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sehunniepotwrites · 4 years

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AS YOU WISH | J.JH | ONE

cover by @seostudios

SYNOPSIS. He was a boy, she was a girl— can I make it any more obvious?

But actually, she was a cursed genie of two thousand years who longed to be freed of her gilded cage and he was a modern but lonely boy who hoped to free her. He just didn’t expect to fall in love with her in the process.

GENRE. angst, slow burn, romance, genie!au, reincarnation!au, royal!au, thief!au PAIRING. jeong jaehyun x female genie!reader MINOR CHARACTERS. mark lee, moon taeil, jeong sungchan WORD COUNT. 10.6k+

WARNINGS. stealing, mentions of cuts and wounds, blood, physical beating, derogatory name calling

ONE: PAST | TWO: INTERLUDE | THREE: PRESENT

2000 YEARS AGO, THE KINGDOM OF NEIHO

“Stop, street rat!”

Heavens, how you hated that name. You ached to yell a taunting insult back but you were afraid of the royal guards catching onto your identity by hearing the sound of your voice.

“Grab that lousy thief!”

The calls of the guards continued to sound throughout the pathway as you ran for your life. The heavy bag of riches slung along over your shoulder pounded against your upper back as you felt the wind in your hair. The extra weight was beginning to weigh you down but you did not falter. Your strained legs propelled you forward and you stole a quick glance behind you— the burly men with swords were gaining on you and you could not let them.

“Wait— there are two of them!”

You cursed when your partner was spotted. From the corner of your eye, you caught a flicker of his cape turning a corner. You were supposed to be the diversion. The blazing sun burned your skin through your hooded cloak but you had to keep pushing. For them.

You would do anything for them, even give your life for them, just as your mother did before you.

Apologizing as you passed, you threw down displays of fresh produce to throw the guards off. You would come back to help clean up later.

You pulled the cloak down to better conceal your face before sprinting into a hidden nook in the village center. The bolstering guards ran past your hiding spot moments later, their leader barking commands to his subordinates before they all went their separate ways. Peeking behind a wall, you watched as their backs grew smaller and smaller and let out an audible sigh.

You made it another day. With a wide-eyed grin, you pushed yourself out of your hiding spot and walked an easy path to the outskirts of the kingdom where people were waiting for you.

If the guards were smart enough, they would have easily found you by they searched the outskirts of the kingdom’s stone walls. There was an opening in the walls, big enough for one person to fit through. You frequented that small hole often with a large sack hauled over your back. As soon as you passed that point in your path, you tossed your cloaked disguise into a nearby bush before trekking on to your final destination.

The path was lengthy but at least you were in the shade instead of under the blazing sun. The clanking of your stolen riches kept you company as you navigated through the many trees. It wasn’t long until you reached an open area filled with a variety of people. Lousy tents made of the thinnest cloth and held up by fallen branches surrounded the field and in the center was a large fire pit. There were clotheslines, cooking supplies, and a short supply of food scattered around the makeshift camp.

The plentiful conversations hushed when you dropped the sack at the end of the path. A shuffling of footsteps and the tinkling sound of coins clanging against each other reached your ears before another figure plopped down beside you, his body falling splat onto the soft grass.

“I refuse to do that again,” a boyish voice groaned beside you. It came from a boy around your age, give or take a few years, with messy brown hair and the cutest set of doe eyes. His thin face and sharp jawline were lined with dirt but he was still what you considered handsome.

“Minhyung, stop your fusing,” you scolded as you ruffled his hair. The boy whined at your actions, moving away to escape your teasing. “You say the same thing every single time we do this, however, you keep coming back to help me.”

“They almost caught me this time around,” he told you. “I barely escaped— one guard grabbed me by the ends of my cloak and almost saw my face! I thought you were the distraction!”

“I was,” you fired back.

“And yet, they still found me,” Minhyung reported dramatically, swinging an arm over his eyes. There was a beat of comfortable silence as the breeze came rolling in.

“But was it worth it?” you asked with a soft voice.

A pair of dirtied feet appeared in your vision. You and Minhyung tilted your heads up to find a small child, not even five years of age gazing at you expectantly. The child’s body was extremely malnourished and their cheeks were horribly sunken in. They looked bashful as they outstretched an arm towards Minhyung.

He sent the child a tiny smile, his mouth curving up at the ends, as he produced a small loaf of bread from beneath his cloak. The child’s eyes sparkled in delight as they snatched the piece of food from Minhyung’s hold and eagerly bit into it. You patted the child’s head lovingly as you hand them a grip of gold coins. They shuffled back to their family who gave their thanks.

As the other people in the open field started to line up to receive their share, Minhyung simply replied: “Yes, yes it was.”

You grinned at your fellow thief— you thought it was worth it, too.

Your gaze shifts to the high towers of Neiho’s palace peeking from behind the treetops. But sometimes, you pondered over how effortless life must have been when living like royalty— was it easy when everything was provided for you?

Unlike what most people assumed, living the life of a royal was far from easy.

Jeong Yuno, the Crown Prince of Neiho, had a sudden urge to bang his head against the library wall. He refrained from doing so, the action being far from princely. He looked up from his pile of parchment paper with glazed over eyes, the ink from his quill drying from the lack of writing. There were rows of untouched books lined up at his desk and none of them were of his interest. They skirted on the topics of Neiho’s history and politics; although it was something he was already versed in, he hated the subject unlike his younger brother, Chansung, who excelled and loved it.

Yuno longed to touch the atlas that was stationed on his tutor’s desk. He wanted to study it, chart a course to another far off land, and mark it with ink as he visited place to place. But instead of traveling, the crown prince drowned in his studies while his tutor looked down upon his distracted self.

“Prince Yuno, have you heard a single word that has left my lips or is your head still up in the clouds?” Moon Taeil, the kingdom’s main historian and tutor, scolded. His wooden stick struck the surface of Yuno’s desk and the shocked boy jumped. From his own desk, Chansung snickered behind his thin hand.

“My apologies,” the crown prince bowed his head, his ears turning crimson from being caught by the snippy tutor.

“Well, since I have gained you back from the skies, might you list Neiho’s past rulers and achievements in order?”

Yuno bit back a loud groan. He was in desperate need of a sweet escape. His gaze floated out the window and onto the blooming marketplace below. It seemed like the liveliness was calling his name.

One of the things you loved about your mother was her storytelling. You heard stories of all kinds of love while growing up on the fly. She painted clear pictures of people falling at first sight, of hate turning to overflowing affection, and so much more. Your mother sold you tales of star-crossed lovers that found their happy endings before she passed; her fables of love sounded nothing more than poppycock and folly.

That is, until it occurred to the unsuspecting you.

It was a usual day for you in the city— hood up, cloak flowing in the wind with a sack beating your back as you were on the run from the royal guards stationed in the marketplace. You weaved in between the townsfolk, your nimble body easily pushing through nooks and crannies when you bumped into something— or rather, someone strong.

“Oof!”

“Oh!”

The large sack you carried added some extra weight, leading you to topple over the stranger that ran into your smaller build. The stranger was about to mumble a quick apology before you heard the bellowing of the persistent guards.

You cursed. There was no room for hesitation when you were caught in a tight spot such as this. With staggering breaths and a pounding chest, you grabbed the man’s hand and navigated through endless alleyways and store fronts. You mastered the art of escaping at a young age while he had trouble keeping up with your speed.

And so, your first adventure with the man you would soon learn to love began.

Your hurried steps brought you to an unattended rooftop. You put one foot on the ledge and leaned your body over to glance at the commotion in the market. Down below, the guards were scrambling through the bustling crowds in a failed attempt to find you. Watching them struggle on their search sent you into a laughing fit that your then mysterious companion echoed.

With a heaving chest and rushing heart, you finally looked up at him for the first time and saw the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on. Despite only seeing him from his place on the balcony or painted portraits before, you immediately knew who he was: The Crown Prince of Neiho. He had deep chocolate eyes and jet-black hair that highlighted his sweat stained skin. His cheeks and ears were flushed with a rosy red as he gasped for air. He was dressed in a horrible excuse for a disguise; the high-end material he wore and golden shoes were purposefully stained. It was as if the prince wanted to be found.

You quickly retracted your dirtied hand from his soft one and immediately dropped to your knees. “My sincerest apologies for placing my soiled hands on yours, Your Highness. I ask for your forgiveness,” you said with a bowed head, your disheveled hair covering your embarrassed face.

Yuno let out a hearty laugh, one that was deep but still sounded like the lightest bells in your ear. “Please, none of that,” he said, helping you to your feet.

“If anything, you helped me escape from those wretched guards,” he sent you an angelic smile and you swore the heavens were smiling down on you at that moment. “I should thank you.”

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder as you felt your face flush with an unfamiliar heat.

“May I know the name of my savior?” Yuno questioned teasingly, his eyes looking deep into yours.

“Perhaps another time, Your Highness,” you said quite cheekily before running back into the crowd.

The second time you met Prince Yuno, you were both on the run once again. In a way similar to what you had done in the past, his hand slipped so fluidly into yours before you sprinted through the town square. You knocked a fruit cart down as a diversion and the guards struggled making their way through the mess. Through your hooded cloak that flowed in the breeze, you turned over your shoulder to chuckle at how helpless the so-called protectors looked.

“We must stop meeting like this, Highness,” you breathed out as you kept up with his speed.

“Why? I quite enjoy meeting like this,” he threw back at you with a sheepish grin. There was a glimmer of adventure in his eyes and you chuckled.

The hood of your cape fell back, revealing your face for a quick moment before you tugged it back up. It was too late, though, for he had seen your face. Having only heard your voice before, Yuno’s steps faltered at the sight of you. Taking charge at that moment, you overtook him and jerked him into an unpaved path.

You took him over and under until you found a safe haven on top of a building— your makeshift home. Ratty cotton sheets were tied to poles for shade and a pile of pillows was bunched together to make a bed. Random trinkets were scattered along the rooftop along with a scarce supply of food and sacks of stolen treasures leaning against a wall. You wordlessly made yourself comfortable, pouring yourself two cups of water from a jug and handed one to the stranger in your space. He took it graciously and gulped it down, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he did so.

“From the bottom of my heart, I thank you, my dear savior,” Yuno spoke to you for the second time that day.

“It was nothing, Your Highness,” you responded, waving him off as you sat at his feet.

“I feel like this was fate or destiny calling,” Yuno suggested out of the blue.

“This?”

“Us, meeting again,” he answered smoothly, his voice as melodic as a mother’s lullaby.

“I suppose it is.”

“Seeing as destiny brought us together, might I know your name?”

Despite being of a higher status, he didn’t seem as selfish as you thought he would be—Yuno seemed kind and trustworthy. You let down your walls and stuttered out your name. The dark orbs that you got lost in flashed with recognition and you wondered if you made a wrong move by revealing your identity.

“You!” he shouted, his voice booming loudly. “Yes, I have heard many things about you.”

You glared at him with panicked eyes and you rushed to cover his soft lips. “Are you insane, Highness? Speak like that and they will surely find us here!”

“My apologies,” he replied, tugging at his earlobe in embarrassment. “My excitement got the best of me.”

You snorted at his answer, “Excitement?” you probed. “What is there to be excited about?”

“It is not everyday you meet the infamous thief that steals from the rich to give back to the poor,” Yuno grinned with dimples sinking into his soft cheeks.

He was not wrong; you did steal for a living to help the less fortunate. Unlike many others your age, you were able-bodied and felt the mighty need to provide for others who needed extra support. This had been the fifth time the guards had almost caught you but it didn’t matter. As long as the children on the street did not starve, you would risk your life over and over again.

Your mother, compassionate and altruistic as one could ever be, had done so in the past and you were determined to carry her legacy. You wanted to make her proud.

“Are you going to arrest me then?” you challenged with a brow. You took a large step back, ready to be on the run if the situation called for it. “If that is your intention, Your Highness, it is in my best interest to leave you.”

“Oh, no! If anything, I agree with your actions,” he relayed, arms shooting out to keep you in his reach. The Prince’s touch pierced your skin with comforting warmth and you shudder at the odd sensation.

“The Royal Advisor, Rowena, insists on high taxes and taking from the poor while feeding the rich,” he started to explain, taking a seat on the dusty steps.

You hummed, recalling the many times you had laid your eyes on the advisor— she held her head high and wore a permanent, almost sinister smirk on her gorgeous face. Her eyes were as red as blood and hair as black as night. She was beyond intimidating, more so than the Royal Family and their guards.

“What she is doing to the people out here, it isn’t right,” Yuno added on. “They are suffering and I feel as if it is my duty to stop her.”

“I feel as if it is mine as well,” you replied.

“I tried to tell the King of how Rowena’s suggestions have been affecting the community outside the palace walls but it is as if she has him under a spell. He hears not a thing I say,” he explained exasperatedly.

He let out a defeated sigh as you crouched next to him. You let him speak, seeing how distressed he was by the whole situation. “He only listens to her and my younger brother, Chansung; he is the smarter sibling. I am nothing but a pretty face that represents the kingdom,” the prince chuckled darkly.

“Highness—” you tried to intervene, not enjoying how he was belittling himself. He stopped you before you could even begin with a mere glance.

“It is not I who deserves the throne, it is Chansung. I can barely do a thing when my mind is elsewhere. How can I rule when my mind is not focused on the needs of my people?”

You place a tentative hand on his knee to ground him before his thoughts send him spiraling.

“I apologize,” the runaway prince blurted suddenly. “I do not know you and here I am, spilling out my innermost thoughts. You must think I am a fool.”

“No, it’s quite alright. I imagine you have no one to discuss this with within the palace,” you comforted him with a kind smile. You encouraged Yuno to continue, hands urging him on. “But if your mind is not here, then…”

Yuno shot you an empty grin, the upturns of his lips not meeting his reddening ears. “I have been trapped inside the palace since birth. Raised inside these walls all my life. I am safe and sound with a set future here and yet…” his voice trailed off, looking at the overview of the kingdom. His stare then gravitated beyond the kingdom walls.

“And yet?”

“I want to go beyond our borders. I know there is more the world has to offer. I have read about it in books but I want to experience it in person, write it down, and bring back what I have learned to better Neiho.” There was a sense of longing in his voice and you could almost relate to his yearning.

You took a seat next to him, your knees touching his. Your body turned towards him, torso leaning forward to give the prince your undivided attention. “What have you read about so far, Your Highness?”

“Please call me Yuno,” he said gently, clutching onto your hand. You tried to tug it away, flustered from the sudden contact, and he only tightened his clasp.

“Yes, Your Highness,” you replied, “I mean, Y-Yuno.”

The instant his name left your lips, he sent you the most dazzling smile, his pearly white teeth perfectly framed by the pink of his lips and the curve of his dimples. Whiskers appeared around his closed eyes and his nose scrunched up in the most adorable way and you found yourself falling down the rabbit hole one called love.

Ever since that fated day, you arranged countless meetings in random nooks and crannies of the marketplace. Yuno taught you the many things he had learned from his readings while you showed him places he had never been before. He brought you books and taught you how to read. You taught him how to fend for himself in the forest.

You often found yourselves weaving through crowds as the guards attempted to follow your trails. Laughter bubbled through the prince’s chest as you tugged him along with intertwined fingers. Your heart leaped huge lengths across your chest every time he glanced your way through his fluttering eyelashes and you wondered if he felt the same.

Your days with Yuno always ended on that same rooftop, overlooking the beautiful sight that was Neiho, and you adored every second of it.

One night, you blurted out, “Do you ever wonder what life would be like if things were different?” Yuno glanced up at you from your lap, head tilting with curiosity. Your fingers were tangled in his soft, clean hair as his hand played with the ends of yours.

“Do you?” he countered. The point of your elbow dug into his toned stomach and he winced.

“I asked first,” you said and he laughed at your argument.

“And I am the Crown Prince,” he threw back and you pouted at his response.

You were quiet for a moment, gathering your thoughts together before answering your own question. “Yes.”

“And what do you wonder about?”

“There are times I wish for a life where I am comfortable, where I’m not breaking my back for someone else’s sake.” Feeling a bit vulnerable, you drew your hands away from his head and wrapped them around your waist— it was your first time to reveal this hidden thought of yours.

“It’s not that I want to stop helping them,” you explained tentatively, “I just wonder what it would be like to start living just for me, without the weight of the world on my shoulders.”

Yuno only hummed in reply. You shook your head, snapping yourself out of the daze you were in. “Your turn to answer,” you pushed the heavy question onto him.

“I suppose so, yes,” he mused simply. “I would like to be a traveling scholar, see the world through my own eyes. I often wonder about a life of travel, you know this.”

You did know this—Yuno told you this many times.

“There’s another thing I wonder about, though,” he slipped in.

“And what is that?”

“I often wonder what life would be like if I had you by my side.”

You coughed at his sweet words, not at all expecting to hear a statement like that. He reached up to pat your back as you choked on air, giggling at your antics. Your breathing returned to normal and his fingers found their way to yours. With entwined fingers and hearts, he called your name endearingly as his head rested against your lap. You returned his earnest stare under the light of the moon with the same intensity, “Yes, my prince?”

He rolled his eyes at your response.

Yuno, hidden in a ripped cloak, brought your hand against his plump lips and looked into your eyes as he kissed your knuckles. “I arose from bed this morning with a sudden realization.”

“Have you come to the conclusion that Chansung is the better looking royal?” you poked. He gave you a look of betrayal and you giggled at his furrowed brows and flared nostrils.

“It was nothing but a joke, dear,” you laughed, running your fingers through his thick locks of hair. He huffed loudly, turning away from your playful gaze.

“My attempt to confess my love and she makes a fool out of me,” he mumbled under his breath but you could not catch his words.

“You would make a great jester,” Yuno added with another roll of his gorgeous eyes.

“I don’t think I would enjoy being the laughing stock of nobility,” you answered, poking at his soft cheek. He swatted your hand away in annoyance but your fingers were persistent. You continued to sink your finger into the skin of his cheek until he caught it and nibbled on your fingertip. Yelping, you drew back your hand and narrowed your gaze at the prince.

It was his turn to laugh at your reaction, blessing your ears with the sweetest melody. “My darling, you would never be a laughing stock to me.”

Although your finger throbbed, you were happy to see the playful side of the prince— he often had a stoic expression when addressing the people of Neiho from the palace balconies. The sight of his bright smile was enough to light the whole kingdom tenfold.

“What would I be then?” you asked mockingly.

Yuno shifted to face you, his ethereal features glowing in the starlight and captivating you in ways you could not explain. There was a fluttering feeling in your stomach and an intense pounding in your chest as Yuno gave you the simplest answer, “The love of my life.”

His words sent your heart soaring to the highest of places.

In that moment, it mattered not who you were and where you were because you were the love of his life just as he was yours.

Arriving at the clearing deep in the forest, you released the bag of stolen goods from your hold. Panting out breaths, you did your best to steady your heartbeat. The racing palpitations of heart felt different somehow, maybe because for once, they were not caused by the adrenaline of running away but by the highs of being deeply in love.

A gorgeous smile broke out on your face and you hadn’t a care if you looked like a crazy loon.

“Where have you been?” A familiar voice blasted from above you. Looking up, you saw Minhyung seated on a tree branch. He leaped down, landing directly on his feet with a playful smirk.

You coughed the grin right off your face. “I had to take a little detour is all.”

“A detour?” Minhyung questioned.

“Yes, a detour.”

Your friend circled you, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Quite unusual for your detours to last until sundown,” he teased, “and you look like you’re walking on air.”

You tried to bite back your grin and you failed. You could never hide anything from Minhyung, he had seen you through it all. He was your brother after all— not by blood but nevertheless, he was family.

“I met the Crown Prince,” you muttered under your breath.

“Do speak up, you know how I hate when you mumble,” Minhyung teased, using the words you often fired at him.

“I said, Minhyung, I met the Crown Prince,” you repeated with a louder voice.

You watched as Minhyung’s eyes widened like saucers and how they gleamed with intrigue as he squeezed you closer to him. “You met Prince Yuno?!” he gasped. “How— why? What?”

“Keep it down, will you please?” Clamping a dirtied hand over his mouth, you tried to shut him up. He simply licked your palm to which you smacked him across the head.

“Well, this isn’t our first time meeting. We’ve met many a time before,” you started off, going down your short history with the prince. Minhyung listened attentively— his admiration for the Royal Family, much like many of the other Neiho citizens, ran deep.

“How is he in real life?”

“Nothing short of wonderful,” you sighed, head turning back to face the city. You wondered how he was doing, if he made it back through the palace gates without any trouble from the guards he was escaping from. “He is like the brightest star I have ever seen, so beautiful and radiant but still so far out of my reach.”

Remembering the sound of his laughter and the look in his eyes, another soft smile appeared on your face. It was a smile Minhyung had never seen on your features. You appeared as if you were the star you just described, shining brightly for one person and one person alone. The light in your eyes was almost too blinding, he wanted to look away but Minhyung couldn’t.

It had been so long since he had seen you this happy— the last time you smiled so cheerfully was with your mother so many years ago. You adopted a harsher look throughout the years that Minhyung was beyond ecstatic to see that happiness still existed within you.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you answered gently. “He told me to call him Yuno.”

“And did you?”

“Of course, Minhyung,” you said with a chuckle, “it would be wrong to not obey royalty.”

“Yes, you’re quite right,” Minhyung hummed back.

“He is filled with kindness and loyalty to the kingdom, which is admirable.”

“But?”

Thinking back to the conversation you had with the prince, your eyebrows stitched together when recalling his dreams. “His heart aches for adventure and knowledge, things he cannot find here if he is to be King.”

Minhyung searched your face for a glimpse into your head. “Isn’t that what you’re looking for, too?”

Looking your best friend and fellow thief straight in the eyes, you were posed with a thought that hadn’t even crossed your scattered mind. “I suppose it is.”

