“, she said in a cheerful manner, „A servant will lead you to your room. Everything is already prepared".

Odile stood up and bowed slightly, „Amalia and I appreciated being able to ask our questions and hear your answers and tellings of that gorgeous city. Thank you very much! We hope our humble estate can give you a feeling of home and comfort for your stay. Bonne nuit".

„Bonne nuit", he replied.

Amalia mumbled an almost unintelligible „bonne nuit". She didn’t understand why Odile wouldn’t ask him to stay a few days longer or at least one more hour. It wasn’t too late into the night. Etiquette or not, he said curiosity was a good trait to have.

The Madame nodded to the other servant standing in the room to show Valère his room, he nodded back.

„Please follow me, monsieur“, he said.

„Can you tell us more tomorrow, please?“, Amalia asked as he stood up.

„Please let our guest get some rest. You tired our guest enough", the Madame hissed.

„It is no bother to me", he said in a calm soft voice, „I cannot promise to you I have time to tell you much, but I will try inform you about what details moght be of use to you“.

Amalia nodded. It wasn’t quite the answer she had hoped for, but it was still something. It was more information than she would otherwise be able to acquire around here.

As he passed the Madame, he whispered something to her, leaving her with a face twisted into a blank stiffness. Amalia glanced to Odile with a questioning look, who only replied with an equally puzzled look, shaking her head.

„Is everything alright, mother?“, Odile asked.

„Yes, you don’t need to worry about me". She rubbed her temples. „Would you be so kind to kind to accompany your father to his room? He has enough for today, I believe".

The Monsieur shook the last drops out of the bottle and stared into the bottle in hopes there might be one last, only to get disappointed.

„I believe so too. May you stand up, father? It’s already late. I get you to you room".

„But dinner has only just began", he lamented.

„No, it’s already very late and dark outside. Please come with me. You need to sleep, so you can get up early".

She took him by his arm, leading him out of the room.

„I can help you to bring him upstairs!“, Amalia exclaimed. It also was a chance to escape from the reprimand from the Madame she was sure to get.

„No, you stay here! There is something we must discuss".

The familiar unpleasant tone she heard so often, send a shiver down her spine. It was worth a try.

#I proofread and edited it but I'm sure there are still a few mistakes #and I will upload the corrected version of pt 1 in a minute #or edit the post rather #anyways was fun writing for more than one main character #information about Paris are from Wikipedia and what little I remeber from french classes #Amalia #Valère #draft

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neoculturetechxgot7 · 5 years

Text

Gardenia on the crown - J.J.H

4; dreams of sunshine eyes

pairing: Jung Jaehyun × Reader

genre: angst and the shy touches of fluff

length: around 2,5k words

warnings: mild swearing

// masterlist //

Starry flames flicker on the hundreds of candles saturating the ballroom with golden hues, reflecting on expensive pearls and tangling through lace trim and floral paterns. Nobility swirls around the soft notes of violin and piano, men in tailored suits kindly asking for the pale hand of shy princesses, inviting them to a dance that will stain the night with their scent.

You’re standing in middle of it all, fitted flawlessly in the embrace of a young prince's arms and slowly losing your sanity to the sight of his stunning features, iridescent shadows from the crystal chandeliers casting a sparkling galaxy on his skin. His eyes, those that captured your thoughts from the very moment their Egyptian caramel shade dipped into your soul, still have you mesmerized and utterly lost in their enigmatic depths.

He spins you around so gently, cremé gown blooming around your ankles in the heated rhythm and a moment later, you feel his fingertips sear a temptingly slow path around your waist when you step forward.

"You haven't told me your name yet..." A breathless whisper falls from your lips, accompanied by the over-accelerated pound of your heart. The charming stranger who managed to gather all of your attention to the excellence of his dance and the alluring electricity beaming from his entire presence is still hiding behind anonymity. The ache to discover something as simple as his name is swallowing you alive.

"My name is Jung Jaehyun, my lady...”

You wake up suffocated in the cradle of cloud coloured sheets, nightgown clinging low on your decolté and a rushed pulse racing through your veins. Midday sun refracts from the window, brushing peachy shimmer on your skin and a sweet heat around the endless void of the room.

Yet, somehow, your body feels absolutely numb. That night... Your brain is playing the filthiest game by reminding you of it.

Your glance swivels around the intricately decorated wooden furniture in protest to your mind trying to shove more images of that dying dream before your eyes. Sweaty fingers reach up to rub them a little too harsh, leaving you with a shadowed vision of a vortex of colours and a low sigh dips past your lips.

If you only knew that magical night would be your very first meeting with the devil personified, you would've locked yourself in the cozy escape of the underground library, or your room or maybe the kitchens...Hell, even the moldy, freezing dungeons your father caged criminals in would seem like a better option than being in that ballroom, at that time, with him...

Two sharp knocks on the door slice through your self-pity thoughts just as you're about to hop off of the comforting warmth of the bed, naked feet hitting hardwood floor.

"Come in!“ You shout, hands instinctively tugging on the white silk of your tiny sleeping dress to conceal the exposed expanse of your chest.

But the relieving sight of your maid has your limbs going slack as she walks in, a smile on her face that makes some type of jubilation sizzle under your skin.

"My Lady, you're finally awake!" The girl chirps with the lightness of her kind heart and then quickly trods towards your still seated form. "Will you be attending the morning assembly in the dinner hall or would you prefer breakfast in bed?"

At her mention of any kind of...well...social interaction with the arrogant existence of the royals, your body goes limp and fluffy pillows hug your backside as you fall back. The sole idea of seeing Jaehyun again exhausts you. It's barely been a day since you first arrived and his face is plastered everywhere. Even your damn dreams...

The maid presses her lips in an empathetic line before sparing you the most understanding of all glances. Oh, she knows better than anyone how you'd hate to see that man after having spent the entirety of last night listening to a nice, long monologue of unspeakable and profane adjectives to describe your soon-to-be husband.

Sometimes you wonder what level of patience one must hold to be able to withstand your -borderlone hysterical- hate speeches.

"I'll inform his wonderful grace of your absence, my Lady." With that sarcasm dipped remark, the girl pivots on her heels and strides towards the door, blush skirt flowing behind her. "And bring you some breakfast."

"Thank you."

♤

You finish the very rich meal within minutes -the cooks around this place are priceless, a blessing for your tastebuds- and after a little bit of sinking in a puddle of self loath and cursing your failure of a fate, you decide to distract your mind by simply getting lost in the magic of a book. Literature is a hidden paradise for you, poetry, a little heaven.

Back home, you'd always have a book resting by the wooden extend of your nightstand, every night fading between yellowed pages and inked words that took you on a trip to fantasia. Maybe reading something can help now too...right?

No.

Because you're running a dainty finger over the red and black book spines lining every shelf of the grand bookcase only to skim the leather binding of old catalogues and dictionaries. Your eyes frantically scan each and every title in search of the slightest trace of good, classic literature, those pieces that leave you gasping after the very last sentence, but to no avail. Annoyed at the obvious lack of quality writings, you pull one of the many useless books out, trying to check if the one behind it, on the inner lining, is any different.

An hour later there's a sea of stacked books expanding on the floor of your bedroom, over the oak bureau by the window and some even sprawled across your unmade bed, yet nothing seems close to your taste. You found a couple of fairytales, the ones mothers escort their kids with to the sweetness of sleep. Even dug out a little notebook full of scraped poetry, written in midnight ink and infinite pages of dreamy calligraphy. But it didn't really pick at your interest either, so it now lays untouched on your nightstand, keeping company to ruby necklaces and a porcelain vase filled with roses.

Your knees bend over the plush mattress as you take a good seat in the boredom that has already started to define this day. With nothing else to do but stay in your room and stare at the elegant carvings on the walls, your pinky is twitching; sign of the bottled up energy that's currently restricted due to your absolute refusal of meeting eyes with the royals.

If only you weren't this stubborn and lowered that ego, maybe today wouldn't completely go to waste...

Then, something tickles at the back of your head; an idea?

A library. They must have one here, right?

Maybe visiting the palace library will be a convenient option. You can still spent time alone, buried in the wrinkled edges of lettered paper, while also keeping that well needed distance from Jaehyun and his awful family.

But then again, you don't even know how to get there and the so unpleasant possibility of bumping into too familiar faces has your skin coated in a drizzle of coldness.

Even so, your feet subconsciously plant onto polished floor and lead you to the door, expensive golden silk with embroidered morning stars blossoming around your ankles. It takes you no time to step delicately into those pointed heels that clank an air of intimidation with every step, as you -for the umpteenth time- curse every forsaken force in this damned universe for binding you with such a fate.

Having to sneak out of your own royal chamber like a common fugitive simply to enjoy the smallest comfort of reading a book. Pathetic, to say the least.

♤

You find yourself striding down the seemingly endless stretch of a hallway, peach tinted light bouncing of off smooth stone that arches into a high ceiling. Large, curved openings formed the one side and thick marble columns separate them.

It took a lot of wandering around wide halls and visiting two of the many towers of this palace for you to reach this point, the faintest wave of spring heat kissing your neck and cheeks as a reward. Surprisingly enough, you were met with no person you knew, only kindy greeted by maids dressed in creamy beige, a humble smile on their faces. Once, you actually happened to spot -what you thought would be- one of the ladies of the court and her small escort following shortly behind, heavy gowns of cotton and purple satin flowing with her every delicate step. She bore an almost blank expression, lips pressed together in a manner that made you wonder if she disliked this place as much as you did.

