#starting a stan account for their security guards

[honeyedlashton]

A little outing in Poland 🍂🧡

[the-firebird69]

This is try on the Peterson case and really your rehashing in case in New England apparently Dan went in and shot a bunch of minority morlock. They got really pissed and the court tried to go after Trump and the sun said you can't make it make the law up she's a security guard not a cop so they had to let him out it's not true several jurors ask questions did this guy know the defendant what did the defendant say about it if anything any question or after Dan stood up in court and said he doesn't know the guy. His father said good audibly and it really pissed them off and they decide to go after him and they are and they're going to reopen the case. There's a few other cases like this and they've been accused of it no they've been convicted and they're running around not in prison and they're going to put them in prison. Today they're going after. Today they're going after them and they have warrants and three of them are on Dave next door who just got here and two are on Trump who's been here for a while f****** around making stupid noises in space and blabbing and therefore today and a special warrants it's because they belong in prison they're not serving their prison sentences out and their criminals and it's coming down to this these are real warrants and they pick you up and they question you and they take your stuff and they've been doing it quite steadily including for stands ships and Stan didn't see it and they're just leeches on him and he's almost gone he's got like 10,000 ships left and Star wars will start momentarily and begins today and tonight the preamble happened there already in Tunis. Pretty soon you guys are going to be toast as in dead and you really need to be this case proves that you people are massive scofflaws and don't really do anything but terrorism so going after you

Thor Freya

You see how it is in a lot do and it's tough anyways but we're going to go after these people and get rid of them it's sickening

Olympus

They are repulsive as hell but there's a ton of people moving in or taking care of them including bja he wants him out and it is about the election to him we know what it's about for real and minority morlock are moving in and they're taking most of the jobs everywhere for everything 80% of the private jobs are taking up by them now already and that's 80% of what the morlock had they're now taking the government jobs they have met the 10% out of the 20% that remain it's really 25% and they're shooting for another 10%, they have an all lined up they'll probably get 5% and tomorrow tomorrow they'll get 5% leaving only 5% tomorrow at the end of the day and that is not that much if that and the Charlotte county leadership is down from 2800 to 2300 and they exceeded their expectations for today. They're going to do clean up now and including the cleanup by it's going to be done by minority morlock. Is also another aspect of this the mayor's office for both towns took a beating half their employees are out they got fired by comptroller of the state and also the State Assembly workers are half gone and from what they were yesterday at 1:50 now it's 75 that was a success and there's a few more things happening lawsuits were launched on these two idiots and the third and group losses and three more today in addition to the five on them and Tommy F has three now but these were three more on these three idiots. The lawsuits are hefty and they're taking everything that they have here and they're doing it all over the world it's a group action and they will be losing most of their stuff today. And they're getting it taken away because of the findings of the first two that have been decided one of the first two went to Superior Court and they are assisting in acquiring assets and money from the bank accounts and they're taking tons more of course there's a few more things that are going on to properly wreck this fool in this big mouth. One of them is he is not getting his social security check and he already got a letter and it was two days ago and Dan got one too Terry cheesman is running the treasury so the blaming him and he's saying he didn't do it but he was involved and this will remove them from a lot of places that they're threatening our son from and one of them is social security and Dan is going to be firing from his position his number three for number two and there are several other people getting fired from there like John Rena Lord and they're fired because of the reaction and turned cheeseman is having them fired. It's going on fairly soon. This tons of people that are turning on this idiot Trump and he's playing his son's role he's getting ready to go into Tommy boy and he doesn't believe it but soon there won't be any industry in the Midwest for them at all and it's going to be Pennsylvania is just going to go up there and be some screwball shower ring to the Auto industry. Hold up the curtains so you can't see and that's what you're saying cuz he's a boob. And there's more action going on here in Charlotte county we're going to publish now

Thor Freya

All the stuff is great and helpful and it's working and there's more coming

Hera

Olympus

[n0bamak1s]

laughing gas - mai zenin x reader

request: “Mai Zenin x Fem S/o, where the s/o gets their wisdom tooth removed and confesses their love to mai acting all sweet and cute, mai then takes care of her s/o and confesses too, we can see mai being her bratty and confident self but when she is with her s/o she just lets her walls down” - @shockfirefly

summary: in the request! (genre: fluff, friends to lovers, slice of life, humor)

warnings: reader is high on anesthesia if that counts as a warning, swearing, mostly just tooth rotting fluff (literally!!)

word count: 2k

a/n: i really enjoyed writing this request! at this point i’m basically just a mai zenin stan account tbh but the requests for her are just so fun to write. i’m almost on summer break so hopefully i’ll be more active bc i have a few ideas i’m excited to write for!!

it seriously took everything in mai’s willpower to not immediately whip out her phone to film your groggy state the moment she stepped into the room where you had just gotten your surgery done. she stifled a laugh at the bandage wrapped around your head, vaguely reminiscent of the one noritoshi had worn following the exchange event. when your eyes flicker over to meet her gaze, you give what she can only assume is your attempt at a smile, but looks more like a dog caught eating its owner’s dinner, with your face all swollen and slightly flushed.

forget that willpower shit.

she shamelessly calls out your name, to which you respond like an eager little kid. “say cheese!” she gives you an uncharacteristically wide grin to signal you to mirror her actions. you seemed to not learn from your previous mistake and attempted to smile back at her, before immediately cutting yourself off with a muffled groan. she hardly bothered with hiding her giggle this time, but at the very least she had the decency to cover her mouth as she cracked up.

with an annoyed pout on your face, you huffed and turned to the nurse standing beside you, who you were apparently to loopy to notice had joined in with mai on giggling at your grogginess. “she’s so mean to me!” you said, though your tone had no real irritation to it.

“it’s just to send to utahime. she wants to make sure your doing alright.” mai lied straight through her teeth, though you seem satisfied enough with that answer as you started to push yourself up from the seat you’d been in. mai quickly rushed to your side, knowing you weren’t sensible enough at the moment to ask for her help. before you could stand up and inevitably wobble over, she looped an arm around your waist and moved your arm so it was slung over her shoulders.

“alright champ, let’s get going.” she tried to remain as nonchalant as possible with the close proximity, but unfortunately for her, you seemed determined to embarrass her as much as possible.

“well at least buy me dinner first, ya casanova!” you said (much louder than necessary, mind you). honestly, it wouldn’t be surprising to mai if you could be heard from the waiting room.

with an over enthusiastic wave from you and an awkward thanks from mai to the nurse, you guys set off on your way.

to be fair to you, it was surprisingly a relatively tame trip to the door, with you focusing on keeping your steps in tune with mai’s. you were too lost in thought to embarrass yourself until you had made it to the waiting room. you had rather innocently pointed out a small curse, which would have been completely harmless had it not actually been an old woman, and had you not spoken with an inappropriately loud voice. the poor old lady who had fallen subject to your anesthesia induced self gave you an agitated glare as mai waved sheepishly in apology. the moment you guys were out the door, you turned back to glance through the glass.

“we’ll get her later, mai!” you patted her on the back with determination, your voice still muffled in a way that made you sound like you belonged on sesame street. “she can’t fool me, stupid curse!”

had it been anyone else, mai would have simply rolled her eyes and tugged you on, but since it was you, she found herself laughing along, a quiet laugh, like the sound of a wind chime in early spring weather. the sound seemed to catch you off guard, causing you to stop in your antics before turning to face her. she paused when she felt your gaze back on her, looking at her like a kid would look at fireworks for the first time.

she raised an eyebrow at your sudden change in demeanor. “what?”