Minhyung laughed as you came to the realization. The two of you sat in silence as you breathed everything in.

“The Prince isn’t that far from your reach then,” Minhyung posed with a childlike grin. “He is much closer than you think.”

The first time Yuno kissed you was underneath the setting sun. Hidden behind the stone walls of the palace, he pressed you into a dark corner where no one could catch sight of your unlikely pairing.

It was a long day for the both of you— you had snuck into the houses of nobles, stealing their smallest treasures to sell in order to feed the hungry while he shadowed his father during his audiences with the people of Neiho. Your secret rendezvous started with exchanging stories about your eventful day with shared laughter and the sweetest of touches. Yuno’s smooth hands ghosted against your dry ones several times, each touch sending tingles down your spine.

His arms caged you in between his strong body and the hard stone wall as his face hovered in front of your own. Your breath hitched as his intense stare shifted from your eyes to your parted lips. It was the dead of winter but you had never felt hotter under his fiery gaze.

“May I kiss you?” you found yourself asking as his plump bottom lip grazed against your own. You were shocked by your own bravery and you knew he was, too. Your heart pounded loudly like a beating drum and you swore the prince could hear it as well.

“Do as you wish,” the prince replied almost breathlessly, captivated by the way your eyes kept flickering to the lack of space in between your bodies.

“But is that what you wish for, Yuno?” you countered with a sultry tone. He gulped loudly at how confident you were and nodded almost too eagerly, lips barely brushing against your dry ones. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Then, your wish is my command,” you smile before closing the distance between. A light press of your lips onto his was all it took to send your world spinning round. Yuno deepened it by leaning his body against your smaller build, a hand tilting your jaw up in a different angle.

He held you so gently, making you feel as if you were royalty. Hands in his hair and his arms around your waist, his kiss made it seem like you had chased the blowing winds and touched the pastel sky. His love rose you to the heavens above and you soared with a rush of freedom you had never felt before.

You kissed as the sky cast a golden glow upon your bodies, too lost in each other to realize you were the focus of someone’s envious gaze.

While you flirted with the life of crime, Yuno made his way through the hallowed hallways of Neiho’s palace. His heavy steps echoed throughout the empty path but he couldn't even hear a thing— his mind was littered with scattered thoughts. He marched his way to his younger brother’s quarters, determined that would be the day he would reveal his heart to his kin. The crown prince groaned in frustration, decorated hands messing with his jet-black hair as he tried to piece what to say.

How did one even start this conversation? Yuno never had a conversation as deep as this with his sibling before. The only person he poured his heart to was you.

Does he start with not waiting to take the throne or with his dream of travel? Should he begin with his skepticism over Advisor Rowena and the poor conditions of their people?

Yuno stopped in place— Rowena. He cringed at the thought of her. He heard the rumors swirling around the circle of nobility. The servants in the palace could never keep their mouth shut at the whispers. There were tales of the King making the advisor his betrothed for the sake of a flourishing kingdom.

He couldn’t fathom how his father came to this as a viable option for the betterment of Neiho.

Yuno thought traveled back to you and what you stood for: how your gigantic heart only thought of others. He recalled how your body was drenched with wounds and scars and yet, you still kept going for the people that had everything to lose. He wanted to find ways to make your life easier but he knew he couldn’t find them inside Neiho’s borders. He had to leave in order to find that solution.

Yuno had no idea how long he contemplated in front of Chansung’s room before the door burst open. Yuno let out a shocked yell as his brother cocked an eyebrow at his older sibling.

“Brother, how long were you going to stand outside my door before simply coming in?” Chansung leaned against the wall as Yuno placed his hand over his rapid heart. He tried to catch his breath much to his brother’s amusement, but he was a bundle of nerves.

“Chansung,” he exhaled, still clutching his chest, “how did you know I was here?”

“It is impossible to not hear your stomps and groans through the wall,” the younger prince poked. “I imagine the townsfolk down below could hear your pacing.”

“Of course,” the older prince said with a roll of his eyes. His younger brother wordlessly invited him in by opening the door to his chambers wider and he breezed through, taking a seat on Chansung’s plush mattress. Chansung closed the door behind him to find his usually composed sibling with his head in his hands. A symphony of defeated sighs left Yuno’s lips and Chansung set a comforting hand on his brother’s back.

“What ails you, dear brother?” The younger implored.

“Chansung.”

“Yes, brother?”

“Have you ever felt like there was something more out there in the world, just waiting for you?”

Chansung paused at Yuno’s question, retreating his hand from his brother’s body. A silence surrounded the room as the younger sat next to his sibling.

“I suppose I haven’t,” Chansung answered with a hum. He turned to face his brother, finding the crown prince’s face contorted with furrowed brows and sucked in cheeks. “I knew that my place was always here in the castle and I have always taken that role seriously.”

This was true. Chansung always buried himself in his studies, gathering enough knowledge to to soon overtake the place of Yuno’s future advisor. He studied religiously to not let his people down, just as his Father and Rowena currently were.

The older nodded silently, the black strands of his hair shifting to hide his eyes as he did so. He tugged on his earlobe, a habit he picked up when he was deep in thought or stressed beyond belief. Chansung caught sight of Yuno’s tell-tale and his lips pursed on trying to figure out as to why his brother was stressed.

“See, Chansung, that’s the difference between us,” Yuno broke the deafening silence.

“What is?”

“You are the one who deserves the throne, not I.”

“Brother!” Chansung shouted in defiance. “Why would you say that? You would make a great king!” He pushed with such force. Yuno smiled, his brother always had seen the best in him.

“Chansung, one cannot deny the truth,” the crown prince smiled at his sibling. The upturns of his plump lip showed the prince’s fondness for his brother and a twinge of regret for not being the royal people expected him to be.

“I have known what people have expected me to be and I have tried my best to live up to those expectations but...” Yuno began. He stood up and walked towards the open balcony, Chansung following in his wake. The elder leaned against the railings, hands resting on the cold stone as his sibling chose to press his back against it.

Townsfolk caught a glimpse of them from down below and enthusiastically yelled for the royal duo’s attention. The younger greeted them with matched excitement, bringing his hand up for a wave while the elder just nodded at them with a forlorn expression taking over his handsome face. He stared at the crowd a little longer than he should have, his mind wandering to the thief that stole his heart. His deep chocolate eyes traced the busy streets and alleyways, through the ways of the marketplace and the housing area until he could no longer see the outlines of the path.

“But you feel as if you belong down there,” Chansung finished for him with a hint of understanding.

“Yes,” Yuno breathed out.

“Brother, you have always had a knack for escaping,” Chansung joked lightheartedly to ease his brother’s troubled heart. It was not everyday a royal revealed he wanted to be one of the people after all.

A hearty, deep rumbling laugh escaped the crown prince’s lips. “I suppose I was not as discreet as I could have been,” he said with the shake of his head, “I was too busy running away from the guards to leave quietly.”

“I suppose not,” the younger chuckled along, the sounds of their laughter drifting with the winds.

“But Yuno,” Chansung’s voice called, “will you be alright?” His voice grew faint towards the end of the question and Yuno caught what his sibling was implying. Would the crown prince be alright after leaving a life of comfort?

“Yes,” Yuno smiled, his eyes shining in a way the second in line had never seen before, “for I will be happy.”

“Will you really be happy?” Chansung asked softly, his voice choking at the thought of his brother leaving him behind. He shook the sadness away and grinned widely at his sibling.

“You are leaving your favorite person behind after all,” he teased, barely dodging a playful punch to the chest. Yuno slung his arm over Chansung’s broad shoulder, bringing a hand to ruffle the other’s neatly styled hair.

“When have I ever called you that?”

“Come, Yuno,” the younger man said with a proud smile, “we have much to discuss before we bring this to Father.”

Yuno laughed once more, his heart bursting with an infinite amount of joy. He was one step closer to being free.

Nothing could take away his happiness, or so he thought. Neither brother realized the person lurking in the shadows, hanging onto every word with disdain.

“He wants to abdicate the throne for a measly street rat? How could this be?” Rowena asked herself as she stormed into her secret hideaway within the palace walls after hearing the conversation between the siblings. The fabric of her robe flowed behind her and the mighty jeweled staff pounded against the floor as she rushed her way down steep steps.

“All these years of scheming my way to the top will be wasted if he leaves with that peasant,” she spat harshly. Passing by the mirror hanging on her wall, Rowena paused in place to admire her looks. Running a hand through her shining black locks and stroking the sharp line of her jaw, she wondered what you had that she didn’t.

She had the looks, the intelligence, and the kingdom in the palm of her magic hand while you merely survived by committing to a life of crime. Why wasn’t the prince in love with her?

“Yuno and the position of queen was to be mine,” the advisor hissed, hazel eyes darkening with envy with each word she spoke. “I have not wasted my energy spelling the king only to settle for the second born.”

Her reflection disappeared from her view, a bundle of smoke and clouds hiding her away before dispersing into a sweet image of you and the prince together.

A terrifying shriek left her lips at the new reflection. Picking up the closest item within her reach, she hurled it into the mirror projecting that horrifyingly romantic image. The crack of the glass echoed in throughout the room and it fueled her bubbling ambition.

As her grip tightened against the length of her staff, she felt a new plan hatching in her head and dark magic coursing through her veins. “Prince Yuno and Neiho will be mine, make no mistake about that.”

You thought your love was too good to be true and he tried to convince you otherwise— you were a mere village thief and he was the Crown Prince. You came from practically nothing while he was of royal blood and yet, your fragile heart couldn’t help but fall for the lost man behind the crown and jewels. Your relationship was against the fates and the aligned stars but the prince had the strongest urge to rewrite them just to keep you by his side.

“I have scheduled a private audience with the King tomorrow.”

“And what will you discuss with him, love?” You stroked his fringe away from his forehead before cupping his cheek in your gentle hold.

He nestled into your palm, sighing at your warmth. “Renouncing the throne,” Yuno announced casually.

“I beg your pardon?!” You almost screamed into the night.

The prince ignores your little outburst, continuing his explanation. “The life of a royal is not the life I wish to live. I want to live a life of travel and adventure.” He sat up to clutch your hands in his. “I want to live a life with you, if you will have me.”

“With me?” You managed to mutter. “Out of all people, why with me?”

“Because I’m in love with you. Any day with you would be an adventure.”

“But I don’t have anything— no riches, just rags,” you swallowed the lump in your throat. He took you in, dirt smeared face and ripped clothing, and still looked at you like you held the world in your hands. Yuno saw the stars, the sky, the whole entire universe in your eyes. He didn’t need anything else— he just needed you.

“I love you more than anything else in this world but all I have to offer you is everything in me. I’m not sure if that is enough,” you bit your lip, teething gnawing down on your sensitive skin out of nervousness. He was the boy who had everything and he was willing to give everything up for a life with you.

Yuno brought your injured knuckles to his lips. He kissed them gently, holding your gaze with a soft one of his own. “My love, that is more than enough. You are more than enough.”

“But what about the villagers? What will happen to them if I were to leave?” You sputtered out, worrying about others rather than yourself.

He smiled at your selflessness. “I have already discussed this with Chansung. He is aware of the village’s situation and is willing to make changes to better their livelihood.”

“I can’t leave them behind,” you pulled your hands away. “They need me.”

“He is willing to work with your partner, Minhyung, to reach out to our people. No man left behind,” he replied with a smile. “We thought of all the options.”

You wanted to go with him but they were all you knew. Protecting the villagers and providing them with hope was always your number one priority— you had never thought of anything else. Would your mother be disappointed in you if you left them all behind or would she be happy to know that you have found a potential shot of happiness?

“Please, just think about it, my darling.”

“And Minhyung, he asked me to think about it!” You shrieked while running through the trees, a sack of gold hitting the small of your back. You looked behind you to see your younger partner-in-crime giving you the smuggest smile.

“Well, are you thinking about it?” He questioned, curiosity burning in his doe eyes. He wiggled his brows to tease you and you wanted to slap him with your heavy sack.

“What is there to think about? I’m not leaving you behind.”

“Why is that?” Your friend pushed.

“Because you need me, they need me.”

“Do we really need you or is it you that needs us?”

You frowned at him, not understanding his words. “What do you mean by that, Min?”

He laughed, nose coiling up cutely as he did so. “You have been stealing all your life, it’s all you know how to do. It’s familiar.”

“I do not see where you’re going with this.”

“You love him and you want to go with him but you’re scared.”

“Of what?”

“The unknown.” Minhyung gestured to all the riches you’ve stolen gathered by your feet. “This is all you’ve known but wouldn’t it be nice to do something more?”

“But this is all you’ve known too, Min,” you countered defensively.

“True, but by working with Prince Chansung, I can broaden my horizons.” There was this proud glint in his eye. “I can help more people. And you—”

“And me?”

“— you can finally be free to see what’s out there just like you’ve always dreamed of doing with nothing holding you back.”

Your friend grabbed hold of your hand, his larger one clasping over your own. Minhyung’s grip tightened around your palm to reassure you. “You can be selfish for once, to think only of yourself, and it will be perfectly fine.”

“Min, I want to be selfish but I’m frightened of everything— life beyond the walls and forest. What if everything out there is not what I think it is? What if I’m not prepared to leave this familiarity?”

Minhyung whispered your name as you began to spiral down a road he could not follow.

“And being in love with a prince for that matter! Love could be fleeting. Any given day after I leave with him, Yuno may not want me. He could turn his back on me and leave me to die. He has options, Min. I, for one, am not that lucky.”

Your friend squeezed firmly on your shoulder before reaching down to take hold of your hands. He crossed your arms over your chest and placed each hand on a shoulder, leading your fingers to tap against your skin. Minhyung encouraged you to follow along as he began to guide you through deep, calming breaths.

As your heart rate and thoughts began to settle, you wondered when Minhyung grew up to be the strong boy who stood beside you.

“Life is frightening. We know that more than anyone, flying by the seat of our pants,” Minhyung said with a chuckle of his own. “It’s alright to be scared of the unknown but it should not stop you from living your life the way you wish to live it.”

As you took another breath, you nodded to acknowledge his words.

“Do you want to live a life with the Crown Prince?”

“More than anything in this world,” was your firm reply.

Minhyung grinned at you, “Then that should be enough. Your love will be enough.”

Tugging him into a hug, you tucked your head into the crook of his neck. The act of affection was a “thank you” you cannot express with words. You only hoped your friend would understand the meaning behind the gesture. Luckily, with years of experience being your partner-in-crime, the young Minhyung was able to between the lines.

“Will you be alright?”

“Of course,” he said, placing a faint kiss against the crown of your head. “You’ve taught me everything I need to know.”

Minhyung, the younger and more energetic one of your thieving duo, ran ahead of you into the clearing to make the first drop of goods. You laughed at his excitable demeanor— you knew he would be the person you would miss most once you hightrailed out of the kingdom. He was the only family you had left but there he was, happy that you were finally setting yourself free.

The upward curve of your lips dropped when you heard his voice yell out for help. Heart racing, you let go of your sack, legs running faster than ever before to come to your best friend’s aid.

Once you caught a glimpse of him, your heart dropped to the floor, right by your soiled and tattered coverings you called shoes.

Minhyung was fighting against the hold of the strong guards that always chased your tail. His hands were handcuffed in chains and tears were running down his sunken cheeks as one guard repeatedly abused his small frame. You screeched at the vulgar sight unfolding before you— your little brother was being beaten to a pulp.

Three rough strikes to the stomach was all you could witness before you went flying towards him, hands outstretched to catch him as his body fell to the floor. You never reached him, another pair of guards preventing you from doing so. They immediately cuffed you and pulled your struggling frame towards them. Your shouts and frantic cries for the injured Minhyung were hushed when a restricting feeling took over your vocal chords.

Opening your mouth, you tried your best to make a sound but you found yourself mute.

A horrifyingly disturbing laugh came from behind the trees and you scuffled to find the source through your tears. The tall and sleek figure, dressed far too nice to be caught in these parts, approached you with the most evil smirk. Her back was straightened, chest puffed out, and head held high with pride as she used the tip of her staff to lift your head.

“So you are the one who caught the crown prince’s eye,” the figure said, her voice as piercing as her glare. “The little thief.”

“You,” came your choked reply as she released the spell she casted on you.

“Oh, so you know of me?” she laughed haughtily. “Say my name then, child.”

Refusing to do what she said, you turned your head to look at the unconscious Minhyung who was slumped across the grass.

“I said,” she hissed, using her hand to force your gaze back at her. “Say my name.”

“Rowena,” you growled. “What do you want from me? I have nothing you want.” Her sharp nails dug into your skin and you winced at the pain. The royal advisor clearly did not appreciate your snark.

“That is where you are wrong, my sweet child,” Rowena almost purred back. “You possess the thing I long for most.”

You scoffed at her answer. “And what would that be, witch?”

“Be careful with your words, street rat. I can end your friend’s life in an instant if you fail to hold your tongue,” a nail scratched your cheek, leaving you with a new cut. A thin stream of blood flowed down your face, dripping onto your tattered clothes as Rowena watched amusingly. “You are in possession of Prince Yuno’s heart when it was destined to be mine.”

You fought the urge to laugh, “You are doing this out of jealousy?”

“Hold your tongue, riff raff. You forget who is in control here, I can easily command my men to strike another blow on your poor fri—”

“No!” you yelled, cutting Rowena off, suddenly desperate to get on her good side. “Don’t hurt Minhyung; he has nothing to do with the situation!”

Minhyung weakly called your name and you ignored his cries.

“But he is a thief and it is a great crime to steal in this kingdom,” Rowena drawled on teasingly, like a cat playing with a hopeless mouse.

“No, please,” you begged. “You mustn’t hurt him.”

“Then you must do something for me in return, peasant,” Rowena laughed at how easily she had you wrapped around her finger. You appeared to be strong, but your overly selfless heart was weak.

“I will do anything you ask me to if you leave Minhyung alone,” you petitioned. You couldn’t let anything happen to Minhyung— he was the only family you had left. “He’s a brother to me.”

Minhyung’s head shot up at his new title while he gasped for air. Locking eyes with him, you smiled painfully. He was always at your side, protecting you when he could. Now, it was your time to protect him.

“I will let the boy live if you come with me without a fight,” Rowena schemed, grin growing wider by the second. She had you in the palm of her hands. “He is of no importance to me.”

“He is of the utmost importance to me,” you said, the familial love seeping through your veins. Though physically far apart from him, you hoped he could feel the love you had for him. Minhyung violently shook his head, as if to tell you not to go. He refused to let you sacrifice yourself to let him live, you had done enough for him as is.

“I will go with you, Rowena. Just allow me a moment to say my goodbyes.”

The guards holding you and Minhyung back looked at their commander for an order. With a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand, you and your friend were freed of your confinement. You quickly shuffled to your feet and Minhyung fell into your arms as you sunk to the ground.

“Oh my stars, Min,” you sniffled as you took him in. Sandwiching his fallen face in between your hands, you stroked his cheeks and pushed back the strands of hair that stuck to his sweaty forehead. “Please tell me you’re alright.”

“I’ll be alright if you stay here with me,” Minhyung replied with tears welling up in his soft brown eyes. Minhyung was always the crier between the two of you. He cried more at your mother’s death than you did but this time, you let your tears cascade down your cheeks, knowing this was the last time you would see your best friend.

“You know I can’t do that. I can’t let anything happen to you, you have gotten yourself hurt because of me,” You gather enough strength in your shaking hands to squeeze his cheeks, something you always did to cheer him up. “I refuse to be the cause of your pain.”

“And I refuse to let you go,” Minhyung raised his hands to hold onto yours.

“I have made my choice,” you whispered harshly, “and that is to keep you and the others safe.”

You take a moment to hug the younger boy in your arms, trying to commit the feeling of Minhyung in your memory. Flashes of your best friend growing up by your side ran through your mind as your fingers stroked through his hair. Pressing a lingering kiss to the top of his head, you shut your eyes and bit back a sob. “Do me one favor? Find your happiness, wherever it may be and never let it go, alright?”

When you released him from your hold, Minhyung whined at the loss of warmth.

“You’re my brother, Minhyung. I love you,” were your last words to your thieving partner before you turned away from him and his heart wrenching sobs and willingly stepped into your doom.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

What started off as secret meetings and stolen kisses in alleyways was ending with you chained to the floor of the palace’s throne room while your lover watched helplessly from the side. He screamed your name and struggled against the hold of his guards but you shook his head to silence him.

Stop, you begged in your head, make it stop.

The King and Prince Chansung did nothing to help you or their kin, only staring blankly at the chaotic scene unfolding in front of them. They had no choice; they were bewitched to be at the sorceress’ beck and call, just like the many guards that protected the kingdom. If only Prince Yuno had realized it sooner.

“Why are you doing this?” Yuno yelled, his deep voice booming throughout the large room. His harsh glare, a look you had never seen on him, was focused on the lady seated on his father’s rightful throne.

“Why?” Rowena echoed. “My darling prince, I did this because of you and your wish to renounce the throne for her.” Her extreme distaste for you was apparent as she hissed the last word.

She left her seat, leisurely sauntering over to Yuno with a smile as if it was a casual meeting when the situation was far from it. Rowena squatted down to reach his level and Yuno hastily turned his head to the side, refusing to meet her eyes. His jaw tightened and his teeth grinded against each other as she forced him to look her directly in the eye. “Marry me and crown me as your Queen. Only then will I let her go.”

Instead of answering the witch with words, he chose to spit in her face instead. “Never, you hag. You are not worthy of ruling Neiho, nor will you ever be.” Yuno’s voice was ruthless and unwavering, just as a prince’s should be. Even in a moment like this, your heart swelled with pride at his bravery.

“Long live King Chansung,” he jeered, which only set Rowena off. “He is the next, rightful ruler of the kingdom.”

“If this is how you want to play, so be it, Prince,” Rowena laughed in his face. The sound of her cackles made shivers run down your spine and cold sweat broke out in a number of places. You were scared of what was to come.