Taking a peak outside the enormous windows, you realise you're walking the perimeter of a circular yard, the expanse of its area covered in emerald, neatly cut lawn. A whole lot of people are gathered, small kids playing around with leather balls, servants scurrying to get some random task done and a big group of men standing on the very middle, some carrying weapons of all sorts.

With feet inching closer to the stone edge, your stare rakes their sun bathed faces and thankfully you recognize none. They are all of noble ascent, from what you can tell at that distance, golden threaded crests decorating the corners of their uniforms.

While your eyes fight to grab onto the stitched details, they happen to -so tragically- fall straight onto another pair of breathtaking brown orbs and within a fracture of a heartbeat you're pulling back and hiding behind the column.

Fuck.

Momentarily, the edges of your vision blacken as you suck in hungry inhales, a nice bunch of profanities roaring in your head to mix with the thumping in your ears.

You just can't avoid him, can you?

Shaking your head to get rid of the slight panic possessing it, you slowly slide to the side again, solely to catch another glimpse of Jaehyun. He’s surrounded by a small crowd of men, holding a steady grip on a steel forged sword that's so well polished it seems almost like platinum.

What a sight.

His glove clad fingers tighten as he ducks to an attack stance, raising the light reflective metal in the air as if it's the lightest feather. You notice the absolute perfection in his technique, balanced from the very handle all the way to the sharp tip and can't help but admire how, the next second, it comes down to slice morning breeze and barely scratch Jaehyun's opponent. He's incredibly skilled, every move laced with such precision, and you notice the subtle flames his eyes emit when seizing each chance.

The other is quick to deflect any incoming hits, but still overwhelmed by their lighting speed and strength that eventually goes in for an attack himself. He bringing his own blade up and aims for the prince's chest, leaving you watching with complete devotion to the scene, as he takes a hasty step forward.

Something inside your chest clenches in such an unexplainable manner and time itself dramatically unfolds, each second slower than the previous.

But then, Jaehyun ends the match with a swift and simple dodge to the side, sword simultaneously flying to crash against the side of his opponent's armor with a loud, echoing bang.

He should’ve watched the ribs. Always watch the ribs, you think while gazing the loser gasp in slight pain.

The nobles all around the young prince cheer -much like you do on the inside without realising-, yelling out praises along with a well-deserved applause as he drops his heavy weapon, that sunshine blessed smile making another appearance. His cheekbones literally shimmer with the milky glow of victory, all of that aristocracy putting even the highest of angels to shame. He stands proud and tall, fingers carelessly ruffling auburn strands of auburn hair, their tips dripping sweat but still giving him the look of effortless beauty.

You're about to retreat back to the shadows and run away before your body gets completely enchanted by the spell of his irresistible attractiveness...but that ice in the pit of his gaze cuts straight through your unprotected soul once his head turns.

You're suddenly frozen in place, prematurely surrendered to the way his eyebrows furrow and your expectation is yet another cocky grin and probably another stupid comment meant to irritate you the moment you face him. If it weren't for the starstruck expression plastered on your face, mouth slightly agape, maybe it wouldn't have been this bad but no, that's not the case today.

It's pretty damn obvious you've been watching, pretty damn obvious you've been lurking like a creep and gawking over the impressive ability of fighting he has conquered.

And he's well aware of that fact because those pearly, white teeth get covered by a way too smug and way too annoying smirk, it's curvy edge cutting through your dignity harder than any knife ever could. You note the way his chest heaves from the lightness of a chuckle.

Oh the embarrassment, oh the pain of your intimidating facade being all wrecked down in a split second.

If only never seeing him again was an option...lf only you could stay away from his stupid beauty and bluntly cold demeanor...

"Greetings, my Lady." A honeyed voice suddenly disrupts your desperation, causing your reflexes to stick your back falt against the smooth stone in horror.

Yet when your gaze snaps to the source of those words, you find a curious and somewhat charming a pair of sunshine filled eyes trained on your form. A toothy grin, white and beaming with luxury, is spread across the young man's face, a perfect contrast to his autumn skin.

Taking in a short breath of relief, your royal instincts kick in and you bow respectively at the gentleman, while he moves forward, hands folded behind his back in a kind manner. "Good morning my Lord."

"I'm afraid I do not recognise your face, darling. Are you new around here, perhaps?" He asks and it seems as if heaven lost one of its angels; his whole being radiating a unique kind of divinity as he stands so confidently.

"Oh yes." Your knees bend once more as you quickly introduce yourself, trying to sound as formal as possible, getting over the previous scare. "My name is (Y/N) of the (Y/L/N) dynasty and I'm present here as the rightful betrothed of prince Jaehyun."

His eyelids momentarily shot open after hearing your title, almost in shock, and that smile flashes impossibly brighter before he bends in respect. You feel warm fingers snake behind your own and with an airy pull he places a fragile peck on the back of your palm, as soft as freshly picked petals, to make you shudder.

"I'm so delighted to finally meet your grace. I am prince Heachan, cousin of your beloved."

You internally cringe at that last comment...As if Jaehyun and his wholesome stupidity could ever be loved...

"Nice to meet you too, prince Heachan." Your reply comes with a slight tilt of your head, pleasantly surprised at how well behaved and gentle he looks and acts, despite being a member of that horrible family.

Heachan takes a short look around, as if searching for something, and then aims his friendly glare back at you, this time baring a questioning expression. "And you're here without your escort?"

Your shoulders quickly stiffen, realising you have to explain yourself for carelessly wandering around the palace without a single maid accompanying you, something highly unusual for someone of your importance.

He notices that and chuckles and your heart softens at the way the apples of his cheeks shine with such a dull pink.

"Well, I'm looking for the library and..." Your eyes trail a regretful path down the hem of your dress, feeling a little embarrassed at the words you're about to speak. "I think i got lost..."

The boy laughs again, this time a little louder and more genuinely, one hand propping on his waist, sinking into the bejeweled red velvet of his shirt while the other makes an airy gesture. "This definitely isn't the library, or anywhere close to it, dear."

He extends an inviting palm, eyes glimmering with traces of a blazing summer and the tint of pure gold as he continues. "But I can take you there, if you please."

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illyrianwingspans · 4 years

Text

Do Not Go Gentle: Hopeless

Link to song: Hopeless by Halsey

Synopsis: Some fresh air and a little bad news for Feyre and Rhys.

TW: Mentions of dark thoughts and abuse. Please read with caution.

Ao3 Link

Chapter 19: Hopeless

“Okay, so this button here is my calendar. It’s all colour coded by level of importance so I ignore the stuff that doesn’t matter and prioritize the things that need my absolute focus.”

Rhys had been teaching me little things here and there about the tasks I’d need to do while working for him, despite the fact that I hadn’t agreed to anything yet. He was meticulous about everything, organized his life to the very minute.

“So what’s this box here in green?”

“That’s Cassian’s appointment with me today. He says it’s to look over possible changes security codes in the building, but I know it’s just to whine to me about his salary being lower than Amren’s.”

“Okay, and this one in red over here?” It read: Extremely important lunch with extremely important person.

“That’s our lunch date tomorrow, darling. Can’t quite miss that, can I?”

I slapped Rhys on the arm and he chuckled before setting his laptop down and heading for the kitchen. He came back with two mugs of coffee, and I thanked him quietly before he sat down next to me.

“I wasn’t told of this lunch date. What’s the extremely important matter we’re discussing?”

Rhys smirked. “Well, we have a few items to go over for your contract, and I need your signature for official documents and the such. Are you ready to sign on at Night Industries?”

I took a sip of my coffee, glancing up at him over the rim. “I guess you’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Tease,” he said before rifling around some more on his laptop. “Have you got a CV prepared?”

“I’d love to give you that, but it’s pretty blank. And my references wouldn’t quite answer if you called.” Andras, for obvious reasons, and the CEO of Spring Corp, for other obvious reasons.

Rhys shook his head. “Sorry, that was a stupid question. Nonetheless, I am looking very forward to it.”

I sighed and lounged across the couch, the very same one that Cassian sat upon last night before flipping the table during our absolutely failed attempt at playing a peaceful game of Monopoly. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Don’t you have better things to do than asking me that question over and over again?” Rhys replied as his fingers tapped away at his keyboard.

“Well, there are a few movies on Netflix that seem to be calling my name, but I’m sick of television.”

Rhys jammed his finger on the enter button, and the sound of an email sending filled the room before he closed the top of his laptop. “Let’s go for a walk, then.”

I raised my eyebrows. “A walk?”

“Fresh air. It’ll do us both some good.”

I looked down at the clothes I was wearing, old sweatpants and a hoodie. Rhys only rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen you in worse, darling. Come on. Let’s go.”

***

The park in Velaris was still gleaming with rain from yesterday’s showers. Gravel crunched beneath the sneakers I wore, still muddy and damp. Rhys didn’t seem to mind as his gaze wandered to the river flowing beside us. In the park, others had gathered despite the overcast clouds threatening to unleash their wrath upon us at any moment. We’d driven over and parked the car a few miles back, and walked in silence amongst the sounds of city life surrounding us.

“Do you come here often?” I asked quietly. We’d settled on a bench looking out upon the water before us. Dog-walkers and joggers passed by, just another blip in their daily routine, seemingly so mundane in such an overturned world. Well, overturned for me, completely and perfectly normal for everyone else, though I knew it wasn’t fair to make that assumption.

Pain wasn’t exclusive to one person. Suffering was a whore, and fucked over anybody in its wake.

Rhys said, “I used to.”

“Before?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

He blew out a breath and shrugged. “Lots of shit happened. I can’t even keep track of it all anymore.”