“your laugh is pretty.” you stated simply, clearly having some pride at being the one to get her to laugh like that.

she turned away for a moment, hoping it would stop you from seeing the flush spreading across her face, knowing you’d never let her live it down. “thanks.” she muttered, praying she sounded at least a little bit cool and composed.

the short walk to the car was filled with you pointing out random cars asking if they were mai’s as you rested your head on her shoulder, before deciding the swelling was too painful for that.

a large grin which quickly turned into a grimace (you really never learned) appeared on your face when mai finally informed you that you’d made it to the right car. she held your hand to support you as you stepped into the seat, and once she’d sat down, reached over to buckle you in. she chose to ignore the over exaggerated wink you sent her way in favor of her own sanity.

as she drove, you babbled on about nonsense like how you were sure noritoshi had made mechamaru to hide the fact that he was secretly a robot, or how after that run you had gotten at the baseball game, you were sure you were destined to quit sorcery to go to the major leagues. to humor you, mai nodded along, before dryly responding that she’d probably be a better fit considering how good she looked in the baseball uniforms.

ignorant of her joking tone, you were quick to agree enthusiastically. “definitely! but i dunno if i’m the best person to ask, because i think you look good in just about anything.” your voice was sincere as you turned fully to look at her with slightly hazy eyes.

before either of you had time to process the admiration you had shown towards her, you glanced back out the window to the familiar sight of your school. you excitedly waved at the sight of todo and noritoshi sparring together. after catching his attention, todo didn’t even bother to stop the roaring laughter that came from your appearance, pointing out to noritoshi the similarities between your current look and his from just a few weeks ago. noritoshi gave todo an annoyed look, before glancing back over to see mai helping you out of the car, once again slinging your arm over her shoulders and supporting you with an arm on your waist.

she tried her best to ignore todo, she really did. though, it wasn’t exactly easy to ignore him when he loudly exclaimed what a ‘lady killer’ mai was. she snapped her gaze to meet his eyes, giving him a cold glare, before continuing to slink you along to your dorm.

when you opened the door to your dorm, the first thing mai noticed was a bulletin board on your wall, decorated with photos of all your friends, which most recently included your classmates. her eyes flicked to a photo of you next to another girl in elementary school with a smile that showed off your gap from missing teeth, and she chuckled softly at the irony of the photo compared to your current situation. her gaze then quickly shifted to a newly added strip of pictures from a photo booth. she smiled fondly at the memory of you, her, miwa, and momo sandwiching yourselves together in the tiny booth to take photos during your shopping trip. they weren’t ‘good’ photos, per say, in fact you guys all looked rather ridiculous trying to pack into frame, but for some reason, mai seemed to soften up at the memory of it, and how happy you looked just to be next to her.

her train of thought was interrupted by you tugging on the hand that didn’t rest on you, making her turn to see you mere inches from her face.

why the hell were you so close???

“yes?” she questioned, hoping to deflect from the fact that she was so obviously gushing over the photos on your wall just moments before.

“will you sleep with me?”

had you not had an arm around her, she probably would have dropped you in that instant. from the way she carried herself to the way she talked to others, most people would assume mai zenin does NOT blush, yet somehow you’d managed to disprove that theory way too many times today.

“WHAT?” it was her turn to be loud for a moment.

“i’m tireddddd” you whined “and you’re so warm.” you had stated it so casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

she groaned, as if it would cover up her sheer embarrassment at how bold you were. wordlessly, she walked you to your bed, keeping her grip on your waist secure. it was amazing how gentle she was as she laid you down on that rock solid bed all the dorms were stuck with. she pulled a blanket over you, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed in hopes you’d doze off peacefully from there. when she didn’t shift from her position, you looked at her with a confused expression.

“wouldn’t it be more comfortable to lay down?” your words were still slightly slurred together. you rested a hand on hers. “you know i don’t mind.” despite your dazed look, she could tell your words were sincere as your thumb rubbed circles atop her hand.

mai turned to face you full on, her eyes gentle rather than their usual harsh look.

curse you for being so hard to resist.

“fine” her voice was quiet “but only because it’s my job to watch over you.” she stretched out her legs so she was laying down on the bed, pulling the blanket towards her so she could get comfortable.

“you’re so good to me mai.” you smiled. not a pained grimace, or an awkward baring of your teeth, but a smile. “people always seem to be so intimidated by you, but i don’t really get it. you’ve always been so nice to me. it’s nice.”

she didn’t understand how even when you were all loopy, you still managed to have such an effect on her. hesitantly, she reached up to grab your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours.

it seemed the boldness from your anesthesia had rubbed off on her.

before she had time to talk, you continued. “i always feel so glad when we get paired up for missions, you make me feel so safe. like, i know when i’m around you that you’ll protect me. i admire you so much for doing all that for me.”

she went slightly stiff at your...confession? declaration? what exactly would you call that? you had said it so nonchalantly, whether it was out of trying to play off your fear of rejection or legitimate confidence, it was hard to tell.

“plus you’re really pretty.” your hand squeezed hers as you looked suddenly very interested in the pattern of your blanket. it was odd, seeing you get so shy all of a sudden, though she supposed it was somewhat of a win for her.

as you stared sheepishly away from her eyes that traced over every inch of your face, you felt her hand come up to your cheek, tilting you to face her. she continued scanning your face with an impossibly soft expression, before meeting your eyes once again.

“you know i wouldn’t do all that if it was anyone else.” her voice was barely above a whisper as her eyes bore into yours. her face was so close to yours that you could feel her breath fanning lightly across your face. “it’s all for you.” you’d never seen her so earnest before.

you smiled softly at her, even despite the ridiculous bandages around your head, and your chipmunk like cheeks, she still stared at you with so much love.

“you like meeee.” your tone was teasing, but it was obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes that you were just as whipped as her.

“dammit. you figured me out.” she said sarcastically, shuffling forward slightly so you were flush against her.

up close, the tiredness in your glassy eyes was obvious. she sighed to herself, and slowly leaned in to plant a soft kiss on your forehead.

“get some sleep.” she smiled at your eyes struggling to fight open your heavy eyelids. “we have a lot to talk about once the anesthesia wears off.”

maybe todo wasn’t so far off with that ‘lady killer’ comment.

[karahalloway]

Hi!

We haven't interacted a lot but as a fellow Drake stan I'm very curious! 😜

1 2 4 5 6 7 10 20 :-)

Aww! Thank you so much for the ask @axwalker!

Sorry for the late reply... I got shadowbanned (long story... don’t ask...) and my account only just got reinstated, so I’ve been having to make do with lurking in the background for the past 2 weeks... 😅

But, better late than never!

1. If you had to change the pairing’s very first meeting, how would you change it?

Lol! This is literally the subject of Sleepless in New York (a short story AU written from Drake's POV that explores what could've happened if Drake met Harper in New York by himself (without the other guys)).

That said, I am sure that I will come up with other alternative first meetings for other AU fics in the future (but at the moment my focus is on finishing up Sleepless and (Less Than) Noble Intentions, which is my TRR Book 2 rewrite so I don’t have details to share atm).

2. What song fits your pairing the most?

OMG SO MANY! About half of all the songs on my main playlist are Harper and Drake songs in some shape or form 😅

But if I really, really had to choose just one, then I guess it would be Hell of a View by Eric Church, especially these two stanzas:

I'm good at rollin' dice No good at standing still You liked the thought of chasin' Life instead of dollar bills We're livin' wreckless Nothin' to catch us, baby But the ground

This ain't for everybody Toes hanging off the ledge Like we got nothin' to lose Ain't always heaven, baby This livin' on the edge You holdin' me holdin' you It's a hell of a view

4. Do you prefer canon ideas or do you have your own headcanons for them?

My own HC 😅 

Don't get me wrong - there are many aspects of canon that I loved (as otherwise I wouldn't be writing TRR fanfic!) but especially with Drake, I think PB missed some great opportunities, which I decided to explore in my rewrites (e.g. I significantly upped Drake's half-Texan-ness, I made him multilingual, I gave him a job, he can dance, etc.). All these elements are present in canon in some way, shape or form, but I wanted to give them more prominence.

