#He could absolutely elaborate on this he is simply choosing not to to be mysterious

[incorrect-srmthfg-quotes]

Chiro: this is important what animal do you think you could take in a fight?

Antauri: Toad

Chiro: Elaborate

Antauri: no

[godsofhumanity]

Do you think you can elaborate on your HCs about Dionysus being Zeus’ heir? How do they and the other Olympians feel about it? When would the transition of power happen?

hulloooo!!!!!!!!!!! yes i can! i have a lot of things to say, so i am dividing the hc's into sections so that it is easy to read. i also have added colour to some names-- it doesn't mean anything, i just thought it would be easier to read!

👑 BASIS IN LORE FOR DIONYSUS BEING HEIR

so Lore doesn't actually say that Dionysus was Zeus' heir, just that Zeus brought him into the world to bring laughter and joy and whatever.

HOWEVER. you may be familiar with a little guy known as Zagreus! Zagreus is considered to be the son of Zeus and Persephone (ew! this is 100% Zeus at his absolute lowest btw) and Zagreus was often conflated with Dionysus. Orphic mysteries say that Zagreus was the first incarnation of Dionysus-- Dionysus was Zagreus reincarnated because Zagreus was killed by the Titans.

now. according to Wikipedia (bad source, i know, but i couldn't find much more on where this statement came from), Zagreus was meant to be Zeus' heir.

in Nonnus' Dionysiaca, 6, 168:

"By this marriage with [Zeus,] Persephone... bore Zagreus the horned baby, who by himself climbed upon the heavenly throne of Zeus and brandished lightning in his little hand, and newly born, lifted and carried the thunderbolts in his tender fingers."

from memory, i don't think any other god actually sits on Zeus' own throne OR wields lightning, so i take this to mean that Zagreus was meant to be Zeus' heir, and by the connection between Zagreus and Dionysus, I am hc-ing Dionysus to be Zeus' heir.

now. even if this isn't true by Lore, i think Dionysus is the only suitable option for the throne.

🍇 WHY DIONYSUS IS THE MOST SUITABLE

from the elder Olympians: Hades and Poseidon are already kings of their own domain so i don't think they'd reach out to get Heaven as well. Hestia has too much of a passive role in myth to be a ruler. Demeter has never been shown to care much for the affairs of Olympus. Hera COULD be, but i cannot see her rallying the support of everyone given her history of vindictiveness. and that's the older generation completely ruled out.

from the younger Olympians: Ares, like his mother, would be unable to garner support from everyone and is also too brash. Artemis does not care enough for the affairs of Olympus to rule-- she is quite cold and has been demonstrated in Lore to prefer the wilderness and her own group of girls to the rest of the Olympians. Apollo is said to remain unwed because he could not choose a wife from amongst the Muses; this demonstrates indecisiveness to me which is not a useful trait for a king. furthermore, Apollo often laments his decisions/mistakes which shows weakness, which is also not a useful trait for a king. thirdly, i simply do not see Apollo as having enough ambition for the position-- he would lose his freedom. Hephaestus is too busy with his craft to rule. Hermes is too mischievous and going from Messenger to King doesn't really make sense logically. Aphrodite, too chaotic and has never demonstrated potential to rule.

that leaves Athena. i think she COULD BE. but i think she is quite arrogant and unwilling to compromise which would make her a very difficult queen. i think she would make enemies quite easily. also, i hc her to have no desire to rule-- i think she would like the independence to pursue her own whims, and being Queen would take this freedom from her.

Dionysus, on the other hand, has a distinct advantage to me-- he began life as a man. i know he had divine blood, but his MOTHER was mortal... Dionysus is the ONLY god who is required to undergo "trials" to prove his divinity.

everyone else is divine by birth, but Dionysus must EARN his place in Olympus by living amongst men first.. and it's CHALLENGING. he is undermined by mere mortals on countless occasions.

now. i do not actually like Dionysus as he is presented in Lore... but evidently, Zeus thought him worthy after all his years on earth and granted him the golden tickets to Olympus, so i think that counts for something.

in my personal hc's for Dionysus, i think he is very similar to Zeus. the most from all Zeus' kids.

Dionysus and Zeus are both very cheerful and jovial. they laugh a lot. they're fun. they're smart. BUT. they can also have a terrible, vicious anger. they command others. they can lead armies. they know when to insist on their way and when to compromise in a way that does not make them seem weak.

i think Dionysus is immature in his youth, like Zeus. but in adulthood, he becomes compassionate and wise, strong and gentle, commanding and forceful. these are the words i would describe my own version of Zeus with as well, and the traits i would expect from a king.

in light of all these hc's, i do not think Dionysus faces much opposition-- his siblings LIKE him and i think that by the time Dionysus becomes King, he is quite mature, and people are quite happy to accept him. What about Hera? the short answer: she's dead. the long answer? check the next section on how the transition happens.

📖 HOW DIONYSUS BECOMES KING

to explain this, i need to take a side-step and tell you about a story i made-up (or rather, am in the middle of developing in my mind) in which the End of the World takes place.

you've heard of Ragnarok; well, i think that every pantheon has their own version of Ragnarok. and i think that when Ragnarok comes, it is the end of the world for EVERYONE. greeks, egyptians, aztecs, etc. everyone. i hc there to be an uprising of old gods; Chernobog, Loki, Apep, etc. who instigate a war that kills off many familiar faces.

when does this take place? Hesiod, in his Theogony, describes 5 Ages of Man:

Golden Age - made by Kronos. perfect men, practically gods.

Silver Age - made by Zeus. stubborn, foolish men.

Bronze Age - made by Zeus. barbaric, warring men.

Heroic Age - made by Zeus. noble heroes like Heracles. descendants of Deucalion.

Iron Age - made by Zeus. "us", allegedly. mortals today.

i think this end of the world happens at the end of the Heroic Age and the new world that is born after the End becomes our age: an age where the gods have left. i'm rejecting Hesiod's writing and saying that this Iron Age is created by Dionysus & co., not Zeus, when Dio is the new king.

now that we've got a timeline, let's get back to Dionysus' promotion.

Zeus swallowed Metis because he was warned that her son would overthrow him. i have a hc that Metis was pregnant with twins- Athena and a son, whom i have named "Diophontes" (slayer of Zeus). there's some more background to this, but let's just say for now: Diophontes gets trapped in Zeus' skull while Athena emerges, and eons later, at the End of Days, an enemy god releases Diophontes and during the Great War, Diophontes fulfills the prophecy and kills Zeus.

i said before that i think Hera dies. during this Great War, there are other fearsome enemies including Typhon and his mate Echidna, and a host of other evil gods and monsters... i think Hera falls in battle here alongside Zeus.

theoretically, Hera would make a kick-ass queen, but i think it makes far more sense thematically for the New World to be led by a god of the younger generation... there needs to be fresh blood and a clean slate. Dionysus fulfills that requirement.

so i think, after all the fighting settles, Dionysus is chosen from amongst the surviving Olympians to become King of Olympus, and under his guidance, Greek gods abandon the earth and refrain from taking active part in human affairs. no more demigods, no more curses, no more gods in disguise. it is a time for mortals to develop and grow on their own without divine intervention. and thus the 5th age of man is ushered in.

fin.

[val-of-the-north]

Top 5 hottest Bloodborne characters and why! (P.S. you must exclude Patches though, or else the top will be rigged and pointless)

FUCK YOU WHY DO YOU MAKE ME CHOOSE!!! (AND OF-FUCKING-CURSE YOU'D EXCLUDE MY BLORBO FUCK OFF)

Alright altright... let me think...

I don't have a particular order for any of these in mind, so bear with me here... the idea of hot in my head isn't really well-defined for these guys. I'll stick to the humans for this (and ones we actually meet and know what they look/ed like ahah), otherwise how is anyone gonna compare to like, Wet Nurse, Kos and Ebrietas? Simply impossible lmao. Also, it's half characters I personally really like and characters that just... ARE hot lol.

Call me simple but Annalise has some ALLURE to her. She looks absolutely beautiful in the portraits we do have of her, but her mask-bound visage inspires mystery and intrigue, as well as her just having that dignified nature to her. Despite everything she ever had having been toppled and destroyed, she keeps her chin up and still commands respect. She is very strong and confident in her blasphemy and you can't help but love to see it.

Call me simple YET AGAIN but Gascoigne is just undeniably hot lol. Like, I am not even his biggest fan but even I think it's an objective fact. He has everything you could ever want. Gigantic dad body, sharp teeth, a sexy voice... and he is probably sweet enough when off work to maintain a pretty stable loving family and a life-long buddy. Technically!!! He is the ONLY human character (that isn't a prostitute I guess) that is confirmed as not being a virgin lmao. Even the setting wanted you to know this man fucks. Like, there's no denying he is THE hot character of the setting when the topic comes up. People don't call him daddy for nothing...

Valtr. I don't even have to elaborate honestly. His looks are appealing, his insanity and violence are appealing, his voice acting is appealing. He is just REALLY freaking appealing with how strong he is and how passionate he is about the things he believes. And, while this may be a thing that only makes him more appealing to me, he also has the potential to be silly, which is hilarious since he is the character who'se goal is "everyone must die". I mean, it's THAT goal itself that makes him silly in the first place ahah. But yeah, solid design, concept, backstory and execution. It does not surprise me multiple people simp for him. Honestly, I am surprised it's not MORE.

Now with the more conventional out of the way, I'll go with Djura. He is a frisky old man, and one who tries to atone for his mistakes and crimes. He is well-meaning and surprisingly honest for someone in Yharnam lol, which makes him stand out in a sea of asshole opportunists and deranged lunatics. You know how people usually gravitate towards batshit crazy weirdo characters in a sea of relatively sane and good characters? I think Djura has the same effect but reversed lol. HE is the novelty in this world. Also, his design is pretty freaking attractive. It's simple, but the charm is there. His voice actor did a very good job as well ahah. I love his line delivery...

... I'll come out and say that I can see the appeal of Logarius VERY well. He is a tall evil man of dubious origin just chilling (literally) on the roof of Cainhurst for all time. He was most likely somewhat Pthumerian which adds to his attractiveness, as it would make him not QUITE a human (but still human enough to make it on this list lol). I also listened to the sounds he makes and I liked what I heard... he has a pretty cool evil laugh. I just like how he was either fully deluded and really believed his quest, or he was just enticing a group of fanatics while knowing full well their quest had ulterior motives. Both work and both are appealing for different reasons. One has to wonder what he looked like before he turned into a Halloween decoration...... welp, I said it. I am cringe but I am free...

Honorable mention to thicc Willem, the sexiest man in Yharnam and the one who ruined it. I like to think he wasn't JUST smart back in the day lol

[magnusmodig]

╰┈➤  headcanon prompts / @valeriius / accepting !

[ 🎵 ] is there a specific song or songs you associate with your muse? why is that?

||. there are a couple! (my thor playlist is 11.5 hrs long...) but if i had to narrow it down to three, i'd choose his two themes from his first movie, and one non-OST track.

In Thor (2011) Thor has two themes. They're named as follows:

"Sons of Odin"

"Earth to Asgard"

Both songs perfectly encapsulate who Thor is as a person, a prince and a hero. Sons of Odin features strings (primarily cello and violin), with touches of brass and fierce percussion. The horns and percussion are pretty standard instrumentations for 'heroic' characters, but what I've always thought was absolutely incredible about Thor's two themes is that the trumpet and percussion beats, while prevalent and proud (as a prince of a space-viking society would be expected to be!), actually take second fiddle to the strings. Specifically the cello/violin duo. (I could go on for days about how the violin tends to uplift either the cello or the horns, similarly to how Loki fits into place at Thor's side and helps him keep stable for days but it's true. It's just as much Loki and the Asgardian Royal Family's theme as it is simply Thor's.)

"Earth to Asgard" is equally as noble, quiet and regal, starting with the absolutely iconic synth beat mixed in with mysterious violins, and those instruments leading into the warrior-esque drums that all build into the final melody shared between horns (thor's heroism) and strings (thor's heart). It's absolutely stunning, the work that Patrick Doyle did. He really makes Earth to Asgard really FEEL like a sovereign, cosmic alien is looking at earth and falling in love. It's the perfect love theme for Fosterson, and I adore it for that.

In short: both of his actual two themes encapsulate Thor's noble, strong personality absolutely PERFECTLY. There couldn't have been a better composer to create his themes. And Dark World's Thor, Son of Odin only elaborates on what was already there, so while that's an honorary mention, the first two definitely deserve the praise more.

Otherwise! I tend to relate Thor to the song on his sidebar. It's called "Zephyrus" by The Oh Hellos. There are a lot of songs by The Oh Hellos that catch my eye for Thor, but that one in particular captures his more poetic musings, the way he tends to compartmentalize his thoughts into metaphors and sentiments that seem almost tragically poetic.

The calm and homeliness of the banjo and the bass capture how soft he is. How king and selfless. Many of the lyrics have a wonderful, tentative optimism and hope that linger within it. It's beautiful. just like him!

Are we not threaded by the same weave of the wind? Terra firma and unparted sea? Whether by accident or fortune You and I, we are matter and it matters. I want to spin something out of nothing Lead to gold, spring to winter Story from moted sky The way they encourage one another To push high, touch the sunlight, against their tender leaves They'll be full grown before we know it And I breathe, so does she We are breathing.

[ ❌ ] is there something your muse struggles with that they might never overcome? what is it? why do they have so much trouble with it?

Oh I think there's PLENTY of things that Thor struggles with. His compounding grief over the many losses he's suffered, his slowly decaying trust in the good of the world and where he fits into it, his incredibly deep-woven insecurities concerning whether or not he's a good man who is worthy... He's got a lot of hang-ups just about Loki letting go from the Bifrost in Thor (2011) ...it came so out of left-field for him.

Ultimately, while there are plenty of ways those things all combine and feed into one another, the absolute biggest struggle Thor is troubled by is the notion that love does not have to be earned. it never did, and should never have been posed as such.

Whether that means "earning" the love of his parents, Odin and Frigga, earning their time, their patience, their pride.... Or earning the respect and loyalties of his people, his knights, his personal band of warriors as their comrade, their prince and their future king... Or earning Loki's love as his brother, or a place in the Avengers, or a place at Jane's side.

Thor has ALWAYS struggled with the notion that what he does is good enough. and by proxy: that THOR is good enough, as he is, with no strings attached, no walls up or performances to put on. That he is worth love, and can be loved even if he can give nothing to the people around him. When he's finally burnt out and spent, that he can still be held and that can be enough.

and so when he was told:

you are unworthy of these realms! you are unworthy of your title!

you are unworthy!

...of the loved ones you have betrayed.

....well let's just say that he took that incredibly personally.

[ink-and-flame]

Kinktober - Intensity Undone

Kinktober Day 3 Prompts: No Prompts

Fandom: Original

Tags: exophilia, angst, hurt/no comfort, relationship arrangements

Pairing:  Orc(M)/Human(F)| Darnok/Lia,

[Authors Note: Since the plans for Darnok and Lia had changed this is completely off script now and no longer following the outline. The way the rest of this goes is going to be as much of a surprise to me as it will be for everyone else. There are only a few more parts of this left for what I am considering book 1 of this overarching story. This is a bridge story that does not fit anywhere in the Kinktober prompt list. I felt it worked better as a stand alone as opposed to trying to cram kink into it or having 2 separate stories be one. ]

Lia had been ignoring her phone and email for days now, as she knew it was Darnok trying to contact her. Double checking her messages to make sure she didn’t miss something important for work, she sent everything to voice mail and ignored the rest. That last moment in the club played over and over in her head. The look of shock in Darnok’s eyes as she mentioned his engagement. Everything after was a blur and she wasn’t sure how she made it home.

Ember had been checking up on her every day, letting Lia know that Darnok was sending her messages trying to get any information he could on Lia. It was bothersome but Lia understood. She didn’t give him a chance to say anything, but she couldn’t. If she had risked it, she might have simply fallen back into his arms with whatever excuse he could come up with. 

A part of her mind argued that she should have let him speak, should answer him, because what if she was wrong. Though that was the part of her that loved him and wanted to be with him. Lia didn’t trust herself, and whatever reason or excuse he had it wouldn’t be enough. At the end of the day she wanted more than what he was willing to offer, and she had to do what was best for herself.

The phone calls and messages continued into the next week, a few times it was Lucien or Zane calling to check on her, making sure she was ok. Thankfully they had managed to keep all of this from spreading outside their little group to avoid any drama or make things more difficult for Lia when she chose to come back to the club. Lucien had urged her, gently, to talk to Darnok and make a clean break if that was what she truly wanted. 

Thankfully for Lia he had no idea where she lived so he couldn’t just randomly show up at her home without notice. Though she wasn’t sure if he remembered where she worked and hoped that he didn’t show up and cause a scene. There was a small part of her that did want to talk to him and she considered what Lucien said as the days kept ticking by. 

Lia was in the back at work on her break when her coworker walked up to her with the strangest expression, she looked nervous.

“Uh, there is a car outside for you. A really expensive car and the driver said he was here to pick you up?”

Lia sighed and rubbed her face. “I’m sorry, I will go out there and tell them to leave.”

Lia only had a few minutes left of her break and didn’t want to waste it on this, but she had no choice. Walking outside she told the driver she was working and that he needed to leave. Regardless of his insistence that she get in. Turning around she headed back in and tried to ignore the situation. The car stayed right where it was for the rest of her shift and she was tempted to sneak out the back and drive home, but she didn’t want to risk being followed. 

“Ok, my shift is over, clearly you aren’t leaving and I am certain that if I try to drive myself home you will follow me. Right?”

“I have been given instructions to pick you up, and where to take you, that is the limit of my instructions. But yes, I would follow you.”

Rubbing her face with a sigh, Lia felt she had no choice. Giving a vague gesture of acquiescence she waited for the door to be opened and reluctantly got into the car. She knew this was Darnok and not some elaborate abduction, though it certainly felt like one. Of course it did not make her any less angry and Lia held that anger close to her chest, she would need it to keep from falling into his arms the moment she saw him. Despite everything, she missed Darnok.

When the car finally stopped Lia took a deep breath in and waited. The door opened and she stepped out. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over her. She was at the hotel her and Darnok would use on nights they stayed together after being at the club. She wasn’t sure how to feel about this choice, but it did make some measure of sense. 

The driver gave her  a key card and a slip of paper with instructions on it. Rolling her eyes she thanked the driver politely, none of this was really his fault, and headed into the hotel. Making her way past the desk and up to the room she was relieved to find that it was empty. It gave her a moment to prepare herself, take a few calming breaths, and sit down to relieve some tension. 

It wasn’t long before she heard another key card in the door and it opened. In walked Darnok, alone, and looking worried. Lia set her features as close to neutral as she could even though just the sight of him was enough to overwhelm her emotions. 

At first there was silence as Darnok stood somewhat awkwardly just inside the door. He stepped closer and cleared his throat. 

“Lia.”

Stopping him, Lia held up a hand. “Ms. Doran will be fine. If necessary I will allow you to call me by my full first name. Adalia. You have lost the privilege of calling me anything else.”

The startled look on his face followed by one of pain was all that kept Lia from breaking her facade. She did not feel anywhere near as confident as she sounded and knew that she would probably break before he did. 

“Of course Ms. Doran, I understand. Would it be ok if I sat at the table with you?”

Lia nodded and gestured to the chair furthest from her, waiting for Darnok to take a seat. She had not seen him in a bit, but he already looked different. It was hard to place exactly what was different, other than her perception of him, and perhaps that was all it was. 

“I know you are angry with me, upset, hurt, dozens of other things. I would just like an opportunity to explain everything to you. If you will allow it.”

Lia sighed and leveled him with an annoyed expression. “If at any point this starts to sound like excuses. I am shutting it down and leaving.”

“That is more than fair.” Darnok took a deep breath clasping his hands together on the table. 

“I should have told you of my arrangement the moment I started to consider you as my sub, that was entirely my own fault, I own all of that. All of this is my fault and I will never be able to apologize enough.” Dar held up a hand when he saw Lia open her mouth. “Please, just, let me get through this first part or I never will be able to. I will answer every question you have after.”

Lia nodded and gestured for him to continue. Though the word arrangement already had the wheels in her head turning and she was certain some of her initial suspicions about Darnok had actually been true. Maybe they wouldn’t be where they were if she had just asked questions the moment she became suspicious instead of holding it all inside out of fear of losing him.