Using her staff to help her back up to a standing position, Rowena made her way towards you with a menacing stare. The curve of her lips grew wider as you flinched back in fear. You heard the clanking of metal chains as Yuno wrestled against the guard’s hold. “Don’t you dare do anything to her!”

“And what will you do, Yuno?” she threw back. “There is nothing you can do to help her now.”

Only a few steps from you, she points the end of her staff in your direction. A gleaming emerald jewel taunted you as you sucked in a breath. “You, peasant, have always given selflessly without expecting anything in return so selfless you will remain,” she started to say, a gust of wind bursted out the end of the jewel. It first surrounded her figure, then you, before spreading throughout the room.

A golden lamp appeared out of thin air, floating in front of your face before you felt the spark of dark magic course within you. It released you from your physical binds only to leave you immobile. A pair of gold cuffs materialized on your wrists and tugged you closer to the lamp.

“No longer will you be able to act selfishly for you are bound to this lamp and to these chains until a master wishes you free,” she explained. The taunting laughter that would soon haunt your memories echoed in your ears as ideas for a curse were thrown into the wind. “It will be at least two thousand years until you have the chance of seeing your precious prince again, that is, if Prince Yuno finds you first.”

“What? No!” Yuno howled across the room as you were slowly consumed by a dark cloud. Calls of your name were heard but you could not respond as Rowena began to chant,

“Golden lamp of antique old, Bind her body, mind, and soul. May she obey her master’s whim, Turn her future dark and grim. Freedom comes with just one wish Unless it is a true love’s kiss.”

The smoke spread throughout the room, leaving the surroundings in a haze. As the evil enchantress concentrated on the curse, the hold on the others in the room fell through. The king and Chansung snapped out of their daze only to watch the horrific separation begin to take place.

“Brother, what is the meaning of this?!” Chansung shouted to get his sibling’s attention, bringing an arm to shield his eyes from the powerful gusts. His father gripped at his youngest’s sleeve as the gale turned into a hurricane with you in the middle.

Yuno failed to hear his brother’s questions, eyes zoned in on you as your freedom was slowly stripped away from you. The sight of you crushingly accepting your fate tugged on his heartstrings. This wasn’t the ending he wanted for you. This was far from it.

"Remember me! You must remember me," he yelled over the commotion. You watched him struggle over the smoke as you cry out for him.

"How could I ever forget you?" you reassured him with a broken smile. You felt the tail end of your body being pulled inside your new cage and tried to fight the unbreakable force.

Yuno screamed your name once more. You locked eyes across the room, his dark orbs spinning with love and desperation. You wondered if your wet irises looked the same as his.

"I will find you! I will search until the ends of the earth until you are by my side again.”

You wanted to laugh at his hopeful optimism— how did love get you into this situation?

As much as you wanted to believe Yuno would find you, the situation was bleak.

Rowena’s body rumbled with a laughter so sinister, so piercing that you flinched at the sound as her dark magic ran through your veins. “I would like to see you try, my prince, but until then, you and the throne belong to me,” she sneered.

Ignoring the enchantress’ claims, his eyes continued to search for your disappearing figure. “I will come back to you, I promise!” Yuno’s deep voice rang into your ears.

“I hope you will,” you whispered a defeated reply back.

“If not in this life, then I will find you in the next! Mark my words!”

“Yuno…”

“In any version of reality, my darling, I will find you and I will choose you every single time. Do you hear me?”

You nodded vigorously as you choked back your sobs.

Just as the last bits of your being slipped through the spout of the lamp, Yuno broke free from the guards’ hold and rushed to your side. You reached out a hand and his fingertips grazed yours.

“Don’t forget me,” he mumbled through choked up sobs. His shaking hands grabbed at the dreaded lamp, clutching it to his broad chest like it was the most precious thing on earth.

The sight of him so desperate before you was reminiscent of the star-crossed lovers you heard about during your younger years, the ones that ended in the worst of tragedies. You pondered if this was your own personal tragedy, if this particular scene would haunt you for the rest of your cursed life.

You exchanged one last glance. One last touch.

Your hand clutched his cheek like it was made of the most fragile glass and the pad of your thumb stroked his soft skin. Yuno leaned into your touch, wanting to soak in his last moment with you. A spark flickered the place of contact, a sizzle of bright dust oozing from your fingers— your first dose of magic and you couldn’t even use it to keep him by your side. A glittering tear fell from your cheek and landed on his skin.

It was then you muttered your last words to the man who claimed your heart before being completely tugged into your golden cage, “As you wish.”

author’s note. hello, my darling readers! i know many of you have been waiting for this release for the longest time. this is the first of three (or four) parts. this part has been done for quite some time now; i’m just struggling to get the rest of it out.

but i thought it was too good of a story to just sit there in my google docs. i had this need to finally put part of it out into the world so here we are! i’ve been writing this since october and i would like to thank the many people who have helped me with the plot so far: kira, my chaotic gc, allex, and joyce!! ily all!! <3 this is for you!!!

part two is finished and i’m in the process of editing it! will it be out soon? who knows?

taglist. @rindomo @yshbaewenjun @hannie-dul-set @itsapapisongo @babyyynatty @notnctu @w0nni3wrld @yuta1forme @lucyinthesunshinee

i lost my original copy of the taglist so i’m sorry if i missed people! (especially since it’s been so long!) please let me know if you would like to be added to the list for future parts!

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct x reader #jung jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fic #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #as you wish

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internalsealpanic · 3 years

Text

Love Through the Ages (Tim Drake)

Summary: Love like baggage needs to be declared.

a/n: This is part two of a series that is a fic rec list disguised as a fic. For these fics, most of the characters will be speaking different languages, so unless specified otherwise assume that the characters are speaking in the first language I mention. They’re all vampires with centuries under their belt. Why wouldn’t I make them all polyglots. Also, thank you to the proof reading gang for putting up with my shenanigans. I will have links to the fics I recommend in the fic itself.

Warnings: Everyone is dramatic.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist.

You watch the rusty green of the warehouse wall disappear behind a spray of orange paint. There is nothing more satisfying than watching paint make old things new.

A whistle interrupts your reverie, making the can slip from your hand. You swear, the harsh syllables echoing in the empty air. The can bounces down the scaffold and lands in someone’s hands. Tim’s face gets sprayed with a mist of orange. He makes a noise and rubs at his face. You bark out a laugh and he grimaces at you. The begrudging fondness obvious on his face.

He waves at you, eyes still stinging from the paint. Giddiness flourishes in your chest. “I knew I’d find you here!” He shouts in a dialect of Mandarin that you hadn’t heard in ages.

It takes you a moment to understand him. You’re honestly extremely rusty. It takes you another moment to realize that it made no sense for him to find you. “How?” You shout back in Romanian.

Tim shakes his head, throwing his hand over his shoulder. “Open canvas.”

You snort, looking down at him. Tim’s breath catches as he stares up at you, your smile. You’re haloed by sunlight. You look like an angel descending from heaven.

Tim’s forced to pick up his jaw when he hears your voice again. You’re tapping your watch. The words are lost to him.

“What?!”

You shake your head, strands of hair coming loose from behind your ear. “I asked...” You shout in a coarse frawl. “... Isn’t it a bit early for you to be here?”

It was.

He was only 30 minutes early. No big deal.

He shrugs. “I just wanted to watch you paint.” He says, trailing off. Oh God, Tim thinks. Does he sound lovesick? Is Cassie right? He pushes the thoughts down, opting to look at the building instead. On the side of the building was an immaculate portrait of the Red Hood rendered like a saint, haloed in golden light and surrounded by your orange marigolds. It would look at home in any grand cathedral. Your talents never ceased to amaze him.

“Should I ask why you’re defacing a building?”

You turn back to the building picking up a can of yellow paint. You tilt your head. “It’s a massive improvement, yes?”

Tim looks around. The pavement is littered with wet trash mixed. The buildings were rusted. Everything else is covered in grime. “You’re rude… but not wrong.”

You preen, electing to ignore the first half. You turn back to your canvas before Tim can get another word in. He knows he’s lost you.

“So, why *the* Red Hood?”

You look away from the portrait, setting the can of yellow spray paint. It sprays your sweatshirt and Tim laughs. You stick your tongue out at his face flushing. You liked this sweatshirt. He gave it to you the last time you had meandered into Gotham. “Why not? We’re in the Bowery. He’s like a saint here.” You snip, switching to Russian. Ok, that made sense. You toss your sweatshirt into Tim’s face. The fabric is lousy with the smell of paint and of 5-hour energy drinks. It was an improvement over the pungent odor of garbage.

He tries to rub the orange paint on his face away before he tucks your sweatshirt beneath his arm. You’re still looking down at him, wry amusement on your face. “I’ll paint your beloved Red Robin when I get to China Town. Heard he was quite popular in those parts.”

Tim’s heart flutters. He stutters out his next question. “Why are you using spray paint for this type of illustration?”

“Kon said I couldn’t do it.”

Tim snickers, “As if Kon could tell the difference.”

You frown only realizing your mistake. You curse under your breath. Tim doesn’t stop laughing at you. “Shut up!” You snarl.

Tim dodges the next paint can you throw but the next one hits him square in the face. You grin triumphantly. Tim raises a middle finger at you and you giggle in response. You feel bad, seeing him wince in pain. You’d buy him apology tea later but for now, you clasp your hands and call out to him sweetly. “Sorry, Timmers!”

Tim, equally as mature and well aware that you’re only half sorry, blows out a breath, muttering something colorful before shouting back: “we should get going if we wanna eat out after looting the museum.”

At that, you launch yourself off the scaffolding, your body feeling weightless as it falls. Tim drops your sweatshirt as he holds his arms out to catch you. He catches you easily. You two spin as you wrap your arms around him.

“You are certifiably insane.” He laughs. His nose smooshed against yours.

“And so are you.” You snort, hugging him.

He hugs you back. You hum so softly into his hair that Tim wouldn’t be able to tell it from a breath if he were human. Tim holds you close, hugging your waist tightly. He doesn’t really want to let you go. You don’t either. You and Tim stand there for a bit when you hear his cell beep.

“Why does your phone sound like a pager?”

“Because Babs told me how to.”

“That literally explains nothing.”

“I’m not taking crap from the gremlin who had ‘Baby Shark’ as their ringtone for 12 months. WILLINGLY.”

You pout at him, your face so close to his. Tim’s only half paying attention to your defense. To be fair, it basically boiled down to ‘it isn’t that bad’ and ‘Bart’s ringtone is worse’.

After a short shopping trip and a cab ride later, you arrive at the museum in fresh clothes and less paint on his face for Tim.

“All the World’s a Stage. They botched it! The nerve! The barbarity of it all. It's just like when they botched ‘Words with Friends’ or ‘In Ice We Trust’ or even ‘Tomcat’. That last one was pretty much gift wrapped for them!” You say throwing up your hands nearly hitting Tim and whatever poor bastard was unlucky enough to be behind you.

“For someone who isn't invested in modern media, you're getting fired up.” Tim chuckles, eyes flickering behind you. You had managed to miss the people behind you but you do have a rather conspicuous space behind you.

“They had such good material to work with” you say, gesticulating wildly. “And- and they butchered it.”

“You need a 5 minute breather?” Tim asks, resting a hand on your back.

“Shut up,” you laugh.

Tim grins at you as if he had no idea what this ultimate betrayal feels like.

Determined to prove him wrong, you say : “C'mon, Timothy, you ranted like this when they botched the star thingy.”

“It’s Star Wars, you heathen.”

“Star. Thingy.” You repeat, crossing your arms.

Tim squints at you. You know he’s not gonna blow up at you but somehow that’s scarier.

“You can pay for your own cab later.” He grumbles.

“Star. Thing-Y.”

Tim turns to leave. This always worked. Always without fail, you grab at his hand, lacing your fingers with his. Tim tries not to smile.

“Fine.”

“Was that so hard?”

“It was excruciating actually.”

“You're being dramatic.” He says, showing the woman behind the ticket counter your passes.

“Excuse me, I left all my drama in the Renaissance.”

“Oh really?”

“Ok not really but admit that both Andromeda and Stars, Forgive Me have better writing.“ You bite out.

“I- That’s unfair,” he says. You raise your brow in response.

“...”

“Fine,” he sighs. “But admit that Andromeda should have been named ‘Space Whores’.”

You squint at him then smile. “Oh abso-posi-tute-ly.”

“Have you seen this dirty old hockey mask?” You ask, tapping the glass as if the hockey mask would react if you just agitate it enough.

“What is that?” Tim asks, looking over your shoulder. His brows crinkles when he sees the mask. “How is that romantic?”

You hum. “Ask the curator?” You suggest, looking around. He was usually out and about. He could never sit still even if he tried. You lean down narrowing your eyes at the plaque. “Says here some dude called Jason terrorized 3 kids over summer.”

“That’s very romantic for our Jay to do.” Tim says, crossing his arms and switching to Cantonese. It was a weird habit but you knew why. Apparently for all Jason’s skill in languages he somehow could not get a handle on Cantonese.

“Not that Jason.” You say, smirking.

“You sure?” Tim asks, leaning closer to you.

You snicker, “As in character as that would be...”

“True,” he says, edging closer and closer to you. You rock on your heels nervously at the proximity. “It’s a shame, I thought there would be a machete to match too…” You can feel Tim’s breath on your cheek.

“OH LOOK AT THIS.” You say twisting away and pointing to a black and white photo. Tim’s hands leave his sides to grab for you, to pin you to his chest, but he has enough self control not to. Instead, he follows you.

“It’s just a man and a woman in business suits. Yanno something you can see in any metropolitan city.”

“Yes but,” you say, tracing a nonsensical pattern into the air, “I’ve heard a story about this, they were both extremely rich and heads of their companies, went from enemies to lovers - my all time favourite.”

Tim looks closer at the photo of the man and woman with their backs to the camera just holding hands along the NYC sidewalk. It’s cute. “I thought your favorite was lovers to enemies.”

“Well of course, it is! The drama, the absolute tragedy. It’s better than any trope in existence. But I love that this is just black and white. You don’t need anything else to indicate they’re in love with each other.”

Tim is all too tempted to point out that that likely wasn’t intentional, that it was a limitation of the time, but the look in your eyes robbed him of his breath, so he swallowed his thoughts.

Your eyes rove over the room frantically in search of something.

“So is there any reason you wanted to go to this exhibit instead of watching lavalantula 10 in theaters?” Tim says, tapping another case.

You turn to look at him, shock etched into your features.“10? We've seen lavalantula 1 through 9 in theaters? Why did I agree to that?”

“Cus you love me?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Probably not.”

Tim gives you a hurt look.

You scowl at him. You have no idea why everyone thinks he’s the nice Wayne sibling. He is a manipulative little shit who plays you like a fiddle. And yet here you are falling for it. An absolute buffoon.

You grumble an apology under your breath before continuing. “This is more cultural Timmers and lord knows we need more culture.” You wave sarcastically.

“I think we've lived enough culture.”

“it cannot hurt to experience more Tim,” you snort. He rolls his eyes. You grab onto his arm and look up at him bright eyed. Two can play it at that game. “Please Tim....”

He scowls at you. “Fine-”

“Yes!”

“-but you owe me a movie marathon.”

“Fine. Fine,” you nod, “just don’t pick something dumb.”

“I just got the new star trek box collection.” He beams.

“You could just shove me into a grave.” You sigh dramatically.

Tim grins. “The Renaissance called-”

“Oh fuck you, Grackle.”

He snorts and you hate that you fall in love with him more every time he laughs.

You cross your arms giving him a hard look. “Fine but we have to have an intermission of my choice.” You say, offering a hand.

“Deal.” He says, shaking your outstretched hand.

“Great, you've just agreed to watch the Great British Baking Show with me.” You say smug.

Tim curses himself.

"Are you still looking for that one painting?"

You tip your body back to look at him, your eyes wide and startled. It takes no time at all for them to shift to their usual angry shape. "Yes," you say quietly. It's Tim’s turn to be startled. Your hands curl into a fist. "It wasn't done and those bastards took it."

Tim reaches out to put his hand on your shoulder.

You cast your hands up to the sky dramatically. "The barbarity of it all!"

Tim smiles, letting his hand fall to his side. You would be ok.

You two walk on as Tim rants about StarGate could have had a bigger fanbase if it hadn’t excluded so many people. You add StarGate to the list of things to not remember.

You stop.

Your heart presses a bruise in your throat.

Framed in wood laden in ivy and marigolds is a painting that was painfully familiar. Even unwashed, you can still see the bright reds of rose petals, the wild greens of the women’s skirts, the brilliant oranges of marigolds, and the blinding whites of cobble stones. The image was a practice in entropy made into perfection. The chaos of Valentine's day in a small town square reduced and captured in an infinitesimal moment.

Damian told you that people had started calling them Warsaw’s Faceless Sweethearts. You hated that. A part of you wants to scream. You want to tell them that this wasn’t for them. This painting was made for one person and one person only.

You’ve been staring at it too long. Tim looks at you. You’ve known him too long to not know that he’s worried. That he’s feeling that stupid surge of protectiveness he always does when you go quiet. It’s in the cautious way he reaches out to you, slow and steady the way you approach a spooked animal. You want to lash out at him but he’s your Tim. Besides, too much of your mind is trapped in the painting, in the white gazebo, in between the couple who’s stuck in the moment before a kiss.

Tim stands closer to you, his fingers lacing into yours with centuries worth or practice. He looks at the painting. “This painting looks familiar.” Tim says for the lack of anything better to say. It was yours. He knew that with only a few seconds of looking.

“I… I don’t think so,” you say clumsily, “that’s definitely not the painting I’ve been looking for. Yup that one looks completely finished. Yup definitely.” You tug at Tim’s arm.

He gives you a look, staying perfectly in place, before turning back to the painting. His gaze draws low. In a glass case sits scraps of paper lined with charcoal. It takes an embarrassingly long time for Tim to realize that they’re sketches the artist did. Tim recognized the baker, the blacksmith, the seamstress, and even the constable. Most glaring of all he recognizes your marigolds. His eyes drift to the sketches of the couple in the gazebo. They were numerous, haphazard and unsatisfied. You were clearly frustrated with the groom’s face. Tim wonders who the poor guy could be.

In the corner of the page in the center, he sees it. “Wait… is that me?”

“NO!”

“Is that you?” He asks, pointing to the figure next to his. In the sketch, your lips are brushing against his. Tim’s lip tingles trying to replicate the sensation.

You’re frozen stiff. You try to pull your hand away. You want to bury your face in them. Scratch that, you wanna be buried six feet under. Tim doesn’t let go of your hand.

“That’s the umbrella you lost back in London.”

“I lost a lot in London, Timmy.”

“Well...” Ok. Yeah, you did. Hence why he can’t get you to London even with the promise of letting you ‘improve’ Buckingham palace. But that isn’t the point. “(Y/n), this is gorgeous.” He says, turning to you. You look at him stunned and scared. He squeezes your hand.

You shake yourself out of his grip. Tim lets you. He knows when to back down.

You step forward leaning on the rope separating you from your work. “I told you it wasn't finished.” You say, glaring at the painting as if willing the colors to move.

“What happened?” He asks, bumping his shoulder against yours.

You bump your shoulder against his. “Warsaw.”

“I don’t follow.”

“That little town in Warsaw. It was kind of hard to finish the painting when soldiers were setting fires to houses. Ok, they didn’t do it directly but there was smoke.”

“Yeah kind of.” Tim agrees, smiling sadly. He looks back at the painting. “I want to keep it.”

“What?” You blink not quite following the shift in conversation.

“Darling, I think we should have it. It’s ours after all.” Tim says holding your hand in his. Your mind is bouncing between too many things. He called you darling. He’s holding your hand. He’s smiling so sweetly at you. You’re addicted to that look in his eyes, pure unadulterated adoration.

You cover your face with your free hand, feeling the smile on your face go uncomfortable wide. You feel something on your forehead, a kiss like a raindrop. It comes again and you feel like you’re going to collapse.

“It’s yours..” He trails off hesitantly. “..if..” You look up at Tim, waiting with bated breath. Tim squeezes your hands. “...if you’ll be mine. ”

@batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @bungunz, @birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

#Tim Drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagines #vampire au

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vivithefolle · 4 years

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I was always confused by Hermiones behavior towards Ron in OOTP. Was she trying to hide her feelings? because she didn't really gave him any signs. Why she was so nasty at him with the teaspoon thing. Was she trying to make him jealous with the letters? What did or didn't she understand from Ron giving her the perfume. Is all this just JKR being stupid because she don't want them together before the very end. Sry for all these questions but I am rly confused can you plz help Vivi?

Once again, I’ll copy one of my Quora essays!

it’s a stereotype to say that girls resort to underhanded tactics when it comes to dating, or like to “test” their partner’s love… but it’s a stereotype for a reason: there are teenage girls who resort to those tactics.

The archetype of the Tsundere exists as an exaggeration of the traits some teenage girls demonstrate when they find themselves in a position of vulnerability such as “having a crush on someone”.

For someone as prideful as Hermione is, having a crush on someone is extremely threatening.

Hermione prides herself in her logic and intelligence. The validation she receives from getting good grades is something she needs, because she’s very insecure deep down. She thinks all she has to offer is her intelligence, and as she goes from a little girl to a young woman, this causes her grief because she doesn’t want to be just “intelligent”. As her body develops and changes, she finds that being the smartest one in the room isn’t enough anymore - she still loves being the smartest in the room, but she wants more than just that, she wants validation for other things. That’s why she was extremely hurt when Ron tactlessly (and Rowling-ly) remarks “you’re a girl” - she wants to be seen as a girl, as a woman, as more than a walking brain. She wants validation that she is a girl, and beautiful, and sexy, and capable of making heads spin. She needs “sexual” validation, for lack of a better term.