Also, I was a bit miffed that especially in TRR1, pretty much all the diamond scenes were with Liam, and one of things I really wanted to explore in my rewrite was how these scenes could have played out with Drake instead. So that is what I did 👍

5. Favourite canon moment of them?

This scene from the start of TRH1 - the banter and the thirst is SO Drake and Harper and it totally cracks me up every time!

6. Least favourite canon moment of them?

As my readers are well-aware, it is the start of TRR2 when Drake doesn't go after MC when she is dragged out of the Coronation Ball 😒

This actually bothered me so much that I ended up completely ditching canon and doing a full rewrite of what I think should've happened / what I would've loved to have happened instead in this situation 😅 (especially considering how Drake feels about MC - I cannot see him just saying 'Oh... Okay. I'll just not talk to her for weeks on end because Liam said so.')

7. Favourite headcanon trope/idea? (Your own or someone else’s)

The fact that Drake is a Guard... and has a motorbike. Both @angelasscribbles and I seem to have fully and unashamedly jumped onto this bandwagon and are never getting off 😅

Because let's face it - Drake in a biker jacket is straight up🔥and him being a Guard makes total sense given that (i) he is very secretive about what he actual does at court, (ii) he is randomly involved in all this security stuff anyway, (iii) his Dad and pseduo-uncle Bastien are both Guards, and (iv) I think it's seriously sexy 😇

I mean… need I say more…? 😏

@aussiegurl1234 @petiteboheme for your drooling pleasure 😉

10. Least favourite aspect of them/their relationship dynamics? (Can be headcannon)

Hmm... Probably the fact that both H&D are quite stubborn and (especially in Harper’s case, Drake a bit less so) have a tendency to act on impulse,with the effect that they invariably end up hurting each other, even though that’s not their intention.

20. What made you decide to ship them?

When I started playing TRR I originally just followed the Liam route that PB kept pushing you towards (though I did the - admittedly very limited - diamond scenes with Drake as well). But during the Coronation Ball chapters I had a realisation that 'No. Actually, I don't want to be Queen - I'm not gonna sleep with Liam in the hedge maze' (because I totally do not want to marry a prince in real life - just look at what Meghan Markle had to go through). So, as a result of that, in TRR2 (and thereafter) I started seriously going after Drake and I haven't looked back since!

If anyone has any additional questions they’d like to fling my way, the full list of asks can be found here.

Permatags

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[yunhofingers-writes]

8 days a week 1/9

Note♥︎- I’ve been wanting to do this series since i’ve had my first account and now that i started it, i’m excited!!! This series is just smut. Nothing more, nothing less..just a small twist to it though😏

Genre♡︎- 1/9- suggestive

Warnings/Tags♥︎- Small talks about sizes, and virginity

Pairing - Ateez & f! reader

Word count♡︎- 1,205+

Previous chapter | Next Chapter

❥- You were so late to the fansign event. You woke up 20 minutes later than intended and it took you forever to get the right wing for the eyeliner you wanted. You rushed in, pushing through people to meet your friend, who was standing in the front.

“You’re late.” She informed you. You just let out an embarrassed smile and shrugged. She looked away with an eye roll.

You were both currently at an Ateez fansign with gifts in bags. You worked so hard to get these. 2 jobs and doing overtime really did work, you also were babysitting. Something you’re never doing ever again. Babies aren’t your thing. You shuddered at the thought of having to watch another baby. Anyways, Your friend already had the money and she offered to help you, but you didn’t want her money.

“We’re almost up.” She told you and breathed out. You were so nervous,your body shaking, head pounding and fingernails pressing into your palm. You made sure you bought gum just in case.

You and your friend were holding small conversations while nervously waiting. She was basically grabbing you super hard when it was her turn to go. You smirked and wished her luck as you waited until she moved so you could talk to Hongjoong. Your heart was pounding out of its chest the moment you saw your friend scooting over. You slowly sank on your knees and looked up at Hongjoong with a nervous grin. He let out a similar smile like yours and waved.

“Y-you’re gorgeous.” He breathed out, making you feel shy.

“Thank you.” You smiled.

“Can I grab your hand?” He asked and grabbed it once you nodded.

You were internally freaking out. The Kim Hongjoong just asked to touch your hand. Are you dreaming? His hands are soft and pretty. Your hands were a bit bigger than his.

You gave him his gifts and told him how much you love him and the music he makes. You kept talking to the rest of the boys with small compliments here and there. Wooyoung was flirting with you, biting his lip at you and dragging his hand through his hair. You’re never going to complain about how you look anymore.

Yeosang was on the shyer side with you. Blushing once you told him how gorgeous he looked, picking with his gift as you continued to compliment him.

Seonghwa’s duality almost gave you whiplash. His gaze was dark and almost competitive and you took that as a competition. At this giving point, the moment was heated. As you stared at Seonghwa, your mind was giving you the perfect imagination. You and Seonghwa with the exact same heated moments.

Before you knew it Seonghwa blinked and was now staring at you with a soft smile.

His tongue poking at his cheek and you smiled back with a light wave.

The rest of the fansign was fun, there were games and dancing. You and your friend got to show the new dances you both learned.

All the fun had to end at some point. It was time for you both to go.

“Girl the way you and Seonghwa stared at each other had me thinking he was going to do you on the table.” Your friend joked and you rolled your eyes, looking away.

“Shut up.”

“Is there a bathroom here before we leave?” She asked, stepping side to side and you shrugged, looking around for a bathroom sign. You saw a body guard and asked him. You pointed it out to your friend and she ran that way.

“Are you Y/N?” The bodyguard asked and you turned around, nodding. He nodded his head.

“The boys want to speak to you after you're done with your friend. Just find me by the door once you’re done.” He told you and walked away, leaving you confused.

Why would they want to speak to you? What if you made them uncomfortable? Omg is it about the Seonghwa thing? You shouldn’t have stared at him like that. They probably think you’re a horny stan. Well, you are, but, yeah.

In the middle of your small internal panic moment, your friend finally showed up, telling you she was leaving and to call her when you made it home. When she left, you let out a deep breath before walking to the door where the security guard told you to go to.

“I’m here.” You told him. He nodded and led you into the back room, where ateez were waiting for you in.

You still couldn’t believe it. Ateez wanted to talk to you. Is your hair a mess? Does your makeup even look good? You fixed on your clothes as you followed the security guard down the hallway.

Once you made it to the door, the security guard knocked 3 times.

This is it. You were here, in front of Ateez’s door.

Jongho opened the door with a polite smile. The guard bowed and Jongho bowed back, stepping to the side to let you walk in. You walked in slowly, flinching once the door closed.

You looked around the room, it was clean and tidied up. It smelled like strawberries and cologne? The room had a small red sofa and a long black velvet one in the middle of the room. The boys had their makeup off and were in comfortable clothes.

“We want to ask you a question. Feel free to say no, okay.” Mingi started off. Your eyes were blown wide from how deep his voice was. You nodded and he continued.

“We all want to have sex with.” He flat out told you and before you got a word out, Yunho cut in, smacking Mingi in his head.

“Yes, but like on different days of course.” He finished and your mouth was wide open, mind blew.

“You guys get horny?” You blurted out. Really? That was the only question you had?

San chuckled at that and nodded.

“We’re humans too.” He replied and you looked away in embarrassment.

“S-sorry. How long will we be doing this?” You asked, a bit nervous.

“We’re leaving here in 9 days, so only 8 days and on the last day you can come hang with us before we leave.” Hongjoong informed you, you smiled and nodded. You’re not letting this chance slip pass you.

“I have one question though.” You announced and the boys all looked at you in curiosity.

“Is there anyone up in here that’s bigger than 7 inches?” You asked a genuine question and they all laughed at you. You just chuckled with them “I’m serious.” you added with a little laugh afterwards.

“I’m sure Yunho’s the biggest along with Yeosang.” Seonghwa spoke and your eyes wandered down in between Yunho’s legs.

“Eyes up here.” Yunho teased with a snap. You averted your eyes away and looked up at Yeosang who only looked away.