“I am in an arranged marriage. It had been planned long before I met you, and I have spent much of my adult life trying to get out of it. Well, trying in ways that will not shame either family or get someone killed.” Clearing his throat again Darnok looked down at his hands. “It was obvious to my intended that I didn’t want this, and as a fae, she is indifferent to all of it herself. She does what her parents tell her and that is pretty much that. Though she did notice and eventually we sat down and had a discussion of what is and is not acceptable for our relationship and how we appear in public.” Dar paused and stood up. “I need a drink, do you want anything?”

“Water is fine.” Lia waited as he brought her water from the mini bar and a juice for himself. 

“Our agreement is that in public we appear a normal, happy, loving couple. Whatever it takes to convince the media, our peers, and our families that everything is working out. Privately I am allowed to indulge my sexual desires however I choose but there are rules I have to follow. I can’t be with anyone in our social circle, preferably I keep it out of the city entirely. I can’t fall in love or have feelings for my sexual partners. I cannot be seen publicly with them, and I can’t get anyone pregnant. There are a few smaller rules about visible markings and how I dress, but those are often overlooked.” Darnok took a swig of his juice before continuing.

“I did everything I could to stall the engagement or try to get out of it, but I can’t and my hand has been forced. Both families are pushing for us to be married by the end of next year.” He rubbed his face and looked sadly at Lia. “We have no love for each other, I honestly don’t even think she likes me. Our entire relationship is devoid of intimacy and even the barest shred of warmth. It is entirely a power move and my family was willing to sacrifice me as I am not the oldest son.” Pausing he shrugged. “You can ask questions now if you want. Or just leave, I honestly wouldn’t blame you. It is a fucked up situation that I made worse by not being honest with you.”

Lia sat for a moment, letting everything he said sink in. She toyed with the water bottle a bit as she thought of any questions she could ask. Really he laid it out pretty plainly. There wasn’t a whole lot of mystery, other than the whole arranged marriage part. She wasn’t even aware that was still a thing, but clearly it was. 

“I guess the only question I can think of is just why? Why weren’t you just honest with me from the beginning? It seems like such a simple thing, you could have brought it up that first night, or if not then, after the first month would have been appropriate.”

Darnok nodded, knowing Lia was absolutely right. He should have been honest from the very beginning. It could have avoided all of this. 

“It is a valid question and one I have no acceptable excuse for. The reason I didn’t in the beginning is because of privacy. I had gotten used to the arrangement and rarely had partners that I would do enough sessions with that it would be necessary to disclose it. After that though, I guess the reason was fear. I connected with you in ways I have never connected with anyone, I didn’t want to lose that. I kept telling myself you would move on, or I could just tell you the next month, but I always managed to find a reason to not say anything and it then became an issue of feeling too late.” Darnok looked down at his hands before continuing. “I guess part of me was living in this fantasy world where I could have both. I could keep the families happy, and I could have you which made me happy. I should have known it was impossible and I am so sorry for how much this hurt you.”

It was hard to stay in her seat, not run to him and throw her arms around him. She loved him, Lia knew that she loved him, but that love was poison to her heart. Even if he had been honest from the beginning, she knew she would have fallen in love with him anyway and it would have hurt just as much, but in a different way. 

“At least I understand now. I can’t say I envy your position, and you should be honest with your partners from day one going forward. Privacy or no, this is a cruel thing to do to a person and I would hate for it to happen to anyone else. I am fortunate I got my club membership on my own merits because I like the people I have met there and I don’t want to lose that too. I am sure we will see each other at the club, but I think it would be for the best if you kept your distance for now. Even though I understand your situation, I don’t think I can do any more scenes with you Darnok.”

Lia stood up. It was the most difficult thing she had ever done, but she had to let him go. Mostly for her own sake. He was never going to leave his fiance, he couldn’t, and she loved him too much to be his dirty secret. Maybe others could live with that, but she had grown far too attached and there was nothing to be done about it now. 

“So this is goodbye then?” Darnok asked, looking at her with sorrowful eyes. “You want a clean break, no friendship, no anything?”

“I can’t. I just, Darnok I can’t. Find someone else to be your sex toy. I am a sub, but I am still a person, and I refuse to let myself be used like that.” 

Turning away from him Lia headed towards the door, she could already feel the heat of the tears in her eyes threatening to fall and she did not want to cry again, not now. 

“Please wait!”

“NO! I am leaving and you are going to let me. This is on you. You broke everything Darnok, and you can’t fix this. There is nothing you can do to ever make this ok. Do not contact me again.”

Storming out of the room Lia all but ran to the elevator and stepped inside. She held it together long enough to make it down to the main floor and out the door. Of course she did not have her car, and while she did see the driver she avoided him and just began walking. The hotel wasn’t far from the club, she could see if Ember was there and get a ride back to work that way. As far as she was concerned Darnok no longer existed and she had to restart her life as best she could. 

Thankfully Ember was there, along with some of the others she knew. The walked helped to clear her head and kept her from looking overly disheveled as the tears had time to fall, but the cool air kept her face from going too red or splotchy. Ember called it a night early and headed out with Lia, driving her to her work and then following back to their building. 

Like a good friend Ember stayed with Lia all night, letting her friend rage and cry, doing whatever was needed to get it all out. It was necessary to heal, the wound had to be cleansed before the healing could begin. It was a shitty situation for certain, but Lia was strong and would eventually be able to move on. Until then, she had friends that would help her through all this. 

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Do you think you could do headcanons for if Richie got a woman pregnant on a one-night-stand, and the woman just ended up dropping the baby on his doorstep, and how the losers, including Richie, would react?

- let’s say this happens a few months after Derry 2.0

- because before that Richie was still very deep in the closet and he trying to prove to everyone around him that he’s very heterosexual.

- The woman he has a one night stand with is friends with Steve, mostly because he is secretly hoping she tell Steve about their night

- (Richie thinks Steve is suspecting that he’s gay and want to nip it in the bud)

- They go back to Richie’s place on evening after getting McDonald’s and it’s fine, obviously Richie doesn’t feel anything for her but she’s nice enough that he likes talking to her

- One thing leads to another and they spend the night together

- The next day things aren’t hostile between them but it is akward because Richie is nervously fluttering hoping she’ll go home soon

- She does and they don’t keep in touch, which is fine for Richie. He doesn’t want to feel the guilt every time he looks at her knowing that he used her for his own gain.

- Richie mostly forgets about that night and her, and after Derry he’s too busy to pay that night any thought

- His head over heels for Eddie now, and he’s gearing up to tell him soon.

- He’s waiting for Eddie’s divorce to come through. He doesn’t want to add pressure on Eddie during such a demanding time but, he’s excited for what will happen after.

- So they’re not yet dating, but they’re getting there. It’s just a matter of time.

- And then Steve shows up with his baby one morning.

- He’s pale white, and the hand of which he’s hold the maxicosi is trembling

- Of course, Richie being the trash mouth that he is, starts making fun of him.

- He doesn’t understand why Steve would have a baby with him (as far as he’s heard Steve didn’t want kids) but the comedy gold is right there for grabbing.

- ‘What’s the baby for Steve? Did you father a baby I didn’t know anything about?’

- Uno reverse card

- When Steve bashfully admits that it’s not his kid, but Richie’s, the latter laughs.

- At first he’s convinced it’s just Steve messing with him, but Steve would never go as far as to kidnap a baby.

- He still continues to chuckle even after apprehension starts to take hold him off

- ‘It’s not a joke Richie, this is your daughter.’

- Instead of becoming serious as the situation calls for it, Richie begins to cackle.

- Not laugh, not chuckle or snort, cackle.

- He’s so confused, and flabbergasted and he can’t believe this tiny human thing crying in her crib is his.

- ‘I’m just the messenger man,’ Steve placates, slowly sinking the carrier to the ground.

- When Richie is finally done laughing ( it goes on for a very long time) Steve is itching to get out of there.

- He leaves with very little more explanation other than; ‘it was your one night stand from a few months ago, she doesn’t have a name yet, and her mother is refusing to take care of her.

- Richie finds himself just staring at this tiny little thing that’s beginning to cry and whimper as she kicks her tiny feet in the air.

- She starts to cry earnestly after about five minutes, not to fond of not being payed attention too for so long

- Richie tries to shush her gently, but it’s a baby and they don’t listen to what anyone tells them too.

- The cries grow in intensity, and Richie’s slowly losing his mind.

- He’s pacing his apartment, in a daze. He’s working on automatic pilot, because he can’t comprehend the fact that he just became a father, he’s clueless about what to do

- His own daughters birthday remains a mystery to him for god sake.

- If Richie were thinking logically, he’d call Steve and ask him to come back and explain everything in a better way, but he’s not, and he can only think with his emotions.

- He ends up calling Ben and Bev.

- His first instinct was to call Eddie, seeing as Eddie is his best friend and all, but Eddie would panicked just as much as him and that would be of no help.

- Reaching out to Stan also pops up in his mind, but he can’t deal with cynical saying right now. He needs people who will be sympathetic towards him and hopefully tell him what to do.

- On the phone he barely explains anything to bev and Ben, but he does tell them to hurry up.

- When they get to the apartment, Ben and Bev are shocked at seeing the little baby, and get concerned after Richie fails to give them an answer about how or why she’s in his house.

- Regardless, they step up up to the task and do their best to take care of the girl they know nothing about.

- Ben drives to the store to get formula and blankets and diapers, while Bev fishes her out of her crib and begins to slowly rock her. They’re both calm and collected.

- Richie on the other hand is snapping out of his haze, and the reality of the situation begins to dawn on him.

- Bev tries to console him but it’s hard when she has zero background information.

- Ben comes back and heats up her formula, but she refuses to drink and lets out a piercing cry in refusal.

- Even Bev’s rocking isn’t doing anything the south the baby, and out of desperation, Richie begins to cry.

- Because Bev is out of option herself, and doesn’t have a clue on how to help Richie, she passes him the baby.

- Richie is terrified of holding this petit thing that fits just exactly right in his arms. He’s scared of crushing her or dropping her and messing her up for life.

- But miraculously, as soon as she’s snuggled in his arms, she stops crying.

- She’s just content to lay there with her dad, who eventually tries to bottle feed her and it works. She eagerly drinks from it.

- First crisis evaded

- But, after everyone has processed the first major shock, Richie needs to give Ben and Bev the answers they deserve now.

- Richie tries to be as straight forward as he can, but he hasn’t had the details yet himself.

- The two losers insists that he tells the others of their group right away. It’s too big of a secret to hide, and they need all the help they can get.

- Again, none of the losers are informed as to why they have to go to Richie’s house ASAP, but they still do, because he’s there best friend and they wouldn’t be called if it wasn’t important.

- It’s Stan and Patty that arrive after Bev and Ben.

- Stan and Patty are less astounded for some reason.

- Patty doesn’t even inquire, she just goes straight into cooing over the baby fase.

- She’ll sit next to Richie (still holding his daughter) and begins talking gibberish to the baby about how beautiful she is.

- Richie agrees.

- Stan follows her lead, but he simply observes the two of them together and then sits near touching to Richie.

- ‘I should have know you’d be the first one with a kid Trashmouth.’

- But he doesn’t lecture Richie, or starts to interrogate him about anything.

- He must have sensed that Richie wasn’t up to it at the moment.

- Bill and Mike are next.

- Within stepping one food inside the place, and spotting Richie with a baby, Bill laughs, and asks him who he knocked up.

- He intends it as a joke, obviously, but when no one else laughs, he realises how right he is.

- ‘Richie... have you been keeping your baby from us for three months?’ Mike asks, a little offended.

- ‘What do you mean three months?’

- ‘She’s clearly three months old. You can tell by her development.’ When everyone just stares at him, Mike explains further. ‘I had a lot of time on my my hands after you all left Derry. Maybe I spend that time reading children books.’

- He doesn’t more time to elaborate, because that’s the moment Eddie arrives.

- It’s his reaction Richie is most frightened off.

- He’s in love with Eddie, loves him with all his heart, but he can’t ask Eddie to date a man that just became a father. That would mean not only choosing him, but also his child.

- Eddie looks at the baby, at Richie and then back, and follows it up by cursing;’what the fuck’. loudly.

- The harsh sound startles the baby, but with a gentle kiss on the forehead that Richie gives her, she’s pacified back into sleep.

- ‘Oh shit, oh no. I need an explanation, right now.’

- Richie explains the story yet again, and hopes that none of his friends will label him as an asshole at the end of it.

- Of course they don’t, but Eddie is headed up over the whole situation.

- ‘I know a lot of lawyers after my divorce with Myra, I could hook you up someone.’

- ‘She can’t just dump her baby on you without any of the proper paperwork. What if she has a deadly disease and needs to get continuos treatment?’

- Eddie’s ‘advice’ turns Richie’s complexion green, and his stomach in knots. He’s never had to thought of that stuff before, and now he has a whole human being that depends on him for everything.

- Stan snaps at Eddie to stop him from adding more stress onto Richie, which Eddie does with a guilty apologie.

- ‘Look Richie,’ Stan says to him with full seriousness. ‘You need to decide what you’re going to do,and unfortunately you do not have a lot of time. You cannot put this off, she needs a name, and a crib and everything she needs to survive. You need to make a decision if you’re keeping her.’

- Richie gazes down upon his baby. The same baby he hasn’t let go off from the second he held her. He’s so scared, beyond explanation or able to put it in words, but this is his daughter. He could give her up for adoption, and he live would remain the same, but he knows she excites now, and to give her away to strangers? He don’t think he could have the heart.

- But...

- ‘I can’t do it by myself’, he admits, voice small and honest.

- ‘You’d never have to.’ Eddie responds, one of his fingers stroking over the ring babies head. He looks absolutely smitten.

- His life was uprooted once again, but last time the change wasn’t bad at all. Richie is confident, this won’t be bad either.

- Barely a month later Eddie moves in with them full time, and becomes pops to Maggie lover Tozier.

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.33}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.5k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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They arrived in front of Morgan's private rooms a few minutes later, and it instantly sobered Robin up from her feelings of happiness and comfort that she had been able to cling onto ever since setting foot into the office earlier. If only life could always be as easy as it had seemed minutes ago, just Snape and her, and their relentless curiosity for magic and adoration for each other… But it wasn't, and both of them seemed to remember that as they stood in front of Morgan's door in silence. If they didn't find out about Morgan's reasons, didn't find out what this entire thing was about, there would be no life for Robin to lead at all.

She looked up at Snape next to her for a silent moment of gathering her wits, and his gaze spoke volumes of the same story. They could do this. They would find the bloody portrait, and then they would take the next step and the next and the next until this stupid mess was over with, until Morgan was no threat anymore. Whatever that might take. Even if it meant having to make Dumbledore their friend or enemy.

Upon a silent agreement that time was of essence, Robin got started on opening the door at last. It was warded rather heavily as she found, but that didn't stop her in the least, and on the contrary made things rather easy in return. Quite like paint that was applied in thick layers, she could peel them back and remove them all at once, even as thickly plastered as they were. A few minutes of quietly murmured spells and some trial and error later, the door swung open with a little squeaking noise and opened up the view of a perfectly ordinary, even if slightly ostentatious bed- and living room.

"I have to ask…" Robin spoke up quietly, once they had closed the door behind themselves and were now looking around the dark room with a lumos each. "Are you actually bad at breaking into places, or did you just pretend to be? Earlier today, I mean."

"I successfully worked as a spy in one of the worst wars known to wizarding history, and even beyond that, you have seen the neighborhood I grew up in. What do you think?" He asked in return, easily and without reproach, while yet he kept his focus on searching the room around them.

"Honestly, I think you could probably break into Azkaban unnoticed and back out again as well if you wanted to."

"That's perhaps a bit exaggerated, but the general sentiment is close enough."

"Then why did you want me to do it?" A small frown creased Robin's brows, as her eyes darted over the various pieces of luxurious furniture. "I'm sure you're far better at opening doors than I am."

"To humour you." Again, his reply came easily and with an almost graspable not-smirk engrained in his tone, and Robin inevitably had to smile as well while he went on. "In very much the same way you always do when you ask me to grab an item from the top shelves for you. You know as well as I do that you wouldn't even have to use your wand to collect it yourself, but instead you keep asking me to help you. Because you know how much it pleases me."

The smile on Robin's lips broadened, and finally her eyes found Snape on the other side of the room. "I had a vague idea that you knew I was doing it on purpose by now. Did you see that in my mind?"

"No. I simply know you well enough to know how well you know me."

"That's as confusing as it is amazing." She sighed with the same smile, then went back to searching the room with her eyes fixed on the shadowy corners and places. "And thank you, for humouring me. I needed it today."

For another ten minutes they searched the admittedly small chambers in well practiced collaboration, checking even the adjunct bathroom and the wardrobes, but they still came up empty handed. Robin ran a hand through her unruly hair in frustration, then looked up at Snape who was standing next to her in the open space in equal irritation. "The bloody portrait has to be here. It wasn't in the classroom nor in the office, so it just needs to be here. There's no other possibility!"

"Considering how… frequented Morgan's quarters are by visitors of various kinds, it would only seem logical that he hid it well enough to not be found by guests on accident, but close enough to retrieve for his private moments."

"Ugh…" Robin shuddered while pulling a face. "It's not your fault, but any way to phrase it just sounds disgusting to me."

"I try to ignore that as best as possible. But the facts remain as they are, and I believe he hid it in close reach. The question remains as to where."

"Let's see… Perhaps we have to think like Morgan if we want to find the stupid thing." She suggested, and upon Snape's attentive yet expectant expression, she elaborated as silently demanded. "If I was Morgan, a wizard of thirty something years who is obsessed with a girl who is my student and who I happen to have a painting of… I would put it in a place where I often see it. I would be a lazy arse, but clever enough to still get my way; which means I would hide it somewhere where I don't have to move it, only conceal it."

"Sounds reasonable."

"And if I was Morgan, I would put it in a place where I can enjoy it while following my daily routine, since I would always be short of time and everything else would be too much of a hassle."

"Still reasonable."

"So… where in my chambers would I spend a lot of time?" Robin frowned to herself, then started sauntering through the room once more. "The desk, perhaps. I would always be working here instead of my office."

"But would you, as Morgan, not choose a place to display it that doesn't demand a constant split of attention? Having the portrait near the desk would pose a terrible distraction from your work. And as much as I hate the man, he always finishes his grading and other work neatly and in time." Snape commented in return, and Robin found herself nodding along as she trailed away from the desk again.

"True, I wouldn't be able to focus if I was constantly tempted to look at something I am obsessed with. And I would be terrible at controlling my own impulses. So… where else would I spend a lot of time by myself? What would I like doing in my free time?" She sauntered over to the small sitting area in the far corner, frowning to herself in contemplation. "Reading, perhaps?"

"You really don't have the slightest idea about what goes on in the mind of the average male, regardless of age, do you?"

Robin turned back around to Snape with a scoff, a half smirk and one raised eyebrow. "But you do? I can hardly imagine that."

"I was unfortunate enough to live with a hoard of them back in my school days." He scoffed at the memory, rolling his eyes to himself before he continued on in obvious disdain for what he was saying. "Perhaps Morgan was taking a literal approach with his words about looking at the painting each morning and each night. Perhaps, he hid it in the very place where he spends his every morning and night indeed."

"You don't mean-... No. No…"

"I wish I could hope I'm wrong." The gravity of Snape's tone made Robin shudder a little, or perhaps it simply was the idea he was so subtly presenting, but she took a deep breath anyway and walked over to the large four-poster bed in determination. That same model seemed to be a staple for all staff rooms, and if Morgan had hidden the portrait there, she would find it.

Indeed, after a moment of pushing through the queasy and awkward feeling of searching the vile man's bed, Robin finally found what she was looking for. Hidden under the roof of the canopy, concealed and fixated in place with some subtle charms work, was the portrait that she had last laid eyes upon in her fourth year. The almost perfect image of herself, the eerie similarity that now was almost absolute, hidden in such a place for only Morgan's eyes to devour at his fancy. Robin felt sick at the thought, her stomach churning, and even the last hairs in her neck were standing upright now. Morgan really hadn't been joking about his literal need for her… she suppressed the need to gag, which was only followed by another unpleasant shiver. This was worse than any amount of blood had ever made her feel.