To keep our minds on something lighter, something better, I asked him, “I know you say your employees are your family, but what about the rest of it? Parents? Siblings?”

He chuckled at the first bit and ran a hand through his hair as the wind picked up and whipped at our clothes. “My friends,” he corrected, “are family first, employees second.” He paused for a moment, then continued, “My parents and I had a house on the outskirts of the city, but my mom wanted us to live in Illyria. Her and I moved there after she got pregnant with my little sister, to my dad’s utmost frustration. He finally came to join us when my sister was born, and we lived there all together for a little while until he had to go back. My mom refused to join him.”

“They didn’t get along, I’m guessing?”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t the best of pairings, to say the least, but they understood each other. And underneath all of it, they loved each other.”

It made me think of my own parents. How everything had gone to shit so quickly after my mother got sick, how my dad fell apart in the aftermath. I didn’t remember her, my mother—but I remembered the fallout after her, of which I still sheltered myself from all these years later.

“Where are they now?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose. “About fifteen blocks away from my house.”

“They live so close by and you’ve never mentioned them?”

“I visit them every week. At the cemetery.”

Oh. Oh, gods. I was a horrible person. “I’m so sorry, Rhys.”

He shrugged. “House fire.” A few seconds later, he added, “A freak accident.”

We were quiet for a few moments longer, and I said, “My mother died, too. Cancer.”

“I’m sorry.” Talking about death hurt the most, because what else were we supposed to say to each other? How do any words even attempt to fix the burning voids within us stemmed from their absences? What truly stung, though, was that my mother never even held a true space within me—I did not know her, I only knew the aftermath of her disappearance.

Rhys stood from the bench and wandered over to the river’s edge. He leaned over the ledge of the metal railing, staring down at the thrumming waters, below, and sighed. I took up spot next to him, our biceps pressed together, and the warmth of his touch grounded me despite the cold around us.

I stared at him as he stared out across what seemed like a vast, endless being soaring in front of us. And the lingering pain on his face, clouded with memories unknown to me, was enough for me to say, “You know, this goes both ways. I can talk to you, and you can talk to me. Whenever you need.”

Rhys dragged his gaze away from the Sidra and wondered, “A thought for a thought?”

“What do you mean?”

“I say something on my mind, then you say something. Like a trade.”

My nails dug into the skin around my thumb, a nervous habit I’d never seemed to drop, and winced at the tearing skin. “Okay.”

“I’m thinking that sometimes I want to wipe this whole city off the map so I can start over, and buy us a little more time. I’m thinking that I was an idiot to ever let Hybern sink its teeth into my company and fool us all. I’m thinking that for the rest of my life I’ll be trapped under their thumb, that I’ll be trapped under that bitch and all the havoc she caused my people and I.”

I could only focus on that slip of information. Trapped under who? What woman could’ve caused the agony shining on Rhys’s face, so blindingly painful that he winced at her very memory?

At the question on my face, Rhys only added, “There’s a bit more to the story about my history with Hybern.” Looking upon the peaceful scenery before us, it seemed like a shame to poison it with our misery-soaked words. “It’s for another time and place.”

Maybe it was because of the jagged pieces of truth that he offered me, but it filled with a sort of courage and recklessness that had me quietly murmuring, “I’m thinking that I must have been a fool in love to allow myself to be shown so little of Spring Corporations. I’m thinking there’s a great deal of information and secrets and shady bullshit I wasn’t allowed to see or hear about and maybe I would’ve lived in ignorance for the rest of my life like some fucking pet.

“I’m thinking,” the words choked up in my chest as Rhys’s gaze softened, full of concern and empathy, “that I was a lonely, helpless person, and I fell in love with the first person that showed me a shred of kindness. Of safety. I think he knew that—maybe not entirely, or actively, but he wanted to be that person for someone. A protector, a guardian. And that may have worked for the person I was before. But maybe not for the person I became. Not after…” I couldn’t breathe those words yet. Not after I shot those two people, not after life had gloriously and marvellously fucked me over completely. And though the words were selfish and hateful despite everything he’d done for me, they were a beam of truth I’d kept far, far down in my withered soul, tucked away even from myself.

I’d been gone merely two weeks, and I was already shitting all over his name. I was no better than him, no better than the angered man who’d done everything to keep me subdued.

“That was five. I owe you two thoughts.”

“Keep them. For another time.”

We both looked at each other for a moment, wind off the briny waters ruffling our hair. Rhys murmured, “Suriel used to do this thing at our appointments. Rate my mood on a scale.”

I nodded my head. “I did that, too.”

“I feel like a solid seven, today,” Rhys said. “You?”

I debated it for a few brief seconds, then admitted, “Four.” Better than yesterday, but still not enough.

“Okay.” He tucked my hair behind my ear, and it felt so natural I didn’t even blink at the gesture. “How about I cook some Mac and cheese for dinner tonight. Would that bring you up to a five?”

I only grinned, the slightest curve upwards of my lips, and said, “Four point three.”

***

We sat before the TV, bowls of macaroni and cheese in hand, watching the news. Nothing really exciting—preparations for the upcoming city summit, a shooting in the east end of town, a puppy parade for the local shelter. Rhys told me about the dog he had when he was younger, a loyal German Shepard he adored—but ultimately had to give away after it literally chewed through a wall. It took all of Rhys’s strength and will to keep his father from shooting it.

When we were done, Rhys and I brought our bowls to the kitchen, and I filled the sink up with soapy water to wash the dishes. He did so much for me, carved too much time out of his day for my sake, that it was the least I could do. Despite my protests, he still stood beside me to wipe them dry, our elbows grazing whenever I passed him another rinsed plate. The townhouse was quiet, peaceful with only the soft hum of the TV behind us, that I wasn’t even surprised when it blared Breaking News and ruined the moment.

Rhys shut off the sink and I wiped my hands on a nearby dishtowel before we quickly meandered back to the couch before in the family room. The news reporter was saying words, words that didn’t even make sense—

Then he was there, right there on the screen, as though he fucking knew I was watching him.

Everything else around me disappeared as the CEO of Spring Corporations said, “Thank you for joining me today. Unfortunately, the information I have to share isn’t good, and it breaks my heart to announce that my fiancee Feyre Archeron has gone missing.”

Distantly, I knew that Rhys already had his phone out, probably dialling someone from the Inner Circle to find out what the fuck was going on. I couldn’t listen, couldn’t even think about it as he was standing there at the podium of Prythian Police Station. Cameras flickered and flashed as he paused, then said, “Her location is currently unknown, and she was last seen at Spring Corporations, a safe location she was told to stay until after the scene of our apartment had been cleared, the day of the second attempt on her life. The security footage we gathered shows her being carried out by Cassian Noctis, a current employee at Night Industries.”

“Shit,” Rhys was muttering beside me, “shit, shit, shit—”

“He is currently in custody. His apartment was searched, but Feyre still remains missing. If anyone has any information upon her whereabouts, I beg you to please call the info line on your screen.”

I didn’t think I was breathing. How had they gotten Cassian? When? How come we weren’t called the second it happened?

“Feyre, if you’re seeing this by some miracle,” his voice was thick with tears, and I nearly vomited all over the hardwood floors as his eyes practically bored into mine. “I love you. I swear to all the Gods I will do everything I can to get you back.”

My fingers, with a mind of their own, reached over to the remote and turned the screen off.

“We need to go. Right now.”

Rhys was saying something else, so many things, but I was spinning.

It’s like I could still feel him. I could still feel each and every claw of his control, of his anger—they pinned me to where I sat.

Even from afar, Tamlin held my head under the water. I was drowning. I was screaming for air, but he shoved me into the deep end and let the waves crash over me.

“Feyre, we need to leave.” I didn’t realize he was kneeling before me, his eyes filled with desperation. I didn’t feel Rhys’s arms around me as he lead me to the townhouse entrance. As he fed my arms through the jacket and slipped a scarf around my neck, sunglasses in my pocket. We got into his SUV and he careened it down the street and into the city.

But I was drowning. Consumed by the water. Consumed by the flames in my mind, the towering inferno trapping me. The flames or the fall? Those words played in my mind over and over again as streets passed by in my peripheral vision.

“I’ll go back.” The words escaped my lips before I could stop them, emotion creeping up my chest and searing my throat as my vision blurred. “I’ll go back, Rhys. It’s okay.”

“Don’t take his bait. Let us figure this shit out before making any decisions.”

“He’s never gonna stop,” I breathed. “I can’t keep letting him destroy you guys. I won’t.”

“It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than this to destroy us, Feyre.” He tore into the parking lot and jammed on the breaks when he slid into a space. “Put your glasses on, cover your face with your scarf, and hood up.”

I did as he said automatically, and he came around to my side of the car, equally concealed as me, before we sped to the front doors of the PPS. There were press and cameras everywhere, but I kept my head down, trying to follow Rhys’s tugs on my arm forward and into the station. The yells and raucous was sealed off as soon as the doors shut behind us.

Mor was instantly there, despite the cops’ protests, and Rhys snarled, “Why the hell wasn’t I called?”

“You were called as soon as we knew, Rhys, which was about ten fucking minutes ago. They’ve had him all afternoon without telling us. We thought he left early.”

“Where’s Azriel?”

“On his way. Cassian hasn’t said anything. Amren’s finally in there with him, but we’re not saying a fucking thing.”

“We didn’t do anything wrong, Mor. They’ve got nothing on us.”

“They do until we say otherwise. If we want to clear ourselves, we need to tell them everything.”