“Are you a virgin, Yeosang?” You asked and you swore you saw him smirk, before replying to you.

“I am not.” He responded and you nodded and mumbled under your breath.

“What time should I come over?” You asked and Wooyoung answered.

“You’re in college right?” He asked and you nodded “Come at this place whenever you can and text this number. He informed you as he wrote down all the things said.

He gave you a piece of paper and you put it in your back pocket.

“See you tomorrow.” Jongho said and you nodded.

“Bye.”

Network pings : @8makes1teamnet

krusty crew: @serialee @galaxteez @twancingyunhoe @multidreams-and-desires @seongsangsgf @chvngbxn @ki6hyun @sansbun @little-precious-baby @let-this-be-a-lesson @yeotlny @yutasyiddiepiercing2 @a-soft-hornytiny

[ramblesanddragons]

Breaking Everything but Hearts

I want to a do a little drabble for each week of @mysteryowlmay

Week 1: Crime

Stan had been in jail plenty of times. A few of those times it could be argued that he maybe deserved it. Maybe. If you squinted.This was not one of those times.

Stan grumbled as he tried to wipe a bit of blood off of his chin. He hadn’t started the fight but damn if he hadn’t finished it. What a jerk just coming onto Eda like that! Of course Stan had socked him in the jaw. (And then maybe took his wallet but the cops didn’t know that part.) It wasn’t his fault it had turned into an all out brawl that spilled onto the streets. Why the hell he was he the one that got thrown in the clink?

It probably had something to do with an old warrant but it had been years. When did stuff like that expire?

His one phone call was to Ford but his brother wouldn’t be able to get him out until the morning. He just hoped Eda was doing alright and Ford had caught up with her. She was a tough bird but that didn’t stop Stan from worrying. If she was alright he would be fine spending a night in jail. At least he was alone in the cell. Small mercies.

He had just settled on the poor excuse of a cot when he heard a yelp from the front room. This was a small jail house, you could see in the front room if they left the door cracked. Stan craned his neck but all he saw was a flash of light. Then a thump. Another cop rounded the corner  from the back room passing Stan as he went. He let out a shout but before he could pull his gun, Stan watched the man go tumbling down the hallway in a blast of wind. The cop stopped when he crashed into Stan’s cell.

Eda rounded the corner with a coy smile on her face. She flipped her fluffy gray hair and leaned on the bars of Stan’s cell.

“Hey there big guy come here often?”

Stan snorted. “Babe what are you doing here?”

“What does it look like? I’m not in the human realm long I don’t want to spend half of it trying to get you out from behind bars. Especially on my account.”

Stan blushed slightly. The guard on the floor started to stir but but Stan knocked him on the head and he was out light a light. Grabbing the keys he let himself out of the cell. The two of them walked hand in hand into the main room. The cop at the front desk was still out cold. Before they walked out of the door Stan hopped behind the counter and fiddled with the security system. All those years working on the portal had made him pretty handy with tech stuff to his own surprised. There would be no trace that a woman with wild hair and magic busted him out.

Waltzing out the door they found Ford waiting for them as get away driver. His twin rolled his eyes hard as they slid into the back seat.

“Am I going to have to set aside time to be get away driver for all of your dates?” Ford asked dryly.

“Only the best ones.” Eda responded and pecked Stan on the cheek.

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Wedding Job

leverage 1.07

Nate: No. No, it's-it's not right. But, you know, uh, we're not detectives. And if you want to prove your husband's innocence, there are plenty of agencies I could recommend.

eliot and hardison share tired, annoyed looks and I felt that in my soul

- - - - - 

Teresa: I understand. Thank you. Where did my daughter go?

Hardison:I think she was with Parker.

(Parker is teaching the little girl how to pick locks)

Parker: Go! 

(they both begin to work on the locks, after a few seconds, the girl gets hers open)

Parker: 6 seconds! Give it up! Good job.

parker can be good with kids and it’s adorable

- - - - - 

Hardison: Just take the mob out of it.

Nate: What? Take the mob out of it?

Hardison: Hear me out. Isn't this just a breach of contract?

Eliot: These guys had a deal, right? And your boy, Ray, he lived up to his end, but Moscone didn't. And for that, there's not a court of law in this world this lady can go to.

Parker: Which is exactly the kind of case we take

the ot3 immediately jumping in to support sophie’s idea

- - - - - 

Hardison: We can't. That thing's a fortress, man. I clocked four armed guards, a Tikva security system. That thing's Israeli-Made. It's used to protect their military bases. It's unhackable. Oh, and then there's the FBI parked around the corner.

Parker: FBI? Where? (looking through camera lens)

Hardison: You see that crappy van that says "plumber"?

Sophie: Did you say "plumber"? That's their cover? Oh, that is so cute. It's like it's 1978 all over again

- - - - - 

Parker: I saw some rubber gloves. What do you do with those?

McSweeten: Oh, actually, we've just been kind of blowing them up and playing volleyball. But, uh, yeah, if we need to do any kind of investigation…

big boredom during quarantine mood

- - - - - 

eliot being proud of the one (1) thing he did on the computer 

- - - - - 

parker winked at mcsweeten that poor boy, I’d be smitten too

+

fic writers get on this, parker smells like jasmine

- - - - - 

Hardison: All you have to do is rip them on my flash drive and run.

[FBI Offices]

(Eliot closes the door)

Eliot: I don't have to type anything, right?

[Leverage Headquarters]

Hardison: No, just plug it in. It does the rest.

Eliot: All right, 'cause you know I just learned the Photoshop thing you told me.

Hardison: I-I know. Baby steps.

[FBI Offices]

Eliot: So I just plug it in.

(Eliot forces open a set of cabinet doors and they open, revealing stacks of cassette tapes. He looks at the flash drive in his hand)

[Leverage Headquarters]

Hardison: Now, audio files, they can take a little while to run, but, uh, the servers are pretty loud, so that should give you some cover.

[FBI Offices]

Eliot: It's tapes.

[Leverage Headquarters]

Hardison: Wha-hold, wait. Did y-you just say "tapes"?

Eliot: I just said "tapes"!

Hardison: Cassette tapes?

[FBI Offices]

(Eliot picks up a cassette case and taps it with the flash drive)

Eliot: Your little thing, it's not gonna work.

[Leverage Headquarters]

Hardison: But at least you ain't got to type nothing.

[FBI Offices]

Eliot: Hardison, how am I supposed to get out of the FBI offices with a boxful of surveillance tapes, huh?

[Leverage Headquarters]

Hardison: Punch somebody.

[FBI Offices]

Eliot: Oh, I’m gonna punch somebody

- - - - - 

Nate: Can you break the codes?

Hardison: The codes? The codes to the Cayman Bank and Trust, where the Cali cartel and the African dictators keep all their dirty money? The ones that Moscone changes anytime he damn well pleases? Like, it's-c-come on. Dude, are you kidding me?

Nate: You know, you're-you're very negative lately. 

Eliot: Yeah. 

Nate: And the sass, it doesn't-doesn't help.

bruh lay off hardison

- - - - - 

[audio of mob family fighting playing off of hardison’s computer]

Sophie: It's a bit like an opera, isn't it?

Eliot: You mean 'cause I want to run away

- - - - - 

Nate: Sophie. Where are we at?

Sophie: Huh? I don't know, Nate. I think you need to ask yourself that question. You called me, remember? And now we're working together every day. I don't know what you want. And to ask me that dressed like a vicar? You're a very strange man.

Nate: No, no, no. I meant where are we at with finding the money?

Sophie: Oh.

chaotic sophienate 

- - - - - 

Nate: How are we doing? How's the search?

Eliot (chopping vegetables): I haven't started yet.

Nate: Okay, you know, I haven't gotten one answer I was looking for today. What is it that you're doing? What's going on?

Eliot: I'm cutting onion, deveining shrimp, uh, pan-searing some scallops. I've got 200 people I got to feed, all right? Back off.