"I, uh… I found the portrait." She finally managed to speak out loud without the bile rising in her throat, and after another few seconds of staring at the bloody thing that still looked just like she remembered, she added, "The… other me really doesn't have earrings, just as we thought, but otherwise she could be my mirror image. Well, if I had lived a couple hundred years ago, that is."

Her words faded, but even after multiple moments of silence she still received no answer, nor did she hear Snape coming any closer to look at her findings for himself. With a confused frown, Robin turned to look through the open room behind her only to find him lingering by the desk now, a deep frown plastered on his own face as he inspected a dark brown wooden box in front of him in silence. Again, as so often, his expression and body language spoke volumes, this time of weariness and caution.

"Sev? What's wrong?" Robin couldn't keep the concern out of her voice as she skipped over to the other side of the room to stand beside him in an instant. For a moment she followed his gaze to the intricately decorated box on the tabletop. It was an intriguingly unique piece, even if Snape seemed to be rather lost in thought than to be studying the object itself, and she finally looked back up at him with unease written all over her features when he still didn't reply. "Talk to me. Please."

"I believe to have seen this very object in the headmaster's office before… Years ago, when I was a student, and again and again when I started teaching, but not any time recently. In one of the shelves in the far back of the room where all the important artefacts are stored, far out of everyone's reach." He answered at last, obviously lost in thought and consideration, which didn't do much to calm Robin's uproaring nervousness. If Snape was concerned, she should be double as much.

"Do you know what's inside?" She finally dared to ask, and while she wasn't sure if she even wanted to know the answer, she suddenly was very certain that whatever the box held would bring them closer to solving the mystery around Morgan and the Portrait. It had to, everything else just wouldn't make sense. But perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

"I have no idea." He mused, seconds before casting a detection charm for curses and dark magic over the object, only to have it come back negative. "But we should certainly take a look. Out of all the bizarre objects in Morgan's room, this is perhaps the second most curious after the portrait."

"Why do you think that?"

"Have you ever in the entire castle seen an object that required a key and not magic to unlock it?" He finally turned to Robin, then motioned to the box once more while his eyes stayed on her though. Frowning to herself, Robin leaned down closer towards the box and held her wand so that she could properly study the object in question with sufficient light. Indeed, there was a keyhole on the lid. Something she hadn't seen in use in the longest time. For a few minutes she tried every spell to open the box she had at her disposal, then however gave up in the light of her company's greater knowledge of such spellwork.

"That really is curious." She said as she straightened her back once more. "Do you want to try?"

"I already have."

"And?"

"There is nothing to be done without the corresponding key. It seems to be entirely unaffected by magic in general. And knowing who the box belonged to, it likely wouldn't do to simply break it open either."

"Pity." Robin sighed, stemming her hands into her hips as she thought. If the box really had been among the important artefacts in the headmaster's office for at least ten years and had still been there when Snape started teaching, then it must have not been in Morgan's possession much longer than the portrait. But if-...

"I can feel you thinking, Robin." Snape interrupted her thoughts before she really could get going deeper. "And usually that results in some brilliant revelation. Enlighten me, yes?"

"Right…" She breathed, nodding both to him and herself. "I was just thinking, if the box was in the headmaster's office from possibly before the time you started school until roughly when you started teaching, then it can't belong to Morgan and also can't have been in his possession for long."

"The latter is obvious, but what brings you to assume the former?"

"Well, when you started school at the tender age of eleven, then Morgan must've been like what, sixteen? Seventeen?" She reasoned, more guessing than knowing, but the point stood nonetheless. "Either way, as you previously pointed out, he is quite the ordinary male with an ordinary mind."

"That we have yet to determine for certain."

"I'm not talking about him going crazy over me, that's another issue entirely so let's just ignore that for a second. What I mean is that at whatever age he was when you started school, he was still a teenager. And how likely is it that a normal teenager possesses artifacts that are important enough to make the headmaster's top shelf?"

"I see your point." Snape mused, frowning to himself again for a moment. "In that case Dumbledore must have given it to him deliberately, at a point in time after I started teaching even though there does not seem to be an apparent reason for that particular timing. Which in return makes it highly unlikely that the contents of this box don't correlate to the portrait in some way."

"Precisely my line of thought."

"That makes it all the more important to find a way to open this crude thing now." He grumbled to himself and went back to studying the box intently. "Obviously Morgan will possess the key, but I sincerely doubt that Dumbledore doesn't still have one as well. He wouldn't part from anything of relevance without precautions."

"Wait, so there can be more than one key?" Robin's mind came to a sudden halt, then toppled over some more and finally changed direction. "I was under the impression that Morgan would logically have the only one."

"I see no reason why there couldn't be more than one. Creating them certainly must be a difficult procedure, but not impossible to replicate over and over again if desired."

"Oh gods…" Her voice grew shallow as her heartbeat sped up in an instant, followed by a cold rush of adrenaline while she mentally chastised herself. They had a lock without a key. She had a key without a lock. How stupid could she be not to make that connection sooner?!

"Minerva's key. Of course…" He came to the same conclusion as her then, eyes widening every so slightly as he watched Robin fumbling with her locket with slightly shaking hands. She had too much adrenaline in her body for anything else, was too exhausted and anxious… But this had to be the reason why McGonagall had given her a key for her birthday, and why she'd been so insistent on it that Robin kept it a secret. She had another key to this box, a key that wasn't supposed to exist.

"Fingers crossed…" Robin said under her breath as she finally put the small piece of metal to good use at last. It fit into the lock easily, and with a weary look up at Snape, Robin finally twisted it in one swift move. It obliged without resistance, and she pulled her hand back as if burnt when not one metallic clicking was heard from inside the box, but multiple in a row. Oh gods, hopefully she hadn't just set off some trap or self destruction or anything of the likes… But after a few seconds, the sounds faded, and the box sat still and innocently as ever on the desk before them.

"Do you wish to open it or shall I?" Snape asked quietly, but even he didn't dare to take his eyes off the box now.

"I'll open it, and you make sure that nothing jumps at me. Like always, yes?" She propositioned, nodding to herself to perhaps shake some of the fear out of her head. This was a good idea… she just needed to make herself believe that now. "We've been in plenty of situations like this before, haven't we? I go off to inspect some potentially dangerous thing, and you make sure I survive it. Isn't that what we always do when we go hunting for ingredients?"

"It is similar enough, yes."

"Good…" She took a deep breath, then placed her hand on top of the lid and looked over at Snape once more for a confirmation of what she was about to do. He motioned for her to go ahead, and after another second of hesitation, Robin finally had enough of herself and flipped the stupid box open with a start.

Nothing jumped at her, nor did she seem to have set off any kind of follow-up spells. It simply was a box, admittedly larger on the inside than the outside, but Robin barely took notice of that any longer, seeing how most of her own boxes and bags were graced with the same magic. What did surprise her however were the contents the box in front of her held now, in all their striking unspectacularity. A look at Snape confirmed that he shared that sentiment to the fullest. They had expected anything at this point… but not just a gigantic stack of parchments, ranging from literally ancient to almost modern.

"Well, at least we have something to look into now…" Robin sighed to herself as she frowned down at the pile of paper in front of her. "There has to be some kind of important information written on these, or nobody would've bothered hiding them that well. They will either give us answers, or leverage on Dumbledore who in return can give us answers."

"Indeed… However this is hardly the time nor place to look through an epos of loose leaf parchments." Snape said in argument with circumstance, which made Robin look up at him again while raising her eyebrows.

"Do you really think we should just take the box? Morgan will notice for sure, and then it won't be hard to guess for him who took it."

"I think we should take the parchments." He returned easily, then motioned to the object in front of them once more. "The lid had a thin layer of dust on it already, which means that Morgan likely knows the contents of these papers at this point and therefore has no need to open the box again any time soon. If we leave the box where it is, and with a bit of luck, he won't notice the papers' absence until we long have the information we need. Until we are ready to face him on equal grounds."

"Clever." Robin replied with a half smile. "As always."

Snape merely rolled his eyes in that exaggerated manner that humour her so much, then they finally went to gather up the papers into a portable pile in his arms. Half a minute later, Robin locked the box back up with her key, then hid the latter back inside her locket.

"What about the portrait?" She asked as they made for the door at last, after having spent decidedly too much time in Morgan's quarters already. "It feels wrong to leave it here, in that place… I know we have to, but it makes me feel sick nonetheless."

"As much as it bothers me, I'm afraid we have to leave it where it is indeed." He answered, then his voice turned into more of a growl than the rich silk it usually was. "But don't believe for even a second that I wouldn't gladly end his pathetic existence for lusting after you like this."

"Because I'm yours and only yours?" She couldn't help asking with a small smile, while she peeked out through the door into the empty hallways first before opening it further for him as well.

"Because you deserve better than that."

"But also because I'm yours."

"Yes."

"You really can't deny that you are quite territorial, you know…"

"I would rather call it protective than territorial."

"Same thing."

"Does it bother you?" He inquired calmly but in seriousness, looking down at Robin over the papers in his arms expectantly.

"Rather on the contrary." She replied with a small but affectionate smile. "It makes me feel almost too giddy with pride and adoration. I just wish you could show a little more of that in public too; would certainly keep the right people from bothering me. Oh well… I wish."

"Believe me, so do I." He sighed in return, then took another look inside Morgan's room once they both stood in the hallway. "Let us hope he will be too drunk upon his return to notice the traces we left."

"Or… I could turn back the time inside the room to before we arrived?" Robin suggested more than asked with a hopeful and pointedly innocent expression. "You know I can freeze objects in time… And I'm actually quite sure that I can turn time back in a limited space just as easily, as long as there are no people inside. That's way more difficult, or rather impossible without a timeturner."

"You are aware that technically tampering with time is forbidden in any regard, yes?"

"So is breaking into a professor's private chambers and stealing his papers."

For half a second Snape seemed to freeze in his protest, then a not-smirk tugged on his lips and he shrugged as far as his arms full of parchments allowed. "I ran out of arguments. Go ahead."

A mirroring smirk played on Robin's lips for a moment, then she took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand. She'd read more about messing with time than she should probably admit, going through the entire restricted section of the library without anyone ever putting a stop to her efforts. Really, all the fun magic was in the restricted section anyway. Everything that was worth learning about. The part about potions and herbology she'd already finished years ago, then the dark arts had followed a long time prior as well, and now finally she had moved on to researching charms, also in regards to the still impending NEWTs.

It took two attempts to cast the difficult spell successfully, but then the room looked precisely how it had before they had entered. Even the layer of dust on the box was back in place and undisturbed by fingerprints. Content with her efforts, Robin finally closed the door and placed the same wards on it that she had removed upon their arrival.

"Do you know what truly is a shame?" Snape asked after a moment, while they quietly made their way back through the dark hallways and down a few stories.

"Quite many things, but please, do enlighten me."

"That neither Morgan nor Flitwick will ever know how ridiculously talented you are in their subjects."

Robin let out a humoured huff in replacement for a certainly too loud chuckle. "Oh, I think Morgan does know at this point. I managed to fend him and his best efforts off after all, even if just barely. Isn't that what defense class is about?"

"About fending off your crazy professor? I certainly hope not."

Now Robin did snort a little, even though the topic itself should have been rather depressing. "It's ironic that I have to defend myself against him with defenses that he himself has taught me. Or rather I would have to, if I hadn't read so much more about the dark arts in advance. What truly saved me today wasn't anything I learned in defense class… but rather the things I came up with myself, or what you showed me. Things Morgan didn't see coming."

"And therefore my point stands."

"How so?"

"Well, any idiot can learn the textbook by heart and master the school taught spells."

"Most idiots can't, in fact, as you very well know. They're far too narrow minded to even accomplish such a thing, and-..."

"Anyway…" He went on, in a manner that reminded Robin an awful lot of her own mannerisms, but she gave him that and let him go on. "What makes you such a brilliant witch and not just an outstanding student is that you don't even try to stay within the given boundaries. Most of the things you excel at are either straight out illegal for most people, or at least so far out of the school curriculum that your teachers will never know what you truly can do."

"I don't really mind." Robin shrugged in return. "It's a good thing that Morgan doesn't know me well enough to know what I can do. That's my only advantage over him."

"I certainly agree with that assessment. Perhaps once Morgan isn't an issue anymore we can see to it that you get the recognition you deserve."

"I just want to ace my NEWTs and move on to more interesting matters of study once and for all. I don't need anyone's recognition. The only person I ever actually tried to impress is you, and that seems to have worked out for me just fine." She replied with a small smirk, which earned her another of those lovely feignedly annoyed expressions in return. They both knew she was right though, she had impressed him so many times and likely always would, and it had indeed worked out in both their favour. And, almost needles to say at this point, Robin felt like they both were equally proud of that fact after all.

______________________________

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[pathogenliliaceae]

Let the games begin. To go off on: Mia. To explore changes, potential, concerns, etc: Jill.

Oh! Cooperation is lovely! Thank you, Anonymous! This may be a bit longwinded... We'll give Mia a go first.

My Thoughts on Mia Winters:

I make no secrets that my analysis on Mia will be full of speculation. Quite honestly, though she's been in more games than some of our series protagonists, there isn't much that is truly known about her (Ha, I put "it" and had to correct myself). She is full of mystery, and while that functionally works for Ada and her behind-the-scenes mischief, there is something that absolutely irks me about the enigma that is Mia's purpose.

I think this is why: While Ada ends up being beneficial in some circumstance, Mia finds herself in need of rescuing. We are two for two, at this point. Her presence in both games is inconsequential. Everything that happens involving Mia could have been just as easily expressed in a memo or through cutscenes. Those of you who enjoy her will defend that she did not ask Ethan to come and rescue her in Seven, but truly I am not entirely convinced nor sure of how much of Mia's actions are the E-001 mould or are her own. Therefore, we cannot pick and choose.

We can, however, analyse what Mia was like prior to the E-001 infection.

Let us talk first about the organisation she finds herself involved with. The Connections, founded by Brandon Bailey, who you may recognise from memos in Five- a protégé of Dr. James Marcus. From what I can tell, The Connections does not have much to do with anything other than the E-series. They (he?) attempted partnership with HCF in the early 2000s, but the only bit of information I can find about what they did states that they only managed to "revolutionise" mind-control experiments through the use of fungus. Fungus which they obtained from Miranda under the false pretense that they would use it to resurrect Eva. Right, then- Mia joins them in 2010.

The timeline is a bit wonky in this bit, but stick with me as I try to make some sense of it. Mia and Ethan date in Texas (video games tell me that the most awful things happen in Texas) in the early 2000s, and marry in 2011. Therefore, it is (hopefully) assumed that their relationship was at least somewhat serious prior to Mia joining The Connections in 2010. One would assume that they engaged and Mia celebrated by becoming a bioterrorist. I understand, though. Weddings are expensive.

Mia keeps her job a secret from her to-be, and later- current, husband. She tells him she works as a "worker for a trading company", which- shame on Ethan for not asking more questions to uncover that elaborate ruse. That story falls apart if you brush it with a feather. She even calls the transport and handling of Eveline a "babysitting job" in her video to Ethan at the beginning of Seven. Oh, Ethan, you absolute moron. We should expect that he does suspect something, at least, as in her second video that she attempts to send she states "You're right, I have been lying to you". In October 2014, Mia and Alan spirit Eveline away, intentionally across the Atlantic, and presumably transporting her to Miranda, because the BSAA uncovered the facility (I am unsure where the facility Eveline was conceived in is located. I assume Texas, as Mia joined The Connections in Texas, and Louisiana is on the way from Texas to Romania). I am aware that some articles state that the Annabelle was headed to Central America, but I cannot find citation of it in a memo, nor remember it in my playthrough of Seven. She is "killed" (fails at containment) whilst "trading goods" (smuggling a sentient bioweapon). Ethan presumably moves on with his life, all the better for no longer having Mia as a spouse. ... Until July, 2017. All bad things happen in July in this series. Arklay, Lanshiang, now this.

As we cannot be certain that Mia is not lying, due to her track record, I will state that we cannot be sure that she did not lure Ethan to Dulvey, and therefore is entirely involved in the events of Seven, from transport to finality. Mia, canonically, unfortunately, is "cured" with the serum and evacuated from the Dulvey Estate by Blue Umbrella (which I take absolute issue with).

I've said this timeline is a mess, and my thoughts are equally messy, so I apologise again. We'll move on to Village and the bulk of what I suspect is Mia's covert (if you could call it covert) allied relationship with Miranda. Previous to October 2014, Miranda travelled to The Connections facility that was housing Eveline. There, she met and conversed with both Mia and Alan. Both were working in tandem for and with The Connections, and both were intimately involved in the E-series.

Back to the whole transporting Eveline across the ocean bit, because I've just had a thought, just WHO approves of transporting a BOW of Eveline's calibre without containment measures and protocols? Oh, yes, it could not possibly backfire that we've given everyone out of the know the impression that this is a family with a not-at-all-dangerous small child. Yes, a gun will fix it. Perfect. Whose idea was this? Mia? Alan? Brandon? Whomever, you're thick.

Anyhow- I wholly and fully believe that Mia's involvement in Village and, by proxy, with Miranda, is willful. They had met before, and by extension had worked together, on the E-series project in specific regard to Eveline and the moulded. Rosemary is born to Mia and Ethan, and the BSAA relocates the Winterses (this still makes me laugh as it does not, at all, roll off the tongue) to Romania. I am not one hundred percent certain how this comes to be the location, as I have faith that Mia would know that Miranda operates nearby. There is too much happenstance for it to not be purposeful. That, however, involves Chris in some fashion and I cannot make that connection in a way that I enjoy it. I like to imagine that Mia simply expressed that she had always wanted to visit Romania, and the BSAA bungled it accordingly.

A bit more on the BSAA in this whole instance: While I do find them entirely insufferable, an utter joke at times, I do believe that some of them are at least somewhat competent. Yes, even Miss Valentine. Canonically, The Connections has a mole in the BSAA. The Connections, who hired Lucas Baker as Head Researcher in the E-series project. The Connections, who trusted Mia to transport a sentient BOW without containment measures. Has a mole. In the BSAA.

Sure.

Anyhow, this "mole" provides Miranda with intel of where the Winterses are living, that they've just had a baby, that both Mia and Ethan are living fungal colonies, and therefore, perhaps, maybe, Rosemary may be a suitable substitute for Eva. Bit of a leap of logic there, but I digress.

This "mole" in the BSAA must absolutely be Mia. I do not think so much it's that she's in the BSAA so much as that she is privy to whatever intel they would have regarding her family because she is a part of it. Again, she would have know they were close to Miranda. "Remember that mouldy pseudo-child BOW that my organisation promised you? Have I got news for you- my husband and I have gone stale, I've got a daughter, and I'm right in the neighbourhood!"

It ultimately makes more sense in the whole of how the universe operates that Mia and Miranda would be in league with one another. One does not simply make connections in... Well, The Connections... For all this to be coincidence.

Miranda takes Mia's forme and then goes on to impersonate Mia for days, her confrontational attitude goes unnoticed by Ethan because Mia's mould-type is of the toxic variety. Allegedly, Mia is captured and holed up in Miranda's lab having been experimented on. The only supporting evidence to Mia having been experimented on is in Eugen's Diary, stating that Miranda asked Eugen to bring her medical equipment and drugs on Wednesday, 3 February 2021. On Friday, 5 February, Miranda had taken Mia's place. And, of course, Mia's claim that she was experimented on and held hostage. I have one question of all of this:

Why would Miranda need to experiment on Mia if she is infected with the same E-series mould that Miranda already has samples and an unlimited supply of due to her proximity to the megamycete? Mia does not state that she is special after being rescued by Chris, only that Ethan is special. I would argue that both are rather run-of-the-mill, but again, I digress. Simply put, I don't believe that she would need to. Us scientists are not in the habit of wanting to perform experiments for the sake of using up supplies.

Furthermore, when Chris finds Mia in Miranda's lab, she is "imprisoned" in oddly the same way as she was in Seven. Behind bars, but unrestrained. In Village, Mia even has relative access to a weapon which she tries to attack Chris with. While Miranda is a mimic, after having obtained target DNA, I do not imagine that it would be easy to have mistaken Chris for Miranda. Unless Miranda regularly comes down to her lab as other people, which would be rather amusing- though setting up for a massive security issue.

If you were to imprison someone for experimentation, it's likely you wouldn't give them anything they could possibly use to attack you with. At least, that's how I would do it in the off chance that for whatever reason I became interested in imprisoning someone against their will for the purpose of science. (Do not read into this, Christiana.)