Everything. I knew what everything meant. Everything was every bruise, every scar and every cut on my body at his mercy. Everything meant all of me, surrendering my shrivelled soul.

After all they’d done for me, I couldn’t think of anything else to help them. Show them what he did to me, or waltz right back into my prison in chains for the rest of my life.

Mor and Rhys were arguing, and didn’t realize when I stepped up to the counter, peeling off my hood, my glasses, and said, “My name is Feyre Archeron and I’d like to speak with whoever’s in charge of this case. Alone.”

#dngg #acotar #acomaf #acowar #a court of thorns and roses #sjm #sarah j maas #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #feyre #rhys #feysand #feyrhys #feysand fanfic #feysand fanfiction

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captainmeowvelwrites · 4 years

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You Times Two (Ch.6)

Pairing: Marinette/Ladybug | Adrien/Chat Noir Words: 4502 Summary: Ladybug knew this was necessary. She was the Guardian. He had the Cat Miraculous. But when his suit evaporated in a glow of pale green, she sure hadn’t expected him to have something far more precious: her heart. Cross-posted: AO3 and FFN

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | ...

Recap: Previously, on You Times Two… Our infuriating bean's gone and done it now. He asked Kagami out. And our favourite superheroine, bless her heart, decided pursuing Luka isn't such a selfish idea, despite Mr Whisker's recent unveiling as Mr Hotstuff. But of course, the calm waves of clarity lasted for all of two seconds, when light-hearted Ladynoir dove down to ow-my-heart Ladrien. Our boy hasn't gotten his lady. And our bug's still without her kitty. But at least they had cake, and that's what truly matters. What will Sunshine Boy do with his lady's kind words? And how will our silly bug fare after that little moment they shared? Read on, my fellow Miraculers, and purrhaps you'll find out.

---

Chapter Six

Adrien dove onto his bed, the springs squeaking beneath his weight. He felt five degrees warmer, like his joy was some tangible thing, its warmth spreading through his veins, right to his fingertips.

He whirled onto his back and gazed at the high ceiling, all too aware of the grin that filled his face. He'd bet all nine of his lives it'd been there for most of patrol, given the way his cheeks ached.

And boy, did he welcome the sensation.

It meant he wasn't dreaming.

Hadn't been dreaming.

Not when she'd cracked those purrfect puns.

Not when she'd said all those wonderful things.

Not when she'd accepted him, all of him.

If somehow he was dreaming, then clichés be damned, he never wanted to wake up.

Adrien drummed his fingers against the silk sheets of his bed. As terrible as it sounded, he almost hoped for an akuma, for a way to unleash all this energy, for a chance to see her again.

For a chance to be seen again.

Not as Adrien Agreste, the well-mannered model.

Not as Chat Noir, the boisterous superhero.

Just as him.

Loud chomps echoed off the marble tiles of his bathroom, where Plagg, of course, had taken up residence in a basket of dirty laundry.

"You're such a pig, Plagg," he called, rolling his eyes. "Are we not even gonna talk about what happened tonight?" Because, geez, he needed to get this out of his system.

Plagg's tiny head popped out from a sea of clothes. "You wanna talk about tonight? You mean"—mirth coated his every word—"how you're keeping your options open, Mr Heartbreaker?"

Adrien lurched upright on his bed. "I – What?" His hands twisted around his sheets. "No way, Plagg." His voice sounded drier than two-week-old toast. "I'm… I have a date with Kagami tomorrow. I've ordered roses, booked a nice rooftop – way harder than you'd think, by the way. It's all planned out!"

Plagg drifted over, half a wheel of Camembert clasped between his paws. "Oh please," he groaned, plonking his tiny butt on the mattress. "You just spent ten minutes smiling at the ceiling."

Adrien tensed, guilt writhing in his chest. "I – I wasn't—"

"This ain't my first rodeo, kid." He downed the rest of his cheese, and garbled, "I know a lovestruck kitty when I see one."

Adrien twisted his arms across his chest, a line forming between his brows. He was well aware that, just as there'd been other Ladybugs, there'd been other Chat Noirs. He didn't know much more than that, his main source of information being the Ladyblog. Plagg had never been the sentimental sort, after all.

Still, Plagg's words clung to his mind. Was he referring to a previous time he'd pined over Ladybug? Or perhaps a former black cat?

Adrien looked at his kwami, who'd since retrieved another wheel of Camembert from his minifridge. "Plagg, is this normal?"

Plagg looked up from his spot on the bed. "Huh?" He bit a big chunk of cheese off the wheel. "Whataya talking about?"

Adrien chewed the inside of his cheek. "Is it normal for Ladybug and Cat Miraculous Holders to… have… love dramas, I guess?"

Plagg shrugged. "Ehh. It happens." He stretched across the bed, not unlike an actual cat, and dragged out a yawn. "It's not that surprising, really. Yin and yang. Opposites attract. That kinda stuff."

Adrien's eyes sunk to his sheets, and he absently smoothed any creases in sight.

Yin and yang…

When it came to relationships, Adrien had no basis for comparison. Still, he was familiar with the concept. If he wasn't, his Chinese tutor – a middle-aged man with a rather impressive moustache – would probably berate him to no end. The man often threw tidbits of Chinese history and culture into their one-on-one lessons.

Adrien gripped his chin, eyes drifting to the ceiling.

Come to think of it, Master Fu had mentioned the concept too, when he'd visited that Syren akuma.

"Tell me, Adrien"—a smile slid across the Guardian's thin lips—"are you familiar with yin and yang?"

Adrien gazed at the container in his palms, filled with a rainbow of assorted cheeses. "I, uhh… Of course, Master." He looked up from the box, meeting Master Fu's gaze. "But… why do you ask?"

Master Fu reached for Adrien's hand, and grazed a wrinkled thumb across the surface of his ring. "One cannot exist without the other." His tone, like his face, turned solemn. "Always remember that."

One cannot exist without the other…

Was that to say he and Ladybug were like yin and yang?

Push and pull?

Two halves of a whole?

He supposed that wasn't exactly inaccurate.

Ladybug creates, she takes the lead, and she's almost always careful.

Chat Noir destroys, he follows, and at times, he's reckless.

And of course, the comparisons flowed deeper still.

Adrien threw his legs over the side of the bed, elbows propped on his knees. "Opposites attract," he breathed to himself.

Plagg peered up from the cheese in his lap. "What was that?" he managed through a generous mouthful.

Adrien shook his head. "Never mind." His shoulders slumped.

Ladybug didn't share his feelings. If opposites really did attract, shouldn't that be the case?

He frowned, taunted by words his kwami had uttered just minutes ago. As much as he hated to admit it, Plagg was right. He was still gushing over Ladybug—but what was the point?

Yes, she was undoubtedly amazing.

Yes, she was one of his dearest friends.

Yes, she'd said all those lovely things to him.

But none of that changed the way she felt about him, nor how she felt about that unnamed boy.

And it didn't change the fact he had a date with Kagami tomorrow.

Adrien pursed his lips. With thoughts like these running rampant in his mind, was it really so wise to be pursuing Kagami?

He hoisted himself off the bed, a strained sigh escaping his lips. "Plagg?"

"What's up, kid?" the kwami called, still lazing on the bed.

Adrien's hands curled into fists as he marched toward his open window. "I just – I need to think, that's all."

Plagg groaned, sagging into the mattress. "Don't tell me we're going out again?"

"You and I both know I think a lot better out there than I do in here." He held up his hand, his ring gleaming in the overhead lights. "Plagg, claws out!" In a flash of pale green, leather slid up Adrien's body—and instantly, he felt lighter, freer, himself.

His tail billowed behind him as he leaped into the window frame, and scanned the shimmering cityscape. A waxing moon hung above, its milky glow dimmed by the shadows of wandering clouds. And past the high, brick wall ahead, steel lampposts illuminated a quiet street, no spectators in sight.

With no destination in mind, Chat Noir vaulted off his window and into the Parisian night.

---

The drone of late-night traffic coated the cool, evening air, as Marinette spritzed her potted plants and hummed a merry tune. She'd been grinning like a goof since downing cake with her kitty. And boy, had it been nice – wonderful, in fact – to just chill out, crack puns, and discuss mundane things.

His favourite meal was sausages with mashed potatoes, something his mother had often cooked before personal chefs came into the picture.

His favourite video game, to her surprise, wasn't Ultimate Mecha Strike III, but Mario Kart 8 Deluxe. And he'd claimed Rainbow Roads was his favourite track, to which she'd of course questioned his sanity.

As for his favourite subject, that spot went to Physics. He'd even considered making a career out of it (when she'd asked about his modelling, he'd merely said that wasn't where his passions lay).

He'd described his favourite colour as bluebell, specifically. And in the moments that followed, as Chat Noir had gazed into her eyes, her heart had transformed into a dancing candlewick, melting beneath the warmth of that… utterly breath-taking smile.

With a wistful sigh, Marinette crossed her arms atop her balcony railing, spray bottle still clutched between her fingers. Fortunately, he'd left her to ask most of the questions. Her identity was still a secret and tonight, he'd seemed more or less okay with that.

She knew that wouldn't last. Her kitty was stubborn, something she was painfully aware of, and it was only a matter of time until talk of her identity resurfaced. After all, Chat had made a fair point. What if something happened to her?

At that, memories of a fragmented moon flashed through her mind. What if she revealed her identity and something happened to him?

And what of Kagami? Adrien was clearly pursuing a relationship with her. Would unveiling herself as Ladybug come between that? Kagami was her friend, and as much as Marinette cared for Adrien, derailing what he had with Kagami wasn't really what she wanted.