Nate: Okay, okay. Hmm.

Eliot: What, you think the only thing I know how to do is bust heads?

Nate: No, well, yeah.

Eliot (demonstrating): Look, hold a knife like this, cuts through an onion. Hold a knife like this, cuts through, like, eight yakuza in 4 seconds. Screams, carnage. People are like knives. Everything is in context.

Heather (enters): Okay, hors d'oeuvres.

Eliot: Yes, ma'am. Stuffed mushrooms, pine nuts, kiss of basil, some sun-dried tomatoes, and the finishing touch, lemon juice. (gives her bite)

Heather (spits it out): Does this look like a food court? Does it? I want high-End food - High-End! What are you— (walks out)

(Eliot starts to go after her with the knife, Nate stops him)

Eliot: I know.

NEVER GET BETWEEN ELIOT AND HIS FOOD

also, eliot only becoming murderous when someone insults his food? iconic

- - - - - 

Sophie (to bridesmaid): You look lovely.

Cindy: You don't think it makes me look fat?

Parker: Oh, definitely. I mean, why do you think I had to let out the waist? To make you look less skinny?

Sophie: She... she didn't mean that.

Heather: Oh, suck it up, Cindy. You'll be fine.

if someone did this to me I would c r y and that’s the truth lmfao

- - - - - 

the ot3 eating pizza and laughing as nate verbally fucks himself over with sophie lmao

- - - - - 

Hardison: Yo. No way in hell I could ever imagine getting married. I mean, it's just - It's just a piece of paper.

(Eliot, eating an apple, looks at Hardison)

Hardison: I take it you've never been married.

Eliot: No.

Hardison: Ever come close?

Eliot: No.

Hardison: What was her name?

Eliot: It was a girl I grew up with. But anyway, she married somebody else, so...

Hardison: Hot-hot damn, what did you do?

Eliot: What did I do? I liberated Croatia. (leaves)

Hardison: Oh, see, now, me, I would have just got fat and started up a comic-Book shop. That's you and me right there.

relationship foreshadowing in s1 we love to see it

- - - - - 

Hardison: Now, I know that you're in charge of the bridesmaids' dresses, but why are you wearing one?

Parker: A bridesmaid's dress is like an all-access pass at a wedding. Plus, I kind of said something, and the maid of honor cried. And Sophie said I should make it up to her. 

Hardison: By looking much, much better in the same dress? Yeah, you let me know how that goes.

Parker: Hmm, you really think I look good?

Hardison (pinning flowers on her dress): And now you're perfect

they’re BABIES your honor

- - - - - 

(of course the trashy mom wears a sparkly white dress to her daughter’s wedding) 

- - - - - 

(Eliot walks up to the rest of the team)

Eliot: What is it? I got bacon on.

Parker: The Butcher is here.

Eliot: Does he have the baby lamb chops?

Hardison: No. The butcher of Kiev.

Nate: Think he'll recognize you?

[Flashback]

(flames surrounding them, the Butcher has Eliot by the neck and is trying to cut him with a meat cleaver. Eliot is barely holding him off)

Butcher: I kill you!

[Exterior House]

Eliot: Yeah, I think he'd remember me

I live for wacky eliot flashbacks

- - - - - 

Nate: You're staying? Sophie, Sophie, it's the Butcher of Kiev.

Hardison: Have you ever been to Kiev? The cake-maker of Kiev would whup all our ass. This is the butcher.

Sophie: Uh-Huh.

this isn’t that notable, but it’s funny

- - - - - 

parker smushed up against the glass door ,,, just imagine if anyone saw that lmao

- - - - - 

eliot using a frying pan to fight the butcher of kiev,,, iconique

- - - - - 

we need to start making a list of things that are Specifically Not Weapons™ that eliot uses as weapons:

for this episode, a frying pan, a whisk, an appetizer platter, the platter itself 

- - - - - 

Hardison (eating appetizer): This is pretty good, man.

Eliot: Thanks, man. I squeeze, like, fresh lemon juice on it.

Hardison: Cool. Cool.

(they follow Nate out of the kitchen)

eliot is so genuinely happy when someone finally appreciates his food, you can see it in his face ,,, he starts to love hardison just a little bit for that

- - - - - 

Nate: Did you clear out Moscone’s accounts?

Hardison: I left him five dollars for socks

we love the team being petty

- - - - - 

the girl immediately jumped into parker’s lap at the restaurant I’m soft

- - - - - 

soft chef eliot serving his -friends- family is everything 

- - - - - 

I understand that this was technically supposed to be the third episode, so this would have been their first meal as a family and I stan them so hard for it

[screechingkingdomhottub]

all time low are great

okay so i’ve loved them for YEARS now since 2014 and I just need to gush about them a little bit and compare them to some people who were really controversial at that point. *cough* dahvie, shane, jeffree *cough* ...the coughs were with a mask on DONT WORRY.  But okay 1. absolute bangers. song for every mood. even moods i didn’t know i had. I think the songs are also just pop enough to be liked in the mainstream but not so much that they get written off like 5sos do, no offence 5sos. But yes music, lyrics, all of that are great, i love them.  2. FAN INTERACTIONS. If you go on youtube and type in “all time low fan” and just watch things that come up, if you watch those you’ll see like fans getting allowed to play on stage or sing with them or just when Alex stopped the show cause a security person was being too aggressive. Also online interactions, they’ve been putting out so much since lockdown started and listening to everyone and if you look at their twitter accounts, especially Alex, there’s so many interactions with fans. I even remember when Alex spoke out about Black Lives Matter and as soon as someone called him out for how he worded it, he apologised properly and you could see him be more conscious and careful going forward, not defensive at all just perfect. I also remember a fan having a sign saying “give me my first kiss please” or something and they brought her up on stage, and if you’re thinking about who i mentioned previously you’re probably like “oh no not another goddamn pedo ffs why is every famo-” they didn’t do anything but hug and i think they got crowd volunteers and she picked from them? if i remember that correctly but like dahvie and shane could never. They’ve also stopped songs to yell at security guards being aggressive or crowd members being aggressive.  3. Not overtly sexual. Are there songs clearly about sex? Yes. Backseat Serenade is a banger. But it’s not done for what a lot of that scene does it for. A lot of songs in the pop punk to around scene core genre are very much explicitly sexual so that teenagers get to feel grown up when listening to it. I was one of those young teenagers but I never got that with atl. I listened to them because weightless helped me feel understood when I felt like life was moving too fast. I listened to them because Lullabies felt like someone older holding me and understanding what was up about this thing every other song glorified. I listened to them because when Kids In The Dark came out, I felt empowered to stop my addiction and get help. Don’t get me wrong ATL aren’t some PG band like they’ll joke about sex stuff and other things but they never go to far or actually harm anyone and are aware who their fanbase is.  I just keep seeing people defend 2013 as a different time where more stuff was normalised and thinking, Alex Gaskarth would never. So past shane dawson fans, past jeffree star fans, past botdf fans, just go stan all time low. 