I believe that Mia intended to attack Chris, and after failing miserably, played the damsel card.

I will end this rambling on this note: She is entirely rude, confrontational, and hostile for someone who has just been rescued from imprisonment and had their baby saved. Honestly, if this is her default personality, who could fault Ethan for not noticing his wife being replaced for three days?

In short: Ethan should have saved Zoe instead. Mia Winters is a false-protagonist who has found herself in more than a few suspicious situations, has proven from the beginning to be a liar, and already has the connection with Miranda that might foster her involvement in the events of Seven and Village.

I'm certain I've missed something further that would be worth discussing. We will cover Jill in another entry as this has run much too long already, and it is time for my job as a worker at a trading company.

[blastoisemonster]

Meitantei Conan: Karakuri Jiin Satsujin Jiken

My review will focus on the "Murder at the Temple of Karakuri" episode (featured in the cartridge shown above), since it's the one I played thoroughly, but it needs to be said that all five games look very similar and apart from, obviously, the different plots -or the lack of colour in case of the two gray cartridge games- they all feature the same mechanics and controls, along with the same quality in audio and graphics department. Later games might also show a few cosmetic upgrades but nothing experience changing.

After choosing our save slots out of the possible three, we're immediately launched into the opening cutscene, giving us context for the upcoming investigation. Right off the bat, the Meitantei Conan videogame shows offs some rather impressive backgrounds and spriteworks, with nice panorama views of the places we're visiting as the protagonist and portraits of the speaking characters, which also change expression depending on their speech lines. The soundtrack isn't immense, but definitely has solid tunes, too: the title screen even plays the main theme straight from the anime! This elaborate sound and video combination makes it feel like we're watching an actual toon episode. As soon as the initial scenes are done, we're off of "cutscene mode" and into "investigation mode", which controls and feels exactly like a classic top-view RPG for Game Boy, with the prerogative that Conan can run and move diagonally. Suck it, mainline Pokèmon games!

In this particular chapter, Conan's gang is initially tasked with finding Satomi Togawa, one of Ran’s friends who has recently gone missing. The search leads them to an ancient temple in the mountains, once home to a ninja clan and therefore still filled with traps, but that now hosts several people. Conan plans to look around discreetly, but all changes when one of the other characters living in the temple, Yuuji, is found dead in his room. Police arrives to the place, and the kidnapping investigations are moved aside in favour of the murder ones. During the game, Conan can obviously look around interacting with various objects and characters to round up clues and/or solve a few puzzles, but he has also other tricks up his sleeve- er I mean, main menu: by pressing Start we gain access to the Map (useful in order to memorize the most complex exploring areas), Character Profiles that display name, picture and basic info of everyone we've encoutered in our adventure (a feature strikingly similar to Phoenix Wright's Court Records), and last but not least all the Key Words of the case: this section pretty much gathers up all clues, thoughts and discoveries we find during the game and by "Considering" them (simply clicking on them, that is) Conan comes up with associations and ideas. If pressed in the right order until a coherent line of thoughts gets formed, the story will progress and new "scenes" are unlocked until the culprit is caught and their motives and modus operandi are explained. We can also stick close to the crime scene and examine the body and murder weapon, which are represented with perfectly gruesome close ups, and thoroughly described where the Game Boy's pixel screen reaches its true limit; we get a description of wounds, state of the body, and approximate time of death, all useful information in order to unveil the mystery. This chapter in particular also had an interesting murder puzzle with seemingly more than one killer at the same time, which made the experience even more pleasant to discover. Among some secondary game mechanics, the player may come across a few multiple choice answers of which only one is correct and guarantees progress; however, if the other two are chosen, there's seemingly no other malus than making Conan act like an idiot, though without changing the order or nature of future events. Conan can also "swap" roles with other playing characters if he talks to them (for example, while in the Karakuri temple we also have the choice of fooling around as Ran or Kogoro). This is not necessary in order to complete the case, but I understand it could be a welcomed touch for fans of the series that would like to experience a certain scene from different point of views; quite infact, it's interesting and funny to see how different characters react to clues or interactions, and NPCs also respond differently depending on who they're talking to. For example, suspects have a hard time responding to Conan while the police is investigating because they feel like it's not a kid's business; also, we learn that Kogoro is a record breaking asshole, as considering Key Words with him leads to absolutely nothing.

After all requirements are met and we're ready to point the finger at whodunit, one final puzzle is triggered in form of a questionnaire: similar to Gyakuten Kenji's logic thinking, Conan tries to summarize the case and put all events and intrigues in order with a series of questions that the player must reply correctly. However unfortunately it seems that just like the other multiple choices we get through the main game, these ones too end up feeling kinda useless for the unfolding of the events. Unmasking the culprit feels kinda a letdown, sadly, as it is presented not as an interactive section but rather as a long cutscene that, as said before, is not even influenced by how many answers the player got right during the "recapping" inner monologue. We don't even get to shoot Kogoro with sleeping needles; the game does it all by itself. That was very unnerving and unexpected, especially for an investigation game, and frankly the most negative point about it. We also get an epilogue where we save Satomi (remember her?) and some minor plot points that link this chapter's plot to the next one, tempting players to get the upcoming new cartridge. And after this, our very last gaming screen: a rating. Turns out that fooling around giving wrong answers only contributes to a less than stellar final score and nothing else in the game, which is honestly a shame, considering that it could have been potentially used instead to present different scenes, ways of investigating, and even possible bad endings. One could argue that this particular choice was made due to capacity limitations for data, but in that case why leave us the illusion that our choices matter? The character swap count is also shown on the score screen: I'm not sure if this counts towards a negative score or not, but I do hope developers didn't mean to penalize players for wanting to explore the game with different point of views (which, honestly, is what a good detective would do instead!).

In Short What's positive about Meitantei Conan? It's a little jewel in term of graphical and audio quality, and an impressive technical experiment that brings a complicated genre such as the murder mystery on a simple console such as the Game Boy, with a positive result. Easy to maneuver, it offers an intriguing story that can be enjoyed just fine either as alone or as a chapter from a saga, since the main plot links every single cartridge together. And it's also so bloody! Once you see this you'll definitely want to see fanmade Phoenix Wright cases on Game Boy. Let's start some projects!

And, what's negative about it? Well, it could have definitely been much more interactive. Except for the main examination part, the player mostly gets to follow the case through cutscenes, and the fact that they can't control any character during the final showdown is definitely disappointing. The multiple choices and logic thinking recap are useless to the story when they could instead add a lot of depth and replayability, so it does feel like developers missed a big chance. Also the fact that we only play through one investigation makes the game feel very short... I would have at least preferred to have two "episodes" per cartridge, but I imagine this was due to capacity limitations.

And that's the game! Very interesting and inspiring, but unfortunately not perfect. Nonetheless, an interesting piece for every kind of collection!

[taylorroger-s]

are you afraid of the dark // roger taylor x reader

a/n heyyy there people! so this is for @forever-rogue​ ‘s halloween challenge. there were so many awesome prompts that it was hard to choose, but i went with #11 (“is that red syrup? please tell me it is syrup.”), #12 (“i paid $50.00 for this haunted house. I better die.”), and #19 (“let’s split up.” “let’s not”). warnings about halloween stuff???? a haunted house is included, so enter at your own risk. but honestly this is just some fluffy, slightly self indulgent haunted house date 

masterlist here!

enjoy :)

⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱

“c’mon rog, it’ll be fun!”

you had your arms wrapped around your boyfriend’s waist with your head resting on his shoulder he ignored your plea and continued his efforts to make pasta while you distracted him as often as possible.  you had been begging for the past hour and a half in hopes of persuading him to the local haunted house. autumn had always been your favorite time of year, with halloween being the highlight. each year you would go all out with some elaborate and unique outfit, a highly decorated flat, and attending any costume party you were invited to.

roger wasn’t as keen on the practice, for reasons you couldn’t understand. what was there not to love about oversized sweaters and spiked apple cider? but somehow, he certainly thought something was. so when you heard about a supposedly terrifying haunted house located just a few blocks from your london flat, convincing roger to take you became your singular goal. you were determined to have him share your passion for the holiday. 

“what could possibly be fun about paying to be terrified? there’s plenty to be afraid of in the real world, love.” you scrunched up your nose, fingers slowly playing with the hem of his half-buttoned shirt. his long hair tickled your cheek, swaying softly as he shuffled around with you clinging to him like a lost puppy. he let out a heavy sigh, taking your hands off his waist with calloused fingers from years of drumming, and turned to face you, his back resting against the counter. you kept your fingers gripping his as you leaned into him. 

“it’ll just be you and i rog, all alone in the dark.” your voice lowered, eyes slowly scanning his soft features and baby blue eyes. he really was too pretty for his own good. you fiddled with the silver necklaces resting against his sternum, occasionally raising your eyes to meet his with a coy smile. you knew exactly how to entrance him, and you could feel his breathing grow shallow. 

“you know that isn’t true.” he said, voice low and laced with annoyance. you almost had him. your hands snaked higher and wrapped strands of his blond locks in between your fingers, nails occasionally scraping his scalp. you felt his muscles relax under your touch, and his eyes slowly closed. it was almost possible to see the gears turning in his head, weighing the pros and cons of your request. 

“please?” you whispered, placing a chaste kiss to his jawline. once you looked up at him with a sickly sweet smile and eyelashes fluttering softly, he was a goner. roger let out a heavy sigh through his nose. he reached up and took your hand from his hair, holding it gently as he slowly met your eyes. 

“i hate you sometimes, you know that right?” he muttered, placing a soft kiss to your palm. you broke into a triumphant grin, rising up on your toes to kiss him on the cheek. his arms sunk to your waist and pulled you tighter, and you moved to mirror his actions. he rested his chin on the top of your head, fingers tracing soft patterns at the base of your spine. perfectly content. 

“i love you too.”

----------

“how do i look?” you chirped, doing a quick twirl to show off your lord of the rings-esque elf costume. most of it was thrifted or handmade, and you were immensely proud of how it turned out. you tried to convince roger to match, but he declined in favor of a flashier alternative. he did love his patterns. 

“absolutely ravishing, love.” he responded, adjusting his sleeves as he looked you up and down. you smirked, striding over to press a slow kiss to his temple. he chased your lips with his, but you backed away just before they met. he pouted, but you simply patted him on the cheek and went to retrieve your purse. 

“good. now let’s get going, i want to avoid the lines.” roger pulled on one of his fur coats and followed you out the door, hands shoved into the deep pockets with a frown on his face. he hadn’t complained as much as you expected, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t made his disdain for the evening’s plans unknown. the ride was just a couple of minutes, passing in relative silence besides the quiet music streaming from the radio.

“so what does this… haunted house experience entail?” you glanced over at him, but roger’s eyes were still focused on the road ahead. as to his question, you weren’t quite sure of the answer. from the flyer you had seen at your favorite coffee shop, it declared itself as: ‘a haunting experience located in one of london’s oldest catacombs. what horrors rest within its subterranean walls? it is up to you to survive the hidden tragedies, or become one yourself. open every friday and saturday, 7 to 11, from october 15th to the 31st. enter… if you dare” a little cliche, but you were excited nonetheless. 

“it’s somewhere in those old catacombs, i think. i really only know what i saw on the flyer.” you shrugged, adjusting the metal diadem resting in your hair. it was all about the details with you. little swirls in golden thread around the hem, forest green fabric from an old dress you found in the back of your closet. details like how his blond hair shimmered under the streetlights, the way his eyes filled with life as he sang the lyrics to his songs with perfect clarity. 

“what’s up love?” you hadn’t realized how long you had been watching him. whoops. wasn’t like anyone could blame you, he really was a vision. you became aware of the goofy grin you were sporting, laying your head on his shoulder from the passenger seat. he gave your forehead a brief kiss before turning back to the road. 

“just wondering how lucky i am too have you.” your voice was sickly sweet, but the words were completely genuine. roger snorted, taking a slow right onto the street where the haunted “house” was located.

“laying it on thick. it’s alright love, i’m kind of looking forward to this. like you mentioned, all alone, in the dark…” he whispered, wriggling his eyebrows with the subtlety of a lovesick teenager. you simply laughed, shoving him lightly on the shoulder. 

“calm down perv. look, here it is” you sat up quickly, peering over the dashboard to see the handful of other cars arranged around a large arch that led into a low building. roger smoothly backed into a place near the entrance, snug between two volkswagens. his constant car talk has definitely rubbed off on you. 

the two of you strolled to the entrance in a comfortable silence, hands clasped tight together, swinging as you walked. waiting wasn’t horrible either. there was a group of uni students in front of the two of you, and they chatted for a while about their worries and struggles while you offered light-hearted advice. one of them recognized roger from an album they owned, and promptly asked for a photograph with the beat up polaroid in their gloved hands. 

roger turned sour again once you reached the front of the line. his iron will made it difficult to fork over the £25 per person entrance fee, but he soon surrendered and settled for cursing under his breath as you led him into the dark.

“fifty bloody pounds, love. that’s insane!” he rambled as you walked slowly on, arm now slung across your shoulders. a breeze swept through the tunnel, bringing with it musty air and the smell of fresh paint. the mystery just made your excitement heighten. roger, on the otehr hand, still wasn’t changing his tune, slowly bringing you tighter to his side. his bright blue eyes scanned the dim tunnel back and forth, while his free hand was clenched into a tight fist at his side.

“you alright rog? seem a little… afraid.” you whispered with a sly smile stretching across your lips. you pulled away from him slowly, stepping further back until you were only connected by your fingertips as the journey continued. you began to notice some irregular marks and messages on the walls, which only made you more cheerful. 

“i’m just saying, i paid fifty pounds for this haunted house, i better die.” roger muttered gruffly, tugging you back towards him as you continued to step just out of his reach. soon, you let go entirely, and quickened your pace. you could hear roger huff behind you and jog to catch up. you took a quick look back at your boyfriend’s gorgeous face, his eyes alight with a childish gleam. you knew you would get him to enjoy it.

but in that moment your eyes were focused on him, your heeled boots caught on the old cobblestones, and you began to fall forwards. but a warm hand slipped around yours just soon enough to soften your landing, and you dragged roger down with you. he ended up with you under him and your intertwined hands by your head. 

“now was that really so…” he began in a cocky tone, seemingly about to playfully reprimand your behaviour, when his voice trailed off and his eyes shifted away from you. your brows furrowed and you turned your head, drawing eye level with a dark puddle you had narrowly missed falling into. the light from a nearby fixture shone on its smooth surface, revealing a reddish tint. roger’s face went white. 

“is that red syrup? please tell me it is syrup.” he groaned, reaching under your arms to lift you into a seating position. he dutifully checked your head and face for any abrasions, and aside from a slight scrape on your palms, you were unharmed. 

“relax rog, i’m not about to bleed out in an overpriced haunted trail… tunnel… thing.” you brushed off his wandering hands as they checked the back of your head one more time for any injury. the excursion had been disappointing so far, but you were determined to show roger how much fun halloween could be.

“now that you’re done examining me, onward! there is more danger that lies ahead!” you cheered, taking his hand and once more dragging him forwards with minimal protest. roger hurried to keep up with your intense pace as the wandering continued. a few minimal scares passed you by, including a figure in a hospital gown that followed you for a solid ten yards before turning back, a woman leaning against the wall with grotesque wounds covering her body, and a pair of performers dressed as otherworldly guards that reacted to none of the sounds roger would make or the silly dances the two of you did. it was like the two of you had suddenly deaged about ten years, reverting back to teens that held hands tightly as you ran through any adventure together, smiles never fading. 

roger actually seemed to be enjoying himself. you could feel the “i told you so” rising up, but there was still a little ways to go until the two of you were home free. the section that the guards were defending was an entrance to a maze, with walls just high enough that you couldn’t peer over. there were two choices in direction presented right at the entrance. right, or left? and you had an idea that would surely give roger a good scare. 

“let’s split up.” you said, turning to him with a shit-eating grin. you were taking way too much enjoyment out of watching him be scared. you dropped his hand and stepped backwards into the maze before he could lunge forward and stop you.

“let’s not.” he immediately responded, pulling you back into him with a quick spin. you just pouted with your arms locked around his waist until you felt him tense up again.

“fine. but we wait for each other at the end, yeah?” you smiled brightly, grabbing roger’s face and pulling him down for a long kiss, definitely to the dismay of the performers standing like statues all around you. once you let go, he pressed a quick peck to your nose before his hands left yours and you confidently strolled down the right side of the fork. once you could no longer see the entrance, you heard him enter.

there was no spoken contest between the two of you, but being friends forever made it routine for challenges and races to pop up, this being a perfect opportunity. alas, your machismo didn’t last for more than five minutes before you got sufficiently spooked by a person lurking in the darkness. you couldn’t even register their costume because you hurried past them so fast. 

from what you could hear, roger wasn’t so impenetrable either. a chorus of ‘bloody hells’ and ‘bastard’ rang out as he stumbled through his own challenges. this was much more than what you had expected from a presumably low-budget theater show. 

by the end of the maze (which wasn’t terribly long; just felt like it), you were definitely scared. your hands were clammy, heart racing, and your arms were clasped tightly across your chest. you were out first, which meant you had to stand and wait for roger to exit the maze, only company being more cobwebs and faux skeletons. just a few minutes after you had gotten out, roger followed suit, coming out muttering a curse and shaking his foot free from some unknown obstacle. you almost fell into his arms and he copied the gesture, lifting you up off your feet. 

“jesus christ, love,” he whispered in your ear, “that was much more than what i had bargained for.”

“you think i don’t know that?” you shot back, trying to feign your earlier bravado. but at that point in the night, you were tired, anxious, and just a little bit annoyed that you didn’t get the sweet satisfaction of being unafraid while roger would be losing his mind. the remaining section of the tunnel the two of you were much more subdued. his arm was thrown over your shoulders, yours around his waist, keeping him close, your free hand was locked around his hand dangling from your shoulder. 

no words were exchanged during the final stretch, settling for listening to each other’s slightly elevated heart rate and shaky breathing. soon enough, you walked back out of a hidden door about ten yards from the entrance. the whole experience had been highly cheesy but quite unique, and you felt as if it was a night well spent. you were also spent, eyes fighting to keep open on the way to the car. 

“that surely was something.” you muttered, slumping down in the passenger seat. your fingers were laced tightly with roger’s across the center console as he went about preparing to leave. 

“you could say that again.” he replied, sticking his key into the ignition. he took a few long breaths, bringing your intertwined hands up to press a kiss to the back of yours. his thumb lazily traced small circles on the back of your hand as the engine roared to life. you reluctantly released his hand so he could put the car in gear and slowly pull out into the line of people clambering to leave the makeshift car park. 

“wanna go find a chippy?” you said, voice barely audible over the rumble of the engine. roger turned to you, a shining grin lighting up his soft features. that was the moment your heart absolutely melted. that gorgeous smile was all for you, appealing to some greedy, selfish part of your heart. his love was all yours. and yours was his. 

“you’ve read my mind, love.” roger chirped, pulling out of the car park and onto the open road. 

⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱ 

yeehaw I wrote something i’m pretty proud of! thanks for reading loves!

and happy halloween! thanks to patricia for hosting this challenge! super duper fun! and congrats on 5k!!

[alternislatronemhq]

Congrats, CHRISTIE, you have been accepted to AL for the role of LUCINDA TALKALOT (FC: Alisha Wainwright). Ah, Christie, excellent job! You’ve taken a character that isn’t much more than a name in this verse and brought her to life! I love your portrayal of her and am so excited to see how she adds to our little group!! Please send in your blog (no sideblogs for first characters, please) in the next 24 hours and be sure to take a look at our new player checklist. Welcome home (once again), we’re so excited to have you join the family!

OOC

name — christie age — 20 pronouns — she/her timezone — gmt+3

any questions? — If I could just ignore the fact she was Quidditch captain during her time at Hogwarts that would be amazing just because it doesn’t quite fit my interpretation of Lucinda. Oh, wait, that’s not a question. Pretty please?

IC Overview

name — Lucinda Talkalot faceclaim — Alisha Wainwright age — 27 (9th of January) gender — Cis-female sexuality — Homosexual

patronus — A greyhound – much like Lucinda, the greyhound is intelligent and gentle, though often accused of passivity. What might be perceived as laziness and indifference, however, is simply a very careful and precise distribution of time and energy – after all, why waste your time on something you don’t care about when you could be working on achieving your real goals?