No, she just wanted harmony.

And for Adrien to be happy.

Even if it wasn't with her.

Marinette heaved a sigh, slumping a little against the railing. Right now, she felt like the walking definition of "indecisive". With so many unknowns, how could she possibly make the right choice? What if she failed again and—

"Hello," came a hesitant murmur.

With a squeak, Marinette leaped back at record speed, juggling the spray bottle as though entangled in a game of hot potato. Once she had a steady grip on its handle, she lurched the plastic head toward the owner of that voice, finger on the trigger.

Green cat-eyes stared back at her, a flinch twisting the face of their owner.

She lowered her weapon, tension leaving her shoulders. "Chat Noir?"

He was perched on all fours atop a copper chimney cap. "Sorry, Marinette." He dropped to the balcony railing, just an arm's length away. "I didn't—"

"—mean to frighten me?" She offered a smile, one he returned in kind. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were doing this on purpose."

He chuckled. "This cat's not one for preying on mice. Promise." The slightest smirk he wore had her anticipating one of his infamous jests. "Speaking of which, that was quite the high-pitched squeak you did there." His smirk widened. "Purrhaps I should call you Marimouse from now on?"

She rolled her eyes. "It was one freak-out." Granted, her kitty had borne witness to a great many of her freak-outs… but he didn't know she knew that.

He snickered. "Well, I was also inspired by how you're Multimouse."

"Was Multimouse."

A faint chuckle was the only answer Chat gave her. With perfect poise, he seated himself atop the balcony railing, one leg drawn to his chest, the other dangling over the edge. He seemed to be getting comfortable. Did he plan to stay a while?

Marinette's mind drifted months into the past, and her smile grew. To think, it had been Adrien who'd dropped by her balcony that night. Adrien who'd gone out of his way to cheer her up. Adrien who'd confided in her about his love troubles.

That fact was ironic and sweet in equal measure.

Or maybe one part ironic, two parts sweet?

One part ironic, three parts sweet?

Or—

No, if she didn't stop now, she probably never would.

Marinette pressed her lips together, if only to bite back a laugh.

"So," Chat started, "it's a little late to be watering plants, isn't it?"

She didn't miss the slight, playful lilt in his voice. In fact, it had her lips quirking up at the corners. She set the bottle down on a weather-worn table and gripped her hips. "It's a little late to be scaring the pants off of unsuspecting girls, isn't it?"

He gave her a once-over, then flashed a smirk. "Speaking of which, nice pyjamas."

Marinette tensed, stealing a glance at her sleepwear. Of course, she'd reached for the dark blue ones with silhouettes of yellow cats. She jutted her nose into the air. "Just so you know, I got these before you came along."

"So, you like cats, huh?" His smirk stretched with his next words, "Cat say I blame you." He winked.

She groaned despite the grin that had slapped itself on her face. "What're you even doing here, Chat Noir?" With folded arms, she leaned against the railing and looked up at him. "Don't you have, like, more important things to do?"

Chat shrugged. "Nah. Not really." He stared skyward, any amusement now gone from his face. "I had some stuff on my mind and…" His eyes sunk to his leather-clad lap, a sigh sliding through his lips. "Let's just say, this cat hates being locked up with his thoughts."

Thoughts?

What thoughts?

Had Ladybug not reassured him as much as she'd believed?

Such questions lingered near the fringes of her mind, but prying answers out of him wasn't her place. Or rather, it wasn't Marinette's place.

"So," she drawled instead, "is this becoming, like… a regular thing? Late night visits to my balcony?"

Chat straightened where he sat. "Sorry." He reached for his staff, tucked above his tail. "I – I can—"

"No!" Marinette gripped his wrist before he could draw his staff, and he blinked down at her. "I didn't mean it like that. Really."

His eyes left hers, trailing the length of her arm to fall on her hand, still around his wrist.

Suddenly, she was all too aware of the wild hammering in her chest. Clearing her throat, she pulled that hand to her side, heat prickling her ears. "You're always welcome here, Chat Noir."

Chat smiled, resettling in his makeshift seat atop the railing. "Thanks, Marinette." He gazed at her, a familiar softness in his smile; one that slowly made its way to his eyes. "You're pretty great, y'know that?"

Marinette stared into those eyes—green, green, green—as vibrant as early spring. "So you are," she breathed, then shot ramrod straight. "I – I mean, so are you. I mean, it's – uh – the least I can do for – um – one of Paris' superheroes." She giggled, as strained as it was, and he gave a little chuckle in turn.

As a soothing silence washed over them, Marinette was reminded of the quiet, comforting lulls that often took place on their patrols, and her lips quirked up of their own accord. She glanced at her partner to find his sight set on some unseen thing. Whatever he was watching, the distance in his eyes showed he wasn't truly seeing it. Did being here, on her balcony, somehow help him to think?

She supposed that made sense. Being up here certainly helped whenever she had something on her mind.

"So," Marinette drawled, "did you, uhh… wanna talk about what's bothering you?"

He continued to stare into the distance. "It's… kinda complicated."

"Oh. Um – Fair enough." She managed a smile. "It's your private business and that's totally fine."

"No, it's not like that." He looked at her, his fingers laced around the steel fencing on which he sat. "It's just… kinda hard to explain, is all."

"Well, I've got time if you wanna give it a try." His eyes dropped, and hers followed the path they took. Only then did she realise her hand was atop his own, as though her inner-Ladybug had taken over, hoping to comfort her partner. She pulled it to her chest, red flushing her cheeks. "That is, uhh – maybe everything will make a little more sense – you know – if you put it into words?" She cleared her throat. "I mean, doing that helps me sometimes."

Chat bit his lower lip, something she shouldn’t have found so darn adorable during their current conversation. "I just… I guess, uhh…" He looked away, shrinking into his shoulders. "After what happened with Weredad, I… don't wanna make you uncomfortable with my"—he mumbled his next words—"love problems."

Marinette stilled. "Wait," she blurted out, "you're upset about love stuff?"

But wasn't he pursuing Kagami?

Oh no. Had her advice failed?

Wouldn't be the first time…

Or the second…

Or the—

"Sorry." He stooped his head low, his blond bangs skimming his mask. "Love stuff's probably all I ever seem to talk about, huh?"

"No, it's fine," she insisted, with a frantic wave of her hands. "Really. I mean, love is, umm… complicated like that."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

Marinette caught herself reaching for his hand again; the moment she realised, she reached for one of her pigtails instead. "And, umm – forget about Weredad. I'm totally past that. Promise." She re-propped her arms atop the railing, if only to stop herself from reaching for him again. "If you wanna talk, I'm all ears!"

Chat pursed his lips, his eyes travelling across the darkened sky, where stars glittered like soft flicks from a paintbrush. "Well, you see"—he spared a glance her way—"I'm kinda seeing this girl. She's smart, brave, really pretty. Strong-minded too." The makings of a smirk tugged at his lips. "Actually, she's a lot like Ladybug." He huffed with amusement. "Is that bad?" A rhetorical question, it seemed, as he gave her no time to even dwell on it. "We're not official yet, but she thinks we are and… well…" That tiny smirk vanished. Instead, his shoulders sagged in time with his tail.

Marinette's brows gathered. After more than a year of akuma-fighting alongside her kitty, reading his body language was usually kitten's play. Now was no exception. "It almost seems like… you don't want to be official?"

His cat-ears drooped. "I don't know. I mean, I thought I did, but… you know how I feel about Ladybug."

A gasp lodged itself in her throat.

Oh no. This was about this evening, wasn't it?

It had to be.

But God, he'd just been so terribly down on himself and she'd needed to put a stop to it. Confusing him hadn't been her intention. Quite the opposite!

Chat's sigh thrust her from those thoughts. "I know she's in love with someone else. She has every right to be. It's just… hard, y'know?" This time, when he huffed, she got the sense it was from self-frustration more than anything else. "I keep thinking I'm getting over her”—he threw a hand through his mussed locks—"but then I see her at patrol and suddenly, it's like I'm falling for her all over again."

Marinette stared at her partner, a sharp pang in her heart.

She hated how true those same words rang for her; hated how she couldn't just tell him; hated how fiercely she wanted to.

But damn it, she couldn't. Not like this, for personal gain.

Yes, she returned his feelings – understatement of the century – and sure, revealing her identity and announcing her ginormous crush could fix Adrien's entire dilemma—but unveiling herself over something like this? That wasn't a guardian thing to do at all.

No, she'd just be cracking open a heaping silo of worms, and making more mistakes was something she just could not risk!

Once again, Chat continued, completely unaware of the frantic turn her thoughts had taken. "The second I saw Ladybug tonight, everything else just… melted away. It always does." His words were tender, brimming with affection, yet there was this heart-jerking ache about them. "She said such wonderful things to me, about me. I thought I was gonna explode."

Marinette pursed her lips—partly to hide the way they quivered, partly to stifle a strangled cry of – of what, exactly?

Joy?

Guilt?

Frustration?

Or perhaps desperation?

Was this what he'd meant about exploding?

"She—" Chat's voice cracked. "She even told me I was enough. No. More than enough." A ghost of a smile eased across his lips. "I don't think anyone's told me that since…" He chuckled, though it was harrowingly hollow. "Well, it's, uhh... been a long time."

Marinette was sure his grip on the railing had tightened. And was it a trick of the light or was he tearing up? He looked her way and the moment their eyes met, she had her answer. Just when she'd thought he couldn't tug her heartstrings any harder, the shaky smile he revealed proved her horribly wrong.