[indifferenceswift]

Dear Taylor,

Thank you so much for everything. You have been there for me for everything. I don’t remember the day I was like “Wow, I love her so much!” but I know you have been in my life for a long time. My babysitter when I was super young got me started listening to you. She would take me in my stroller around the neighborhood and we would listen to you. I don’t remember exactly what song I first heard but I knew you were different. My mom actually heard you open for someone so I think she helped me start listening to your music, too. On my 4th birthday, (my literal 4th bday), I saw you at the Speak Now Tour in Bossier City, Louisiana. Some of my friends went with. My babysitter even came. Before the show, there was a security guard by this barricade. He could tell I was so excited and I was just so happy. I had SO much fun! I felt so proud that I knew every lyric you sang. My babysitter told me, “Look Addison, she’s walking through the crowd.” I was really sad because I wanted to give you a hug. After the amazing show, I didn’t care that I didn’t get to hug you because I knew that someday it would happen. Flash forward to the 1989 era. We bought these VIP backstage room passes. I met your tour manager person and she gave me these (guitar) picks. I was so happy, I was having the best time. My dad and brother met Andrea. Again, this tour date was also in Bossier City. I didn’t meet you but I kept smiling because you put on a great show. In 2018, I decided to make a fan account. You gave me so many wonderful memories (AND friends)! I saw you in New Orleans for Rep Tour two days after my 11th birthday. My friend took me with her and her & her mom thought I was insane for standing the WHOLE entire time. I met one of my internet friends and also made friends in the merch line. You guessed it, they thought I was insane for that, too. When you came on, I felt so alive & so happy. The surprise song was Speak Now (my Stan song)!! I cried and CRIED and well, cried. The night went by so fast. I wanted to see you again as my birthday present/party SO badly. My parents let me and I met even more friends there (Rep Tour Houston)! I wore my sparkly red shoes and my Mom made us shirts. You waved and pointed at me on your lift and that made my year decade. In the middle of September 2019 or so, you announced tour dates (for Lover). I wanted to see you so bad. My Dad got tickets and I couldn’t believe that I would be seeing you again. I agreed that this was going to be my birthday present/party for 2020. Now in late November or early December, I saw you were going to be at the Jingle Ball in NYC! My parents surprised me a week before the concert. (I even missed my first school dance to go see you, but I didn’t mind LOL!) I met all of my friends and got to celebrate your birthday with you. This long paragraph shows that I will always be there for you. I’m always bullied in school (mostly by the girls) and they secretly talk bad about me. They started a contest once to see who could ignore me for the longest time. I only have an older brother and a younger sister so you (and my old babysitter) are like big sisters for me. I’ve started to feel insecure because the girls in my class don’t want me and can’t find something in me that makes me special . It makes me start to think I’m not good enough. Every single time that I’m with them, they point out my flaws. I don’t expect you to read this or even respond but if you come across this, I want you to know your music gives me strength. You have taught me to be fearless, kind and full of courage. The next time you think you could make a better record, please remember your worth and your talent. Your music gets so many people through horrible things. I know if you were to see this, you would tell me to keep being kind and to not let the opinions of others affect me. Thank you for giving me a lifetime of memories and so many great friends. I will always support u because you have supported me. Thank you Taylor!! Love, Addison

[emma-what-son]

(Echee post) Emma Watson has stalkers and a bodyguard

Posted on March 23 2014

From dailymail.co.uk March 2014, "Harry Potter star Emma Watson has hired a former NYPD officer as  a bodyguard to protect her from obsessed stalkers. The actress – thought to be worth £23  million – is believed to be paying the female officer £90,000 a year after a number of incidents of threatening behaviour towards her. The latest came as Emma, 23, right, was working on her new movie Noah, when an over-zealous ‘fan’ duped studio security staff and got on to the set. Emma, was left screaming, believing she was in danger, and filming had to stop. The British actress, who played Hermione Granger in the Potter films, is now constantly shadowed by blonde former New York Police Department officer Denise Morrone. A source said: ‘The  one person Emma is never without is Denise. 'Emma has had problems with stalkers in the past and, because of her wealth, there is always the threat of kidnap. 'She pays for her bodyguard out of her own pocket and Denise accompanies her everywhere, even when Emma is out for dinner. Denise is always there, making sure she is safe.’ Another source said: ‘Denise is on high alert for one particular stalker who tracked Emma down on the set of her latest film. ‘She is very discreet and very good at her job. She is always there looking after Emma, but you wouldn’t know. ‘She makes sure Emma has plenty of space and freedom. If they are at dinner, Denise is part of the gathering, but is always on duty.’ The new arrangement marks a departure for Emma, who has seemed determined to try to live a low-key, normal private life unencumbered by a security detail. Post-Potter she went to Brown University in Rhode Island, New England, and Worcester College, Oxford, to study for a degree. When she has appeared in public she has had no visible entourage. A spokesman for Miss Watson, who has homes in  London and New York, declined to comment." ^That's what the dailymail says but here below is what Emma said at the time.

From fansshare.com October 2012, "There was a lot of fuss made recently about the fact that a man who has been stalking Emma Watson managed to get onto her set before being chased off into the woods. It was claimed that Emma was terrified by the incident and feared for her safety.  However, it appears that the claims were not true, as Emma has spoken out about the “incident” stating that nothing of the sort happened. Emma felt that she needed to let everybody know what’s what and hoped to clear up any confusion about the stalker situation. Watson took to her official Twitter account to say, “Ok. Few things to clear up. I was not terrified by a stalker in the woods. And he was not fought off by martial arts experts.#whowrotethisstory”. I don't get this DM article because Emma has had this bodyguard for ten years. I think this might be a great big dose of media sensationalism or maybe a planted story so everyone will go, "Aww poor Emma" because she has said some really dumb things lately. I've seen photos of Denise (the older blonde lady we always see her with) with Emma as far back as 2005 Here they are outside the Regis and Kelly show (USA) in 2005 and to the right currently in 2014

^She still looks 15 doesn't she? I've seen one or two candids of Denise with Emma at Brown. I've read an article from a Brown website (thank anonymous for tipping me off) where they were talking about her bodyguards on campus that followed her around. Here's Emma, some guy and Denise at Brown in the fall of 2010 (I can't find the others)

Here she is talking about stalkers in her GQ interview from last year From gq-magazine.co.uk May 2013, "Did you have stalkers? 'Yes. I do have people who show up from time to time in different parts of the world. I've never really known how to respond; I've never really known if I should be afraid or not. This is how I put it into perspective: thousands of women all over the world have to deal with feeling afraid when they walk home from the Tube, on their way to work, when they go out for a drink. Feeling not safe isn't something that is singular to me or my experience as a woman, and I don't think any of these people mean me any harm. They just tend to be people caught up, who don't really realise what they are doing, and I think it is very important that I don't allow it to isolate me further, to be another reason why I shouldn't go out and meet people or walk down the street. Weird guys sometimes take it too far, and that is it. I just keep a friend with me. I don't have a full-time security guard or anything like that. Even at university I went everywhere completely alone, which looking back was probably a pretty ambitious thing that I tried to do there, but somehow I got away with it. There were times when I did feel stressed and anxious and could probably have done with a bit more support. At the same time I would rather make my own mistakes and learn what I need. I think it is so easy when you get famous to just disengage from having a life and that can make some things really dangerous.'" Remember she told rookie magazine she used to lie about walking to places but had a car waiting for her? She was trying to make it seem she has this normal life. I reckon this could be another little white lie about not having a full-time guard because we've seen Denise with her for years. She's the woman that pushes people away and pulls her from signing autographs and even refuses people. How about other instances like Glastonbury where that big muscular man tailed her everywhere. At airports when Denise is not there she has men which looks to be bodyguards to me. When she went to the Box Night Club she had a bodyguard. They're rare shots because most candids are just of Emma and Denise or Emma and a friend or boyfriend. You really think Emma travels alone? For example