[tw: claustrophobia] boggart — Herself, stuck in a small space with no means of escaping. Lucinda is claustrophobic and usually, she can deal with tiny spaces as long as they provide some sort of an exit, be it a door or a window, but if they are locked or sealed, her claustrophobia gets triggered. It should be noted, though, that even in the event where she manages to keep her anxiety under control, she still would prefer to avoid small spaces altogether.

IC In Depth

personality traits — 

( + ) Intelligent: Lucinda’s intelligence isn’t innate as is that of the Ravenclaws she remembers from her Hogwarts days, the ones who would just understand concepts and ideas with little if any explanation. Lucinda, on the other hand, needs all the guidance her professors provide and makes use of all available books on the subjects she’s interested in. Her intelligence comes from hard work, from days spent hunched over old dusty tomes, from sheer ambition to learn and to become somebody.

( + ) Driven: It’s the Slytherin in her that would stop at nothing to achieve her goals. If Lucinda Talkalot wants something, she’ll get it. She’d wanted to do well on her NEWTs, she’d done it. She’d wanted to become an Unspeakable, she’d done it. The one regard in which her ambition doesn’t seem to help is the social aspect of her life, but oh, well, nobody’s perfect.

( + ) Accepting: Lucy knows what it feels like not to be accepted, be it for her blood or for her sexuality, and she would never want anybody else to feel like that around her. Even though she’s not the best in social situations, one thing one can always rely on with her is to remain open-minded and willing to listen.

( - ) Reserved: Books don’t ask you about your day nor do they require an explanation as to why you did what you did; they’re just there. People don’t work quite like that, Lucy knows, but she still has trouble putting herself out there and speaking her mind. After all, what does she have to offer in conversation? She’s not funny, she’s not charming, and she quite literally can’t speak about her job.

( - ) Single-minded: She tells herself it’s justified, with how important her work is, but the truth is Lucinda is almost cut-off from the world. The downside of her ambition is that she’s so focused on her goals that she can’t see anything beyond them; even with Voldemort, she knows he was dangerous, but she never quite understood just how dangerous. But what does it matter anyway? After all, he’s a thing of the past.

( - ) Tactless: It’s not that she’s not aware of social etiquette, it’s just that she sometimes forgets to follow it. She doesn’t choose her words carefully, instead they slip out of her the same way her mother’s old china had slipped between her fingers when she’d been a child – without meaning to, unrefined and sharp. She doesn’t mean to be rude, by any means, but she’s also never been known to sugarcoat anything.

character biography — 

Margaret Talkalot always had a vision of how her only daughter’s life would go. Lucinda would attend the same school she did – the only school in town – and then would later attend university in the big city where she would meet a nice, hopefully wealthy man who with whom she would have two children, a boy and a girl, and live happily ever after. It’s a manifestation of everything her mother didn’t get, Lucy realises years later – she’d never got the chance to leave their tiny town, her husband had left her soon after Lucinda’s birth and Margaret hadn’t had other children. (But even to little Lucinda, those fairy tales of princes and princesses didn’t sound appealing – at least the princes didn’t)

Fortunately for her, her mother’s plan started to unravel as soon as Lucinda’s eleventh birthday rolled around. A small white envelope held promises Lucy had never even dreamt to ask for and she’d begged and pleaded her mother to let her go. It’d taken a while to convince her but come September 1st, Lucy was on the train set to Hogwarts.

The castle is absolutely magical in a way that had nothing to do with actual magic. She’s sorted into Slytherin and her housemates give her weird looks as she goes to sit at their table, but that’s fine, the kids back home looked at her weird too. In any case, it’s not nearly enough to dampen her excitement and Lucy spends her first year walking on clouds. The following years she wants to try everything, from Quidditch to Frog Choir, and she does, but… it’s not quite what she imagined. She doesn’t have the experience other kids do with Quidditch, and her face flushes every time she has to sing in front of her peers. It’s okay though, because the library is just as magical and soon Lucy starts spending most of her time there.

She gets good grades, she’s on par with the Ravenclaws, and she wishes sometimes that she was sorted into Ravenclaw instead. Perhaps then she would’ve had more friends? But then she sees Ravenclaws during class, with their clever, understanding eyes, and feels inadequate as she struggles to keep up with the torrent of information. She perseveres. So what if she has to work three times as hard as Beatrice Galloway to get the same grades? She’s not scared of hard work. (She is scared, however, of the way her stomach flutters whenever Beatrice smiles at her. Not because of the feelings she stirs inside of Lucy, but because she knows her mother won’t be happy to learn about them. And Lucinda’s already disappointed her by going to a magical school instead of a “normal” one. Can she disappoint her like that too?)

Turns out, she can. At eighteen, Lucinda passes her NEWTs with flying colours and emboldened by that, she tells her mother she’s not interested in boys. Her arguments sound childish even to her own ears (they’re crass, and smelly, and annoying and she just doesn’t like them, okay?), but they’re true enough and eventually, Margaret stops trying to convince her otherwise. She says she accepts it, but Lucy knows better; her mother is still waiting for the day Lucinda will “come to her senses” and settle down with a man.

The knowledge of it weighs down on her heart, but she’s also never been happier, as though her mother had been the last frontier before freedom. And in the Wizarding World, she’s flourishing – she gets an internship at the Ministry and a few years later, she becomes an Unspeakable. There’s a war raging outside her office, but Lucinda is too busy scribbling down test results and experiment proposal to glance out of the window.

Eventually, it all ends and as relieved as Lucy is, she also can’t deny she feels guilty – but then she reminds herself there’s nothing she could’ve done anyway, except perhaps bored Voldermort to death with theories of how the brain functions.

plot ideas —

I’d love to get Lucy involved with the Order at a later point! In general, the way I envision her character arc (which is always subject to change as time goes on, of course) is that a big part of it would involve her getting out of her office and returning to the world as a whole. That includes becoming more aware of everything going on, becoming more involved in it as she realises she does have more to offer than dry facts she’s read in a book.

Getting her a social life! A bit self-explanatory but as established, Lucy isn’t the best at forming friendship so naturally, I’d love to see her put in a situation where she does end up doing that. Especially with people who challenge her way of thinking. (Also I’ll just throw it out there, but she deserves a girlfriend.)

Some sort of work-related plot seems inevitable too considering how much of her life is spent in her office. Whether that would be potential colleagues (chats by the coffee machine are probably interesting when neither party can talk about their job) or maybe someone who knows more than they’re supposed to (in which case I would love to explore Lucy’s reaction and how she would deal with that). Just about all and any workplace plots!

extra —

Some headcanons:

Throughout this app I’ve been referring to Lucinda both as Lucinda and as Lucy, which I personally see like a very Hercules situation in the sense of:

Meg: Megara. My friends call me Meg. At least they would if I had any friends.

Lucy works in the Department of Mysteries, as previously established, but to elaborate on that, she works primarily in the Thought Chamber. I say primarily because due to the door connecting the Thought and Death Chambers, I’m running with the assumption that their spheres of study are also connected and thus Lucinda sometimes has to visit the Death Chamber too.

(Also I really like the irony of Lucy studying brains, but not being good with people. Like, “I understand your brain, but you I just don’t get.”)

Furthermore, since her job is so centred around minds, she’s also picked up a few skills outside of Hogwarts’ curriculum. Lucinda is an Occlumens, though she struggles with Legilimency. She can only perform it under very particular circumstances, including an intense focus on her part and total silence of the room, so she is almost entirely unable to use it outside of the Thought Chamber. [This is, of course, subject to change if you feel like it might be too much power.]

Lastly, she just gets very flustered around women.

[imagineaworlds]

Dare to Kiss -- Patrick Hockstetter

Written By: @just-gotta-be-me​

Request: "Hey! How are ya? Can I get a Patrick from it imagine/fic. I have this idea that readers friends bet her she's wouldn't kiss one of the Bowers gang for 20 bucks. So she chooses Patrick. Please have some taunting etc. And reader using calling him Patty-cakes. Thanks! 😘"

Warnings: He's more of a stupid asshole than an evil psychopath? Hope you're cool with that lol.

Pairing: Patrick Hocksetter x Reader

Word Count: 3285

Listen To: "Weak" by AJR

Everyone knew two very distinctive things about the teenagers of Derry. Two things that are simple statements of fact because no one had ever been able to prove them wrong.

One: the Bower's gang was not a pleasant bunch. Whether they were annoying or scary or you just didn't super appreciate the bad vibes, there were very few - if any at all - outside of the gang that could stand them for very long, let alone hang out or date them. They were mean and aggressive and loud and rude. Two: Y/n Y/l/n was fun. She had never, EVER failed to accept and do a dare to the full extent it was given and sometimes even further, and it made her very interesting. People had tried to find her limit but it seems that as long as you put "I dare you to" in front of it, absolutely nothing would stop her from doing it. In fact, the more someone tried to get her stop, the more it hyped her. The more someone challenged or doubted her, the more it charged her. She was unshakable.

It was a normal Friday night. Y/n had been dragged to some party everyone was going to and she hadn't gotten drunk, but she HAD gotten looped into a game of truth or dare. She liked truth or dare. She liked that her reputation drove everyone to always dare her so while they knew she was the most determined, stubborn person in all of Derry, they didn't know much else. Which is how she liked it. She liked being a mystery. A stranger in a town where everyone knew everyone. A secret in a place where secrets were never kept and rumors ran rampant. She didn't want to stay here anyway, in Derry. It was boring and run down and lifeless. The only reason she did all those dares was to liven it up a bit. So truth or dare was her favorite past time.

Easily said, she was having fun. On a usual Friday night, going crazy and being dumb. Until someone finally found her line- and crossed it. "I dare you..." Y/n's eyes light up and everyone stared between the two, anticipating the show they were about to get. "To kiss someone." Y/n rose an eyebrow. That was it? One of Y/n's friends, who was now daring her, smirked. "Someone from the Bower's Gang."

Dead silence slammed around them to lock the room into an eerie tension. Eyes widened and lips parted in shock. Y/n, well practiced in keeping her emotions to herself, did not outwardly react but inside, her mind was racing.

No one raced to defend her or insist she get a different dare. The Bower's Gang had always been off limits. You just didn't go there! They weren't especially ugly but... well you heard the list before, they were bad news. Immediately Y/n wanted to scream "NO!" and go home.

But she had never turned down a dare before. She had never paused, never hesitated, never even thought about saying no. She hated the feeling and it felt so much worse than when other people doubted her because in the unsure chaos of teenage life, she had always been able be sure of herself in this at least. And so like every doubt she got, it fueled her. Fueled her even more because it was her own doubt that was attacking her this time. She sat up straight, eyes burning. "Do I have to do it tonight? Is there a time limit? It's a weak dare if you don't elaborate on the details."

The girl who had dared her started, obviously shocked that Y/n had accepted. She hadn't thought she would get this far. Surely there was a line. An ending to the madness. Surely Y/n wouldn't do ANYTHING she got dared to. Right? The boys in the group suddenly got wicked looks on their drunk faces but Y/n was too focused to care. "Uh, no not tonight. But you- you have three days. Then you fail or you don't."

Y/n reached over, grabbing her cup and tilting her head back to chug the rest of the contents in one gulp. She crushed the cup in her hands, her lips dancing with amusement at the horrified looks on the people around her. This. She thrived on this. She stood, wiping her mouth. "I'm done. No one's dare is going to top that. See you Monday." And she left. Because Y/n DID have a limit and despite what everyone in that group thought and how genuinely oblivious she'd been to the fire she'd started by accepting the dare, she knew that horny teenage boys and alcohol didn't mix. As she began walking home she planned, the cold night air sinking into her skin and serving to wake her up and get her thinking. She schemed and she rationalized. The Bower's Gang was dangerous, but there were some easy loopholes to this. Vic and Belch were both softer and easier to confront. A one night stand or a simply kiss on the cheek would be an easy pass and she would be able to claim her victory.

That was the easy way, though.

Y/n, like everyone else, had had her run-ins with the gang. They went to school together and even outside of school, this town was tiny. It was hard not to constantly run into people, especially those who were always out and about and constantly looking for trouble. What Y/n had that no one else had though was a past. A past with the gang, deeper and far more serious than anyone else. With a certain Mr. Hocksetter specifically. They lived a few houses down from each other. In fact, on their way to school, Patrick passed by Y/n's house even to this day. When they were in Elementary school she used to wait for him by the gate and they would trek to school together. It was the only real interaction they had and as they grew older and Patrick grew more cruel and stupid and detached, they'd stopped even that interaction. But to this day, there was still something between them. A thing that drove Patrick to stare at her as he passed, smirking as she trailed through his thoughts even a few seconds after she disappeared around the corner and out of sight. A thing that made Y/n sit straighter and pop her chin up, her eyes blazing as if she'd been dared to do something when she simply heard Patrick's voice. Not a romantic or friendly or even rival something but a something that drove them to peacock in front of each other, showing off because they knew the other was looking.

So when she had been dared to kiss someone in the gang, her mind immediately turned to him. But... that was dangerous. HE was dangerous and this could easily go very south very quickly. Was she willing to shatter the thin veil of glass between them, keeping them at a distance? Would she be able to put it back up and remove herself from him once she'd closed the distance? She had been smart until now. She had avoided him and he refused to take interest in someone he knew would turn him down. Someone who knew a softer side of him that he had long destroyed in favor of chaos and ruin. Maybe not. Maybe she wouldn't force herself to cross a line she knew she couldn't. Shouldn't. If she did it would be disastrous.

Which left Henry. Henry, who was more poisoned and sharp. Dangerous as well but in a different way. Henry jumped around as he wished. He was attractive and a bad boy and girls were attracted to that like moth to a flame, running towards Hell like it was Paradise. He would be a mountain to climb and then jump off of. Henry and Y/n had a sort of rivalry, annoying the ever living hell out of each other and generally talking shit and rolling their eyes and insulting each other every chance they could. She knew she could get one kiss out of him though. One kiss before she could deter him with insults and eye rolls and taunts and snickers and a revelations that she'd been dared. His pride would be bruised and he would hate her even more, but she wasn't small and helpless. She sent a silent sorry to whoever he would take his aggression out on.

Henry was dangerous, but he was safer than Patrick because deep down, Y/n knew that as a young girl she had had a crush on the young boy that would walk her to school and she knew if she crossed that line, she wouldn't be able to hold herself back if he took it further. So Henry it was.

"Hey there," Y/n greeted far too easily as she plopped down between Belch and Vic. The boys all looked at her, Vic growing tense like he was ready to get in a fight. There was shock and surprise, especially as Y/n leveled her flirty smirk and vibrant eyes on Henry.

Henry relaxed, motioning to Vic to calm down. "Y/n," Henry greeted roughly. The girl smiled, leaning forward. It felt like she had screamed her greeting as everyone's eyes landed on her and conversations grew quiet or ended altogether as if the cafeteria was working together to be quiet enough to hear what was going on at the Bower's Gang's table. "Saw you sittin' here all pretty and thought I might as well come by and see how you were." She winked and Henry froze, in territory he didn't know how to touch or handle.

Truth was, Henry had always found Y/n very attractive and even desirable, but when Y/n had blown him off and shit talked him each day or each week of each month of each year, he'd grown annoyed with her. No piece of ass was worth all the insults and really his ego just didn't need it. Plus he was pretty sure there was something going on with her and Patrick and though he wasn't one to waste an opportunity with a girl like her for any sort of friend, it was just another reason on the list.

Logic and sense and his whole list of reasons seemed to be completely forgotten when she looked at him like that though. She had planned her little drop in perfectly. Patrick wasn't nearby, off to the bathroom or to torment someone or to get in with his picked girl of the hour or maybe to get some food. Whatever the reason, he wasn't here and Henry was loving the attention she was giving him. "Why hello there," he drawled in the same way she had greeted him.

Her smile grew. This would be easy. Almost too easy. He was already bursting out of his pants- getting him to kiss her would be child's play. "Well I was in the neighborhood," she chuckled. "And I was wondering if-"

"What brings you over here?" Y/n locked up at the sound of his voice, her eyes widening a little and the color of her eyes churching, the fire she was so known for reaching an all time high. Patrick placed a hand on Belch's shoulder and the boy shook his head before moving, allowing Patrick to slip next to Y/n, drawing her attention to him. His proximity made her throat close and she leaned away a bit. Barely a move, but Patrick and Henry both noticed it. It made Henry frown and Patrick smile wider. "Don't remember your pretty face gracing this corner of Hell. Would have if you had."

She swallowed her eyes trained on Patrick unblinkingly, but more like a caged animal than anything. Henry butt in. "She was asking me something," Henry pipped up, popping his chin indignantly, not enjoying her lost attention. "What were you saying, Darling?"

Moving her eyes to Henry, she forced a smile. But her body was rigid and her hands were suddenly fluttering with small movements that wasn't quite shaking but definitely wasn't still. "I was going to ask if... if you... were going to the theaters this weekend." Henry's eyes light up and Patrick's confidence gave way to irritation. "I was the only one brave enough to come ask. Got dared to. My friends and I wanted to go this weekend and we were talking about how we hoped you weren't there." Slipping back into her usually testament of Henry, she smirked mockingly. "Didn't want to see your ugly face around."

Henry instantly grew murderous. "You really want to pick a fight with me? Surrounded by my boys?" His pride had been smashed up too much in too short a time and Y/n was wondering if she had gone too far. If only her default wasn't to push people away and chuck insults. If only Patrick hadn't come and messed it all up. If only... Patrick didn't have such an EFFECT on her!

An arm rested on her shoulders and a breath escaped between her lips as her skin light up. "Don't lose your shit Henry, we all know how Y/n is with her dares. She always does them and she always makes it interesting." He pulled her closer and she looked over in surprise only to come nearly nose to nose with Patrick. Their eyes locked and they both stilled, his face relaxing as she licked her lips and then swallowed, trying to find her voice again.

He was toxic and dangerous... but he was so inviting too. The angle of his jaw and the color of his eyes that softened when he looked at her, almost like he was actually seeing her.

She was pretty and out if reach... but she was impossible to resist. The way the light hit her hair and the lilt of her lips when she smirked, her eyes burning. It was shaking to see her like this, stumbling and messy and unorganized and weak when he was so used to seeing her unbreakable and strong.

Patrick had always seen her like a Goddess as she drifted above everyone else, rolling her eyes and bidding her time with fun and danger until she got out if this damn town. She would never admit to herself but she saw the people of Derry almost the same way he did. Both thought people were fake, see through and temporary. It didn't matter what happened to others... but that's where they diverged.

While Patrick just didn't care, Y/n saw a world of play things to cure her boredom. In this small town where nothing happened, it was a relief when anything happened- even if someone died. She didn't find pleasure in death itself nor did she want to kill anyone, but it gave her something to talk about and it caused people to need a distraction which brought them to her to distract them, so she wasn't as opposed and she probably should be.

The other people who didn't really know her didn't see the nuance differences between her and them. They didn't see the secret moments when she would stare at a person, her eyes glazing over as she analyzed whether they'd be interesting or not as if she was buying a lamp at a store. Patrick did though, and that's what drew him to her.

Vic cleared his throat and Y/n turned away, her face going red. She stood and left without another word, head down and eyes wide as her hands shook and she tried to stabilize herself. Pat did things to her... He watched her go, his lips tugging up in a curious smile. Despite her determination, the glass between them had shattered. In her eyes, he had seen the same draw that he felt for her, but towards him. He knew she felt the same way he did and this time, he wasn't going to let it drop. Not this time. It was too late to turn back now.

Y/n was set on just going the easy route. She's completely screwed it up with Henry so it was either Vic or Belch- except that neither would respond to her flirts at all. Every time she sidled up next to them and tried, they didn't even respond. They just turned and walked away. She was stressed because she couldn't get any of the others in the gang but... she couldn't face Patrick again. Unfortunately, Patrick didn't see it that way. He was constantly appearing out of nowhere and she tried to play it cool but he could see her inching away and avoiding his eyes. He could practically hear her heartbeat picking up and he found himself enjoying the idea that he caused the change in her.

With her deadline racing to meet her and no hope of completing the dare unless she kissed Patrick, it was time to throw in the towel and swallow her emotions. She would not step back from this dare. There had been too much smack talk, too much shock, too much doubt. Too many eyes had been watching her and she had come too far to back out now. It was in this state, desperate and under pressure and feeling the stress of a dare for the first time ever, that Patrick found her when he approached her that afternoon after school. "Heya, Doll."