Of course she doesn’t really realize those feelings. All she knows is that it hurts when Ron seems to consider her “one of the guys”, or looks at girls that aren’t her. She likes it when he compliments her, but she’s also angry at him because he only ever seems to compliment her intelligence and damn it, she wants him to compliment something else! She wants him to look at her, REALLY look at her! Look at her like he looks at the pretty girls!

Little does she know that Ron does look at her, but he probably thinks he’s a pervert for doing so. Because - because she’s Hermione! She’s not like other girls, she’s not - she’s not the kind of girl you ogle! She’s the kind of girl you gift flowers to - roses, they’re her favourite - the kind of girl you have long, meaningful talks with - not sure if they’re always meaningful, but they sure talk a lot together! - she’s the kind of girl you… the kind of girl you love, not the kind of girl you just look at…

*wistful sigh* Mutual pining, mutual admiration, slow burn, +100k words…

But truth is, many people go around saying that Hermione treating Ron harshly and treating pretty much every boy (with exceptions like Draco Malfoy) more gently is because she actually doesn’t like Ron, and likes anyone but Ron.

When the truth actually is that… Hermione is awful. No, no, seriously, when Hermione is in love, she’s terrible. She can be a nice friend but when she’s in love with you she’s horrible. Especially since she’s a teenager.

Hermione is a prime example of a Tsundere.

The cute, blushy, giggling Hermione who flirts with [insert character here] and cries delicately when she’s rejected? Pure fanfiction. Canon Hermione keeps her love aggressively hidden behind countless iron walls, only letting it peek through when she’s absolutely sure the person she likes isn’t looking.

“How was practice?” asked Hermione rather coolly half an hour later, as Harry and Ron climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. “It was -” Harry began. “Completely lousy,” said Ron in a hollow voice, sinking into a chair beside Hermione. She looked up at Ron and her frostiness seemed to melt. - Order of the Phoenix

Rare footage of the Hermione Granger, scientific name Selfinsertus Overratedus, displaying interest in specimen of mighty fine hunk

Hermione isn’t sweet and tender and kind with the one she loves. At least, the teenage Hermione isn’t. She’s harsh, she’s disdainful and only gives out breadcrumbs of affection once in a while as part of the complicated mind game she’s playing.

You see, Hermione is never going to make the first move. You must be the one to ask her out, because she sure as hell ain’t going to do it for you.

This is due, I think, to the events of Goblet of Fire. Viktor Krum asks her out because Rowling absolutely wants Hermione to be the ugly duckling who transforms into the beautiful swan, so she brings in Cardboard Cutout With No Personality Aside From Being Famous to woo her self-insert.

Now Hermione has gotten the experience of being asked out, and being a rather socially awkward person who also hates being vulnerable - more on that later - well, now she just assumes that if someone asked her out once, then anyone who does like her can do the same.

Which is why she doesn’t realize that Ron is actually aware he loves her. There’s a big comedy of assumptions going on in Romione’s love story.

Hermione believes that Ron either 1) likes her but is oblivious to his own feelings and so she thinks she has to “give him hints” to make him realize it. Emphasized best by this exchange:

Hermione laughed. “Harry you’re worse than Ron [at understanding girls]… well, no, you’re not, “ she sighed, as Ron himself came stumping into the Hall splattered with mud and looking grumpy.

“I’ve sent him so many signals and yet he doesn’t notice. Woe is me!”

2) doesn’t actually likes her, but sees her just as a good mate or worse, as another sister.

Hermione keeps flip-flopping between her two assumptions throughout the series, all because of her biggest assumption: she thinks that if Ron was interested in her, he would ask her out. Because Viktor Krum was interested in her, and he asked her out, so why wouldn’t Ron do the same? They’re both boys and she’s a girl, after all. Isn’t that how it works?

This is also why Hermione’s “““invitation”““ to the Slug Club isn’t even an invitation - really, it’s worse than Ron’s invite to the Yule Ball, at least he was actually offering her to come:

“We’re allowed to bring guests,” said Hermione, […], “and I was going to ask you to come, but […] I won’t bother.”

“I was going to ask you to come but I won’t bother.”

This is literally what she says. It’s more of a “look Ron! An invite! If you’re good maybe I’ll think about letting you have it!” than anything else.

It’s because this is Hermione’s last resort. The ultimate humiliation. She has to resort to inviting Ron when in her mind, he’s supposed to be the one asking her out. He’s the boy! He’s supposed to do it! (And this is why I laugh at all the fools who claim that Hermione is the pinnacle of feminism. Seriously, the girl is more of a misogynist than any other character in the series.)

Hermione failed to take into account that Ron’s insecurity cripples him worse than she imagines, and that he copes with it differently than she copes with her own insecurities.

And this is the part where I explain about Hermione’s hatred of being vulnerable.

You see, I can relate quite a lot to Hermione - I see a lot of me in her, and a lot of people who hurt me in the past as well.

Bullied because she was an easy target, being the know-it-all and local teacher’s pet? Yep. Bullied for her appearance (I got braces when I was 8 and have been wearing glasses since I was a toddler, she had her bushy hair and buck teeth)? Can relate. Cried easily? Super check. Rule enforcer when the teachers weren’t around? Mega check.

And naturally, when you’re such a water fountain as I was, there’s nothing more humiliating than ending up crying in front of your bullies. You quickly learn that it will bring you nothing but more bullying. More humiliation. More vulnerability.

Hence why you start despising any form of vulnerability you find in yourself.

Obviously, being in love? That’s one of the most terrible things you can find yourself in when you’re afraid of being vulnerable. Because, oh god, your feelings are completely insane around the person. They make or ruin your day. You keep wanting to show them how cool / great / impressive you are, and you try desperately to mask all your little faults so they will hopefully return your feelings.

Given that Hermione is already not the most socially-aware battering ram in the knife drawer, she acts especially nasty to Ron, because she’s overcompensating for the vulnerability he makes her feel. And she most likely isn’t even aware of it! Forget Fanfic Hermione cringing as she realizes how mean she sounds, welcome Canon Hermione who just doubles down on a pointless argument just to drive home how totally in control she is and how Ron has absolutely zero effect on her, no siree!

In short: Hermione overthinks. She overthinks everything. She’s overthinking every of Ron’s actions, she’s assuming he’s either out to get her because she assumes he’s perfectly aware of her crush on him and he’s just toying with her (this is the very insecure, pessimistic Hermione speaking), she’s assuming he’s completely oblivious to her feelings and so she uses the ages-old technique of the “subtle hints” to make her feelings known to him (and fails miserably because she doesn’t want to put herself out there too much in case he rejects her, which would be the ultimate humiliation and the worst possible thing to happen to her, in her teenage girl mind), and she’s assuming he’ll never like her the way she likes him, all the while being woefully oblivious to the fact that Ron does want to be with her but she keeps sending him signals that she sees him as a troublesome child rather than a potential partner.

All in all, a teenage Hermione in love is utter torture. She’s her own worst enemy, and it’s only when she decides to let go of it all - of the mind games, of the distancing, of the passive-aggressive; of the overthinking - and just takes a chance that her efforts bear fruit.

There was a clatter as the basilisk fangs cascaded out of Hermione’s arms. Running at Ron, she flung them around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Ron threw away the fangs and broomstick he was holding and responded with such enthusiasm that he lifted Hermione off her feet.

(As much as I’m disillusioned with Romione, this kiss is still one of my favourite parts of the series. They mutually sweep each other off their feet for god’s sake, you wish your ship would.)

#vivi answers #ask #romione #hermione granger #ron weasley #ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley defence squad #hp fandom #hp meta #character analysis #hp analysis #romance #teenagers

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liloelsagranger · 3 years

Text

Night shift - Chapter 2 (Rocketshipping)

Chapter 2:

The whip already raised for use, Jessiebelle reared up in front of James, who was cowering on the floor all intimidated. “Where have you been? Do you realize how worried I was?” She swung the whip and gave James a blow. James cried out in pain, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He knew that this little excursion into freedom would have consequences. Today Jessiebelle carried out the punishment with her favourite tool and throttled her fiancé without batting an eye.

“You have to be chastised, otherwise you might get ideas and leave me, and we both don’t want that, right James?”

The young man was trembling with pain. He grabbed his arm with the gaping wound. Sometimes he wanted to die, sometimes he wanted to leave this world, thoughts that had plagued him since he was a child. But the urge to be free and to be able to live his own life had prevented him from doing anything stupid until then and thinking of the waitress Jessie gave him new hope. Another lash!

“Please, Jessiebelle, stop!” he pleaded. “I’ve learned my lesson, I’ll never sneak away again, but please, have mercy!” Tears streamed down his face. Jessiebelle knelt beside her fiancé and gave him a small kiss on the cheek.

“This is the only way you will learn to be obedient and please your future wife. Sometimes you have to take harsher measures to open someone’s eyes to how much love is involved here. I love you, James,” she breathed into his ear. James cried bitter tears. If this is love, what does abysmal hatred feel like?

She left him crouching on the floor, alone in his pain and thick tears of despair. James was breathing heavily, he could barely move, but he had a mission and nothing and no one, certainly not Jessiebelle’s abuse would stop him. With the last of his strength, he tried to get to his feet, left the torture cellar and sank into his pillow, tired and exhausted. Tomorrow night he would see her again, Jessie. He imagined her smile, her sapphire blue eyes, and slipped into a fitful sleep.

The day dragged on endlessly. James counted the hours until he could sneak out through the service exit. When evening came, he waited for the right moment to dismiss the property. The servants covered him, they were on his side and could no longer watch this tragedy of a relationship.

“I hope the wound heals quickly, James. This tincture is a recipe from my grandmother, it is supposed to work wonders. Look how Jessiebelle is ruining you. You are a shadow of your former self.” Maria became quite emotional at the sight of those deep cuts. She had cared for James since he was a little boy every time his parents were traveling the world again. Seeing him like this, abused, beaten and mistreated, broke her heart. James put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about me, Maria. There’s someone worth living for,” he put on a weak smile. “And I really need to see her,” he pressed on the tourniquet and disappeared into the night.

As James walked along the Strip, he noticed the many carnies and performers. Some were painting portraits of the tourists; others were juggling ten balls at once. Others sang and played music and thrilled the guests with little show acts. It wasn’t long before James spotted Ash, who was holding the crowd spellbound with his Pikachu. He had many tricks up his sleeve and his little Pokémon was exceptionally well trained. They were a welded team and impressed the audience with a fantastic interlude consisting of various electric attacks that Pikachu was capable of. The crowd went wild, applauded and cheered. The coins were already jingling, the bills flowing. James wanted to do more than one good deed today and secretly put a hundred-Pokédollar bill in Ash’s hat. With it, he and his friends could enjoy a delicious dinner at the Diner. Ash could hardly believe his eyes when he fished the large bill out of his hat. His mouth was open, never had he received so much tip before. His gaze wandered through the audience and stuck to James.

“Hey! Aren’t you the guy who was at the Diner last night?” he asked him. James nodded his head. “Wow! What happened to your face? Where did you get that black eye?” Ash wondered. Should James tell him a tall tale or come clean with the truth? He didn’t know this boy at all and honestly, he didn’t want to hang his private life on the big bell.

“Work accident,” James replied. Ash nodded his understanding and stowed the big money in his pocket. He had no idea that his sponsor was standing right in front of him.

“Are you coming by today? Fridays are fish day, you’ll miss out on the tastiest salmon and sea food if you don’t show up later.”

That’s when it slipped out of James’ mouth. “Is Jessie having a night shift tonight?” It was so foolish, he felt pretty stupid. What kind of impression did this make on young Ash? The boy grinned maliciously.

“Jessie is at the Diner every single night, trying to keep herself and that place afloat, it takes hard work, but she’s up to any problem. So yeah, she’ll be there. Why?”

James blushed to the roots of his hair. “Oh nothing, she just served me very well.” James shrugged it off, but one question still burned on his mind. “This man, who works with her at the Diner. Is that her boyfriend?” Ash laughed out loud.

“You mean Eddy? He’s ace. All he wants are close and deep friendships, but nothing more. A hug is still in, but not a step further. You don’t have to worry about him but let me give you some good advice. Give Jessie some space and don’t press her. Life wasn’t always easy for her.” Ash packed up his paraphernalia and disappeared down a dark side street.

Late in the evening, James hardly dared to show up at the Diner. He was visibly nervous and couldn’t quite explain to himself why. Of course, he was happy to see Jessie again and to enjoy her first-class service, to feel her warm smile on his skin. On the other hand, he didn’t want her to see him maltreated like that. But when he entered the restaurant, the atmosphere was really tense. He discovered the large bouquet of flowers that he had secretly sent her, but Jessie seemed to be anything but pleased about it. He approached the waitress and overheard snippets of conversation that made him shudder. Turning to Eddy, she showed her best friend the small note James had enclosed. “He’s trying to suck up again, that lousy guy! Signs it with a friggin J. Like I wouldn’t guess it’s that assface of Jack’s who’s supposedly trying to make up with me. Throw this bouquet in the trash can right now, Eddy! Get it out of my sight!” she commanded. This action had gone completely wrong. But how could James have known that Jessie’s ex-boyfriend’s name started with a J, too? He put a hand on her shoulder and Jessie immediately winced. “Oh, it’s you. Sorry, I didn’t see anyone enter de Diner. I’ll come right over and take your order.” She heaved a deep sigh, gave way to her anger, and kicked the trash can with all her might.

James had probably hit the wrong nerve. Now he felt all the more pathetic. He wanted to please Jessie with the bouquet and show his gratitude for the nice service, but this action was a shot in the foot.

The waitress was beside herself when she reached James’ table. Her hair was mussed, she rummaged in her apron for her tiny notebook to write down the incoming orders and could not concentrate on her guests. Something had to have happened, and James was trying to figure out how to help Jessie. It was his turn to ask her about her day. “Miserable, James. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong! But I don’t want to burden you with my stuff, I’m sure you have other things to worry about, judging by your eye…” James’ hand shot up. “I’ll get you cooling pads”, Jessie was overly attentive and James liked that feeling of being cared for by someone. There was no emotion in his relationship with Jessiebelle, except for pain and hatred. There could never be any question of love. It was an arranged engagement, and his parents didn’t care how much James suffered from Jessiebelle’s mannerisms. James wanted to offer Jessie all his attention in return, he wanted to listen to her, ask her how her day had been and talk for hours about trivial things that made him forget for a short time the strains of a botched relation.

“Here’s your coke and a turkey sandwich. Enjoy!” she forced herself to smile, but the day’s toil was gnawing away at her. James had to take the initiative. “Please, sit down for a minute. There aren’t many guests, you can certainly take a short break”, he offered her the seat next to him. She looked around, nodded wearily, and let herself sink into the chair. “What a day,” Jessie grabbed the menu card and fanned herself. He turned to her, eyeing her beautiful face, and straining to take in her every word. “Maybe you’ve already noticed, but the Strip is no place for rich snobs. Drunks and homeless people hang out here. Most of the guys who come to my Diner can’t even pay, so they charge me. Unfortunately, at the end of the month there is barely enough for the rent…and food must also be purchased. We work to the limit, staying open late to make a few Pokédollars, but it just doesn’t pay. Cassidy paid us a visit today. You remember? That broad from the newspaper? She threatened to kick us out, said she was going take the Diner away from us piece by piece. I just don’t know what to do, we barley make ends meet and we have far too few guests. What should I do? Oh, why am I talking to you, you have enough problems,” she buried her face in her hands and sighed. James stroked her cheek. He could have bought the Diner at the push of a button, but he didn’t want to be liked for his money, he wanted to be liked for who he was, the real him.

“Don’t hang your head, I could help you out after all. I don’t want a salary, a roof over my head and a warm sandwich in the evening is perfectly fine”, he smiled encouragingly at her. ‘And I can be closer to you,’ he didn’t say it out loud. She raised her head and looked at him questioningly. “What do you want in this shabby place? I’m sure you have better places to stay and besides, I really can’t pay you anything, we’re almost broke…”

James felt embarrassed. If only Jessie knew how much he wanted to escape the shackles of this terrible relationship. He wanted to be free, no matter what the cost. He wanted to have air to breathe, he wanted to laugh and have a zest for life, and that’s what he hoped to find at the Diner. With people who could show compassion, who responded to the needs of others, without batting an eye, were willing to offer a helping hand to even the most down-and-out creatures on the Strip. “You know, I have some idea about advertising and marketing. With just a piece of cardboard and my loud blabbermouth, I can double your customer base. Trust me,” he held out his hand to her and she took it. What tender, soft skin. So fragile. What have these hands had to endure? Cleaning, washing, cooking, tidying up. Such delicate hands must be protected, and James already knew how. He wished this handshake would never stop. For the first time he felt the perky waitress and it was overwhelming. A slight tug in his heart area told him where this journey would lead, and he hoped Jessie would be the destination. He had never felt so attracted to a woman before. She was different, she was a fighter that not even the worst news could wear out. For a brief moment, they looked at each other, smiling. No words were needed to describe the attraction between these two. They lost themselves in their gazes, even if it was only for a split second. Something blossomed between them, a tiny flame of hope, of forgetting and of new beginnings.

“I’m about to get out my violin and serve them a plate of spaghetti with meatballs,” Eddy murmured to one of their guests. “Yes, yes, our Jessie has sworn off love, but she seems to make a big and fat exception with James…” “Let there be fish for everyone! Let’s celebrate, my friends!” Ash rumbled into the Diner, followed by his two best mates, Misty and Brock. They immediately destroyed the intimate moment between Jessie and her new co-worker James. They both jumped up and tried to hide their blushes. Jessie cleared her throat. “Get to work, James! We don’t want to keep our guests waiting!”

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

Photo

“I finished crying in the instant that you left, And I can't remember where or when or how, And I banished every memory you and I had ever made! But when you touch me like this, and you hold me like that, I just have to admit that it's all coming back to me... When I touch you like this, and I hold you like that, It's so hard to believe, but it's all coming back to me... It's all coming back -- it's all coming back to me now... There were moments of gold And there were flashes of light -- There were things I'd never do again, But then they'd always seemed right...”

~“It’s All Coming Back to Me,” by Celine Dion

x~x~x~x

AUGH, my heart! I blame this 100% on @mira-shard sending me that ship ask for my book-smart, people-dumb spaceman Jacob Cromwell and his boy best friend Duncan and reminding me how friggin’ much I adore these two. They hurt my heart so much and yet I love them with all of my heart and soul. ;~;

This is set toward the end of Carewyn’s sixth year, right after that certain Redacted event. This is also the first time these two have seen each other since Duncan died...and yeah, as you can expect, their reunion was pretty damn feelsy.

Jacob Cromwell had been working hard on his own almost all of that school year to reach the Sunken Vault before Rakepick, but after finding out that R was still actively targeting Carewyn by sending members like the Wizard in White after her, he became all the more determined to try to force them away from the Hogwarts grounds. Unfortunately for Jacob, R was one step ahead of him. Using the blood they’d managed to collect after badly injuring Jacob the previous year, they had Blaise Cromwell use Polyjuice Potion to masquerade as his nephew and sneak into the school so as to have access to his niece Carewyn, who R’s leader (Jacob and Carewyn’s cold-hearted maternal grandfather Charles Cromwell) ultimately wanted among their ranks as well.

While masquerading as Jacob, Blaise learned Carewyn was still planning on chasing after the Vaults, with the blessing of Mad-Eye Moody, who was currently investigating R himself, and after putting on a weak act of discouraging her, he “accepted her help” and subtly encouraged her to not tell her friends anything else about the Vaults, supposedly for “their safety,” but truthfully because Blaise didn’t want Carewyn to have ties anywhere outside of their family and organization. Blaise did suss out, however, that there were a few people in Carewyn’s circle of associates who were reluctant to leave the Cursed Vaults alone and “stay out of R’s business,” including Ben Copper, who Blaise in particular felt a searing distaste for, given that he was not only a “filthy Mudblood,” but he also was one of Carewyn’s first friends who was incredibly overprotective of her. After Blaise discussed the matter with his father Charles, it was decided that R should “deal” with Ben Copper the same way R had dealt with Duncan Ashe -- namely, to make an example out of him, which would not only scare Carewyn into line, but also take out a potential threat to their overall plan to isolate their target so they’d have no one else to fall back on.

Just as they had whenever Blaise infiltrated the school, R purposefully led Jacob away from the grounds, this time with the Wizard in White as a decoy. Since the Wizard had recently threatened Carewyn’s life, Jacob immediately charged after him with a vengeance, determined to hunt him down and kill him so that he’d never touch “his Pip” again. Unfortunately after several weeks of doggedly pursuing the Wizard in White all across London, he escaped, and Jacob in utter frustration was forced to return to Hogwarts and continue trying to access the Sunken Vault, even if he knew no way to do so without both of the Coral Keys that unlocked the outer and inner doors. It was only when Jacob returned to Scotland that he learned Rakepick had returned to Hogwarts the day he first left and had killed someone in the Forbidden Forest -- and it was a few days later, late at night, that Jacob was confronted by a familiar voice in the Lakehouse that was his hiding place.

“So you are here, then.”

Jacob’s heart stopped. Whipping out his white Aspen wand, the ex-Ravenclaw whirled around so violently that he nearly knocked over the overturned boat on the floor behind him.

Hovering over him was a translucent shape of a seventeen-year old wizard. He wore Hogwarts robes, but due to the bluish-gray tint of his form, the uniform’s house colors weren’t identifiable. Not that Jacob would’ve needed to try to guess what house he’d been in -- he already knew the young man was in Slytherin. Jacob had gone to talk to him in their very first year all because he was a Slytherin and could answer that random question Jacob had had about the Slytherin commonroom...

Jacob’s almond-shaped blue eyes went very wide, losing almost all of their light, as his face blanched.

“...Ashe...?”