God, she hated this! All the lies and the secrets. The tiptoeing and half-truths.

It just wasn't fair. None of it.

Not on him.

Not on her.

They were a team.

How could they be their best with something so suffocating in the way?

Tears glossed her vision and suddenly, Chat Noir was no more than a flurry of shapes and colours. She looked away, avoiding his gaze, and smeared tears from her eyes with the back of a trembling hand.

“Oh no…”

Marinette heard faint steps upon wood. He must’ve swept from the railing to his feet.

“Did – Did I do that?" His hands eased onto her bare shoulders, their warmth radiating through her skin despite the leather gloves. "Marinette, I'm so sorry!"

How?

Just… Just how?

How was he so kind and selfless and utterly beautiful?

How could he suffer so silently, yet still find the strength to give others so much of himself?

Had she been transformed, she might've tackled her kitty in a fervid embrace. Her fingers twitched, yearning to pull him close, to comfort him as much as he did her, to give something of herself for once.

Instead, her jaw clamped in place as she fought back a guttural sob, and threw him the most convincing smile she could muster. "No, no," Marinette insisted, rubbing her reddening eyes. "It's not you. I'm just – Uh. The wind's a bit cold, that's all." She pointed up, as though the wind was some tangible thing. "It just – um – made my eyes sting. You know how those pesky breezes can be on your peepers!"

Chat rushed his hands up and down her bare arms. "I'm so sorry, Marinette." He scanned her balcony, as though hoping for a blanket to appear from thin air. "This suit sort of acts like a wind-protector, so I—"

"It's okay, Chat," said Marinette, a smile painting her lips. "I'll just consider this an excuse to have hot chocolate before bed."

He stilled at those words, and that soft smile was back—so Adrien, so Chat Noir, so him. "Well, when you put it like that." His smile spread. "Anyway, I should probably be going." His hands slid from her shoulders, one withdrawing his staff. "That hot chocolate of yours won't brew itself." He winked, and on light feet, took two steps toward the far end of her balcony.

"Chat Noir!"

Marinette grabbed his hand, and he stilled instantly, those green eyes watching her from over one shoulder. She pursed her lips, staring at her bare feet. "Umm… About this love stuff…" Warmth spread up her fingers, and she realised she hadn't released his hand. Her eyes reunited with his, pink grazing her cheeks, and she pulled her hand to her chest. "This – uh – might come as a surprise"—her insides writhed at the agonising truth of her next words—"but believe me, I know just how you feel."

Shock dusted his eyes. "You… You do?"

Marinette nodded, the movement slow and rather stiff. "So there are these two really smart, really kind, really cute guys – both amazing in their own special ways – and, well"—warmth crept across her face—"I really care about both of them, but I guess… deciding between them is like pulling teeth – worse than that, even." Her lips quaked. "It's just hard," she whispered, her brows furrowing. "Really hard."

Chat faced her completely, another smile gracing his full lips. "They're really lucky, you know"—her heart picked up the pace, throbbing madly in her eardrums—"to have a girl as amazing as you caring so much about them."

Had…

Had Adrien just said…

Marinette pinched her wrist, and the fleeting pain that brought with it had her choking back a squeal. "I – Uh —" Her mouth opened and closed as though she'd been born a goldfish. "Tha – Thank you," she eventually stammered, before sucking in a slow breath.

If she didn't keep her cool, she might do something stupid.

Like shatter his eardrums with a squeal.

Or call him Adrien.

Maybe kiss him.

No no no no.

That train of thought needed to stop pronto!

What… were they talking about again?

Remembrance flashed in her eyes. "But, uhh – about those girls." Her fingers drummed against her clothed thighs, the silk material smooth against her skin. "Those girls being – um – Ladybug and – uh – unnamed, mystery girl." She cleared her throat. "I'm sure they both care a lot about you, but at the end of the day, you've gotta do what's right for you." Her smile came easily, something she was immensely grateful for. "So, Chat, I say go for the girl that makes you happy."

He closed the gap between them, and Marinette hoped he wouldn't notice the goosebumps that blanketed her skin. If he did, she was totally blaming the wind again.

Of course, his hands found their way back to her shoulders. "Thank you, Marinette." He gazed into her eyes, and she wondered how a stare could possibly be so soft and intense at once. "You've helped me far more than you'll probably ever know."

Oh, the irony. It only powered the smile that lined her lips. "It was the least I could do," she said, echoing words he'd spoken all those months ago. By the look in his eyes, Chat seemed to understand.

He took two soundless steps back, extending his staff. "All right. I should probably scat before you get hypopurrmia."

Marinette snorted. "I think that second pun might've been pawshing it." She held her thumb and index finger parallel to each other and added, "Just a litter bit."

Chat stuck out his tongue. Like, actually stuck out his tongue. And Marinette wasn't sure if she'd ever seen him do that—in or out of the mask. "Thanks, Marimouse"—he showed a smirk and a two-fingered salute—"for being such a pawsome furend."

Why did she get the feeling he'd made those last two puns just to tease her?

He leaped onto the balcony railing, beaming when he glanced back at her. "Have a great evening, okay?" With a chuckle, he rubbed the nape of his neck. "And enjoy that hot chocolate!"

"Enjoy your evening too," she said with a wave. "And don't be a stranger, okay?"

With a nod and another of his classic, heart-warming smiles, Chat Noir leaped off the railing. The whir of his stick slowly faded, and Marinette watched as that unmistakable silhouette jumped from building to building, the light of nearby lampposts bouncing off his leather suit.

Only once he'd disappeared into the night did Tikki emerge, floating up to her face to nuzzle her cheek. With one finger, Marinette rubbed her kwami's tiny head. "Thanks, Tikki." She stared after her kitty and heaved a lengthy sigh. "What am I gonna do?"

#ml fic #miraculous ladybug #you times two #adrinette #marichat #ladynoir #ladrien

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aweebwrites · 4 years

Text

Move on Dragons Chapter 13

Jay swung his legs over the edge of the Bounty’s railings as he looked out at the view ahead. Sensei Wu left on his trip to find Garmadon as he was sure that the Garmadon Lloyd had wasn’t quite him. As for large dragon Garmadon’s ability to understand them, they had a hypothesis for that. Since the longer they spend in their world, the more they began to adapt and become like them, the reverse must be true for the dragons. After all, understanding their language is the first part of the change. There was a chance that the dragons might be able to take a human form the longer they stay and wasn’t that a conundrum. The dragons being able to become human would be handy but if they lost the ability to shift back because they were spending too long of a time here was what they were worried about.

They would have still been puzzling over a solution if he hadn’t reminded them of a certain pink haired dimensional traveler they knew. That was another issue: pinning her down. She could be in any dimension right now and might not be back for who knows how long. But then Cole helpfully pointed out that her father might have a means of contacting her. But they ran into the problem of their new appearances and their inability to switch to normal just yet. They were working on that now. Jay already knew he wouldn’t be involved in anything unless they needed his lightning. He gave a light huff. Or should he say, other him’s lightning. Two days of the week that other him had to sort himself out had already gone by, today being the third.

In 4 days, he won’t even be a memory once he comes back. He was fine with that. Really he was. Existence was the biggest bother right now. It’s just certain death and problems at every corner with no escape. That wasn’t his kind of thing. Though… He tilted his head back, looking up at the partially clouded sky. He’d like to fly before he dies. That could go wrong in so many ways, he knew but… He’d like to know what it’s like to feel the wind under his own wings. Would he feel as free as the dragons look up there? He wanted to find out. After that, he’d be satisfied. But if he doesn’t get the chance… Well, what does it matter? He reached up and carefully scratched at his scalp, well aware of just how sharp these claws of his are as his horned tail thumped the deck of the ship lightly. Man existence really was a bother. Here he was thinking about complicated and depressing things. He blames his other part for having such a depressing mindset.

“Isolation never does anyone any good you know…” Jay huffed, glancing over his shoulder, his slitted blue eyes meeting Cole’s green and golden orange ones.

“Conssidering I’m amongsst the likess of you, I think issolation iss jusst what the doctor ordered.” Jay hummed as he looked out at the almost plain like landscape just before the rainforest that was Hiroshi’s Labyrinth.

“I don’t think you really mean that.” Cole huffed as he walked over, leaning against the railing. “After all, everyone needs someone…” He murmured as he looked out too, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth as his folded wings relaxed further.

“Iss that ssso…” Jay whispered softly, not bothering to correct him.

Needing someone might be a necessity to him and the others…But he only had so long left… And really, all he felt like he needed… Was a chance to fly. He chuckled to himself, Cole watching him curiously as he did. This was becoming troublesome…

_____

“Ok.” Lloyd says as he looked at his supposed dragon father from where he set him down on the ground just outside of the dragons’ tower, sitting just across from him. “If you’re my dad, what’s my favorite colour?” He asked with narrowed eyes.

The small black dragon paused, its long body coiled like a snake before it skittered away. Lloyd watched it curiously as it did, his small frame disappearing in the nearby bushes making him tense. He could get lost- His thought was interrupted once he came skittering back with something red in his small mouth, making Lloyd’s eyes widened. He walked forward, holding the- the raspberry up for Lloyd to take- which he did. His favorite colour actually was red. He picked up the glossy back dragon and the ripe berry he held in his small mouth still before accepting it, looking him over.

“You really are dad…” Lloyd whispered before taking a bite of half the berry, offering the rest to him. “But how’d you get like this? And who’s the other dad out there Sensei Wu is going after?” He asked him but his father he should probably nickname to save confusion- only looked at him while eating the berry in bites before tilting his head in a sort of shrug.