Something snapped in her and her face set as she leaned close. "Kiss me."

His eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

She rose an eyebrow. "Do you not want to, Patty Cakes?"

He smirked. The name was from a lifetime ago when he'd pull on her braids and she'd stick her tongue out and they called each other dorky nicknames that they pretended to hate but secretly loved. "Oh I want to. But you don't."

"When did I say that?"

He realized she never actually had made any clarified moment of not wanting him and his smirk twitched into more of a smile. "You sure you can handle this much man, Baby Doll?" That was her nickname, given from her VERY early years when she dragged around a doll everywhere, even to school. To bed. To meals. After much teasing from him she had given it up.

Despite the fondness she felt at the memory the nicknames dredged up, she rolled her eyes. "Kiss me, Patrick." He didn't have to be told again. In the middle of the hallway, the other student stopping dead in their tracks, Patrick kissed her. Her breath knocked out if her body and her hands grabbed him, pulling him closer. He inhaled sharply through his nose.

He leaned back. Her mind was blank of anything other than Patrick. She didn't care about anything other than the buzz and rush that filled her at the years of secretly wanting to kiss him finally being settled. "I hope you're not busy," he muttered to her, glaring at the staring passerby's.

She tilted her head. "Why?"

"Because I'm stealing you for the rest of today." He toon her hand, pulling her into his side as he walked through the hall and toward the exit to leave this damned school and find somewhere more private.

The barrier between them had been shattered and Y/n couldn't care less about what had brought her here. She was here now and she couldn't be happier or more excited.

...For now.

IT family: @madhatterweasley @peggy1999 @blu3-wine @polaroids @billyinabarrel @gorgeousdarkangel @bookofmurder9201 @mychemicalimagines @starryrevelations @marvelismylifffe @writersmacchiato @bloodyprincess22 @minigranger @alex--awesome--22 @multifandomgirl16

[phantoms-lair]

Just finished the Be Cool Scooby Doo Finale and I have some thoughts

(This is going to have spoilers for it, obviously)

Now, my feelings on this incarnation of Scooby Doo have always been mixed. They’ve done some stuff I really loved and some stuff I absolutely loathed (Not counting the art style, which I think even the Artists didn’t like, judging by how they tried to get away from it as much as they could with the backgrounds, monsters, etc.)

But the 2 part finale, Professor Huh I liked. I liked it a lot.  It could have gone the Mystery Incorporated route so easily. Fred’s family situation in MI contained some of the darkest most twisted parts of the darkest Scooby Doo incarnation ever, from finding out his father was a treasure hunter who had kidnapped him as a baby to the clusterfuck that was his biological parents. It seemed so much of the series was designed to hurt Fred. And the revelation that Fred’s Dad was the most feared inmate in a maximum security prison, a criminal who committed incomprehensible crimes and only communicated through a hand puppet, could have gone that route so easily.

 But it didn’t. Instead of being a paradigm breaking shock, this was an old wound for Fred, albeit one he’s perhaps never fully come to terms with. And I was very pleased with Daphne’s echoing of my own thoughts “Oh, now you make sense.” because this does explain a lot about Fred’s own behaviors. More so the longer I thought about it.

(under cut, this got long)

One thing I love was, no matter how much Fred would deny it to Rose or anyone outside the gang, it was obvious he still loved his father very much, he just didn’t know how to deal with him. And Donald Jones/Professor Huh clearly loved him too, as we discover, much like Sirius Black, he broke out of jail for the sole purpose of protecting his son. Also the vulnerability Fred’ shows to the gang. Voicing aloud the fear that he might be as crazy as his father couldn’t have been easy, and was likely something he’d been dreading since early childhood. The fact that he could trust them with it was touching.

Unfortunately for Fred, despite Shaggy’s comment to the contrary, I think there’s some truth in it. In MI Both Ex-Mayor Jones and Brad and Judy Chiles were driven by greed. And while Jones would chose his son’s life over his greed (as opposed tho the Chiles who psychologically tortured their son) both put their greed before his happiness. Unlike them, Professor Huh was not motivated by greed at all. He got nothing material out of his crimes, nor were they based in revenge. His motive was never stated, but I think I can make a guess.

I think Donald Jones suffered from a variant of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. That his crimes (which were nonviolent nor, as stated, for material gain) were compulsions. (Why the compulsions took the form of unintelligible and impossible crimes I’ll get to in a bit.) I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he chooses a hand puppet to talk through and his costume involves a hand on the back of his head. When he’s acting out on his compulsion, he’s a puppet, not in control of his actions. He may have responded well to therapy, given his awareness, but he didn’t get that and after all this time its probably going to take a lot of work to bring Donald Jones back to who he was. I think in some ways he’s trying, It was established early on the Professor Huh only communicated through his hand puppet, but we hear him speak otherwise throughout the episodes, but only to Fred and his friends. The sentences are non sequiturs with no relation to anything happening, but I think it’s him trying.

And though it manifests very differently, I think Fred has his own obsessions and compulsions he’s dealing with, specifically centered on solving mysteries and making the world make sense. It’s why Cutler knew that he could take advantage of Fred by dangling a mystery in front of him, when all logic and reason would dictate Fred catching him and turning him in. Because he knew when it came to mysteries Fred physically couldn’t help himself. Not that Fred is aware his thought processes are anything but sane and normal. He doesn’t recognize his own obsession for what it is (Which in retrospect makes me a little less mad at him about the Christmas episode. He wasn’t able to properly recognize Daphne’s problem until he’d dealt with his compulsion to solve a mystery)

In the end, though. Fred’s manages to accept his father as he is. The hand puppet scene was such a good one. It both acted as a bookend to the series, the puppets being introduced in episode one, and demonstrated Fred’s sincere desire to reach out to his father.

While Professor Huh has difficulty expressing himself in an understandable manner, he is easily able to understand the world around him. Fred could have simply said what he wanted. Using the puppet was a bigger message of acceptance than any words could have been. And it reached him. “It’s time I turned myself in” and “But you love the Mystery Machine” were normal sentences relative to the situation, the first time we’ve heard Professor Huh do that.

They may be on opposite ends of the spectrum in terms of order and chaos, but they love each other very much.

As for the why of the crazy nature of Professor Huh’s crimes, we see it in the barber scene, as for the first time ever Shaggy and Scooby’s ruse is turned back on them. When Professor Huh requests them to use a croissant to put his eyebrows on his shoulders, it’s obviously a nonsensical request, typical of the character, right up until he demonstrates on Shaggy and Scooby.

Be Cool had come the closest to calling out what I’ve dubbed Crack Theory A, that Shaggy is a wizard and unaware if it. The thing is, Donald Jones warps reality too, if anything on a larger scale. And I think that’s the problem. Fred describes his father as “...a great father. A  computer engineer and one of the most rational people on the planet.” In Goblin King we saw Velma have a total blue screen as being confronted with the supernatural being real. Imagine how much worse she would have reacted if she’d discovered it was real by discovering she was a witch? 

Donald Jones pushed the fabric of reality, because he wanted it to push back. He was a man who believed in logic and science and discovered he could ignore them. It’s why his crimes, which were public and elaborate left no clues, they were done with magic. They defied logic and reason, like hotglueing multivitamins to the ceiling of military helicopter carriers, suspending a cruise ship between two buildings, and leaving messages via a llama chewing on a note that would finish eating it the moment it was done being read. They made no sense because there was no objective, other than being as random as possible.

And here’s the kicker. I think Fred’s magic too.

Yes it sounds insane. This is the most ration and grounded we’ve seen since the seventies. Why on earth would I think he’s magic?

The

 Mother 

Fucking 

Mystery 

Machine

This isn’t even all it’s forms. Not to mention the built in forensics lab. almost all of which is controlled by a button Fred has on a key fob. Button. Singular. And it can be any mode, or he steer it with ease. And yeah, it didn’t attach itself to a mecha, it unfolded into one. The Mystery Machine must be the most enchanted item in the world.

Fred, however, is even less aware he could be magic than Shaggy (since Shaggy at least joked about it) and I don’t think his father would tell him, if indeed that was what was responsible for his own issues.

Actually there’s one more instance that Fred might be magic aside from the Mystery Machine. The sock puppet Fred was made by Daphne in the first episode. It’s the simplest type of puppet, it can talk and waggle it’s arms, but nothing like changing expression. It’s has those serious eyebrows from the moment of it’s introduction. Except in one scene

Here’s it’s got a more gentle expression

Matching Fred’s own as he uses it to tell his father he loves him,

[inhumansforever]

Marvel Rising: Initiation Review

spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers

Disney XD premiered the first installment of the Marvel Rising Secret Warriors animated series with past Monday with the very enjoyable Initiation; directed by Alfred Gimeno with a screenplay by Mairghread Scott and the vatic talents of Dove Cameron, Chloe Bennet, Tyler Posey, Kathreen Khavari, Milana Vayntrub, Cierra Ramirez and Kamil McFadden.  Quick recap and review following the jump.

The Mysterious Ghost Spider is on the run with the authorities believing her responsible for the death of a young man named Kevin.  After handily defeating a battalion of the city’s best police officers, Captain Stacy chooses to request assistance from Shield.  Agent Daisy Johnson and Patriot are assigned to the case and pledge not to rest until this hero-turned-villain can be brought to justice.  Patriot is a newer hero who has been trained by Captain America himself and is quite eager to prove himself.  Daisy, meanwhile, is more seasoned and right from the start she suspects there might be more to this case than simply a former hero gone bad.  

It’s rather clear from the onset that Ghost Spider is not a villain, rather it is an unfortunate set of circumstances that has made it appear as though she was responsible for Kevin’s death.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  Ghost Spider is actually high schooler, Gwen Stacy, and Kevin had been her best friend.  

Following an oddly shoe-horned in scene where Gwen practices with her and her friends’ garage band, Ghost Spider returns to the streets in search of the real culprit behind Kevin’s death.  She encounters Patriot, and following a brief skirmish, Ghost Spider is able to escape.  

Elsewhere, Doreen Green arrives on her scooter with a box of cupcakes meant to commemorate the triumphant first team-up between her, The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl, and her new best pal, Kamala ‘Ms. Marvel’ Khan.  Doreen’s squirrel buddy, Tippy Toe, is also on-hand and doesn’t want to wait for Kamala to arrive before getting into one of those delicious cupcakes.  

Kamala arrives and the focus of their first mission together presents itself when they see Ghost Spider and set out to bring her to justice.  An elaborate and rather silly battle unfolds as Ms. Marvel, Squirrel Girl and Tippy Toe match up against Ghost Spider.  

Ghost Spider is eventually captured and pleads to be let go, demanding that she is innocent.  Ms. Marvel and Squirrel Girl agree to hear her out.  Ghost Spider explains that she would never hurt Kevin, he had been her best friend.  He was also an Inhuman who was transformed by way of the Terrigen Cloud.  Terrigenesis endowed Kevin with ice powers and Ghost Spider helped him hone these newfound abilities so that they might be crimefighters together.  

Yet on the night of their first outing, Ghost Spider arrived to find that Kevin had been murdered.  The apparent culprit was a super powered woman with yellow skin and green hair who wielded energy knives.  Even the slightest cut from these knives had the effect of effectively draining one’s life energy.  

Ms. Marvel and Squirrel Girl believe Ghost Spider’s story and chose to let her go, agreeing to also seek out this mysterious villain who is actually behind Kevin’s death.  Shortly thereafter, Ghost Spider is once more engaged by The Patriot.  This time, however, Patriot utilizes teamwork and lures Ghost Spider into a position where Agent Johnson can sneak up behind her and neutralize her with her quake powers.

Ghost Spider is apprehended by the two agents and taken by car to police headquarters where she is to be handed over to Captain Stacy.  Again Ghost Spider proclaims her innocence, telling the story of the mysterious villainess with the life-draining energy knives.  Daisy is intrigued by the tale… she has heard about evil Inhumans with similar powers and Kevin’s death may have something to do with an ongoing case she has been investigating.  Furthermore, upon reading Ghost Spider’s reaction to seeing Captain Stacy, Daisy correctly surmises that Ghost Spider is actually Captain Stacy’s daughter, Gwen.  

Daisy furtively arranges for Ghost Spider to escape just as she is delivered to police headquarters.  Captain Stacy is incensed and demands that Shield stop at nothing to bring her in.  

Some time thereafter, Ghost Spider seeks out Daisy and asks her why she allowed her to escape.  Daisy explains her suspicions that Kevin’s death may be part of a bigger threat posed by an evil Inhuman, and that she may actually need Ghost Spider’s aide in taking down this threat.  Daisy tells Ghost Spider to continue her investigation and to keep her apprised of things, especially if it entails an Inhuman with teleportation-based powers.  Ghost Spider agrees and they part company.  And it is hear that the episode comes to an end with it looking quite likely that the mystery will once again bring these various heroes together in future installments.  

This was a quick, fun and very enjoyable affair.  It moves quite fast but its speed doesn’t come at the cost of the plot.  It sort of drops the viewer right into the heart of the action and has faith that said viewers will be able to piece things together on their own as further details of the plot are divvied out.  I quite like this approach, especially in lieu of other animated shows aimed toward younger audiences that sort of treat the viewer as simpletons who need the plot clearly laid out.

This first episode is very much a Ghost Spider story and Gwen makes for a highly likable protagonist.  Voice actress, Dove Cameron, does a terrific job bringing Gwen to life, with snarky commentary, good comic timing, as well as a distinctive undertone of sadness (sadness based on the death of her best friend, Kevin).  Fans of the Spider-Gwen comic series are likely to very much enjoy this animated version of the character; it’s quite faithful to her personality in the comics.  

The story takes a few more liberties with the Squirrel Girl and Ms. Marvel.  Squirrel Girl acts as the comic relief, bubbling with enthusiasm and goofy energy.  She’s a good deal less thoughtful than her comic book counterpart.  The comic book version of Squirrel Girl always seeks out a nonviolent solution to problems before resorting to fisticuffs, yet this animated version is quite eager to battle Ghost Spider.  

Milana Vayntrub clearly has a lot of fun voicing Squirrel Girl and isn’t at all shy about hamming it up.  There is a particularly funny bit where Squirrel Girl decides that their battle-moves would be more effective were they to call them out the way they do in popular anime, like Dragonball or Naruto.  

I also like that Squirrel Girl is illustrated as more full-figured… although it sort of bugs me that the bigger girl ends up being the goofier, comic relief (it’s a tired trope).

Squirrel Girl’s jokes and shenanigans sort of overshadow Ms. Marvel and she doesn’t get much of a focus in the episode.  Kathreen Khavari voices Kamala, reprising the role from Ms. M’s appearances in Avengers Assemble.  I’m definitely looking forwards to seeing Ms. Marvel get more screen time as the series progresses.  

Kamil McFadden voices Patriot and, next to Ghost Spider, is the character who gets the most spotlight.  Patriot takes himself quite seriously.  He’s ready to prove himself and is quite proud of the fact that he had been trained by Captain America.  At the same time, however, there is also an edge of insecurity to Patriot, possibly a worry that he might not live up to his potential.   It’s an edge that makes him a more compelling character as opposed to someone whose cockiness might cause one to root against him.  There is also a touch of flirtation in his and Ghost Spider’s banter… I wonder if this is a hint toward a possible romance between the two later down the line.

Chloe Bennet is very much at ease in the role of Daisy.  She plays her as shrewd and cunning.  She’s a much more experienced agent compared to her partner, Patriot, and ready to take calculated risks to get to the bottom of things.  It’s a neat take on Daisy and a bit of a departure from the more leap-first-look-later version of her we last saw in the pages of Matt Rosenberg’s Secret Warriors run.  Like Ms. Marvel, I’m looking forward to seeing what the next installments have in store for Daisy.  

The villain who killed Kevin looks a good deal like the Inhuman baddie called Sheath, although it is possible that she is actually a brand new character.  And it seems likely that the big bad of the arc will end up being the dark force wielding cad known as The Exile.

The animation is fair.  It’s a step above more recent Marvel animated projects, like Avengers Assembled and Hulk Agents of Smash, but not as stellar as similar outings from DC (such as Young Justice or Batman: The Animated Series).  It’s good, but not great.  The backgrounds are rather static and nothing to write home about, but the action is fluid and dynamic.  Squirrel Girl’s accentuated facial expressions showcase the best part of the animation.  

All in all, Marvel Rising Initiation is absolutely worth checking out.  It’s a fun detour into the world of the lessor well known Marvel heroes, with a refreshingly diverse cast of characters and an intriguing plot.  Definitely recommended. Four out of five Lockjaws

[whispersafterdusk]

The Master’s Apprentice - ch 6

Time passed quickly when all he let himself think about were his lessons; some days Kestrel introduced something new, some days she made him review what he'd already learned.  He had reached a point where throwing frost, water, fire, wind, or lightning was second nature, able to do so in the blink of an eye with both hands aimed in front of him or pointed in different directions (and he'd even managed to get the spray radius almost up to that of a two-handed cast - something he was definitely proud of).  

He'd also been introduced to casting earth and rock spells (there really wasn't any better descriptor for those) and, because of that, had learned that one of the locked doors he hadn't been able to explore opened into a very long, gently sloping staircase that led to a large storeroom. ((Continued below cut))

"This sort of magic will strengthen you against physical sorts of damage similar to a ward's defense against magic and allow you to change the landscape around you but, unlike with fire, frost, or lightning, you aren't able to simply create earth or stone out of nothing...I have yet to figure out why," she'd explained.  

Within the storeroom were stacks upon stacks of wooden logs, carefully preserved bolts of cloth, empty bottles and a variety of tools and pieces of things to repair the tools; at the very rear of the room where there had once been logs was where Kestrel set him to practicing these new spells -- he'd called stones from the ground and shaped the soil, and had dug the back of the room out further (and learned that yes, she had not been exaggerating when she'd said that moving earth like this was difficult: the harder he pushed outward the more the soil he was exerting force on and the effort required to keep moving it kept increasing exponentially unless he was careful with how he pushed and adjusted things).

Between the earthen spells and his ever strengthening wards (practice, practice, practice) Onmund was actually confident in his own defense - far more than he'd been at the College, that was for sure.  He'd been trapped down here, by his count, for about five and a half months and he was already well advanced beyond what he imagined his peers were at.

Of course...it was difficult to think about them, or about anything else on the surface; nighttime was the worst time to be alone with his thoughts.  His supposed immortality aside, it hurt to think that he'd never see anyone he knew again...he'd never love or get married, have a family, he'd never adventure and see what the world had to offer.  He was trapped in an elaborate hole in the ground, and would possibly be here until the end of time itself...and at night when his tired mind caught him unaware the realizations cut deeply, and made his eyes burn and his heart ache.

And strangely, it made him wonder how Kestrel had managed to be alone for so long.  From the little snippets here and there he gathered that she'd been alone for nearly fifty years or so before he'd fallen down here, and that while she'd had quite the number of apprentices they had been spread out over long periods of time interspersed with even longer periods of total isolation.  How had she not gone mad?  How had she wrestled with the feelings of loneliness, of regret and longing?  She still refused to tell him her exact age and he knew she had to be ancient...perhaps it was a question of time needed -- time needed to mourn and miss things, and time to heal and move on.

He still hadn't asked her what had happened to the man before him; she didn't talk about him aside from the odd comment here or there, explaining how whatever she was teaching him was something she'd discovered alongside that previous apprentice, and she'd let slip no hints whatsoever about who he'd even been or how long he'd dwelled with her.

It was a mystery he woke up one morning deciding he needed an answer for: if the previous apprentice had been gifted immortality then where was he? Surely, after all her warnings and sympathy about Onmund being unable to ever leave, she hadn't actually LET the other man leave.

"...may I ask you something, before we begin today?"

"Of course."

He hesitated a moment, slowing to a stop about halfway to the Hall of Mirrors; Kestrel took a few steps more to notice he'd paused before she stopped and turned around.

"The spell you have on me... If you created that with your last apprentice, and it also gave him immortality...why were you alone when I fell down here?  What happened to him?"

She smiled faintly and shook her head.  "I was wondering when you'd work up the nerve to ask about those that came before you.   Follow me, I will show you something."