His voice left his lips in such a hushed whisper, it was like the breath had passed his lips without any diction whatsoever.

Duncan crossed his arms moodily. “Long time no see, Jacob. I’m curious -- did your sister just not tell you I was still around, or did you actively decide I wasn’t worth a visit?”

Jacob’s blue eyes flooded with pain as he shakily lowered his wand arm.

“Ashe...” he whispered again feebly.

The facial reaction didn’t move Duncan -- instead he plowed on.

“I mean, Hell, apparently Madame Pince even managed to catch sight of you before I did. Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, though...you always did run to books for all your answers, rather than use any common sense -- ”

Jacob did not know what Duncan was talking about, but in that moment, he had trouble articulating that on top of everything else he was feeling. It felt like his heart had swollen up in his chest and was slamming up against his ribs, throbbing with pulsing pain as he clumsily tucked his wand back into his robes.

“Ashe...” he tried again, but it was no use. His throat was so tight, it was like it was being squeezed...

“Then again,” laughed Duncan humorlessly, “‘common sense’ was never exactly common for you, was it? Nor was tact, patience, humility, sensitivity, or even a shred of self-control -- ”

“Ashe -- ”

“I mean, if I’d abandoned the precious little sister who I’d never bloody shut up about for seven years,” said Duncan in a very harsh, cutting voice, “I probably wouldn’t have immediately abandoned her again and only bothered checking in with her after finding out that someone might want to kill her because of me! You kept saying to me, ‘I gotta protect Pip,’ ‘I’ve gotta take care of Carewyn’ -- well, where the Hell were you, Jacob? Where were you this last month!? Where were you after she broke you out of that Vault!? Where were you, when I had to pick up your slack?! Just like I always do -- just like I’ve always done, ever since you waltzed your way into my -- !?”

“Ashe!”

The surname came out oddly choked. Duncan looked Jacob in the face fully for the first time, and immediately faltered.

The ex-Ravenclaw had hunched in on himself in the face of Duncan’s tirade. His hollowed-out blue eyes were very weak and rippling with moisture that he fiercely fought back. Although his shoulders hadn’t crumpled, they were shaking, as were his hands as they clutched at the sleeves of his elegant scarlet dress robes. His...very familiar scarlet dress robes...

Something twitched in Duncan’s expression.

“Ashe...you...” Jacob gave a very painful-looking swallow. “...You’re here.”

Duncan tried to glower at him. “Well spotted.”

He hated how much Jacob was shaking, and how it looked like he was fighting back tears. Jacob didn’t respond to Duncan’s sarcasm -- he appeared unable to.

“You’ve...been here all this time...all these years...you stayed behind?”

His voice was very quiet. He clutched at the sleeves of his dress robes.

“I thought you’d gone on!” Jacob burst out, his voice very strained. “I thought -- you’d left...”

“Well, clearly I didn’t!” Duncan shot back, more defensively that he’d intended. He didn’t like seeing Jacob like this -- didn’t like seeing him so upset -- didn’t like how...his voice echoed with something like remorse...longing...

Jacob’s hands shook more as he squeezed his arms in a vice grip, staring at Duncan as if he were a faded photograph he hadn’t seen in years and wished to carve into his memory before it became too damaged to salvage.

“When I was in the Portrait, I spent days and weeks wishing I could have just one more minute with you -- maybe fifteen, or thirty, just -- enough time to tell you every little thing I never did before...”

Jacob seemed unable to finish. He broke off, his head falling so that his eyes fell into shadow.

“...But -- but knowing you are here -- that you’re here like this...after I couldn’t save you, after R targeted us -- ”

Duncan flinched. The pain and self-hatred in Jacob’s eyes -- it looked just like the kind he’d seen in another pair of blue almond-shaped eyes not too long ago, in response to her having lost her best friend. At the time Duncan had briefly wondered if Jacob had reacted as badly to his death as Carewyn did Rowan Khanna’s, but had pushed off the thought. It was something he couldn’t believe -- didn’t want to believe.

“Ashe...” Jacob murmured. His voice had become rather level and absent, as it always was when he was thinking, even though the clenched hands on his arms were still shaking terribly, “Ashe, I’ve been such a fool...I don’t know how I never saw it before...how much I cared, how much I wanted you -- wanted us to...be an ‘us’...to swoop in and just...take you home to Pip and Mum, and...be a family together -- to break curses and travel the world and get into fights and then kiss and make up and get into trouble and then out of it again and laugh a lot and do stupid stuff and change the world and...maybe, I dunno, adopt some kids down the road or something -- I’d probably be a pretty lousy father, and we could’ve completely fallen apart, and the whole thing could’ve ended up being a mistake, but...thinking on it, all those years...all I could come back to over and over again was hating not knowing -- not knowing if we could’ve been happy together, if...well, even if we were a disaster, at least we still could’ve been something -- had something -- ”

Duncan felt a familiar burning sensation in the back of eyes, and it made him lash out.

“GET BENT, JACOB CROMWELL!”

Jacob’s head shot up, taken aback. Duncan held up a clenched fist as if he longed to punch Jacob right in the face.

“I’m mad at you!” shouted Duncan. “I’m allowed to be mad at you! After every mistake you made, for every bloody mistake you’re still making and will no doubt make for the rest of your sodding life, I should be mad at you! You never bloody learn and you always dash headlong into situations without using that brilliant brain of yours to think twice! And yet you...”

Duncan’s eyes were filling up with tears.

“You...you’re making it bloody impossible! I want to yell at you! I want to hate you! I want to know you never cared and I was a fool for ever wasting my time on you, because otherwise my whole reason for staying behind -- ”

The thought hurt Duncan too much, and he furiously shoved the end of that sentence away.

“I want to resent you for the rest of my undead days, and yet there you go, looking like that and rambling on like an idiot and...and...”

A tear leaked out the side of his eye. Despite the anger in his expression, Duncan was shaking too now. His other hand tentatively rose, hovering just shy of Jacob’s pale face as if he longed to touch it.

“...and...making me fall for you all over again,” choked Duncan, his voice very low and muffled in the back of his throat.

Jacob looked like he too was fighting back the urge to try to touch Duncan as he stared up into his light-less eyes. Like the rest of him, there was a tint of ghostly blueish-gray to them, even though they’d been such a warm, bright brown in life.

“Ashe...”

“Jacob, for the love of -- stop saying my name like that! I told you I’m mad at you!”

Even as he said it, Duncan’s transparent fingers grazed Jacob’s face, making Jacob shiver slightly at the cold as it passed through his skin.

“...Why?” said Duncan softly.

“What?”

“My robes,” Duncan clarified. “You kept them.”

Jacob’s eyes pulsed with emotion, both pained and almost offended.

“Well, of course I kept them,” he retorted hotly. “You gave them to me. Did you assume I’d just stick them in the back of my closet?”

“Sort of,” said Duncan a bit awkwardly.

Jacob’s face actually flickered with some righteous anger. “Because you wanted to believe I didn’t care?”

“Don’t turn this around on me!” Duncan shot back defensively. “What was I supposed to think, after you disappeared without a trace -- after all of the things I heard about you doing R’s dirty work -- ?”

“You KNEW R forced me to join them!” shouted Jacob. “You KNEW what they had over me -- what they almost did to Pip! You KNEW I would never, ever abandon Pip and Mum by my own choice -- ”

“I KNOW!” Duncan said fiercely.

The transparent hand that had been beside Jacob’s face clasped weakly at the air beside his hair, as if he longed to grab hold of it.

“...I know...” he said in a more hushed, strained voice.

Jacob’s blue eyes were still blazing with mild frustration.

“Ashe, I wore these robes for you, the night I went to the Portrait Vault,” he said lowly.

Duncan was startled.

“I wanted you with me, when I broke the last two Vaults’ curses -- when I saved Olivia...”

Jacob’s gaze betrayed a strange, almost beastly glint -- like vengeance, but much darker and more hostile.

“I wanted you with me when I demolished R and everything they’ve ever wanted and chased after. I still do. I want to make every last one of them pay for everything they took from me -- everyone they took from me.”

Duncan stared at Jacob, his expression strained with disbelief and something oddly touched.

“Jacob...”

He once again looked like he wanted to touch Jacob’s face, to trail his fingers through his dark curls. His light-less eyes fell away from Jacob’s and came down to rest on his lips instead.

“...You know I can’t help you do much of anything, like this.”

Jacob’s expression turned a bit more serious. “There is one thing you can do for me -- make sure Pip doesn’t leave the castle again. I heard Rakepick killed someone in the Forbidden Forest -- I can’t let her do the same to -- ”

“You can’t shield Carewyn from R, Jacob,” said Duncan very sharply.

“I can and I will,” spat Jacob fiercely.

Duncan’s lips came together very tightly.

“Do you know who that person was?” the ghost said very lowly. “The one Rakepick killed?”

Jacob’s expression lost some of its anger, seeing how oddly grave Duncan’s expression had become.

“Her name was Rowan Khanna,” said Duncan. “Sixth year Slytherin, supposedly in the running to be Hogwarts Head Girl. ...She’s also your sister’s best friend.”

Jacob’s eyes went very, very wide in horror.

“...No...”

His head fell. His eyes stared down at the floor, but didn’t seem to see it -- his mind was racing, unable to keep up with the horror of this news.

“Carewyn was lured out to the Forest after finding a Quill addressed to you in your old room,” Duncan told him sharply. “Three of her friends followed her and tried to protect her when Rakepick confronted her there.” Duncan’s voice lowered significantly as he added, “....She’d been sent with orders from R to kill one of your sister’s friends -- to send a message.”

Jacob once again clutched at his own arms, his flurry of thoughts darting across his eyes as he stared at the floor.

“They played me,” he whispered. “They knew I wanted to protect Pip -- so they sent the Wizard in White to attack her at the Lakeshore, so I’d fear him going after her...so I’d chase after him to try to stop him, even if it meant leaving Pip alone...”

His head shot up, and his eyes were narrowed in urgency and confusion.

“You said there was a message for me, in my room? Pip found my room?”

“A few years ago, I believe,” said Duncan. “I reckon it would’ve been a logical place to look, if she wanted to figure out what the hell you were up to, before you vanished...if she could even have found anything, in that absolute mess you always worked out of -- ”

“But why would there have been a message for me there?” said Jacob, his eyebrows knitting together. “I haven’t gone in there since I was expelled...”

Duncan frowned. “Well, R might’ve heard about you going into the Library...”

“But that’s just it!” said Jacob. “I didn’t! I haven’t entered the school since I left! It’s not exactly easy to break into Hogwarts -- and if I did and got caught, then where would I be, in protecting Pip and stopping R? I can’t let them get into the Sunken Vault first!”

Duncan suddenly looked almost as troubled as Jacob.

“...So...you haven’t entered Hogwarts at all? But...then why did Pince and Filch see you inside?”

A thought struck his mind.

“...Jacob...when was the last time you spoke to your sister? Not just saw her, I mean, really spoke to her.”

Jacob frowned deeply. “Last year, in Knockturn Alley. Though we didn’t really have much time to talk then, either...”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed in anxiety. “Jacob...Carewyn told her friends that you ‘don’t tell her much, whenever you meet.’ That doesn’t sound like something that someone would say after only seeing her brother once in an entire school year. It sounds like someone who’s been meeting him regularly.”

Jacob stiffened visibly. His eyebrows furrowed over his eyes as they wandered over the walls and floor.

“Something’s not right,” he said lowly.

He turned on his heel, whipping out his white wand as he went.

“I need to find out what’s going on. Ashe...while I’m gone, please -- ”

“Jacob, stop.”

Duncan swept right through Jacob, making the smaller man shudder. The ghost hovered over Jacob, his translucent robes flapping silently on either side of him.

“Before you go running off without thinking again,” said Duncan sardonically, “talk to your sister.”

Jacob looked hesitant and slightly ashamed.

“I need to protect her -- ”

“No, you need to be there for her,” Duncan cut him off fiercely. “She’s just lost the first real friend she ever made in her life -- someone she cares about like few others. There’s only one person in this entire world who might know what that’s like...”

Duncan swallowed back the lump in his throat.

“...If you...truly cared, when I died, Jacob...then you’re the only person who might know what she needs, right now.”

Jacob closed his eyes and turned away, unable to reply. His fist clenched over the Aspen wand at his side.

“...Does she hate me?” he asked at last, very lowly. “Does she blame me...for what happened?”

Duncan’s eyes softened slightly. “You know she doesn’t.”

This didn’t seem to comfort Jacob, though. If anything, it made him more upset -- like he thought she should blame him.

Duncan exhaled heavily. “Jacob, please -- I know you want to protect Carewyn, and I know there’s not much time to stop R from reaching the Sunken Vault...but...”

A strange wry smile pricked at the corner of his lips.

“...if there’s one thing your sister has taught me...it’s how much knowing that someone cares -- that you’re not alone -- can mean.”

Jacob’s posture straightened slightly.

“She’s shouldered a lot by herself since you left, Jacob,” said Duncan. “Her friends are trying to help her with it now...but I think the help she really needs is yours.”

Jacob was silent for another long moment. Then he turned just enough to look at Duncan over his shoulder -- his lips had curled up in a crooked, sad smile.

“...You really did look after my Pip for me.”

Duncan gave a loud huff and crossed his arms. “It’s not like I could’ve not picked up your slack.”

His expression betrayed a bit more seriousness as he added, “...She’s a fine lass, Jacob.”

Jacob’s eyes squinted almost fondly. “She is.”

The smile then slid off his face.

“If Pip wants to see me, just...tell her to go out toward the Lake after dark and shoot up red sparks. I’ll come running right out to her. ...Will you tell her that, for me?”

Duncan nodded. “Of course.”

“Thank you. And Ashe?”

“Yeah?”

Jacob swallowed.

“You know how I feel about you...right?”

Duncan’s expression turned rather snarky. “Of course I do. You kept me around so you’d have someone to show off to.”

Jacob immediately looked irritated, and Duncan quickly added in exasperation, “Oh, come on, you know I know! Just...”

His transparent cheeks darkened with a dark blue flush as he glanced away out the side of his eye.

“Just...say it anyway.”

Jacob’s expression cleared, slowly breaking out into a bright grin that made him look years younger.

“...I love you.”

Duncan closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly through his nose.

“I have for a while,” Jacob pressed on, “dunno really how long, but...”

“All right, that’ll do,” Duncan said under his breath brusquely, despite the dark flush still clinging to his face. “I love you too -- so don’t go off and get yourself killed too, all right?”

With this, Duncan swept right past Jacob, brushing through his hair as he disappeared through the Lakehouse’s wall and back toward the school.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #my art #my writing #duncan ashe #jacob cromwell #carewyn cromwell #blaise cromwell #charles cromwell #*cranks up the celine dion*#THESE TWOOOO #I love putting them in AUs where they can actually be a couple and have a slightly happier ending where neither becomes a ghost #*eyes the potc au*#*and also the lotr au*#I may dislike the 'bury the gays' trope but I kind of like subverting by having duncan's death not be the end of either of their stories #or characters arcs for that matter #plus duncan gets to bond with his unofficial sister-in-law and help with the Vaults!!#yay #oh by the way duncan's wearing bell bottoms bc he and jacob went to school in the 70's #so I draw all of their uniforms with that 70's flair #I drew young!gilderoy lockhart with those bellbottoms on his school uniform once back in the day too #but yeah anyway #damn it jam city #duncan ashe deserves better #caps cw

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

Text

Written In The Stars CIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I know last book ended horribly but I promise this one won’t be entirely sad, just a bit frustrating– Enjoy and please leave feedback! -Danny

Words: 3,888

Series’ Masterlist

Book IV // Next Chapter

Listen to: Then -by Anne-Marie

Chapter One: A Lousy Summer.

1974

Emily wasn't going to cry where the girls would be able to hear.

She could've used a spell to quiet her own sobs, but she just needed to be in a place where there was no need to hide.

So she went to the common room, drowning her cries on a blanket and wondering how was she going to crawl her way out of this one. She thought it was unfair, she'd never experienced something so embarrassing prior this moment. Wasn't love supposed to be beautiful?

"Mily?"

The girl gave a start and cleaned her face hastily.

"Padfoot," She tried to sound casual. "What's wrong? Had a nightmare about cats chasing your tail?"

"Are you okay?" He walked up to her, ignoring the teasing. "I'm sure that if you were to talk to them..."

"I think it's clear enough," Emily averted her gaze. "All of us want things we can't have."

"That's not true."

"What exactly should I do after the humiliation I went through?" She sniffed. "He kissed me in front of everyone! I can't be near him and I refuse to be around Lily, I don't want to see any of them!"

"Mily, when I tell you Matt got the worse deal..." Sirius frowned. "The look on his face–"

"You don't need to remind me," Emily lamented. "Why can't I like him back?"

"You can't force things to happen," He shrugged. "If I could make all of you forget I would, but you'd find a way to do whatever you want anyway."

"This is not the time for jokes..."

"Talk to Moony then," Sirius complained. "I'm not good at comforting people..."

"I don't want to talk! Can we just... sit in silence?"

The girl curled up and got closer, he wrapped an arm around her awkwardly.

Really –Sirius thought with exasperation– What was she expecting? This was bound to happen, one of them would eventually develop a crush on her...

Well, more than one... but Sirius was going to take that secret to the grave. It was out of place, Matthew was way better than him– Hell, anyone was a better choice! But tonight it was just the two of them... and Emily had asked him to stay.

"It'll get better, right?" She asked quietly. "I'll get over my stupid crush and so will Matthew... we'll be back to normal in no time..."

"You were never normal," He joked.

"You know what I mean..."

"Yeah," He fixed his gaze on the dying fire, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "If you ask me, James doesn't know what he's missing..."

1995

It was the driest and hottest month of the year back in Private Drive, but Mel was freezing at the front door of Grimmauld Place.

Her mother led her in as she closed the door behind them, Mel hugged Grey's basket closer, thinking a ghost would walk out of the hall. Instead, Sirius walked in with a bright smile.

"You're here!"

Mel looked around dubiously.

"This is your house?"

"Mel! Don't be rude!"

"That's okay," Sirius made a face. "This place is hot rubbish. Your room's clean though. I made sure you'd be comfortable. I know it's hard to be away from home, stuck in such a... place."

"Well, at least you're here," She smiled. "I'm sure I'll get used to it."

"Hand me those," Sirius grabbed her trunk and walked ahead of them. "Let me take you to your rooms... Try to be quiet, my mother's portrait is mental. I tried to take it down but she glued it there. It's bloody torture."

"Language, Padfoot," Emily said, though she was far more interested in the house-elves on the shelves. "Love the decor..."

"Don't mention it," The man growled. "The house-elf that kept the house clean while I was young used to be here, I have no idea where he is, but I haven't found him. I can't wait to throw all those heads out."

"You think he died?"

"I'll find him eventually."

"So this will be the headquarters for the Order?" The girl asked, choosing to ignore his vague answer.

She'd read her mother's letters in secret until Emily found her snooping around, by then it was too late, so Emily didn't see the point on hiding it anymore.

"That's right," Sirius opened the first door of the second landing. "I figured, if I can't be of use out there, the least I can do is give a safe place where to have our meetings. It's secured with a Fidelious charm, Dumbledore did it last Saturday when he heard you were coming."

"Interesting..." Mel looked around. "Who used to sleep in this room?"

"Guests, that's why it's so plain. I thought you'd like it that way, my family wasn't keen on jolly decorations."

"I noticed," Mel grinned.

"You must be hungry, coming all this way from Remus' place. Why don't we go to the kitchen and have lunch? We can unpack later..."

Mel was helping her mother set the table when she heard a strange noise coming from the corner of the kitchen.

"What's in there?"

"It's where the elf used to keep his appliances... there might be rats in there, be careful."

When she opened the door something fell swiftly on her feet and she screamed, jumping on the table.

"What happened?" Emily circled the table. "Oh–! Sirius! I believe Mel found your elf..."

"Is he alive?" The girl asked in terror.

The creature looked ancient and dirty, with a sneer that she'd never seen in an elf before; usually, they were all smiles and compliments. This one started to insult them as soon as he lifted himself from the ground.

"Rats! Thieves! Traitors of the blood had come to rob my masters' treasures!"

"Kreacher," Sirius said. "Shut up."

The elf closed his mouth tightly but sent Sirius a deathly glare.

"He listens to me because I'm the last member of my family that still lives. Be of use, Kreacher, go clean my mother's room."

The elf's eyes shone with anger but he turned away and vanished.

"He always liked to throw tantrums," Sirius added, pulling Mel down from the table. "You're okay?"

"Yeah– it took me by surprise..."

"You jumped so high!" Her mother laughed.

"Laugh at your daughter, will you?" Mel scoffed. "Not like you're the adult or anything..."

"No one here is allowed to be an adult," Sirius crossed his arms. "Not unless we're holding a meeting. In which case we're adults. Today there won't be any, though."

"Don't listen to her, she's just upset about spending summer away from Harry," Emily mentioned.

"I'm not," She replied tensely.

"It's okay, I was beyond sad the first time I had to leave Matt for–"

"I don't feel that way about Harry," Mel retorted roughly.

"What?" Her mother's smile fell. "What happened?"

She bent down to pick up the things that fell when she'd jumped on the table.

"I'd rather not talk about it..."

"Am I missing something?" Sirius raised a brow.

"Last summer Mel told us she was having feelings for Harry..." Her mum began carefully, "I thought it was still a thing..."

"I'll tell you what it was. Stupid..." The lump in her throat formed at a remarkable speed. "I should've known better..."

"Did you talk to him?"

"He doesn't like me, Mum."

Sirius and Emily shared a look, the woman moved to hug her.

"We can talk about it if you want? Once you're ready..."

"Can we have lunch?" Mel asked quietly.

"Sure thing, little Em," Sirius nodded. "I'm a brilliant cook. Your mother's skills will be put to shame."