Last photo from 2011: Check this out and seethe altercation You rarely catch her bodyguards photographed other than Denise who looks more than just a bodyguard. I think she's more like a bodyguard/assistant. I bet they are always around but you wouldn't know it. I'd go as far as saying they probably follow her from a distance to make it seem like she's really by herself. Here's something she said in 2009 and it was really stupid From wonderwall.msn.com July 2009 (interview with Dan, Rupert and Emma. she started brown in Sept 09) In this film, Ron has sort of a stalker girlfriend. Has it ever gotten strange where you're dating people who are more interested in dating Harry, Ron or Hermione rather than yourselves? Emma Watson: "I'm dating my stalker, actually." It's dumb to even give a stalker the time or day in a magazine discussing them. It will probably embolden them by fueling whatever twisted fantasies they have in their head. If it were me I would not even mention it. In 2010 she said this From digitalspy.com November 2010, "Emma Watson has revealed that she and her Harry Potter co-stars Daniel Radcliffe and Rupert Grint used to hide from their security guards. The actress admitted that she "hates" having bodyguards and prefers to deal with the attention she receives on her own. Watson explained: "I hate having bodyguards and when we were younger, Dan, Rupert and I used to try to hide from the people trying to keep an eye on us." The 20-year-old went on to say that she now feels comfortable traveling on public transport by herself. She added: "Now it's like, 'Really, I'm fine'. I take the train and the bus and, if I don't dress up too much, I'm usually fine. Occasionally people stop me but I'd rather deal with that than not go out at all. That'd be really tragic." In her most recent interview for Elle she said this From snitchseeker.com March 2014, “So while Radcliffe reportedly rarely leaves his house without a bodyguard, Watson memorably began her college career by moving into the freshman dorm-the very definition of exposed. She lopped off her hair, appeared in a student production of Chekhov. There were moment, she says, when she thought, “I don’t know if I can do this. Or if this is sensible anymore.” But she held firm, turning down high-profile work that would interfere with her studies. “I just don’t want a life where I can’t have a life, “she says. “And so I’ve been just unbelievably stubborn about it.” ^Peculiar and then this article comes out about her hired bodyguard. Could it have been Radcliffe's people saying, "Hey, wait a minute" and then ratted Emma out? That last quote, the newer one, is of course a total contradiction from what she said about Brown before. I don't know it's that's the truth or this is some rouse to plant the idea she was heckled out of college life. I don't know but one thing is for sure I don't believe most of what comes out of this girls mouth. I'm like those towns people that had it with the games of the little boy that cried wolf. As for the stalking it's the only thing I'll give her sympathy for. I think it would suck. If it's an over zealous stan or a weirdo I don't think it's cool. If you like or even dislike her there are still lines you should never cross and that includes invading her space. She's just one fake ass actress that lives in her own head that plays make believe and makes millions off it. Then of course she complains about it and manipulates the media and her fan base to cover up "the real Emma Watson". She's a prettily weaved illusion designed to trick you. There is no such thing as the perfect person and just because she is pretty it does not make her perfect girlfriend material. Stans and weirdos please understand this.

[allaboutmywriting]

Walking the Gallery

can’t afford to go to Harry’s tour lol nothing new so writing this instead--gonna be some chapters, not sure how many yet || 5k words 

Lexy Marks is a recent novelist, who has risen to a reasonable amount of fame for a first-time fiction writer. She ends up at an album release party Harry Styles has thrown, where he tells her how much he loves her writing. Back in the day, Lexy was a 1D stan; unfortunately, she has some trauma related to that particular era of her life. 

CHAPTER ONE:

The check engine light came on as soon as could at least see the stoplights hanging from the intersection behind the row of cars in front of her—whoever had warned her about LA traffic certainly hadn't been joking—and Lexy screamed in frustration when she saw it. With her foot on the brake, she slammed her hands against the steering wheel, in the same manner that she was privy to throwing her phone on the ground whenever it froze. It was a method that never solved the problem, but always made her feel as if it did.

Her father had assured her, incorrectly it would appear, that her 2007 Toyota Corolla would be fine for the six-thousand-mile trip she was taking around the country—from Columbia to Los Angeles, Los Angeles back to Charleston. She'd already completed half of the journey there, but she couldn't exactly complete the other half back with a faulty engine.

The car behind her beeped its horn and Lexy jumped, pressing her foot too fast on the gas, jolting forward uncomfortably. She hadn't expected the traffic to be quite so bad, and she wasn't prepared for the traffic gridlock. She sighed and looked at the clock. 5:57.

She was meant to be there by 6:00. She didn't really know what the where was, somewhere in between Beverly Hills and a direction of Hollywood. She supposed she could've been smarter by not driving in rush hour traffic. Perhaps she could've asked the event holders if she could have arrived in the morning. Surely, they'd have understood that people hailing from the East Coast were not as smooth, talented, or put together as those on the Golden Coast.

The car in front of her moved up a foot. She turned the radio down and scrolled until she found her dad's contact. It was after eight on the East Coast, so he would be home from work. Probably in the kitchen making himself a sandwich with the unhealthy kind of bread and too much mayonnaise—he liked to play around with cholesterol.

"Lexy-loo!" he greeted. She smiled, already feeling at ease from hearing his booming voice. He was a middle school science teacher, the goofy kind, so he said everything with strange inflections and accents. This time, he sounded Irish. "Where the hell are ya?"

"Stuck in traffic." She glanced at the GPS he'd installed for her eighteenth birthday a few years before. It was the nicest part of her car, and it looked awfully out of place compared to the rest of it. She was somewhere in East Hollywood, which contrary to the name, was a little more rundown than she expected it to be. "This has to be even worse than New York."

He laughed, having spent his summers growing up in Brooklyn, back when the twin towers were still a part of the skyline. "You hanging with the rich and famous yet?"

Lexy glared down at her lap, pushing the gas gently as the next car moved forward. She didn't have the time to explain the intricacies of the area to her dad, to let him know that there were entirely more poor people in the area than celebrities, and that she would probably never even come in contact with someone of such a demographic. In fact, after the event or reading or whatever she had tonight, Lexy had half a mind to go handing out food to all of the people she saw on the sides of the street.

"Not yet, Dad." Her calf was starting to ache from staying on the brake for so long, and she tried to stretch it in place the best she could. "Anyway, check engine light just came on and I don't know what to do."

"Huh," he grunted. "Well, is it steady or is it blinking?"

"Steady."

"Did it just come on?"

"About a minute ago." She shuffled her seatbelt around to keep it from digging into her neck.

"Is your car acting up? jerky?"

"No. it seems normal. I can't really tell, though. Traffics at a standstill."

"Well, it's probably not an emergency then. Go find yourself an Auto Zone and they'll do a diagnostic for free. Call me back once they tell you and we'll figure something out."

She frowned at probably not an emergency, her mind speculating as it was prone to, visions of her car exploding in the middle of the LA freeway.

"I don't think I can do it today," Lexy frowned. "I have an event in three minutes."

"Glad to see that the extra three hours has increased your timeliness," he joked and Lexy rolled her eyes. "Just do it first thing tomorrow," he said nonchalantly, yawning. "I'm so proud of you, Lex. Living out your dream. I wish I could be there with you."

She wanted to roll down her window, to lay her arm across it the same way she might have back home, but she took the threats of pollution seriously.

She said a goodbye to her father quickly. Her eyes were already stinging. Lexy was so far from home and so alone. It had just been her and her dad for so long, even while she was busy in college, but he couldn't leave the school for the weeks the tour had taken her, would take her, for fear that the district would fire him. Ain't no rest for a public-school teacher, that's for sure.

Lexy had managed to do thirty-seven different readings without him. Had managed to impress thirty-seven different crowds of people without offending them—had even managed to make a few of them cry. Her twitter and Instagram followers had increased gradually, so that now she had a small following of few thousand, that rivalled the accounts of her high school valedictorian who'd gone on to become an influencer selling tanning lotion.

While Lexy really was living out her dream, having a New York Times bestseller at twenty-two, becoming an author wasn't as glamorous as she always thought it would. Her settlement for the book, which was supposed to be $55,000, after taxes only came out to a little more than half of that, and now she understood why authors talked about how difficult it was to make a living just writing. There were no health benefits in authorhood, and there were no extravagances where bookstores paid her to come talk. Here she was, six months out of college, driving herself around in her own car just for her inaugural book tour.

Who cared if Barack Obama had put her book on his recommended reads of the year, when her car was going to break down and she was going to be late for her first event in Los Angeles?

As the clock shown 6:04, Lexy finally was able to pass through the intersections. Now, if she could just figure out how to change lanes, she'd be doing okay.

&&

Her car started smoking as she turned onto the street. It was framed by huge houses with gates in front—black ones, silver ones, some with outright walls so that you couldn't see what was happening on the other side. About halfway down the street, and with the smoke darkening, her GPS said she arrived.