She turned around and started back down the hallway but instead of the Hall she went to her own room; Onmund followed and once he was inside saw that her room was nigh identical to his in layout save for a flat table-like structure covered with a cloth in the center of the room, a coffin of white wood that stood next to a wardrobe, and a polished, pale brown wooden coffin on a wide, tall stone slab where a bed should have been.  With a very intricate, complex wave of her hand and an uttered word the stone slab ponderously moved aside to reveal a hole carved into its middle -- Kestrel walked over and stepped down onto the first rung of the stone ladder within the hole and, when Onmund followed her a moment later, he found the ladder went down for quite a ways (and it was tight, claustrophobic even - barely wide enough to fit his shoulders).

Eventually his boots landed on a chilly stone floor, with the only light being that pitiful amount that managed to make it from the hole at the top of the ladder down to this level; he suspected they were even deeper down than the storeroom had been and this room was absolutely frigid and their steps echoed in the space.

Kestrel conjured a series of very tiny magelight orbs - each about the size of her thumb, and sent them into the room in a flurry of light where they twinkled like fireflies; as the room steadily filled with their golden glow Onmund's eyes widened at what they revealed:

Coffins.  Heavy iron sarcophagi lined the walls to either side of what was essentially a stone vault - he could count twenty seven that had their lids on, and five more that stood open with their lids set perpendicular across their tops.  Each one shimmered in the magelight, their tops and sides polished to a sheen and with what he assumed were names carved near the heads.

"Here before you you see the apprentices of the past -- and before you ask, all save for one of them died of old age," Kestrel said softly.  "And, not all of them died down here... I have moved from den to den over the years but did not want to leave them behind, buried and forgotten."

Onmund took a few careful steps into the room before looking back to her; Kestrel nodded to him - she apparently didn't mind if he took a closer look.

Jyrmi, Brellin, Evulme, Balur, Agati... Each closed coffin that held a body bore a name and not a single speck of dust, and all of the coffins were finely crafted.  He walked halfway through the room, pausing where the magelights had stopped at the border between dim light and darkness; the room continued on but Kestrel had purposely not sent the magelights back far enough to fully light it.  The coffins to either side of him were empty...were there just more empty ones back there?

(And exactly how far ahead did she plan?  It was a chilling thought that one of these had almost had HIS name on it).

"I - I guess I understand why most of these would be here," he said slowly, looking back at her from over a shoulder.  "But I don't understand why you'd show me this - if he was immortal he should still be alive.  Why did he die?  Is he even down here?  Are one of these his?"

Kestrel conjured a much larger orb this time and sent it rocketing to the far end of the room - Onmund shielded his eyes as it raced by him - and there it stopped against the back wall, revealing a single pathetic, lonely wooden coffin shoved into a corner.

The wood looked old and dry rotted, it had no name; it was coated in dust and dirt and looked neglected.  He gave Kestrel an uneasy look and she slowly strolled toward him between the line of coffins.

"I am not so isolated here as I've made you believe," she started.  "I can choose to observe the surface world.  It's possible to come and go from here if you know how to navigate the web of protections that surround this place.  Many of my apprentices I observed for years, watching them grow and gauging their ambitions, until I offered them a chance to learn from me and plucked them from the life they had.  He was one of those...a very ambitious, curious man.  Oftentimes he was shunned for radical ideas and his penchant for asking questions, challenging 'common' knowledge.  He leapt at the chance to learn under my tutelage - I was offering him exactly what he desired, and he was the perfect companion in all aspects...TOO perfect.  I foolishly loved the man - it was difficult not to.  That was why I couldn't bear the thought of outliving him, but I couldn't bring myself to turn him either."

Onmund looked back to the wooden coffin again - it definitely didn't look like it belonged to someone that was loved.  "What happened?"

"We began to craft our spell... And when it seemed we had succeeded we were both especially cautious not to be too hopeful but also incredibly drunk on the rush of our triumph.  For twenty years we carefully monitored him - his appearance, his mental and physical health and needs.  Nothing changed.  We declared it a victory.  And when he was convinced he had immortality with no adverse side effects he went to rid himself of me - the romance had been a ruse."

She said it all matter-of-factly, with hardly any emotion, but Onmund himself was incredibly disturbed and confused.  "I...but...  But he needed you for the immortality...why would he try to kill you?  HOW did he try to kill you?  I can't so much as sneeze in your direction without going unconscious."

She laughed softly and rested a hand on his shoulder.  "At the time we didn't realize it was shared characteristics...our intentions hadn't been to share, but to gift.   And once he thought he had his gift he no longer needed me, just the vast amount of knowledge that he coveted and the freedom to move forward on his own, the-" Kestrel abruptly stopped, biting her lower lip.   "-the thing be damned," she finished after a pause.

"Thing...?"

"The thing we guard.  That he and I once both guarded out of fear for what it could possibly do," she elaborated.  "For all I know he decided he could control that too, and needed me gone so he could take possession of it.  I don't know and I don't care, and it's too late to ask him now.  To save myself I was forced to kill him, and once he was dead I felt everything I'd gained from him fade...to say nothing of how it feels to have your heart so cruelly broken."

A silence fell between them; Onmund couldn't help but stare at the coffin - his predecessor, right there in front of him, and by all accounts a traitor, a liar, and a would-be murderer.

"So he tried to attack you, failed, and you killed him.  Like you almost killed me?"

Kestrel shook her head.  "No no, when the spell was between myself and him it wasn't able to kill, and did not prevent him from harming me...it wasn't until after that - much, much later - that I figured out how to add that in.  I am not taking that chance again."  She turned on a heel and began to walk back to the ladder; the large magelight orb over the coffin in the corner extinguished and, as she walked by them, the other tinier ones began to as well.

Onmund hurried to follow her so he wouldn't be left alone in the dark, and it was a very long climb back up into her room; his arms and legs were burning by the time he hauled himself out of the opening and rolled off the stone slab onto his knees, sitting there in the floor and waiting for the slab to slide back into place before he used it to push himself back to his feet.

She was already moving toward the cloth-covered table and with a flourish yanked the cloth free; the table was a sheet of mirrored glass marked with runes and etched with constellation drawings.  At her gesture he came over to look at it -- it was amazing craftsmanship and he'd not seen anything like it before, and he wondered what its purpose was but assumed she'd be telling him if she was showing it to him now.

"This..." she said quietly, running her fingers lightly over its smooth surface, "is a scrying table.  A means to look at things from far distances - assuming what you're looking at isn't warded to block your sight."

"Scrying...  I've heard of that, actually," Onmund murmured.  He too reached out a hand to rest his fingers against the silvered glass; it was cold to the touch and he could feel a sort of latent power within it - something that would awaken with the right application of...something.  "I didn't realize you needed something like this to do it though."

"You don't," Kestrel laughed.  "You can use a simple map and a pure crystal - I prefer quartz - but it's considerably more difficult, and I dislike doing things the hard way for no reason."

"How does it work?"

"It's a combination of invested magicka from the caster, a high degree of mental focus, and knowledge of your subject or target," she explained.   "Having something belonging to someone you're wanting to scry helps but it's not required."

Onmund leaned forward, admiring the etchings and designs within the mirrored surface.  "Will I learn how to use this?"

"Of course...though, don't get your hopes up, it will be awhile.  It takes a lot of mental training that we've not gotten to yet."

The thought of being able to scry his family, his friends...to be able to see them again, even if it was just through a mirror, was a very tempting, attractive thought.  "I definitely want to learn."

With a soft chuckle she placed hands on his shoulders and turned to guide him out of her bedroom.  "In time.  To build a house you have to have a sturdy foundation - likewise, to climb to new heights with magical skill you must first have a solid foundation of knowledge."

"Yes, yes, I get that," he said with a small laugh.  He took a few quick steps to get out in front of her, shrugging off her hands.  "What are you showing me today, then?"

"I think today is a fine day to review," came her answer as she stepped ahead of him and led the way to the Hall of Mirrors.

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

Onmund had gotten into the habit of keeping a bound book of blank parchment sitting on his desk - something he thought he could have used as a journal, to leave some record of his discontent and attempts to find freedom again - and yet he hadn't done that at all.  Every morning he instead placed another tally mark in a row to keep track of how long he'd been here; by his count he'd been here eight months and six days exactly, which hardly seemed like any time at all.  

There were mornings where he woke before Kestrel came for him and he would sit at his desk and read sometimes but far more often he would retreat into daydreams -- he wondered how long the others had looked for him before giving up, how long they'd waited to let his family know he'd "died," or IF they'd even told his family yet...he knew his family would demand a body to be buried which the College obviously couldn't give them.  How angry would his parents be at them?  Or at HIM for refusing their wishes to be a hunter or farmer and becoming a mage, and (no doubt in their eyes) dying because of his idiotic choice?

There was a part of him that thought he should hate Kestrel for all this...but he didn't.  And he also thought that he should still be trying to escape despite the spell that could kill him with a thought...and yet, he didn't want to do that either (and not just because he'd die).  He hadn't even given it a thought in...a month, maybe more.  The things he was learning here he felt he couldn't learn anywhere else and...well.

Kestrel was a good teacher - a good master mage.  He had a lot of learning to do before he'd be advanced enough to help her research or anything like that but she never held that against him. She was firm but kind, never talked down to him, patiently helped when he asked, kept his curiosity and eagerness alive and strong with each new thing, and carried herself with a confidence no doubt born out of untold years of experience - that she seemed terrified of whatever it was that they guarded down here...he wondered if it was better if he never found out.  But he knew he would, eventually -- Kestrel's lessons this week had been of mental strength: sharpening his focus, withstanding mental assaults, broadening his ability to multitask (multicast?) rapidly by demanding he juggle several spells or problems all at one time.  He'd thought at first that this would be the precursor to learning how to use the scrying table - and maybe it was part of that - but the last few days she'd really doubled down on increasing his mental defenses.

She was preparing to tell him about the thing that was down here with them.  She had to be.

Another week went by, and then another.  Her lessons didn't change from the mental exercises, nor did she allow him time to practice anything other than that; it was starting to become a bit nerve wracking waking up each morning wondering if today would be that day.

And yet when that morning finally came he found himself oddly calm -- he'd been anticipating this for weeks so maybe it wasn't too strange...   Well, he supposed that he hadn't really been afraid of the Eye of Magnus at first either as he had no idea what it was at the time (and look at what'd happened with THAT).

With little fanfare (and hardly speaking) Kestrel led the way back to her room and moved her coffin and the stone slab aside again; they climbed in silence down the stone ladder to the chilled mausoleum and then walked by the dim light of a single magelight orb to the far end of the room where the wooden coffin of the last apprentice sat.  Kestrel veered toward the corner opposite of that coffin and seemed to simply disappear into thin air, though the air itself appeared to ripple like a pond's surface.  Onmund paused, uncertain of what he'd just seen, then Kestrel's disembodied hand stuck out of the midst of the air ripples and gestured for him to come closer.

He did and felt the hair on his arms stand on end as he passed through some sort of magical field; looking back out into the room was almost nauseating as everything visually rippled, like he was at the bottom of a deep pool looking upward.  There was a semi circle of runes carved into the floor and up the walls that were only visible if he was standing within it and Onmund swore his teeth were vibrating from all the power concentrated in this one tiny area; it was a very bizarre feeling overall but it did look as though they simply stood together in a rune circle as the walls and floor still remained - or appeared - solid.

Kestrel then began reaching out to runes etched into the walls, touching them rapidly and in a sequence Onmund had no hope of following; he heard a deep thrum, and felt it in his bones too, and then a sliver of the wall disappeared -- it was a sliver just barely wide enough to let Kestrel slide through turned sideways, and it was a considerably tighter fit for his larger frame.  By the time he'd squeezed through he was panting and shaking a bit from the sudden onset of immense claustrophobia and jumped a bit at Kestrel's cold hand on his arm.

The light that came through the gap in the wall seemed to be swallowed up by the darkness in this room; there was a sharp border at the edge of it's light - very sharp, like something solid stood there but Onmund couldn't see anything...but he could feel something.   Something that scratched at his mind, a mental tickle, a hissing that rose and fell with the cadence of someone speaking...something in this room wanted his attention.  A sense of unease filled him and he clamped down with the mental protection spells Kestrel had been drilling into him for three weeks; the scratching and whispering became quieter, but didn't go away completely.

Kestrel's fingers dug into his sleeve - she hadn't let go of him since they'd stepped into his room.  At her quiet word a magelight orb appeared above their heads and its light too cut off abruptly about ten feet from them as though a wall was casting a shadow there, but all Onmund could see was a deep darkness.

"I am only going to show you a glimpse," she said quietly.  "I don't dare risk anything longer than that.  Are you prepared?"

"I...I think so."

Kestrel kept her hand on his arm but tugged and pushed him ahead of her, positioning him so he directly faced the darkness; only then did her hand move from his arm to his waist and her other came up to rest at his belt as well.

Then the darkness dropped, and the whispers and scratching hit him with renewed strength.

It wasn't language as he recognized it - it wasn't words.  It was...emotion, and images.  He didn't even fully grasp what he was looking at as he wrestled to keep the wordless whispers at bay -- he saw a brief glimpse of something black and shining like obsidian, spiky and about the size of a book, and as his gaze fell on it he felt a compulsion to pick it up and put it on.

Whatever it was wanted him to wear it - it was a powerful artifact and Kestrel had no right to keep it from its rightful wielder.  He saw himself as Arch-Mage in a spiked crown, guiding young minds without fear of persecution or concern about what the damned Nords thought of his College.  All he needed to do was cross the room, pick it up, put it on, and he'd be free of his damned slave master as well.

And between Kestrel's firm grip on his hips and his own struggle to stay put he managed to cut through the scratching and non-noise, through the compulsion; he grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut - NOT looking at it shut him off from the desire to grab the...the whatever that was, though it did little to silence the noise in his mind.

And then it went silent - or as silent as it had been when they'd first entered; his heart was beating rapidly and he felt a little lightheaded, and put a hand to Kestrel's on his hip and took comfort that yes, she was still there.  When he finally worked up the courage to open his eyes he found the strange wall of darkness was back in place.  Everything had returned to normal.

He shrugged Kestrel's hands off and, on unsteady legs, squeezed himself back through the gap in the wall and into the mausoleum, falling against one of the nearby empty iron coffins and trying to get his heart rate and ragged breathing back under control.  He was only faintly aware of Kestrel coming out through the gap behind him and replacing all the warding spells; his heartbeat was impossibly loud in the quiet, and he didn't argue when she gently slipped one of his arms over her shoulder and in turn slid one of her arms around his waist and half guided, half carried him back to the far side of the room to lean him against the wall beside the base of the ladder.

It felt like an age had passed before he composed himself, and when he looked up to Kestrel she wore an expression devoid of any emotion.

"What...  What did I just look at?" he whispered.

Kestrel slowly lowered herself down to squat on her heels in front of him, looking him in the eyes.  "I call it the Crown of Domination...  I know very little about it.  It bears the power and mark of Molag Bal, and I suspect it might have even originated in Coldharbour.  Even before I lowered a few protections to let you see it you still felt its influence, yes?"

He nodded weakly.  "I - I did, yes.  I felt something trying to claw its way in, and there were whispers that weren't actually words, but I understood what it wanted me to do.  I don't even know what I really saw - just...spikes, and a black shine."

"It compels whoever looks at it to put it on...I'm not nearly brave enough to try and figure out what is meant to happen if it's worn," she said softly.  "Are you all right?"

"You keep that thing down here...so close to where you sleep?"

She nodded.  "I found it hundreds of years ago, entirely by accident.  I was unprepared for it, and my apprentice at the time..."  She shifted, turning to place a knee on the floor to balance herself as she looked back to the lines of coffins.  "That's her - third from the left.  There was once a time where I used my illusions to live freely among mortals...she was my only apprentice but we had partnered with several scholars from the capital to unearth what we'd been led to believe was a Black Book.  It most definitely wasn't - we all fell under some sort of...ensnaring mental magic.  One of the scholars closest to the crown put it on, and before I managed to break free of the spell he had already slaughtered my apprentice and all but two other men.  When I struck him down the other two fought to claim it themselves and killed one another."

"That's awful..." His hands were shaking and he clenched them in his lap, blowing out a breath.  "And you don't know what its supposed to do?"

"No, I do not.  Did you see visions?  Promises of power?"

He nodded.  "I saw myself as Arch-Mage, teaching others...unafraid of the Nords and their stupid attitudes toward magic.  And free of you and your spell," he added after a pause, glancing up to her uneasily.

She turned around, looking thoughtful; carefully she folded her legs under her to sit on the freezing floor.  "It may very well be it just shows you what you desire, or what it thinks you desire.  I can't be certain because what it initially showed me was nothing I had ever wanted once in my entire, considerable life."

"I've never thought of ever rising to the rank of Arch-Mage.  I just wanted to learn," Onmund murmured.  He again glanced to her and then quickly looked away -- he didn't want to be Arch-Mage, and he'd thought that he didn't want to leave either...he thought he'd come to terms with that.  But if the crown showed him something it thought he wanted - if it was going to show him whatever it needed to to make him put it on...

With a huff he forced himself to look back at her - he would try to understand his own thoughts on that half of it later.  "If that thing is so dangerous, why risk anyone else?  If your last apprentice actually did want that crown for himself -- I mean, is the spell on me enough to protect or deter me from that?  What if it DOES get to me somehow?"

She smiled kindly at him.  "It won't.  My wards and simple distance between you and it has worked for far, right?"  At her question he nodded.   "You have nothing to worry about.  And as for why I would risk other apprentices...it was always my hope that we would find a way to safely destroy it - or, well.  A way TO destroy it, period.  Maybe you will be the one to help me with that goal...I certainly hope so."

Onmund was silent a moment, letting that sink in; he might technically be a captive but if they found a way to destroy the crown then he'd be a hero, and there'd be no reason to stay hidden away down here.  "-if we destroy it, we could leave, right?"  Kestrel tilted her head, looking at him curiously; that she hadn't immediately said no encouraged him.  "I mean, if we don't have to guard that thing anymore, we could just go back to the surface.  You said you used to hide among mortals - there'd be no reason to stay hidden down here anymore, right?  And there'd be no reason to forcibly keep me with you either since there's no secret left to keep.  Not that I'd leave," he added hurriedly.  "You've taught me a great deal and I want to learn more.  But...if the crown is gone...?"

With another kind smile she leaned forward to pat his shoulder, then stood and moved to the ladder.  "It's fine to dream of the world from time to time, but don't let it distract you from what we must do."

"I understand.  I understand a lot better now."

"Good.  Go and rest...we'll begin again tomorrow."

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 5.1}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend… and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.4k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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There was a major difference in the way Robin approached this summer break in contrast to the last years. The dread that usually overcame her even before she stepped onto the train back to London was still very much present and accompanied by a deep sadness at the prospect of not being able to have coffee with Snape every night, but she didn’t feel quite as desperate about the length of the break. This year, she actually had something to look forward to.

It had come as a surprise on her last evening at school, when she had been talking to Snape about summer plans, that he had handed her a letter that had originally been addressed to him. At first Robin had been understandably confused why he’d given it to her, but after a moment of explanation, things had started to make sense. It was an invitation to a one-day conference in London, taking place two weeks into the holidays. According to him, it was an ‘insignificant’ event with a series of lectures and discussions about anything related to the overall subject of potion making. While the invitation was meant for Snape himself, he had made it rather clear that he had no interest in attending and thus wanted to give Robin the opportunity to listen to some of the lectures if she cared to go in his place. Obviously she’d been absolutely delighted by the possibility, and assured him that she would do her very best to lay low and make a good impression for once. He’d told her where to be on which day, then spoken a brief warning about some people he couldn’t stand but who likely would be attending, and at last they had changed the topic, talking about the book Robin had just finished that day.

On the train ride home the next day however, she had wondered if he really didn’t want to attend or if he merely wanted to give her the chance to go in his place, but seeing as she couldn’t answer that question, she had let it go after a while of pondering. But she did take pride in the fact that he obviously believed she would understand whatever would be talked about at this conference, and even more that he trusted her to not embarrass him in his absence. She would definitely try to learn as much as possible from this event, and be noticed as little as possible in return.

The two weeks until the anticipated day passed by slowly, but with something to look forward to, it wasn’t quite as dreadful as wishing and waiting for the end of the holidays already. Robin did actually end up telling her parents about the conference a few days before it would take place, and they seemed rather delighted about the fact that Robin was indulging in the same kind of academic endeavours they themselves thrived in so much. To be honest, Robin had merely told them because spending the entire day in London meant that she would be home very late if she took the train after the last lecture would be over, and she didn’t want them to worry. They however seemed fairly unbothered by the fact that their daughter would be out and about in the middle of the night, and Robin gave up on trying to get them to take interest in her person as much as they did in her 'career’. Thus they merely talked about proper behavior at an event like this, how to ask questions without being rude or make suggestions without sounding braggy, and Robin did in fact appreciate the advice for once. Who knew… maybe it applied to the wizarding world just as much as to the muggle world.