"How're you so sure?" Emily grinned.

"Because I remember your cooking."

Mel was spending some quality time with Buckbeak when Sirius walked in. It was almost midnight and her mother had gone out on a mission.

"Is it okay if I join you?"

Mel shrugged.

"I know you said you didn't want to talk about it, but maybe you'd like to talk to me now?"

The girl remained silent.

"C'mon, Mel! We'll live under the same roof for a while, let's practise our social skills!"

"My social skills are fine, thanks."

"I heard from a reliable source that you're still scared of speaking to large crowds..."

"I simply don't find it exciting," She lied.

"Well then, I'm not a thousand people, but I have a nice pair of ears that would love to listen to fifteen-year-olds' problems."

"I'm sure your godson will have plenty once he's back."

"He's been demoted to my godson?" Sirius taunted.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"All right, we won't talk about him... What about your father?"

"What about him?"

"Well, when he was about your age–"

"He kissed my mum and she turned him down?" She replied tiredly. "So what? They married anyway..."

Sirius frowned.

"They didn't know they were going to marry each other, that's what! Matt didn't look like himself for weeks! Your mother'd been rejected, that's why your dad kissed her. He thought it would help... to this day I don't know why he thought that, but alas, it worked!"

"Did you know the other?" Mel asked. "That kid mum used to like?"

"A fool," Sirius shrugged. "A nice fool, but an idiot nonetheless... your parents were lucky, Mel. They found a way to fall in love, but even if that hadn't been the case, your father would've found someone– your mother would've found someone... It's not that we're meant to find just one person and stick to it. Most times it's just finding an equal that understands you and suits your needs, and there are plenty of those."

"I don't want anyone," Mel pouted. "I hate this, and I wish there was a way I could avoid liking people. It's hideous."

Sirius laughed.

"Trust me, you'll regret it if you don't give someone a chance. Though I'll tell you this, no person in this world will ever be fully worthy of you, little Em. And even if it's true and you don't find one, your life will still be full of adventures."

Mel didn't think she was that great, but whatever had happened between Harry and she felt right, it felt natural, she'd been able to see a future with the boy. Then again, that could've been her childish and gullible self thinking that her first love was going to last forever. Maybe, if she were to try hard enough, she'd be able to see someone taking Harry's place.

"Have you ever been in love?" Then she added rather bashfully. "I mean, not that I have, but you know..."

Sirius cleared his throat.

"It was a long time ago. Long before leaving Hogwarts... It wasn't meant to be, nor my place."

They fell in comfortable silence, watching Buckbead nibble some bones.

"If you really want to help me," Mel started. "You can teach me how to avoid detention..."

"Nice try," Sirius laughed. "Emily warned me about you... My official answer is no."

"What about your off-the-record answer?" She inquired, standing up at the same time as him.

"Only the days Mily's not in the house."

Kreacher kept insisting on following her around as if she were a criminal, making sure she wasn't touching any of his old trinkets. She didn't have any interest in doing so; everything had dark magic, she'd sense it without even having to touch them.

On a normal day, she'd go to the attic to spend time with Buckbeak, sometimes Sirius would make tea and they'd sit there talking about his adventures in Hogwarts. He'd tried several times to ask her about Harry, but she would ignore him every time.

Dumbledore visited one morning to ask her to keep it all a secret, what they were doing there, meaning that if she was planning on sending letters to Harry, she wasn't allowed to talk about the Order. But Mel wasn't writing to him at all, and her letters to Hermione and Ron were always vague. Both of them were under the impression that Mel, true to her nature, was keeping an updated knowledge on Harry's whereabouts, that she didn't confirm nor denied.

Erick wrote to her a week after she'd moved to Grimmauld Place. Anne went completely unmentioned, but that was expected. He was busy looking for young supporters, things got a bit complicated when Eliot Flint got sick again and Erick had to look after him. He seemed to be having just as a dreadful summer as she was.

It wasn't that her mother, Lupin, and Sirius would leave her to rot inside this huge house, but they were adults who had their minds set on important matters, and she had nothing to do but overthink about him.

She still had feelings, but she was doing her best to bury them. Mel was hoping that once in Hogwarts she'd find a way to be okay with his existence. She didn't want to get rid of him altogether, that was impossible.

"I take that you're having a rough morning?" Sirius spoke from the doorway.

Mel gave a start, looking up from her seat at the kitchen table.

"I had a nightmare," She said drowsily.

"Same as before?" Sirius knew about her dreams, but that day she didn't want to talk about them. Today all she wanted to do was to sit in silence and drink her coffee.

"Have you had breakfast already?"

"No. I came here so Kreacher would stop nagging about me trying to steal the rubbish he keeps in the living room."

Sirius chuckled, walking up to the stove.

"Maybe if you praise my mother's portrait he'll stop..."

"Would love to, but I'm not a good liar."

"I can help you with that," He turned around for a moment. "Don't laugh when you speak, don't smile– if someone accuses you of causing mischief, act like it was the most insulting thing you've ever heard."

"What if they don't buy it?"

"Confidence is key, Mel. If you believe it, then it's done."

"Sirius, you're not giving my daughter bad advice, are you?" Emily walked in.

"Not at all," Sirius said, feigning surprise. "It shocks me that you think so, the only thing I want for Mel is her well being!"

"He's good..." Mel snickered.

"You have to pick your battles wisely, Paddie. A fifteen-year-old, or an experienced witch that's old enough to hex you," Emily warned him.

"I'll trust my luck," Sirius smirked.

"I got Molly's answer by the way," She ignored him, "The Weasleys will be here next Tuesday."

"Hang on... where will everyone sleep? I know the place is big, but..."

"Ginny can sleep with you," Emily started, "Ron can sleep in Phineas' room, the twins can sleep in the room next door to yours– Molly and Arthur can stay in Walburga's room..."

"But Sirius is in that room," Mel tilted her head.

"Yeah..." Emily glanced anxiously towards the man. "Sirius will take my room. I spend the night outside anyway, remember? Like uncle Lupin."

"But sometimes you don't."

"Little Em," Sirius told her. "Don't worry, your mother and I will make sure everyone's comfortable. As much as this bloody house can be..."

Mel knew Sirius was less than happy about spending his days locked up in the house where he'd lived the worse years of his life, but he was glad to have her, or at least he'd said as much. According to him, Mel was a lovely housemate.

She also knew there was something going on between the two adults. She could see it in the way Sirius would stare at her mother when she wasn't paying attention, and the way her mother would look more cheerful than usual after talking to him. The nights where she had to eat with the two blatantly flirting felt like personal karma from all those months she'd spent recklessly ogling at Harry in front of her friends.

"Can Hermione come too?" Mel asked.

"D'you think she'll want to come to this musty old place?"

"Please?"

Sirius sighed.

"Look at those eyes, Mily. I can't say no to those eyes!"

"Those are my eyes," The woman crossed her arms. "I can."

"I got my father's smile though," She said cheekily. "Please? It could be my first birthday surrounded by friends!"

"You heard that, Mily? Her birthday," Sirius said without missing a beat. "Are you going to deny such a simple request to your only daughter?"

"Oh, you two are unbelievable!"

"Is that a yes?"

"You have five minutes to write that letter and send it– Wipe that smirk off your face, Black. You're washing the dishes tonight."

Mel and Sirius high-fived, laughing at Emily's annoyance.

"And here's where we'll be sleeping!" Mel dragged Hermione into the room.

The house was definitely more fun now that the Weasleys and Hermione were there, from time to time some members of the order would visit as well as her uncle. The place almost felt like home.

"You're not sleeping with your mum?"

"My mum and Sirius share–" She stopped abruptly. "Mum goes out a lot, sometimes when she's here Sirius will give her his room so she can take the bed and he sleeps on the couch."

"Ginny sleeps here too?" Hermione examined the jumpers laying around on the other bed.

"Yeah!"

"How is she? She's over Harry now?" Hermione smiled. "She's okay with him liking you and all?"

Mel groaned internally. This was going to be a long month if people kept asking her about Harry.

"Harry doesn't like me."

"Please, Mel–"

"No," The girl interrupted. "I actually talked to him this time. Don't ask. It's better if we just forget it."

Hermione stared at her in shock.

"I–I could've sworn he... that he..."

"'Mione," Mel stared at her. "Forget it."

Hermione nodded, sitting down at the edge of the bed.

"Careful with the twins, by the way," She continued calmly. "They're free to do magic now, and they're out of control."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Ginny and Hermione were acting oddly ever since they found out she wasn't talking to Harry. They had the right to be, it was strange to see how unfeeling she was about being so far away from her former best friend. The twins and Ron, on the other hand, weren't that worried. They thought it was her way of coping and, in a way, it was.

They kept asking a lot of questions about Erick though, whether if he was to be trusted and exactly how much could they get away with. Mel thought it was funny, so she answered as many questions as she could.

Her birthday passed without much of a fuss, suddenly she was fifteen and just as quickly, Harry was too, but he wasn't there to celebrate. For the first time in weeks, she wished he could be there with them, she didn't dislike him as much as to wish him a bad birthday.

Hermione and Ron started to write to him. She tried to write a Happy Birthday note but it sounded stupid, she knew it'd be far from happy, all alone in Privet Drive. That night he would open his window only to see hers completely shut.

Erick's present had been one of those old radios his Grandad used to make with a note that said 'So you can practice your dancing' signed with two E's. She and the twins used it a lot while working on their products, that way it would drown the noise and their mothers wouldn't suspect as much. Mrs Weasley was on edge lately, Percy and his father had gotten into a real nasty fight and now the boy was gone, it had the poor woman in a terrible state.

One night after dinner, Fred walked into her room.

"Hey," She said without looking up. "Erick told me there's a station where they do these radio novels? I'm trying to find them, bet they're hilarious..." She said while toying with the buttons of the object.

"You're all right?" He asked, sitting next to her.

"Brilliant."

It was a lie. She'd been having a terrible headache for the past twenty minutes, probably because of the lack of sleep and the white noise.

"I'm not the best talker, and you don't have to say anything, but–"

"Not you too, Fred," Mel rolled her eyes, turning off the radio. "I told you I'm fine–"

"Exactly. I'd never seen you so calm about leaving Harry before, there must be something," He raised a brow.

"It's called growing up," She scoffed. "He's capable of looking after himself. You know it, I know it..."

"A real grown-up wouldn't avoid confrontation."

"That's rich coming from you, considering you keep hiding your products away from mummy."

"That's not fair, you know it's a safety measure!"

"Okay then," Mel stood up. "This is my safety measure. I don't talk about things that don't concern others..."

Fred caught her wrist and stopped her from leaving.

"Lady..."

"Using my nickname in that aching voice won't change my mind," She raised a brow. "Let go."

"Don't be grumpy, you're starting to sound real' bossy and you haven't gotten the Prefect badge yet!"

"Fred..." She tried to move. "Please, my head is killing me..."

"Did you guys fight?" He tilted his head, finally letting go. "I don't get why you fancy him if you're always bickering..."

"I don't like Harry."

"Yeah, right," Fred laughed.

"I don't," She tried to follow Sirius' advice and kept a neutral expression. "We went to the ball as friends. He saved me during the second task because I was his friend. What Skeeter wrote was rubbish, I don't fancy him."

"If you insist," Fred shrugged, but she could see he wasn't buying it.

He stood up as well and she realized, with a strange sense of accomplishment, that she was tall enough to reach his chin. She was about to point that out when something completely different came out.

"Why did you ask me to the ball?"

"What?"

"You said it was because you thought it'd be fun. Was that it?"

"Why does it matter?"

That was a good question.

Why did it matter?

But also, why not Fred? He was handsome, funny, smart...

It wasn't that she didn't like him, it was that she hadn't picked him. Sirius said there was more than one person for her, she just had to find them. Mel wasn't ready, but she would eventually, and if she could pick...

"It doesn't," Mel sighed. "I was curious, that's all. Ron used to think you fancied me, you know? I told them it was stupid..."

"Well, not stupid," Fred was quick to correct. "Just... I don't know, unlikely."

"Am I unworthy of your affection?" She joked.

He eyed her intently, like pondering the idea she had put out there. Suddenly, her mother stormed into the room.

"Harry was attacked," The woman blurted out.

"What?" Mel snapped, walking away from Fred.

"He's all right, but he used magic. The ministry has been looking for an excuse to get him– I'm afraid he just gave them one."

"Get him?"

"If we don't do something, he'll be expelled from Hogwarts."

"How– we're not– Do what?" She stammered.

"They're bringing him here," Her mother replied. "Harry's coming."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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fanaticfangirl001 · 3 years

Text

The Black Sheep Ch 1: Cut The Wire

Author's note: Takes place post Civil War, but the Avengers are still together. Bucky has been in Wakanda and slowly getting back to his flirty self. *This a rewrite to an abandoned work, it turned out better this time I'll go back and delete the original*

Bucky Barnes x OC (Stark Daughter)

Warning: Swearing, Daddy issues.

@imagine-assembling-the-avengers

@emilyevanston

A strong gust of wind nearly slams the French doors in Quinn Stark’s suite. She looks out the doors washing her brush to change paint. The Manhattan skyline is one of her favorite scenes to paint, forever changing and never the same as the day before. She checks her phone for a text from Peter. Since he became Spiderman and a protégé for her father, the two of them became close since he’s closest one to her age. Legally she can drink but at parties she’s normally stuck at the kiddies’ table with Peter.

That isn’t so bad since he’s nice but Quinn wishes her father took her more seriously, especially with her interests. Art is her calling rather than science.Dapping the white paint making stars against the black background she doesn’t look up when someone lands on her terrace with a crashing sound.

“Peter don’t fight the patio furniture.” Quinn looks over to see the spandexed teenager on his back with a toppled over red veranda lounge chair on top of him.

He takes off the mask, “A little help,please.”

“Sure.” Quinn rights the chair while noticing Peter holding his side. “Something tells me you didn’t get that from being the Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman.”

“Please don’t tell your dad.” Peter stands up wincing.

“Come inside. I’ll patch you up.” She pats the bed before leaving the room to grab a med kit from the kitchen.

Peter sits on the bed looking around the room. All the walls were covered in some sort of art, from landscapes to portraits to sketches.

“So you should probably strip now.” Quinn tosses the kit on the bed.

“Uh what?” Peter squeaks.

“So I can get to the wound.” She turns her back on Peter so he can do so comfortably.

Peter presses the button on the suit so he can take it off, he also takes off the undershirt.

“Can I turn around now, I promise you I’ve seen boys’ nipples. It’s not a scandalous thing.” Quinn asks.

“Yeah just stop saying nipples.” Peter answers, removing his hand from his side.

Quinn turns around and starts opening the bottle of antiseptic. “Peter, I think you should listen to my dad about just toning it down a little.”

“He already gave me the lecture, I don’t need you too.” Peter huffs.

“You could get hurt, more than this.” Quinn dabs the concoction onto a cotton ball. “Besides there are things you don’t know that he does. He’s been saving people for longer than you have.”

“I don’t think you should be talking about this.” Peter crosses his arms. “You’ve never done anything with your life.”

“Uh, what?” Quinn stops.

“Saving people, laying yourself down on the wire for others to cross over.” Peter uncrosses his arms putting them beside himself.

“I think I’d cut the fucking wire, what are you on about.” Quinn starts dapping the cotton ball on his skin.

“Your art, who is it saving? When do you get into a suit and save the city?” Peter hisses as the antiseptic starts working.

“I don’t.” Quinn daps it again.

“Exactly.” Peter winces. “You have the technology to and your dad could train you.”

“I don’t want to.” She turns back to the kit to grab the bandages to wrap around him.

“You want to know what your problem is?”

“No but I have a feeling like you’re going to tell me anyway.”

You’re a coward.” Peter snaps.

“A coward that saw their father fly into a portal to sacrifice himself,” Quinn snaps.

“Still.”

“Just because your dad is dead doesn’t mean, I don’t deserve mine.” Quin snaps again, rubbing her eyes.

“He’s never been proud of you.”

Get out.” Quinn throws the first aid kit at him. “Be a superhero! Get yourself killed! See if I give a fuck.” She shoves him onto the terrace and locks the door.

She draws the curtains and Peter slings off.

“Suck it up Quinn Maria Stark, you’re a Stark, you don’t cry. Starks don’t cry, they push things down and develop alcohol addictions. Let's go to one of dad’s parties. Maybe I’ll find a new friend.” Quinn says to herself as she throws off her covers.

She wipes her eyes at the few tears threatening to fall and throws on a crimson halter top body con dress. Quinn sticks her dark hair into a single long braid and carries her shoes out of the room. As she walks down the stairs to the party she quickly fastens the heels to her feet.

Tony pulls himself away from a conversation to smile at his daughter.

“I didn’t think you were coming. Too busy.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Have fun...not too much.”

“I won’t do anything that you wouldn’t.”

“That’s not a good thing.”

“You raised me, Pops.” Quinn walks away from her dad and straight to the bar where Steve and Bucky are sitting.

_________________________________________________________________________

“Steve.” Quinn says sitting down between the gentlemen.

“Have a seat, Stark.” Steve says after the fact.

Bucky shares a brief look with Steve then stares back at Quinn. The red dress leaving little to the imagination.

“Hi.” Bucky shyly.

“I don’t have any raw shit about you two. I understood what you two were doing. Friends are important.” Quinn opens a beer from behind the bar. “Hey Bucky.”

“You’re drinking tonight.” Steve eyes her confused.

“I’m old enough.” Quinn shrugs.

“You normally don’t.”

“Well I do tonight.” Quinn takes a sip.

“Did Something happen?”

“Yeah but it’ll ruin the night.”

“Consider me a party pooper then.”

“Peter and I got into a fight and things were said.”

“That’s rough, maybe let him cool off and talk to him tomorrow. He’ll be here.”

“It’s not something we can just smooth over with some words.”

“Must be lousy fighting with your boyfriend.” Bucky muses.

“I don’t have one of those.” Quinn takes a sip looking up at Bucky through her eyelashes.

“Oh.” Bucky looks off to the side nursing his drink, the slightest flush on his cheeks.

“Anyway, have a nice night, fellas.” Quinn leaves with her beer in hand.

_________________________________________________________________________

As soon as Quinn is out of earshot, Bucky looks over at Steve.

“So who is she?” He asks with a small smile.

“That’s Quinn Stark.”

“Tony’s sister?” Bucky quesses and watches her leave the party.

“Daughter.”Steve corrects.

“She’s…” Bucky trails off.

“Somethin’.”Steve finishes.

“Yeah.”

“I’m not going to tell you what to do but you know what Tony is like, so proceed with caution.” Steve warns.

#Bucky Barnes x Oc #Bucky Barnes series #peter parker x oc platonic

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ramblings-of-a-mad-cat · 4 years

Text

Who is the Mole?

@dalekofchaos I’m not taking any chances, your Ask will be given the security it deserves, from the demons of Tumblr who have been eating my messages!

So, who is R’s agent? Well, let’s look at what we know. They’re apparently someone within the walls of Hogwarts, that this dark witch has regular contact with. It’s never established when the mole arrived, but MC seems to think that it was after Rakepick left, and that would make sense. Let’s narrow down the suspects.

It’s not Jacob. Make no mistake, he is shady and he always has been. But he comes and goes. They specifically talked about a mole being present at Hogwarts. Plus, why would the White-Robed wizard flee when Jacob showed up, if he was on their side? Jacob is clear.

It’s not Alanza. She simply arrived too late in the story. Why would R wait this long to have another agent planted at Hogwarts? One who could not slip in undetected, but would inevitably have attention drawn to herself by transferring? What’s more, Alanza declined to join the Circle and she admitted to knowing Rakepick. I know a lot of people think that it’s her, but if she’s a spy, she’s a pretty lousy one. Alanza is clear.

Of the younger characters, the only one who isn’t canon is Beatrice. With how much focus she’s gotten, it’s a possibility. But she’s almost always under the watchful eye of Penny, or hanging with Ismelda. The only time she wasn’t, she nearly drowned in the Black Lake. She can’t even go to Hogsmeade, no way she’s meeting up with R in secret. Not to mention, she would never be on board with having her mind probed if she was the mole. Beatrice is clear.

Regarding the rest of the Year 6 characters, Talbott and Chiara are both secretive and keep their distance from the group. But we already know why they do this, they have well-established backstories and character-based reasons for why they would. Beyond that, the mole should want to join the Circle. They should want access to that intel. Just like Alanza, Chiara didn’t even want to join at first. No, I’m gonna say Talbott and Chiara are clear.

I could go through every member of the Circle, but I’m going to streamline the process and say that I don’t believe it’s anyone who was introduced from Years 2-5. The way HPHM is written, the only characters who get major plot importance are the Year 1 characters,and the people who are “guest-starring” in the current year, who were introduced in that Year. I consider The Year characters to be possible suspects, but I’ve gone through why it won’t be them. Many people suspect Tulip, but when was the last time she was relevant? Or Barnaby, or Jae, or Badeea? Sorry, no way it’s anyone who guest starred in a past year. Let’s go through the Year One folk, because I believe it is one of them.

Penny has simply never had the relevance that Ben and Merula have had. She didn’t even have a connection the plot prior to Year 5, prior to Beatrice’s introduction. I’ve talked about this before, but assuming you chose not to bring her along on any adventures, she could, in theory, but cut from the first four years, without the story changing much. Which is not to say Penny isn’t important, just that I don’t think she’s the mole. Penny is (basically) clear.

Merula’s loyalty has always been questionable, even as a major of hers, I don’t deny this. I can believe that even now, she would work against MC. The only question then, is when did this start? Did Rakepick give her this job before the Portrait Vault? Was Merula in on that? It might explain why Rakepick told MC to look out for her. But we’re forgetting one key detail about this character. She’s a terrible liar. This has been well-established. Merula’s emotions get the better of her. She would have given herself away by now. If this theory is true, she would need to pull a serious long-con, and I just don’t believe she’s capable of doing that. Merula is clear.