This dragon was definitely human.

‘Everyone always thinks it’s green for some reason.’ Lloyd looked up at his dragon self as he walked over, eyes on the miniature dragon that was his father.

“Right?” Lloyd huffed, a smile tugging at his lips, revealing his fangs. “I wear green all day. Of course I’d get tired of it. It’s one of my least favorite colours actually.” He says as the green scaled dragon laid next to him, Kai walking around with his dad not too far away.

‘I don’t mind it too much but it’s not my favorite colour. Dad says that I came out like an emerald because I’m his treasure… It’s hard to hate it after that…’ He rumbled fondly and Lloyd looked up at his counterpart surprised.

He then looked down at his dad without really seeing him. Other him was lucky. He got to grow up with their dad… He blinked once something touched his forehead, focusing to see his father pressing his forehead against his, warmth filling him a moment after as a soft purr left him. He’d hug him if he could but he supposed this was good enough for now.

‘I know how to walk on all fours. I do that almost every day.’ Kai huffed as he paced back and forth to prove his point.

‘You may be used to it as a half human but the fundamentals are different as a full dragon.’ Garmadon lectured as he sat patiently, watching his stride carefully.

‘I’m ready to fly! Watch me!’ Kai declared.

‘Kai do-’ He was too late.

Kai had flapped his wings and had taken air, beating his wings still to keep himself hovering high up mid air.

‘See? I’m…’ Kai blinked once he suddenly banked left without meaning to, then dipped right, his flight pattern unsteady. ‘Uh-oh.’ Was all Kai got out before he dropped suddenly, his wings failing to catch him somehow- but Garmadon did, catching him by the tail, leaving him swinging as he blinked at the ground below.

‘Learn to listen to your elders Kai.’ Garmadon rumbled, setting him down. ‘Flying as a dragon is not the same as flying as a half dragon.’ He scolded and Kai looked up at him sheepishly, rubbing his front leg with his paw.

‘Yeah… Sorry Dad…’ Kai apologized as his wings drooped.

‘It’s fine. Mistakes were meant to be made. Some of our most crucial lessons are learned from them.’ Garmadon reassured then sat again. ‘Now, wing exercises.’ He says, spreading his wings and Kai held back a whine at how boring it is.

He did want to fly after all…

________

“Uh-” Was Vortica’s first word uttered once she stepped out of her portal hours after her father contacted her, looking up owlishly at the huge structure that certainly wasn’t around these parts before, filled with dragons.

“That was surprisingly quick.” She glanced over to see Lloyd as he got to his feet, staring at him wide eyed.

“Wanna explain why Dragon Dimension Alpha 106 looks like it puked all over this area- and you?” She asked, glancing at his dark wings.

“It’s a long story you really should hear.” Lloyd says sheepishly.

“I really should, considering this cluster of dimensions are under my jurisdiction and my mother will quite possibly kill me if she finds out about this.” She says, gesturing to the building and the Dragons gliding about.

“Ok, so we got rid of the Oni in the Dragon Dimension but their cloud cover kinda blocked the sunlight for the flora there for too long- and deprived them and the creatures living there of oxygen- and kinda caused a mass extinction. The dragons-”

“Couldn’t stay there or else they’d die due to lack of food supplies and decreasing oxygen levels. So you all decided to take them here to allow their world to recover as time passes slower here but now you’re concerned that they might be here for too long and become too human and lose their ability to shift into dragons, correct?” Vortica asked as she reached for her satchel and dug around it.

“Well- yeah.” Lloyd says surprised.

“Happened with Dragon Dimension Delta 8032 and Ninjago 35994.” Was all she said as her explanation, pulling out a small, sort of chip. “Where’s your Kai? I need to borrow that Dimensional Crystal real quick.” She says as she looked around then paused once the large red dragon all but trotted over.

‘It’s back at the Bounty actually. I don’t have the uh… Means of keeping it on me right now.’ Kai rumbled.

“She can’t-”

“That’s fine. Could you fetch it real quick Lloyd? I gotta make some notes in the meantime of the other dimension I’m observing. My old woman is really cracking down on dimensional order, you know?” Vortica says as she rolled her shoulders’ pulling a pen out of her bag. “And yes, I can understand all languages throughout all dimensions and anyone I speak to will be able to understand me.” She answered before Lloyd could ask.

‘It’s under my pillow.’ Kai told Lloyd and he nodded, getting down on all fours and taking off.

She then pressed a button on her pen, revealing writing in thin air that was done in her trademark colour and continued where she left off, writing in mid air as Kai circled her a few times curiously, Garmadon, the large dad dragon loomed over her curiously.

‘What language is that?’ Kai asked, never seeing it before.

“It’s a secret language that only the Federation of Dimensional Safety and Order knows so don’t bother trying to figure it out.” Vortica mumbled as she kept focus. “Even like this, you lot are nothing compared to their power… They might come in handy actually…” She continued to mumble, more to herself now.

‘Another version of us?’ Garmadon asked curiously.

“The ninja more specifically.” Vortica clarified. “I have to head back and keep an eye on them still to check their progress. They’re insanely powerful. God tier. Above that actually.” She says, pulling up an image of the vaporized spot where the Monastery in that realm was.

“This was done by that world’s version of you.” Vortica says and Kai stared with wide eyes.

‘Are you even allowed to show me stuff like this?’ He asked her and she snorted as she minimized the picture and continued writing.

“Look at yourself. You’re literally stuck between two dimensions right now. This Ninjago may be your Dimension of origin but you’re also just as tied to the Dragon Dimension. With how frequently the distances and borders of your dimensions have been crossed, that’s really no surprise. But I knew that when I gave you the Dimensional Crystal. I just didn’t expect all this. I’m curious to see what both your dimensions will do to cope with the link you opened up between them… But you’re another project I don’t have the time for right now. I only came because my dad said it was an emergency. Speaking of, I might as well leave you guys with your own way of getting to me, just in case.” She says, writing still.

“Oh.” She added, turning the notepad off and looking to Kai. “And when you guys manage to track down your version of Garmadon- the bigger one I mean, make sure to let me know. That’s a problem I need to fix so my mom can get off my tail.” She huffed, reaching a hand out towards Lloyd and the others once he came with the magenta crystal.

“Thanks.” Vortica says as she took the crystal in hand, opening a portal and sticking her hand and the chip inside.

She waited for a bit before pulling the chip back through as it glowed pink. She then tossed it up and they all watched in awe once it went up and up and up still, disappearing over the top of the tower.

“Don’t worry it’s up there. I had to put a sort of field up around the Labyrinth that’ll adjust the Dragons’ internal dimensional clock to this Ninjago, so you won’t have to worry about them losing their Dragonly touch. They can leave the area but it’s recommended that they don’t stay out for long. And if you think it’s easier for them to regress then don’t let it pass what will most likely be Kai’s new normal. If it does then the chances of them turning back will be significantly low- and painful.” She told them with a sigh, pushing her short magenta hair back tiredly. “Also, for conta-”

‘Wait, what do you mean my new-’

“-cting me, use this.” She says, tossing a small device to Zane. “You’re smart, you can figure it out. I’ll allow one test message and a confirming reply but after that, don’t contact me unless it’s absolutely dire- that or you found your Garmadon- the big one. Please nickname them for now, this is getting old. I’ve really gotta run back to that dimension though. Everyone got that?” She asked them.

‘You said something about my form?-’

“This is advanced technology, an instruction manual would-”

“Ok good. Bye!” She yelled, backing up into her portal that opened behind her, tossing the Dimensional Crystal into Cole’s hands as she did. They stared at where she disappeared collectively.

“... Now what?” Cole asked.

“... We figure things out on our own I suppose…” Zane says as he looked over the small device in hand.

____________________

(So I didn’t get this out when I wanted to but hey! Update! Ok so we have a drop in from Vortica! Long time no see my faithful oc! Hey! That rhymed! Anyways, we all know where she's investigating ;).But! The beginning arc as ended and it's time for the middle arc starting with a small time skip! I'll include what happens in times past and snippets of important parts (like Jay's upcoming parts. Might actually write all of that out actually) but that's all in the next update! (hopefully tomorrow but if not then definitely the day after). The middle arc is still gonna be focused on the ninja but it's time for others to share the spotlight. Thanks for reading!)

#ninjago #kai ninjago #lloyd ninjago #cole ninjago #jay ninjago #nya ninjago #zane ninjago #original character #ninjago garmadon #aweebwrites' work

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malereader-inserts · 5 years

Text

Thistle & Weeds

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson & Son!Reader Summary: There's more than flesh and bones. Let the dead bury their dead, they will come out in droves Word Count: 2,171 Request: “Will I be able to ask for a Klaus x injured son reader? Like, the reader is Hope’s twin brother and he gets captured and tortured by one of Klaus enemy and Klaus comes to save him? A bit of fluff at the end is that okay author-san? I love reading you fanfics they’re really good! :)” Warning: Gory, mention of injuries and blood

Just because, in a theoretical sense and in an ideal world, you are the son of the mighty Klaus Mikaelson. You are the heir, of New Orleans perhaps to say since your father loves projecting that around the compound, but that doesn’t mean you have to be as ruthless as him.

In fact, Klaus made a promise to himself to be the best father a child could have. He wasn’t his father, he wasn’t going to make the same mistakes. He was involved with you and your twin’s growing up, he played with you, taught you. At the ripe age of fifteen, you saw your dad as some sort of hero in your eyes.