When the day finally arrived, Robin was nervous and delighted at once. Seeing as she would indeed have to stick to public transportation like the muggle she was pretending to be during the holidays, she opted for a more mundane choice of outfit too. Still, she wanted to make a good impression, and thus she chose to wear dressier clothes for once, which turned out more of a challenge than anticipated, due to an underwhelming amount of options. Eventually she ended up with a black, high waisted tube skirt that ended a little higher than a hand’s width above her knees, and an olive green blouse with long bishop sleeves which she tugged into the skirt. Paired with some dressy flats and her usual leather backpack, Robin deemed it fancy enough. Her mom also gave her approval, calling it 'appropriate enough’ for someone Robin’s age, and thus she was off to London even before it had properly started to dawn.

Finding the place where the conference would take place was actually easier than she had expected, especially if one considered that she had to rely on an ordinary, non-magical street map of London to find the correct building. This rule forbidding underage magic outside of Hogwarts was bullshit, in her eyes, but she also figured that not everyone was being as responsible with their magic as she was… so it maybe did make sense for some people. After finding the right building however, the next obstacle was being allowed in.

“Can I help you?” The first person she tried to simply walk past, once inside the entrance hall, already stepped into her path.

“I have an invitation for the conference.” Robin replied as self-assuredly as she could, portraying nothing but calmness on the outside while yet on the inside she felt rather overwhelmed by the whole thing. Too many people, too many strangers especially, and in addition to that a place she wasn’t familiar with and a situation nobody believed she belonged into. Great…

“May I see it, please?” At least the man was polite, even if a bit too condescending for Robin’s liking. Without protesting though, she grabbed the invitation card out of her backpack and held it under his nose with an indifferent expression.

“I apologise for the inconvenience, Miss. The conference room is on the third floor. Just follow the signs and you should find it with ease.” He said after but a brief glimpse at the paper, and stepped out of Robin’s way while pointing her to the staircase.

It really was beyond easy to find the correct room by following the signs, but before she even could set foot into it, she was held up yet again by a man sitting at a table in front of the room.

“Good morning.” Robin actually addressed him first, with a polite smile, as she came to stand in front of the table. Somehow she had rather hoped that she could just sneak into this like she had done in some lectures at university in the past years… but obviously that wasn’t the case.

“How can I help you, Missy?” The older man raised his eyebrows at her with a small smile, and Robin found herself conflicted by his disrespectful way of addressing her in contrast to his kind face.

“I am here for the conference.” She stated calmly though, and handed the invite to the man in front of her.

His eyebrows rose even higher as he read over the card, before he finally turned back to Robin with a surprised face. “What does a lass like you have to do with Severus Snape? You surely know that this is his invite, don’t you?”

“Of course I am aware of that.” She bit down the snarl and kept her tone polite and neutral like the adult she was trying to be here. “I’m his… friend. He couldn’t attend and therefore sent me in his place.” There was no need to tell him that Snape had called them an old bunch of idiots and hadn’t wanted to come here because it would bore him out of his mind, was there? No, certainly not.

“From what’s said about him, he doesn’t have a lot of friends I believe.” The man mused, but handed the paper back to Robin with a smile nonetheless. “Well, he still seems to have a decent taste in people if he sent you here today, huh? What’s your name? For the list of attendees, and the name tag.”

Robin almost would’ve snorted at the statement… Snape and good with people? Best joke she’d heard in weeks. But at least she wasn’t questioned any more than that. She would’ve hated to elaborate on her 'friendship’ with her professor. One sided as it was, especially…

“Robin Mitchell.” She answered with a small smile, and a moment later accepted the sticky tag he was holding out to her. Without questioning why it only read her last name, she stuck it onto her blouse a little below her collar bone, and then was granted entrance to the room at last.

If she’d had any hope to just not be noticed before, it definitely was gone by now. The room was crowded with wizards of all shapes and sizes, mostly of the older generations, and Robin spotted exactly two females other than herself. Age and gender… first things that drew quite a few eyes to her. But then there also was the small but very obvious fact that she was the only one not wearing robes. Hell, even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t have sat in the train for two hours looking like a kid dressed up for Halloween and not panic. Well… she could’ve changed once she got here. Too late for that idea now.

Many eyes followed her indeed as she walked across the room to sit down as far to the back as possible. At least there were many people scattered around the room, chatting and laughing currently; surely they would just forget that Robin was here at some point. Hopefully, if they didn’t ignore her, these people would actually treat her with some professionalism at least, even if she looked like she could be their grandchild. Well, at least she got why Snape had called them a bunch of old idiots now.

After her initial discomfort, the situation improved (fairly little at first) once the actual event began. Robin tried to somewhat keep up with the smalltalk the man next to her was trying to make, but he ended up spending more time staring at her mostly bare legs than listening to what she said in return, so she eventually just gave up on trying to converse in the first place. The lectures however were well worth the trouble, as Robin discovered, and she took plenty of notes about anything that seemed interested or useful to remember. In fact, she did understand most of what was said and even recognized a lot of it from her extensive readings. Events like this generally seemed to function more by knowledge than by experience, and Robin had theoretical knowledge in the plenty. Thus she actually had a pretty good time for the majority of the lectures, as it allowed her to completely ignore the fact that other people were present in the same room.

Only when they took a break at noon, she was approached by some people who probably only wanted to be kind and involve her in the conversation, which however served to make Robin feel rather nervous in the beginning. They asked her about her young age, of course, and she tried to politely convince them that intelligence wasn’t a matter of age, and neither was passion for a subject. At least the lunch break was spent with conversation this way, rather than awkward silence, and Robin actually found herself enjoying the polite and professional conversations they engaged in soon. Throughout the talking she got involved in however, she tried to share as little information about herself and her knowledge about potions as possible, for she feared that she would only embarrass herself anyway if she said something wrong. She was here to listen, not to talk.

That however changed drastically in the afternoon. After one particularly long lecture about medical potions and strategies of use, the following discussion was a furnace of opinions and arguments. Robin merely listened to the many arguments and counterarguments in silence, just as she’d been doing for the past few hours, and kept her own thoughts to herself. That worked rather well for her, right until the man who had held the lecture in the first place, Kenneth Crowe, said something undeniably wrong and everybody in the room seemed to agree with him. Instantly the desire to at least ask about it jumped to the very front of Robin’s mind, but she bit the insides of her cheeks to stay quiet. It wasn’t her place to say anything at all, and definitely not to correct a well renowned professional in the field. But it was such an obvious mistake… such a stupid but important little detail. And leaving it in the wrong might actually result in very much real consequences for people, especially in the medical field. 

Crowe had introduced a new kind of healing potion in his lecture, a revolutionary invention of his that might cure yet untreatable curses… and Robin believed to know that it wouldn’t work. At least not in the way he was suggesting. Bloody hell, she just wanted to tell them, but she was also desperately scared to say something stupid. It wasn’t her place to speak up, it wasn’t her goddamn place to doubt these people!!! But the knowledge that she might be right sufficed to torture her mind more with every second she didn’t at least voice the doubt. At last Robin’s mind won over her churning stomach and racing heart. She raised her hand, was called on almost immediately, and after one deep and shaky breath, she started explaining to a room full of professionals why they were wrong about the subject.

“I… would like to ask a question.” She started, hoping that her criticism wouldn’t come off as such if she phrased it this way. “You, uh… You stated that the petals of the Varilion flower are a key ingredient, and so is the essence of Canticor, yes?”

“Yes. And?” Crowe looked down at Robin from his pedestal with a humored, but undeniably deriding smile. He probably thought that she didn’t even understand a word of what they were currently dealing with… oh, how wrong he was. A bit of the reluctance to possibly insult this man fell off Robin’s mind at the stupid look on his face alone, and she decided to continue more directly.

“I just wanted to be sure I didn’t misunderstand you.” She replied with a polite little smile that was born out of her newly arising wish to wipe his own smile off his stupid face. “Because as far as I’m aware, Varilion –as a plant in the family of nocturnal vinca breeds– would very likely cancel out the effects of the Canticor which are needed here. Without the Canticor however, the entire product would likely be unstable and thus lacking the functionality you have described.”

“That’s ridiculous, I tested the potion myself and it was perfectly stable. You shouldn’t make assumptions like that without prior knowledge of the subject, child. This potion will be perfectly stable.” He almost snapped back, and a few people frowned at his admittedly harsh reply. Robin didn’t let it impress her at all; she was just getting started. Somehow, now that the dam was broken, she really didn’t mind speaking up all that much anymore.

“Well, it is stable if the potion is made in a common testing quantity as opposed to an average production size. If one would try to make a sufficient amount of it in order to be able to give it to a human being with the desired healing result, one would run into severe problems, seeing as the Varilion and the Canticor start canceling each other out at an amount that is way smaller than what would be needed indeed. Thus it is not possible to use this formula to even make enough of the potion for one single person. Which, in return, renders the potion quite useless.” People stared at Robin with all kinds of mixed and shocked expressions as she spoke, some whispering and turning pages, but she used the opportunity of having the word already to lean just a bit further out of what she had thought to be her place. “However, seeing as the core problem is merely the radically dominating nature of the vinca breed in the Varilion, I would suggest replacing it with Plangentine. As another nocturnal flower with almost the same properties, as far as I’m aware, it might make a functional replacement even in larger quantities. But that, of course, is only my humble opinion. Thank you.”

With that she shut her mouth, leaned back in her chair, and observed how about thirty jaws dropped. Geez, it was hard not to smirk. This really shouldn’t be so much fun… What she had done wasn’t exactly considered polite, even if she had phrased it politely. Her parents would be disappointed. Snape however would likely be proud. Robin decided to focus on the latter.

For the long moment that followed, nobody said anything at all, and people merely seemed to think about what Robin had suggested. When the discussion was finally continued however, every single person who contributed something spoke in favor of Robin’s opinion or at least seemed to accept it as correct. Thank goodness… she would’ve hated to feel so smug and then be proven wrong. Thus, seeing as she had done her part in voicing her doubt and wiping the stupid smile off the man’s face, Robin went back to simply listening to what was said, and meanwhile noted down the discussed healing potion in her journal, with her own suggested change. She’d have to ask Snape about it when she went back to school. Maybe they could even test it, for fun.

The rest of the afternoon flew by just as the morning had, but with significantly more glances at Robin. One time she was even directly asked for her opinion on something, which freaked her out quite a bit on the inside at least, but she still was able to give a reply everyone seemed to be accepting as a contribution as valuable as any other person’s. Maybe she had finally gotten herself out of the grandchild box in their minds after all.

After the last lecture was over, fairly late in the evening, the entire group of attendees was asked to come to the podium to pose for a photograph. At first, Robin had respectfully stepped aside to let the real attendees take the stage, but upon multiple people insisting that she had played an important role in this meeting, she had found herself among the group as well. Right in the front. Definitely not as subtle as she’d planned to be today, but seeing as she was a good head shorter than almost everyone else, it did actually make sense to put her up front. Once all pictures were taken, Robin planned to head home, but she was quickly (and more or less against her will) pulled into a discussion about the very same healing potion once more. Now, in a smaller group of far less hostile people, she felt more comfortable with repeating her suggestion and explaining how she had gotten to the realization in the first place. Many people asked for her name, her age, her profession… and some went even further and asked for her opinion on all kinds of topics related to potions and even herbology. Robin did her best to answer with knowledge and educated guesses, but seeing as she was actually taken seriously by the people who bothered to talk to her in the first place, she also didn’t hesitate to say when she didn’t know about something. In those latter cases, she asked the person she was speaking to for suggestions on books or articles on the topic, so that she could one day maybe answer their question on a more profound basis. Finally, some time after eleven at night, she made for the train back to Oxford with a long list of things to read up on, and an even longer one of people she had left an impression with.

… … …

The days after the conference were as dreadful as the summer usually was, and any opportunity to make something out of the free time stayed ridiculously absent. Thus Robin was bored out of her mind even more quickly than usual, therefore spent more time reading than likely was good for her, and generally found herself desperately wishing to be able to return to school already. Every bit the usual summer.

After two weeks of this mind numbing madness however, Robin’s days became a little more bearable with an unexpected turn of events. She was sitting at breakfast, her parents about to leave for the day, when her mom came back into the kitchen to hand Robin a letter, saying it looked like her friends from school had finally thought of her after all. Robin didn’t have the heart nor the time to tell her that she didn’t even have friends, so she just took the letter out of her mom’s hand with a quiet thank you, shrugged at the question who it was from and merely tossed it onto a stack of books in feigned indifference. Then she wished her mom and dad a nice day at work, and continued to sip on her black coffee.

However, the very second the front door fell shut and the house silent in return, Robin had the letter in her hands again and flipped it over to see her name written on the envelope in the familiar spidery cursive she’d missed seeing in the past few weeks. Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn’t know if she should be scared or excited about this letter. Both, probably. Without wasting another second, she opened the envelope with a kitchen knife and fiddled a folded piece of parchment out of it. Yup, definitely scared and excited at once. But if she was in trouble, it surely would’ve been an official school letter, right? Not just an average envelope with nothing but her name on it… bloody hell, her heartbeat was louder than the silence around her. With a deep breath, she unfolded the letter at last.

Miss Mitchell.

You might find yourself wondering what led me to write to you in between terms, and you will find the main answer to that in the envelope with this letter.

Robin stopped reading at that point and took another look into the envelope she had carelessly dropped onto the counter. There was another piece of paper in it, folded in half as well, but Robin could already tell by the look of it that it was a newspaper cutout. Once she unfolded it, she found herself both smiling and feeling too warm in the face at once. It was the photograph that had been taken at the conference, with a short article beneath it. It was nothing special, just a little text about how many people had attended and which topics had been discussed, and thus Robin found herself looking at the moving photograph for a longer moment instead. Really, she’d known that she had somewhat stood out from the crowd, but the picture made it undeniably evident. About fifty much older people in thick and flowing robes and with the most serious faces, and Robin right in the middle with her short skirt, victorian style blouse and a small smile. Oh dear… she almost dreaded going back to Snape’s letter. He surely would be complaining about her choice of clothes, but she honestly hadn’t known better. Her attire would’ve been perfectly ordinary in the muggle world. Oh well… at least the photograph was a lovely reminder of the admittedly amazing day she’d had at the conference. Careful not to crease the picture any more than the folds it already had, she put it into her most recent journal and then finally went back to the letter.

Miss Mitchell.

You might find yourself wondering what led me to write to you in between terms, and you will find the answer to that in the envelope together with this letter. The picture was published in the Daily Prophet the day after the conference. This cutout was sent to me a few days later, by an acquaintance who you should have met at the event, Patrick Isaac. I assume you are not keeping up with the news, not with the Prophet at least, which is why I decided to forward the picture to you directly. Perhaps you would like to keep the cutout, you certainly have more use for it than I do.

Furthermore it might interest you to know that Mister Isaac, together with the picture, sent me a fairly long letter to gush over a certain young witch by the name of Robin Mitchell who attended the conference with him and who obviously was rumored to be a friend of mine. I will spare you the details of his disconcertingly detailed elaborations, but overall it appears that you have earned yourself quite a few admirers among the attendees, if the other six letters that I have received in your praise are any indicator of that. It seems that you have surprised me yet again, which indeed does not surprise me at all.

However I still would like to know more about the 'remarkable incident’ involving a certain new potion that was discussed. Multiple people reference it in the context of your astonishing intellect, yet without ever elaborating on the issue. What did you do this time that rendered competent professionals quite so speechless? I expect your timely reply, seeing as you do not have further plans for the summer anyway.

Snape

Robin frowned at the last few lines, then sighed to herself and dropped the letter on the counter to make another cup of coffee first. Well, at least writing a letter would give her something to do. And writing a letter to Snape would give her something enjoyable to do indeed. A smile spread on her lips as she set the kettle on the stove. He could’ve waited until after the holidays to give her the clipping, and even to ask her about the conference, but he had sent a letter instead and that made Robin smile even more. Maybe, in some reality, he actually enjoyed talking to her too. Seriously enjoyed it, that is, not just because she kept on talking to him first. Once the kettle whistled, she added the boiling water to her instant coffee and then balanced the letter, the envelope, her book, her journal AND the coffee mug up the stairs and towards the desk in her room. She had a letter to write after all.

… … …

Robin received the next letter three weeks after she had written to Snape about her experiences at the conference. She’d been careful in her explanations to always leave some things unsaid so she would have something to tell him in person, but she had elaborated on the conversations she’d had with people he might possibly know.

This time his letter was dropped off by an owl on a Sunday evening, which almost gave Robin’s dad a seizure when the poor animal landed on the windowsill next to his armchair. Somehow muggles just couldn’t get used to the post being delivered by owls… People have used pigeons to deliver messages for decades; what was so weird about owls now?!

“Oh look, it has the same illegible handwriting on it as the last one.” Her mom smiled as she picked up the envelope that again just had Robin’s name written on it. “How come your friend didn’t write to you in the last years?”

“We, uh… we’ve only been friends since rather recently.” Robin replied evasively and snatched the envelope out of her mother’s hand. “And his handwriting isn’t illegible! It’s just… kinda squiggly.”

“If you say so, sweetie.” Her mom shrugged, and turned back towards the living room. “You must have a lot of practice deciphering his handwriting if you find it legible.”

“We work together. A lot.” Robin mused and thumbed over the rough corners of the envelope. “On… essays.”

“Well, if I had to grade his essays, he surely wouldn’t come very far.” Her dad replied with a snarky expression while he didn’t even look up from his book. “I’m surprised that you write essays in that school in the first place. Not just bunnies in top hats then, huh?”

“You are who wouldn’t come very far.” Robin whispered to herself with a roll of her eyes as she made for her room with her letter still clasped tightly in hand, not even honoring her father’s remark with a reply. Honestly, her dad wouldn’t understand a single word about anything magical at all, seeing as he made every attempt not to, nor would he ever understand that she wasn’t attending a clown’s college but a serious magical academy. And… oh bloody hell, he would probably hate Snape with a passion. Well, good thing they never had to meet. Hopefully. Unfortunately. Ugh… that crush of hers wasn’t getting any better, rather on the opposite. But she usually could ignore it pretty well these days.

With a sigh she sat down on the carpeted floor, leaning against the post of her bed as she opened the envelope at last. This letter was a lot shorter than the first, but she didn’t mind. The sole fact that he had replied even though he didn’t have to was enough to make her skin crawl in excitement.

Miss Mitchell.

I cannot believe that you told off one of the best renowned potioneers in the country, and obviously were in the right to do so. What I would give to have been a witness of the incident indeed; I have always had a rather strong distaste for that man. You will need to tell me more on the specifics of the circumstances once term starts.

Furthermore I have come to the decision that I would like you to assist me in my practical work and studies from now, seeing as I deem any other mode of teaching you insufficient and thus pointless. Your knowledge is already on an acceptable level, as you have once more proven at the conference, and I believe it is time that your practical capabilities keep up with both my standards for your work and your own. You will assist me in my work, and in return I will do my best to teach you everything I possibly can. Seeing as you have run out of books of mine to read, I believe this addition to our already prevalent nightly meetings to be in your best interest as well. I am looking forward to the new term.

Snape

Seconds ticked by and Robin stared at the letter in her hands with a positive numbness, until at last her lips curled into a smile, then a grin, and at last she felt an overwhelming excitement at the opportunity that had just opened up in front of her. Well, and the fact that he had in all seriousness written 'already prevalent nightly meetings’ without any care in the world. It was amazing how absolutely serious and yet casual he was about it. A pleasant shudder ran up Robin’s spine, all the way into her neck. He couldn’t mind her presence all that much if he suggested her to spend even more time perched into the minimal space of the laboratory with him, could he?

She had been helping out in the lab on a few occasions since their endeavour with the restored page in her third year, but it by far hadn’t been a regular thing nor one that could be described as real practical experience. While she’d been desperately wanting and wishing to do this kind of practical work with Snape again, for a multitude of reasons, she had never actually believed that she might. And now she would. God, she couldn’t wait for the holidays to be over already.

______________________________

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