Ben has always been suspicious. From Year 2 on, Rowan them-self suspected him. It’s abundantly clear that he’s keeping secrets. Who did he write that letter to, prior to the Portrait Vault? Why did he insist on coming? Does he remember the time that he was kidnapped, or not? Why did he panic upon seeing Rakepick for what we can only assume was the first time? He’s hiding something, definitely. However...Year 5 seemed to settle the question of “who’s side is he on?” by using Rowan to prove that R can and will Imperius people, and exonerating Ben from his time as the Red Cloak. What’s more...Rakepick aimed that curse at him. She tried to kill him outright, and she couldn’t have known that Rowan would rush in. She wouldn’t do that if he were the mole. Maybe Ben can be trusted, maybe not, but regarding this...Ben is clear.

But hold on, I said that I believed one of the Year 1 characters in the mole, didn’t I? And I do. I’ve talked about this before, but I sincerely believe that the Mole...is MC.

Now, I’m not saying that MC is pulling a long-con, that they’ve always been loyal to R, and that even the player didn’t know it. That would be one hell of a twist by itself, but people would probably hate it. No, I think that MC is the mole...without knowing it. I have on many occasions, expressed doubts about Moody. I know he’s canon, but like I said, R has proven that they can and will use the Imperius Curse. That would be a way to use Moody as a secret villain without breaking canon, and it’s not like we haven’t seen that done before. Seriously, the way he’s acting in this game, particularly his encouragement of MC’s revenge and blood-lust? This reminds me more of Barty Crouch Jr’s impersonation than anything else. We know from the Weird Sister TLSQ that the Cabal was planning to contact Moody and “see what he knows” about the Sunken Vault, and the Coral Key. (A quest that, curiously, has since been removed, and it seems like they’re not putting it back. I wonder why...) At the end of Year 5, not long after Rakepick abandoned her role as R’s agent at Hogwarts, Moody shows up and abducts MC. Swearing them to secrecy, almost always insisting that they not tell Jacob and their friends important information, or otherwise encouraging them not to. Think about it, what new information has Moody actually provided? Compared to the fountain of intel that MC has been providing him, for no real reason. MC told him about the Circle almost immediately. Now, Moody isn’t the dark witch, but suppose she was the one who Imperius’d him? If my theory about this is true, then MC has been passing information to R, without their friends knowing, for this entire year. That would make them a mole.

Of course, they have no idea. Which means that in this context, to call them a “mole” or a spy isn’t really accurate. It’s twisting the facts. But I firmly believe that’s the interpretation that we’re going with here. Which is a good lead-in to another phase of this theory that I have. Not only do I think R has been using MC as a mole, the way they’ve been using them as a weapon to open the Vaults this entire time...I also believe that R wanted MC to find out this bit of information. I believe that entire Infiltration was a trap, that R knew MC was there, and that it went exactly as they wanted it to. Setting aside my theory about Moody, I have to confess that the “advertisement” MC and Merula found at the Whomping Willow never made any sense to me, and felt like bait for a trap. Seriously, even if we ignore that the tip-off about The Whomping Willow being a secret meeting place was almost certainly referring to the Shrieking Shack, and not this...why would R do something like that? Leave a note like that out in the open, for any student or teacher to find? It’s not like dark witches and wizards are going to be prowling around Hogwarts that often. Wouldn’t it make way more sense to post that around say, Knockturn Alley? No, they wanted MC to find th at. Not to mention the tone of the note, “Dark wizards, come one, come all!” Please, if I’m a dark wizard, and I read that? My first thought is, “Well, this is clearly a sting. I’m not getting involved.” Not to mention, this wouldn’t be the first time MC tried to crash an R meeting based on written information that they supposedly left laying around. The Forbidden Forest was a trap, and Rowan paid the price. So why wouldn’t this be a trap? Sure, it seemed to go well...but I can’t help remembering the White-Robed Wizard’s line about how R would never let MC learn something that they didn’t want MC to know...

And that’s just it. They wanted MC to know that there was a mole. They wanted MC to tell the Circle that there was a mole. Moody instructed MC not to say anything about R wanting them to join and someday lead, but he didn’t tell them not to bring up the mole. Really, it isn’t so much that they wanted MC to know, it’s that they want the Circle to know. They want The Circle of Khanna to know there’s a mole. They want MC to find out about R’s plan for them, and they want MC to keep this plan from the Circle, so that when the time comes, R can drop this bomb. That MC is the mole, and always has been. MC can deny it of course, but what will they do when it comes out that they’ve been reporting to R (Through Moody) all this time? There’s a reason no one else is ever in those scenes - not even Jacob. There’s a reason Moody has been trying to put distance between MC and their friends. Imagine if The Circle finds out that MC knew R wanted to recruit them, and they said nothing? People have been speculating that MC losing a friend in an “unexpected way” might be referring to the mole, and how one of their friends is a traitor. But it could work in the opposite direction as well. If people find out that MC is a “traitor” I mean...how are Ben and Merula going to handle that news? Sure, some people might not immediately turn on MC, some people might believe them, or be uncertain...but R has been building up “evidence” of this for months, and Ben and Merula are both in a place of being so traumatized and unstable that they’d probably just buy it hook line and sinker. And they’re the co-leaders of the Circle. They might, at that point, kick MC out. Or at least call for a vote.

And what happens if MC is expelled from the Circle? The very organization they formed to honor Rowan? They wouldn’t be able to investigate the Vaults anymore, because they’d be working against two secret organizations, one within the walls of Hogwarts. The Circle of Khanna, presuming MC to be a spy for R, would never let them within fifty feet of their investigation - hell, they could be the opponent that MC has to face, from the Centaur’s prophecy. (Or it could be R’s leader.) The Circle, at least initially, wouldn’t take MC back or trust them. But the Cabal? Oh, you just know that they would open their arms to MC and welcome them to join, pointing out that they have nowhere else to go...not saying MC would agree to join them, but this could be R’s plan. This could be the big choice that MC has to make from the Centaur’s prophecy. Suppose Dumbledore was told by Circle members that MC is an R agent, and, oh I dunno...expels them as a result? We’ve all speculated than an expulsion arc is coming. If it is, that would be the perfect opportunity for R to try and get their claws into MC.

Thank you for sending me the Ask! This has been a lot of fun, and I’ve enjoyed getting all these suspicions out in the open.

#HPHM Theory #HPHM Spoilers #HPHM Cabal #Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery #HPHM Analysis #HPHM Jacob's Sibling #Ben Copper #Merula Snyde #Alastor Moody #Patricia Rakepick #HPHM Jacob #Alanza Alves #HPHM R #The Circle of Khanna

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redrikki · 4 years

Text

May the Fourth Masterpost

Prequels/Clone Wars Era

May the Force Get With You- You’d think Anakin Skywalker’s conception would be pretty epic, mythic even, but you’d be wrong. Turns out, the Force is a lousy lay and a worse father. (Shmi Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker, The Force, Salty Narrator)

Second Wind - Ahsoka takes the wrong exit of the the world between worlds and ends up with a second chance at saving her master. (Ahsoka Tano, Shmi Skywalker)

Pain Management - Anger can get a slave killed. Shmi teaches her son some coping strategies. (Shmi Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker, Watto)

The Force Is In the Details - The chance cube lands on red and now Shmi must learn to manage with a freedom she never asked for. Written as part of the Jedi Fest Rogue Robin challenge as a continuation of The Force is in the Details. (Shmi Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn, Padmé Amidala, Jedi Council)

The Anchor That You Can’t Leave Behind - On the queen’s yacht headed back to Naboo, Anakin and Padmé miss their mothers but Obi-Wan can’t get why. (Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala, Obi-Wan Kenobi)

Another Word For Nothing Left to Lose - When Obi-Wan told him he was free at Qui-Gon’s funeral, Anakin took him at his word. There may, however, have been something of misunderstanding. (Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi)

For Amidala - Her handmaidens had all poured so much of themselves into Amidala, it was like they were part of her now. Padmé didn’t know if she had the strength to let one go. (Padmé Amidala, Sabé, handmaidens)

Wordspring - Anakin’s words dry up in the middle of his fourth month at the Temple. If Obi-Wan can’t get them flowing again, maybe someone else will. (Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sheev Palpatine, various Jedi)

Nothing to Write Home About - A month after losing his wife, Cliegg Lars decides to write to her son. Anakin Skywalker gets the pen pal he never knew he needed. WIP. (Anakin Skywalker, Cliegg Lars, Owen Lars, Beru Lars, Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala)

For the Greater Good - Count Dooku has never seen the appeal of Anakin Skywalker, but, when the Chosen One breaks with the Council over the treatment of the clones, he decides acquiring the boy’s allegiances might be worthwhile after all. WIP co-written with @grand-duc and @thendstartsnow (Count Dooku, Anakin Skywalker, Palpatine, Clone Troopers)

Once More With Feeling - A redeemed Anakin travels back in time post-RotJ and decides to unfuck the timeline with mixed results. (Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé Amidala, Sheev Palpatine, Jedi Council, bunch of other people)

Bridal Carry - On Naboo, it’s tradition for the groom to carry the bride to their marriage bed. With Anakin’s new prosthetic, it’s more difficult than it sounds. (Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker)

Secret Tunnel - War in the Outer Rim! While fighting on the mining world of Mumblety, Jedi Padawan Ahsoka Tano is tasked with mapping the tunnels along with a team of clones. When trouble strikes, will she have what it takes to save the day and complete the mission? (Ahsoka Tano, Echo, Fives, Anakin Skywalker)

No Place Like Home - Ahsoka’s return to the temple after her first deployment was strange, made even stranger by the fact that it should’t be strange at all. (Ahsoka Tano, Rex)

Eat, Snip, Love - Ahsoka can’t remember the last time she had a home cooked meal. Anakin and Padmé are determined to change that. (Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala)

Love and Support - After Padmé is shot at a conference, her mother insists she come home. Padmé, of course, is going no where. Episode tag to 3.07 “Assassin.” (Padmé, Ahsoka)

Across a Crowded Room - It’s a party in his honor, but it turns out the Hero With No Fear isn’t good with crowds. Padmé to the rescue. (Padmé Amidala, Anakin Skywalker)

Lightening Rod - Anakin gets electrocuted…again. It probably says something bad about his life that he’s getting used to it. (Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi)

Coming Out of My Cage, Doing Just Fine - On the way back from Kadavo, it finally hits her. In this war, Ahsoka had been outmatched, outmaneuvered, and outgunned, but she’d never felt powerless. Not like she did in that cage on Zygerria. (Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker)

In Our Bed After the War - After the mission to Zygerria, Padmé and Anakin have a difficult conversation. (Padmé Amidala, Anakin Skywalker)

Domestic Life Was Never Quite My Style - Despite her best efforts, Padmé is pregnant. Now she has a difficult decision to make. (Padmé Amidala, C-3P0)

You Call That Family? - In an AU where Anakin has left the order to be Padme, Obi-Wan encounters unexpected resistance when he goes to collect the twins. (Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala)

Birthright - The Force called him to his family and Anakin is not prepared to give them up. Not even to the Jedi Council. (Anakin Skywalker, Yoda, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, baby Skywalkers)

If Not For These Bad Dreams - Fives has dreamed about killing every Jedi he’s ever met except General Skywalker. Turns out he’s not the only one. (Fives, Kix, Tup, Jesse)

Dateline Felucia - Embedded with the troops on Felucia, a reporter from HoloNet News paints an intimate portrait of the men of the 212th Attack Battalion. (Cody, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Waxer, Boil, clone troopers)

Ahsoka the Vampire Slayer - Ahsoka is the Chosen One, the Slayer, or at least she was until she died. She got better, but now there’s a new Slayer in town and things with her Watcher are strained at best. Add in a bunch of zombie mind control bugs and Ahsoka’s week could be going better. BtVS fusion. (Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker, Barriss Offee, Luminara Undili)

Bursts of Stardust - Collection of short tumblr prompts. (Everyone ever)

Rebels Era

With the Rest of the Miscreants - Boy meets galaxy and learns to live in it. A lost baby Jedi adapts in four ‘easy’ steps. (Caleb Dume, Janus Kasmir)

Cloak, No Dagger - In light of the intel from Gorse, Hera and Ahsoka rethink mission protocols while putting on a show for the ISB agent watching them. (Hera Syndulla, Ahsoka Tano)

Tag - Sabine and Ketsu, bounty hunters extraordinaire, argue about how to sign their work. (Sabine Wren, Ketsu Onyo)

A Self-Fulfilling Prophecy - Depa stumbled free of the maze, back into the atrium for the Lothal Temple. There was just one problem. The man kneeling between the desiccated bodies of the ancient Jedi was not her master. (Depa Billaba, Kanan Jarrus)

Swordsmith - Ezra makes his lightsaber. It’s not his life, except in all the ways it is. (Ezra Bridger, Ghost Crew)

Graffiti on the Walls of the Heartland - Three works of art Sabine made for crew members and one she made for herself. (Sabine Wren, Chopper, Hera Syndulla,Kanan Jarrus)

Chicken Soup for the Jedi Soul - Four meals Kanan cooked for his crew and one he made for himself. (Kanan Jarrus, Ghost Crew)

Ain’t No Fun (Life on the Run) - Ain’t no fun living life on the run but, with his Hera and their crew by his side, Kanan finds it isn’t always so bad. (Kanan Jarrus, Ghost Crew)

Wild Blue Yonder - After the events of “The Brotherhood of the Broken Horn,” Hera decides it’s high time Ezra learn how to fly. (Hera Syndulla, Ezra Bridger, Zeb Orrelios)

A Distraction - Kanan’s been blinded. There’s nothing Hera can do to fix it so Chopper gives her something she can. Written as part of the Jedi Fest Rogue Robin challenge as a continuation of A Distraction. (Hera Syndulla, Kanan Jarrus, Chopper)

Then My Hair’s Too Short - Apparently, Ezra had a new hair cut. That’s fine, it’s his head after all. Kanan just wished he had mentioned it. (Kanan Jarrus, Ezra Bridger)

The Blind Beggar - When Ezra objects to Kanan taking point on a mission, Kanan decides its time they had a talk. (Kanan Jarrus, Ezra Bridger, Ghost Crew)

Cut to the Heart - Sabine found the stupid thing in a cave, but now the Darksaber is taking over her life. Kanan gives her a little perspective. Tag to 3.13 “Trails of the Darksaber.” (Sabine Wren, Kanan Jarrus)

Rebel Moments - Collection of short tumblr prompts (Ghost Crew)

Rogue One

The Lord’s Estate - Every lord must have an estate. Lord Vader’s is Mustafar. (Vader, Palpatine)

Peace is a Lie - Sometimes Vader wakes up and can’t remember what war he’s fighting. (Darth Vader)

A Cog In Something Turning - Cassian hadn’t meant to give K-2SO free will. Good thing for both of them he’s a terrible slicer. (K-2SO, Cassian Andor)

Original Trilogy

Sea of Sorrow and Sand - Ben Kenobi is an island in a sea of sorrow and sand. Beru Lars has come to drag him back to shore. (Obi-Wan Kenobi, Beru Lars)

What Remains - What remains of a relationship built on lies? Nothing, as Darth Sidious will soon find out. (Darth Vader, Darth Sidious, Padmé Amidala’s preserved corpse)

On This Strange and Mournful Day - The events of Vader Down go very differently. The father and child reunion is only a motion away. (Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker, Dr. Aphra)

After the Funeral - Han offers Luke some unexpected support after the funeral of the guy who tortured him. (Luke Skywalker, Han Solo)

A Cynic’s Guide to the New Golden Age - The second Death Star goes kabloowie and takes the galaxy with it. It’s a new golden age of piracy and Aphra’s got some looting to do. (Dr. Aphra, Luke, 0-0-0, BT-1, Black Krrsantan)

The Last Truce We Ever Came To - Darth Vader is dead but he won’t leave Leia alone. (Leia Organa, Force Ghost Anakin Skywalker)

Lego Star Wars - The Freemaker Adventures

Disembodied - Roger loses his head and, frankly, it’s getting old. (R0-GR, Rowan Freemaker, Kordi Freemaker, Zander Freemaker)

Sequel Era

Red Fish, Blue Fish - Leia bought an aquarium for her child like her father before her. In a perfect world she could raise Ben to fill his grandfather’s legacy. Too bad he had more than one. (Leia Organa, Ben Solo, Angst)

A Matter of Precedence - FN-2187 wasn’t the first, except for the time he was. Others have defied the First Order before, but none quite as spectacularly. (Finn, First Order)

So You Want to be a (Space) Wizard - Finn finds a mysterious book, takes an Oath, and starts one hell of an Ordeal. Crossover with Young Wizards. (Finn, Poe Dameron, Rey)

Old Haunts (All We’ve Ever Known) - Anakin and Obi-Wan as snarky Force ghosts during The Force Awakens. (Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, TFA cast)

Lady in Waiting - Rey’s spent so much of her life waiting it’s hard to know when to stop. Luckily, Poe’s there to give her the push she needs. (Rey, Poe Dameron, Leia Organa, Finn)

Not a Drop to Drink - On Luke’s island, Rey couldn’t quite get her mind around the sheer amount of water stretching out towards the horizon. (Rey, Luke Skywalker)

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twistedintern · 4 years

Text

Kyuu’s Chronicle - Entries #1-6

Entry One

“Everything happens for a reason.”

...That was, up until recently, a favorite adage of mine. Through good times and bad, I would think back to those five little words.

Everything happens for a reason.

Struggle.

Success.

Waking up inside a sealed coffin after an unremarkable night’s rest.

...Hello, Lady Fate? Might I be able to file a tiny complaint? WHAT THE FLYING EVER-LOVING F*CK?

You don’t just up and isekai a normal adult woman into the middle of some Harry Potter-grade magical college without providing her with purpose, know-how, and a means of returning home! I am NOT the token light novel hero with a personality that screams ‘lovable fish-out-of-water,’ alright? SHEESH. I could’ve been injured, kidnapped, or worse....

Fortunately--yes, there’s always a silver lining, Kyuu. Remember that--while I now know I could’ve ended up as mincemeat at the hands of delinquent students, I was first happened upon… by a cat. That cat was accompanied by a pair of men. Well, I knew one of them was a man. I couldn’t make out his features clearly in the dimly-lit chamber before he left, but he sounded and held himself like a middle-aged man would.

His companion, though? Different story entirely. When he lifted his lamp to get a better look at me, providing me with some much-needed light with which to take in my surroundings…

Feathers. Gaudy shiny things. A suit, tie, cloak, a grand hat.

Two piercing yellow lights shining from a beaked half-mask.

...Mere inches from my face.

I had never fought so hard to suppress a scream in my life.

Entry Two

A bit of time has passed since that, um, eventful night. Because I’m really bad at keeping diaries, I’ll just give a recap:

I have never wanted to go home so badly in all my life.

The individual I met back then--he introduced himself as Dire Crowley, by the way; a fitting name if I do say so myself (I still flinch whenever I see him or hear him call my name. God, he’s so weird)--turned out to be the headmaster of this place. ...Um, what was it called again?

...Right! Night Raven College. He tells me nonstop how prestigious this place is. He’d better not be exaggerating, though that seems to be his general way of talking about things that matter to him.

(I hope he’s telling the truth: if so, it’s only a matter of time before word gets out that I don’t belong here. He won’t believe me whenever I tell him I’m from another, altogether separate world.)

In the meantime, Crow Man has me holed up in a rather spacious (and quite homey) tool shed a short hike away from the central plaza of the school.

I wish I knew why he’s always so hellbent on emphasizing how terribly kind he is when it comes to doing things for others. Normally, I’d consider that sort of behavior to be incredibly suspicious. I mean, I know administrative heads of these kinds of institutes have it tough and are largely underappreciated, but it really feels like he’s hiding something...

Entry Three

Crowley invited me to his office today, and for once, he was the least remarkable thing in the room.

I have never been so shocked in all my years. So much so that I fainted as soon as I processed what I was seeing. (I don’t faint.)

Portraits flanking his seat, seven in total, suspended midair by magic forces beyond my understanding.

The no-nonsense Queen of Hearts

Scar, the usurper lion king

Ursula, the sea witch

Jafar, the sultan’s scheming right-hand

The beautiful and vain Evil Queen

Hades, lord of the dead

Maleficent, the preeminent sorceress of all that is wicked

When I recovered consciousness, I nearly shrieked.

“THEY’RE YOUR ‘MAGNIFICENT SEVEN’?”

Crowley responded with a simple nod of the head. Hadn’t I seen their statues on the main street? He wished to know why I was surprised.

“I… KNOW THEM.”

Crowley blinked before affirming that yes, I ought to. Very few people in the world don’t. Then I reminded him I wasn’t from this world.

Fast-forward, crow man drags me to some grandiose “Hall of Mirrors” and asks the principal spirit what my deal is. (Why didn’t he do that sooner…?) The spirit (which also looks eerily familiar) validates my entire argument: that I’m a magic-less adult from outside their realm.

And Crowley? Crow Man? He and the mirror spirit might as well have been discussing the weather, because he didn’t seem bothered or troubled by the revelation in the slightest!

Entry Four

A few days later, Crowley made a formal announcement that I would be joining the staff of the college. …As an intern of sorts.

Huh? Excuse me? Did a bird man really just make an executive decision to take me on as his servant?!

For some reason… I’m not as pissed about this as I feel I could be. After all, I’m painfully aware of how I have zero business at Night Raven; it was well within his rights to kick me out. The least I could do is make myself useful.

Crowley (I never thought I’d be calling a bird my boss, but here I am!) sat me down later over a light lunch to tell me about the men I’d be assisting in the days ahead:

Mozus Trein, Professor of Magical History

Very serious, highly respected. A good judge of character with zero tolerance for poor work ethics (yikes!)