He did everything to protect you but teach you how to defend yourself if he, your mother or your uncle Elijah could not come. When Klaus looks at you, he sees a fine young boy with potential.

You were more wolfish in your behaviour, whilst Hope was more driven by her witchy tendencies. Violent and aggressive is how your heart paves the way as Hope was driven with heavy emotions, sympathy and kindness. It’s how you and her complimented each other so well.

She played with light magic. You with dark magic, though you barely use your magic, you prefer to do things normally. You and Hope were very close to each other, almost an invisible bond that branded and tied you to her, you just knew what she was feeling, you sense danger near your twin.

Just like she did with you, you felt better with yourself knowing each other were safe. It was the main reason why your family were heavily protective, to see one child suffering was bad but a child suffering because they know their twin is in danger could kill them.

Which spiked concerns when Hope started screaming in her bedroom. She shot up in bed and pushed passed through the barricade of her mother and her father, who came to see what was wrong. Confused and alarmed, they followed a teenager distressed.

“(Y/n)?” She screams as she opens your door.

A scene left your twin and your parents hurt. Your bed was a mess, but not in a way that you just forgot to make the bed after waking up. The duvet was on the floor as if it was ripped away from you. The bed post was broken, almost as if you were gripping against it, in an attempt to wear out whoever had grabbed you.

The mirror was smashed, the witch books you have been stacking in your room had the covers were torn and pages hanging off a loose thread. Your chair was broken, and blood coating the wood from the broken chair.

“That’s his blood.”

Klaus had to be escorted by both Kol and Elijah to calm him down, he was ready to burn the city down to find you. Whilst Hope was in the comfort of her mother and her Aunt Bex, the wolf in her was still whining for her twin, the bigger wolf that sworn to protect her. She seems to be lost without you.

“We’ll find him, Niklaus,” Elijah spoke, placing a firm hand on his brother's shoulder.

Klaus shivered when he could hear his little girl sob for her twin, tears had strung up in his eyes. Elijah and Kol have seen Klaus distressed before, this was on another level. Klaus was angry, angry to the point that his brothers feared he would do something fiendish, something so nefarious.

“I’ll make them suffer, whoever has my boy-” Klaus gritted his teeth.

My boy, Klaus could smile at the thought of it but he is way beyond furious to think that. Oh, his boy, probably screaming for his dad to find him.

You’re counting on him.

He knows that, and he’ll be damned if he was going to fail his son.

Your throat burned.

You’ve been screaming for, what seems like to you, hours. The room was poisoning you. The fumes of vervain, mistletoe and belladonna had got you gagging. The bubbling of stomach acid was fluctuating, you were sure you were going to spit blood.

It was excruciating, you weren’t healing. Why aren’t you healing?

Your shirt that was once drenched in red was now brown and crusty, you blinked to stay awake but even that was getting harder for you. You lay on the ground, your face closed in a grimace, pale and clammy.

Every few minutes you would scream, not like one of those guys in some Tarantino movie being tortured, but worse. It had a raw quality, the realness of a person consumed by a pain that knew no end or limit. Then you would go quiet, just panting.

Your body shook; the stress of pain and laceration caused your body to writhe. You didn’t what would kill you off first, bleeding out or choking on your own blood. Or perhaps the infection that was quick to spread onto your wounds, was death by vomit a pleasant way to go?

You wanted to howl for your sister, for your mom, for your dad.

Slowly you tried to get up but realized how futile it was when you had to bite your lip to keep from crying out. A sharp pain lanced through your head and colourful spots flashed in front of your eyes.

“Mikaelson,” The voice was distorted, “I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long.”

The pain is increasing in waves, small lulls giving false hope of an end. Each peak robs your ability to speak. It's as though your blood has become acid, the intent of destroying you from the inside out. All you can do is writhe, the occasional whimper escaping to echo off the walls.

Your capture chuckles at your lousy attempt to speak, to defend yourself.

A strike from his feet to your ribs, you’re on your back. Then comes the stomp, you choked out a breath, coughing blood, gargling the metal liquid. You turn to lean on your left side, clutching your body.

You see him ready to strike again, but then it disappeared. A few minutes of silence, you hear drowned out voices. A voice that held such malice, venom dripped with every threat. You could chuckle at the whimper from your kidnapper, but your chest tighten.

“If I had time, I would rather not talk but hear your screams,” Sounds like your father, “I’m going to put you in your place.”

Then you see blood. But it’s not your blood, your vision was fuzzy, hard to comprehend but you see a head roll and you finally know you’re no longer in danger.

You wheezed as you were gently pushed onto your back. You moaned, in view was your dad. You watched in fascination to see his amber eyes return to the loving blue-green eyes.

“I’m here, son, dad’s got you,” His voice was shaky, afraid to pick you up in case he was going to hurt you.

He does so, you don’t remember screaming but there was a stabbing pain in Klaus when he hears his pup cry in pain.

“I’ve got you, no more harm can get to you.”

Elijah and Hayley share a look. Klaus had seemed to run off in his own investigation. Elijah could tell his brother was getting angsty, he desperately wanted to find you as well.

“Where’s dad?” Hope asked Hayley sighs, throwing an arm over her daughter.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Elijah commented as Kol scoffed from his seat at the table.

Rebekah and Freya glared at the youngest brother, Kol shrugged his shoulders. Everyone was getting angsty, the tension was high and Hope’s occasional whimpers and soft cries was slowly getting to each family members.

They didn’t care if they were targetted, they’ve coped for a thousand years to know each sibling were capable of protecting themselves. But, damn those who think going for the twins were a good idea.

The compound door slams open and everyone snaps their attention to the intruder.

“Freya! Please!” Klaus begged.

His hands were bloody and clutching onto you, you looked dead. But, everyone could hear the faint irregular heartbeat of yours. Klaus was bloody but you were bloodier. The Mikaelsons were quick to their feet to your aid as Freya ushered Klaus to your bedroom.

Hope wanted to reach out for you but was quickly held onto by Hayley. As much as a mother wanted to hold her son, her daughter was clearly in misery. When Klaus had gently put you down, Rebekah had to pull him out of the room so his emotions weren’t clouding Freya’s magic.

“Save him, please,”

And the door shuts.

Freya had been performing magic on you, some of your wounds were healing. But, you hadn’t woken up. Your family has gotten rid of your bloody clothes and placed something comfortable, but able to keep an eye on your wounds. At least one member of the family was guarding your side.

Whoever was on shift usually kept you cool, with a feverous state in your unconscious condition. Dabbing away to sweat away from your forehead and sometimes keeping your bandages fresh.

They hated how infrequent and wheeze like your breathing was. Hope tend to stay in the room with you, the family would bring her food because she was stubborn in leaving her twin again. You often see her curled up to you, asleep.

They had managed to get Hope out for a bit, a change of environment. Whilst Rebekah and Freya had Hope preoccupied, Kol and Davina were seated near the entrance of the compound, reading together but also on watch in case someone decided to barge in their family.

Elijah and Hayley were out investigating further of the case, to see if there are any future plans for the family so they would be prepared. Klaus was in your room, dabbing away the sweat.

“If I could take away this pain and anguish away from you, I would,” Klaus murmured, he felt just a little bit silly in talking to you - knowing he may not get a response.

He places the towel across your forehead, he brushes your hair back, softly smiling down at you. You look like him, but you have the smile of your mother - he would claim. A formidable creature but graced with a sweet smile.

“I know you can’t talk, but I just want you to know that I’m not going anywhere, you hear that pup? You’re stuck with your old man,” Klaus chuckles under his breath, but looking at your state of affairs, he sighs, “I'm sorry I failed you, I should’ve been there.“

He looks at your hand, your knuckles painted with discolouring. He cringes, you fought back, he could tell, those are bruises of you trying to punch back. Then he noticed how your fingertips twitch.

Klaus furrowed his eyebrows, blinked then looked at you. You jerked awake, Klaus widens his eyes.

“Dad?”

“Hello my pup,” Klaus greeted, you could sense his relief, “Is there anything you need?”

You look at him, your throat burned for water, “Water.”

He obeyed, helped you sip on the liquid, you wanted to gasp in pleasure, but you found yourself looking at your dad. He sat next to you nervously, taking away the folded towel off your head and place it back against the sink in the bathroom.

“Dad?” You hummed, you could see his ears perk at your address, “Do you ever get...scared?”

There was a silence,“…in all honesty? I’m always scared.”

“That’s…somewhat comforting.” You breathed out, but a smile reached your lips, “Not like you.”

“Well, if you see your child half alive and slowly dying, you’d be scared of everything, anything could happen and I was terrified.” Klaus responded, his hand was stroking your hair, “And before I had you, I was terrified with the possibility of losing my siblings.”

“Oh,” You managed to say, you didn’t want to ask what happened to you because frankly, you were too afraid to hear it.

“I’m scared that I’m going to be a terrible father,”

“Well, you’re not,” You responded, Klaus looks at you with hope in his eyes, “Hope and I are proud to be your children, we’re proud to share your name. You’re not a terrible father, you saved me.”

Klaus blinked and a doubt lifted from his shoulders. There was a comforting smile on his lips and he softly kisses your forehead.

“I proud of you too.”

Your sweet smile brightens his day, he still thinks he should have been there. He could stop your pain and stop his daughter’s suffering. To stop the devastation, yet, you hadn’t had a care in the world.

“Will you stay and tell me stories of your life, dad?”

You were always fascinated in his life, you could listen for years of the adventures of your dad and your uncles and aunt. He chuckles as he shuffles the chair closer to the bedside.

“Alright, it was...”

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