Divus Crewel, Professor of Alchemy and Magical Sciences

Exacting, charismatic. A celebrated fashion designer (???) whose wrath has earned him admirers and foes alike

Ashton Vargas, Professor of Kinesiology (I guess he’s the PE guy)

Passionate, persistent. Is known for his narcissism, but is a dependable team player when it counts

Sam, Proprietor of “Mr. S’s Mystery Shop”

The go-to man for all your buying needs. Is a bit on the eccentric side, but that’s part of his charm

Maybe this won’t be such a lousy arrangement after all....

Entry Five

Allow me to amend my earlier statement ever so slightly:

THIS IS THE ABSOLUTE WORST ARRANGEMENT IMAGINABLE.

My first day on the job has been nothing but one disaster after another. These men are unreasonable, larger-than-life characters with the most obtuse expectations and tendencies I’ve ever met! Why oh why couldn’t I have been made younger in the process of this whole isekai-ing business? A great many students, as I’ve now come to learn, aren’t half bad. (The remarkable ones among them certainly left a lasting impression…) What’s more, they actually seem terrified of these fellows birdbrain assigned me to aid.

Divus Crewel is not my type of person AT ALL. He’s vain, cold, and completely unforgiving. He tore at me from the get-go, his cold grey eyes boring into me as he informed me how drab my sense of style was. The headmaster spoke so highly of me; he thought it fair to assume that I would be a remarkable presence having come from a world apart. I know well his type: petty and shallow. (Bastard thinks he can wear fur like that in his line of work? Tch.)

Ashton Vargas was, unsurprisingly, the textbook definition of a musclehead. He chewed me out for my poor physical constitution and demanded that I join him for early morning jogs around campus followed by intense cardio. Not for nothing, but exercise is not my thing. Naturally, he’s so into himself that he didn’t bother listening to me when I tried to politely turn down his invitation.

Sam… where do I even begin about that piece of work? ‘A bit eccentric’? Only a little? Way to downplay things, boss bird! The guy is a bonafide freak. He’s all about making sales and nothing else, and he’s as sketchy as rotten fish smells. And get this… his shadow? The thing has a mind of its own, and he does nothing to keep a reign on it. I couldn’t tell if he was joking, but as soon as he started talking about his “friends on the other side” with a snicker and a twinkle in his eye, I hightailed it out of there. I am never going back to his place of business ever again, even if it kills me.

I haven’t even met the last person the Headmaster told me about, but if he’s anything like his colleagues--or worse--Crowley might as well throw me to the sharks and put me out of my misery. Going by the information that… crow so generously shared with me, he doubtless feels like someone who’s going to see right through me and utterly crush what little self-worth I have left.

Please, I just want this nightmare to be over already....

Entry Six

So… um, hold on. I need to gather my thoughts. Deep breaths, Kyuu. Deep breaths.

Today was… nice. I can’t believe I’m saying any of this but… I’m kind of happy.

Although I had initially considered skipping my appointed first meeting with Professor Trein, I decided to suck it up at the very last minute and take whatever fate had in store for me head-on. I do not regret my decision in the least.

Where do I begin? I was so damn nervous when I knocked on the door to his office. A voice urged me inside, but the first thing that greeted me wasn’t the voice’s owner… but a cat.

This fluffy black and white feline, its expression demure, ran up to me immediately and took to rubbing against my leg. It was the cat from that fateful night I woke up inside a coffin! He held still and stared at me expectantly before issuing a rawl. I looked up to find a stern man, dressed in antiquated robes, regarding me with an unflinching glower. I was paralyzed with fear--I’d screwed up, hadn’t I?

Then he smiled at me. “It has been a while, Kyuu. I was expecting you.” He was the other person from that night! I just nodded my head dumbly and followed him inside. I could see how one could find him intimidating, what with his piercing visage and strict, commanding aura, but for me there was something almost comforting about his olden mannerisms.

We had a delightful talk over freshly-brewed tea. He asked me about myself, and I was stunned to learn that he and I had many things in common! He was positively amazed how quickly his beloved cat (who’s name is Lucius, by the way) warmed up to me. All the while, I was fondly reminded of my university days where I would spend hours on end talking with one of my favorite history professors after class.

I eventually opened up to him about my catastrophic first day with his colleagues. He expressed sympathy, but at the same time he was quick to point out that perhaps I was taking things too personally, and that I had jumped to conclusions without putting things in perspective. Knowing my tendencies, I conceded that he was probably right.

#twisted wonderland #twisted-wonderland #kyuu's chronicle

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vivithefolle · 4 years

Note

I love your analysis about the Cho/Ron interaction, but I'm just curious as to how Harmionie shipping Quorans would respond to it if you post it there. Knowing them, they'd probably see it as more proof that Harmony works because "Look! Hermione doesn't care when Harry is tactless but she can't stop nagging Ron when he is tactless!" 🤣 Seriously, though. Hermione is WAY nicer to Harry than she is to Ron. Come to think of it, Hermione is nicer to most people than she is to Ron.

Aaaah, well that’s simply because Hermione is… awful.No, no, seriously, when Hermione is in love, she’s terrible. She can be a nice friend but when she’s in love with you she’s horrible. Especially since she’s a teenager.

Hermione is a prime example of a Tsundere.

“How was practice?” asked Hermione rather coolly half an hour later, as Harry and Ron climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room.“It was -” Harry began. “Completely lousy,” said Ron in a hollow voice, sinking into a chair beside Hermione. She looked up at Ron and her frostiness seemed to melt. - Order of the Phoenix

Rare footage of the Hermione Granger, scientific name Selfinsertus Overratedus, displaying interest in specimen of mighty fine hunk

You see, Hermione is never going to make the first move. You must be the one to ask her out, because she sure as hell ain’t going to do it for you.

Which is why she doesn’t realize that Ron is actually aware he loves her. There’s a big comedy of assumptions going on in Romione’s love story.

Hermione believes that Ron either 1) likes her but is oblivious to his own feelings and so she thinks she has to “give him hints” to make him realize it. Emphasized best by this exchange:

Hermione laughed.“Harry you’re worse than Ron… well, no, you’re not, “ she sighed, as Ron himself came stumping into the Hall splattered with mud and looking grumpy. “Look - you upset Cho when you said you were going to meet me, so she tried to make you jealous. It was her way of trying to find out how much you liked her.”“Is that what she was doing?” said Harry, as Ron dropped on to the bench opposite them and pulled every dish within reach towards him. “Well, wouldn’t it have been easier if she’d just asked me whether I liked her better than you?”“Girls don’t often ask questions like that,” said Hermione.

“I’ve sent him so many signals and yet he doesn’t notice. Woe is me!”

2) doesn’t actually likes her, but sees her just as a good mate or worse, as another sister.

“We’re allowed to bring guests,” said Hermione, […], “and I was going to ask you to come, but […] I won’t bother.”

“I was going to ask you to come but I won’t bother.”

This is literally what she said. It’s more of a “look Ron! An invite! If you’re good maybe I’ll think about letting you have it!” than anything else.

It’s because this is Hermione’s last resort. The ultimate humiliation. She has to resort to inviting Ron when in her mind, he’s supposed to be the one asking her out. He’s the boy! He’s supposed to do it!(And this is why I laugh at all the fools who claim that Hermione is the pinnacle of feminism. Seriously, the girl is more of a misogynist than any other character in the series.)

Hermione failed to take into account that Ron’s insecurity cripples him worse than she imagines, and that he copes with it differently than she copes with her own insecurities.

And this is the part where I explain about Hermione’s hatred of being vulnerable.

You see, I can relate quite a lot to Hermione - I see a lot of me in her, and a lot of people who hurt me in the past as well.

Hence why you start despising any form of vulnerability you find in yourself.

(As much as I’m disillusioned with Romione, this kiss is still one of my favourite parts of the series. They mutually sweep each other off their feet for god’s sake, you wish your ship would.)

#ask #vivi answers #hermione granger #ron weasley #analysis #hp analysis #character analysis #harry potter #romione #shipping #hermione granger critical #hermione critical #ron x hermione #ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley defence squad

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themurphyzone · 4 years

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104 Words for 104 Days: Dynasty Part 1: Princess

AN: Takes place in Doof Dynasty time period. Artistic liberties have been taken, and by that I mean a LOT of artistic liberties have been taken. Also, I really wanted to write something with Isabella as the protagonist and this seemed like a good place to do it. Since this turned out much longer than I expected, I decided to just divide it into two parts.

Dynasty Part 2 Coming Soon!

“Sir! Our defenses have been compromised!” General Carl shouted, rushing into the royal palanquin and collapsing into a dead faint in front of Regent Monogram.

Princess Isabella moved her ink pot before Carl’s head could smash into it. Sensing that the calligraphy lesson was over, she carefully put the materials away while Monogram waved a jar of incense in Carl’s face.

“General, don’t faint until you’ve given us the necessary exposition first,” Monogram scolded. “And especially not in front of the Princess.”

Carl nodded weakly. “Of course, sir. My apologies, Princess.”

“Accepted,” Isabella said. “What’s this about our defenses being compromised? Surely Master Perry wouldn’t leave our country unprotected.”

“Princess, are you sure you want to hear about this?” Monogram coughed. “You’re not much more than a ceremonial figurehead until you’re of age. Until then, it’s perfectly acceptable if you want to lavish in luxury and leave the worrying to the professionals.”

Isabella fixed him with an icy glare. “Regent, I respect you and your administrative decisions. But I’ve fought Doofus Khan in a terracotta warrior before and if you’ll pardon my unprincess-like language, kicked his sorry butt back to the steppes of Mongolia. Those commoner boys fought for the Tri-Province Area and me when they were hardly trained, and I intend to do the same.”

“How old is she again?” Carl whispered to Monogram.

“Older than a child but younger than a teenager,” Monogram whispered back. “It’s the bow, I think. Throws everyone off.”

“Your report, General,” Isabella demanded.

Carl stood up and bowed his head. “The commoner boys who saved the Tri-Province Area were building the northern tower of the Great Wall near the Large Bamboo Forest of Largeness when Doofus Khan kidnapped them. Master Perry is currently training at the Loud Waterfall of Loudness, which is notoriously difficult for even the most fleetfooted messengers to access. Doofus Khan left this scroll, most likely to demoralize us before swooping in for his conquest.”

He handed the scroll to Monogram, who unfolded it and grimaced at the ink picture of Doofus Khan sticking his tongue out with a finger above his lip in an obvious mockery of his mustache.

“This means war,” Monogram huffed. “My mustache and beard combo is highly fashionable in this day and age.”

“There’s a message at the bottom,” Isabella said, placing her finger in the blank space to avoid smudging the ink.

Mwahahaha! If you want the boys back (lousy defense system by the way, do you guys really not have a militia?), send Princess Isabella to my Inescapable Fortress of Inescapableness! I wanted to call it the Inescapable Fortress of Doom, but my new scribe is defensive of his names. Just head due north. That’s all the directions I’m giving you. Don’t worry, you can’t miss it. Or do worry, cause I’ll be taking the Tri-Province Area soon enough! Have a bad day!

Wishing you all the misery in the world,

Doofus Khan

“Without Princess Isabella’s undeniable charm, our country will fall to ruin!” Monogram groaned. “We can’t abide by this fiend’s terms!”

“You aren’t stopping me,” Isabella declared. “I’m going to save my friends and the Tri-Province Area!”

“But-“

Isabella held up her hand to silence him. “I appreciate your concern. But I can take care of myself.”

“Very well,” Monogram sighed, the scroll dropping out of his hands with a dull thud.

Carl raised a hand sheepishly. “Sir, I believe I have the solution. Lady Firesong has trained a squad of preteen girls in the art of bodyguarding, self-defense, survival, pottery, gator wrestling, and decorative cupcake making. This would make for an excellent training exercise for the girls. I’ll send her a message after I’m finished fainting for the second time.”

Then he fainted again.

“I still think we’re doomed,” Monogram muttered.

o-o-o-o-o

The training complex wasn’t anything grand, especially compared to what Isabella was used to, but they had enough equipment that would make an entire Roman army jealous. Many silkworm cocoons lined each plant in the garden, and Isabella plucked one off the leaf out of curiosity, slipping it into her flowing sleeves while Monogram’s back was turned. He led them through a lantern-lit path until they reached an ancient portrait, which depicted an elderly woman in a flowing purple robe.

To Isabella’s surprise, the portrait bowed.

“I am Lady Firesong. Welcome, Princess Isabella. I’ve received word that you wish to perform a rescue mission. The girls who volunteered to accompany you are highly skilled in many areas. I hope you’ll find their company adequate,” the elderly woman rasped, then turned and clapped her hands. “Alright, girls! The Firesong anthem for the Princess, just like in rehearsal! One, two, three!”

Five girls in matching orange robes hurried into formation, singing the cutest song Isabella had ever heard in her life.

“-and it’s not too terribly long!” they chorused with a banner of the Tri-Province Area in the background.

Isabella applauded, much to the girls’ delight. Monogram didn’t look too impressed though. “Yes, yes, that was great. Princess, will you be okay?”

“Failure is not an option,” Isabella replied.

“Good,” Major Monogram said, reaching into his robe and pulling out a ribbon-tied scroll. “Deliver this scroll to Doofus Khan, will you? I, uh, have a very important message for him.”

“You can count on me!” Isabella exclaimed, taking the scroll.

Monogram nodded in approval and left, confused at the angry looks that were thrown his way when he still didn’t acknowledge their song.

“Well, it looks like my work here is done!” Lady Firesong exclaimed, settling back into her chair. “I am so glad I can rest here and let children handle matters of national security.”

o-o-o-o-o

Isabella’s clothing was custom-made by a tailor who exclusively served royalty, so creating her own Firesong robe was an entirely new experience for her. If Regent Monogram could see her filling baskets of cocoons, he would be horrified at the manual labor that a princess of her caliber certainly shouldn’t be doing.

But if a princess could operate a terracotta soldier, then she could easily create a robe out of raw silk. Besides, it was a great opportunity for learning about the other girls. She committed Gretchen, Holly, Katie, Ginger, Millie, and Adyson’s names to memory, only mixing them up twice when she was too busy taking the silk threads out of the boiling water.

“-and that’s why Lady Firesong trains us from birth. As a result, none of us really know who our parents are, but the rewards are worth it,” Gretchen explained as Isabella removed the finished robe from the loom. “I’ve always been told I’m more of a second in command type anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Isabella asked, stepping behind a bamboo screen to try on the robe. It was shorter than what she was used to, just barely reaching her knees, but much less restricting than her royal clothes. “I wouldn’t want to take your leader position just because I’m a princess.”

Gretchen smiled. “No, I can give orders, but I lack the charisma of a natural born leader. I should know. I’ve been trying for the Charisma Patch for years.”

“Well, I can always teach you,” Isabella offered. “It takes skill, confidence, and taking advantage of our naturally cute dispositions, but I’m sure you’d be able to learn!”

“Thanks! So, what do you think of the uniform?” Gretchen asked.

Isabella pushed the screen aside, twirling in her Firesong robe. “It may look delicate, but it’s durable,” Isabella said. “Also, I never knew I pulled orange off this well. I’ll have to ask my tailor for more clothing in this shade.”

Gretchen nodded, then poked her head in the doorway. “Katie! Are the accessories ready yet?”

“Right here!” Katie shouted, hurrying into the room and handing an orange sash and hairbow to Isabella.

“These sashes are the most important part of the Firesong uniform,” Gretchen said, pointing to her own sash. Unlike Isabella’s, hers was decorated with several colorful patches. “They’re proof of our accomplishments and fairly useful in a fight. Plus, we pooled our silver pieces for a hairbow. We just thought it’d look good on you.”

“Aw, you girls didn’t have to go that far!” Isabella exclaimed as she put on the sash. She let Ginger tie the hairbow, since the girl seemed enthusiastic about touching her hair.

Now that she couldn’t be recognized as a royal, they were ready for action.

“Storm the base!” Adyson shouted.

“Bring lots and lots of weaponry!” Holly suggested, pounding her fist into her hands.

It seemed they didn’t have much of a head for strategy. But Isabella supposed that was what a leader was for.

“Our main objective is infiltrating Doofus Khan’s fortress and rescuing the boys so they can complete the Great Wall,” Isabella said, and silence fell instantly. “But we need to pack only necessary items because a giant desert lies to the north, and we’ll need to cross it in order to get there. In other words, no more than what a two-humped camel can carry.”

“Katie, fill the water flasks!” Gretchen barked. “Ginger and Adyson, grab the food! Make sure you include lots of ox jerky!”

Adyson groaned. “I really hate ox jerky...”

“It’s a start, but there’s a necessary stop we should take before heading north,” Isabella continued. “Master Perry is currently training at the Loud Waterfall of Loudness, so we’ll need to go there first and get his help. What do you girls think?”

“Let’s go!” Millie exclaimed. The other girls echoed her battle cry.

Ginger held up a lute. “I’m in charge of the travel music!”

The other girls glanced at her.

“What? Travel music and a montage are necessary items too!”

o-o-o-o-o

Ginger’s idea of travel music was playing ‘You Snuck Your Way Right into My Rice Paddy’ over and over again. Sure, everyone liked the song, but after two hundred repeats without taking requests from anyone else?

Not so much.

Everyone was relieved when the roar of the waterfall drowned out her lute. Unfortunately, it drowned out everything else too.

Relying on finger signals and other forms of non-verbal communication, they made their way through the lush undergrowth. Millie and Holly used sharp rocks to mark every tree they passed to make the return journey faster, Katie scouted ahead, and Gretchen and Ginger dragged Adyson between them, who was still recovering from a nasty fall in a ditch.

When they finally arrived at the riverbank, they found Master Perry meditating underneath a pounding waterfall.

“Master Perry! The Tri-Province Area is in trouble again!” Isabella shouted, but couldn’t make herself heard above the waterfall.

Everyone except Adyson added their voices, shouting as loud as they could, but neither the platypus or panda were paying attention.

Isabella silenced them with a wave of her hand. It just wasn’t enough of a hook to nab Master Perry’s full attention. They needed something more.

Isabella inhaled and screeched in the deepest voice she could manage.

“YOUR FORMER STUDENTS ARE IMPRISONED IN DOOFUS KHAN’S FORTRESS!”

Master Perry’s eyes snapped open. He dove into the water, resurfacing with a topknot and traditional warrior’s outfit.

The group went back to the main road so they could talk without screaming over the waterfall. Adyson muttered something about salamanders, her head lolling against Gretchen’s shoulder as her sandals dragged against the leafy soil.

“How did you do that?” Holly demanded, her hair still frizzed from the waterfall.

“I’m excellent at breath control. Plus it’s great for scaring Regent Monogram,” Isabella said. She turned to Master Perry and bowed respectfully. “The Firesong Girls and I wish to accompany you to the fortress. It is my duty as a princess to protect my subjects, and I cannot do that from a palanquin. You’ve trained the boys well back when they rescued me from Doofus Khan’s evil clutches. I will repay the favor.”

Master Perry stared off into space, several vibrations rippling through the air.

“Is that an attack?” Gretchen asked. She pulled off her sash, looping it around her hand and twirling the other end in the air.

“Stand down,” Isabella ordered. “He’s having a flashback. Just wait it out.”

Gretchen reluctantly obeyed.

A few seconds later, the rippling dissipated and Master Perry bowed.

“He’s done, hopefully,” Isabella said. “Phineas mentioned he has a habit of doing this. So, guess we’re heading due north now. Do any of you know where we can rent some camels?”

Master Perry gestured for everyone to follow him.

“Who’s ready for more travel music?” Ginger asked. She tuned her lute, smiling brightly as she strummed a chord.

“NO!” Millie and Holly screamed.

“Hehe, the salamanders are doing opera,” Adyson giggled.

o-o-o-o-o

Turns out Master Perry knew a faster way to transport them to the fortress. One that involved a massive red dragon that resembled the ones at Chinese New Year (but since it’s China, they just call it New Year), but much larger, more metallic, and without relying on people’s feet for an energy source.

“Master Perry! So good to see ya! Finally come out of retirement, I see! ‘Bout time! Never approved of you giving up on saving China after one little incident,” a jovial woman exclaimed. “And you brought an entourage this time! Name’s Glenda, so don’t forget it! What brings you girls to the Dragon Train?”

“We’re going to Doofus Khan’s fortress to rescue our friends. But isn’t this a little advanced for 1542?” Isabella asked, pointing to the giant dragon that Glenda called a ‘train’.

“Yes, yes it is,” Glenda said, her eyes widening. “Did you say Doofus Khan’s fortress, girlie? Don’t you know that place is inescapable? I deliver supplies there myself. Don’t look at me like that, a woman’s gotta make her living somehow.”

“It’s only inescapable because nobody’s ever tried it before. It’ll be completely escapable by the time we’re finished,” Isabella said.

Glenda slapped her knee and laughed. “I like your gumption, girlie! Climb aboard! It’ll take twenty minutes to get there, so just kick back and let the Dragon Train do the work.”

“Twenty minutes? That’s so fast! And I was planning on a day and a half’s hike,” Gretchen said.

“It’s coal-powered,” Glenda shrugged. “Convenient for us, but makes a heck of a mess in the air. Ah, well. Problem for a future century.”

“I’m game!” Adyson shouted, snapping out of her salamander delirium. “Never been on a train before, but who cares? Better than relying on ox jerky!”

“Man, I would’ve packed my mahjong board if I’d known we’d be taking a train,” Holly grumbled.

Isabella turned to the north, signaling Gretchen and Ginger to wave their fans behind her and produce a dramatic wind. “My name is Princess Isabella, and we’re going to defeat you once and for all, Doofus Khan! You won’t pillaging anything by the time we’re through with you!”

#phineas and ferb #isabella garcia shapiro #fireside girls #major monogram #carl karl #fanfiction #104 words for 104 days

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