Just what was this event? Her fingers were itching for her phone, to call her publicist and make sure she was at the right place, but a security guard appeared just by her driver's side window.

He was a big and buff bald-headed man who gave her car a dirty look as he instructed her to roll down a window. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Statement of purpose?"

Statement of what?

It was really starting to feel like she imagined the White House felt like after all—back in the Obama days, not the current ones.

"Hi. My name is Lexy Marks. I've been told to be here."

"ID?"

She grumbled to herself as she reached forward and went through her purse, her fingers shaking as she took at her wallet, and then her driver's license. Her fingers were shaking, but she didn't know why she should be the nervous one.

He cross-checked her license with whatever was on the tablet he was holding, then nodded at her. "Pull around back. You should see the other cars. Park between the two on the back row."

Lexy took back her license, rolled up her window, and waited at the gates until the swung open. Her car continued to smoke so bad that she could see it even through the darkening tones of dusk. The house, which she gawked up at, was black and modern, with gaping windows. There were three stories from what she could tell—Lexy had never seen such a nice place, much less been invited to one.

She tried to park in between the cars the guard had instructed her to—a white Audi and one of several black rovers. These cars were all worth more than her manuscript was, and especially more than she was.

And Lexy had always been awful at parking. Never mind how awful she felt about being late, and how dreadful her stomach felt with her engine smoking.

She couldn't tell just how dark it really was outside due to the multiple lanterns and light fixtures that illuminated the entire outdoor parking space. She was most certainly late, but she wasn't even sure what this event was. She didn't know if they would even notice, if this was an event with other authors, if she was meant to be giving just a reading. Her publicist—Simon & Schuster had given her one along with her royalties' contract—had set up the whole tour for her. All she had to do was arrive on time. And here she was, a half hour late, and if her GPS was right, somewhere between West Hollywood and Beverley Hills.

But weren't the rich and famous known for not being on time?

As she climbed the steps to the front porch, she was certain she was at a mansion. Just whose mansion, she wasn't sure, but she was more conscious, if she ever had been before tonight, of the twenty-dollar black Old Navy dress she was wearing. She'd thought she was being frugal, chic, stylish. She'd even paired them with her favorite pair of chunky blue heels. But now she was certain it couldn't be further from than truth.

There was no one in the yard with her. Across the lane was the security guard, and Lexy contemplated waving him down and asking for directions. Suck it up, she told herself. You're living the dream.

A white cat was perched on the front step and it watched her, lazily, as she knocked twice on the front door. When there was no answer, she rang the doorbell.

There was music coming from inside, banging beats that made it seem like she was entering into a dorm. They were exactly the kind of loud that she heard in college on nights out, at house parties, or in the frats. She couldn't make it out exactly—either that or she didn't know the songs.

When she knocked a second time, the door was sprung open.

"Ay, welcome to the party of the century," A well-dressed man greeted her. He sounded Australian, but Lexy couldn't be certain—she was the worst at deciphering accents. But he was dressed in suspenders and a white t-shirt that read SOUTHERNE in black, bold letters. Behind him, Lexy could see a bunch of people standing around, talking. None of them were dancing, as she had incorrectly assumed from the music, but instead, standing around listening to the tracks.

And now Lexy was certain she had never heard it before.

"Hello? You there?" The man asked again. This time he grinned at her and revealed a set of teeth so perfect they were probably veneers. If Lexy had to choose a new occupation, it would be dentistry. But she was awful at science, math, and everything in between that would lead her to becoming one.

"Sorry." She tried to smile back, but her annoyance ran strong through her veins.

A few of the people around them, beautiful people, women with the sort of hair that didn't have flyaways and men that looked like they came from the cover of GQ turned to look at her curiously, but the company must've been important, because they looked away again.

"I'm Lexy Marks. I was told to come here by my publicist."

She cringed as she thought about how it must sound to this man—acting like her publicist was in charge of her. Much like a parent leading their child to the first day of kindergarten. It was just like her publicist to do this. She knew how unexperienced Lexy was and had been known to take advantage of it before—her first reading in the mid-west had been at a senior home for people who had never read her book.

But his smile only widened, and he opened the door up even further.

"Come in, come in," he said, waving an arm in front of him. He held a wine glass in his left hand. Dark and red, the kind she hated. "I'm Greg."

Well, she could guess that Greg was not the person she was meant to meet here. He didn’t have any idea who she was. But she stepped inside the door anyway, the music amplified, and Lexy had to stop herself from abruptly gaping at the beautiful scene before her. Beautiful hardwood floors that had been stained white, walls so beautifully decorated they looked straight out of a gallery, the people all around her who were so beautiful and dressed so well they might as well be models themselves.

It felt like something straight out of The Great Gatsby.

Greg nudged her arm. "Let's get you a drink, yeah? Have you eaten? We've got loads of stuff in the kitchen."

Lexy shook her head as he followed him through the crowd, saying hi to people as he went. She was almost positive he was Australian.

Lexy hoped she would recognize someone in the crowd, but these were not the sort of people she knew. She even tried to place the voice singing because she had most certainly heard it before but couldn't do it for the life of her. It sounded pop-y and generic, the sort she would've made out to in a club back in college.

"You're lucky I was walking right by the door," Greg continued, stepping beside her once the crowd was sparse enough to allow for it. There must be over a hundred people in the building. All of the windows were covered by long, flowing silver curtains; there was even a balcony that people hung off of. All they needed was a sprawling indoor people.

"What do you do, Lexy? Singer? Actress? Dancer? Triple threat?"

"Um, author, actually."

"Oh yeah?" he turned to grin at her. "Poetry?"

Lexy felt like she was disappointing him. "Fiction."

They entered the kitchen, after feeling like they had walked a quarter of a mile from the front door. The house hadn't actually looked this large from the outside and Lexy wondered if it was the fact that they'd had to navigate all of the people standing in the way.

And this time Lexy did look around with her mouth open. "Oh wow."

The countertops were black marble, and stretched the entire length of the room, which was probably half the size of her house back in South Carolina. The floor was still stained white wood, and the kitchen had double islands in the center, one of which was adorned with drinks—the other with sweets.

It was a kitchen so perfect she would've never been able to dream it up. Lexy couldn't cook—at all really, but if she could, this was exactly the sort of kitchen she'd want.

"Harry," Greg called, almost lazily, to a man in yellow pants and white t-shirt, who was looking out of the kitchen window. "I've brought you a guest."

He turned around to face her, and Lexy furrowed her eyebrows at the man standing there, then her eyebrows shot straight up to her forehead when she finally recognized him.

And all of a sudden, she was right back to being in ninth grade, fighting over which of her friends laid claim to the man standing before her. Hell, Lexy used to keep her toothbrush in a cup with the man's face on it.

His hair, a deep brown, not unlike her own, was wavy and perfectly placed—the definition of artist's hair. His skin was the sort of clear she only ever got when she was wearing a full face of make-up, and immediately, from the time his eyes first landed on her, he seemed to exude charisma.

"Hi," she said shyly.

"What's your name?" He smiled politely at her, without showing his teeth, and Lexy's heart dropped at the thought that she wasn't really meant to be here. Her ten minutes of existing on the estate had made her feel some sort of emotion towards the place.

But how could she be after all? Standing in Harry Styles' extravagant kitchen, in what was most likely his exorbitant mansion, at an event that was clearly some sort of Hollywood party.

She was meant to be reading.

"Uh, I'm Lexy," she stammered. "Lexy Marks."

His eyes bugged out when she said it, but he quickly recovered enough to grin at her, dimples on full show, just like the media trained mega star he was. And though he certainly looked more grown-up than Lexy remembered him as, his smile was the same as it was on her toothbrush cup from all those years ago.

He took a few steps forward and held out his hand to her, fingers covered in rings and pink and blue painted nails. She took it. "I'm Harry. I've been waiting to meet you—you're the guest of honor."

Behind her, Greg rolled his eyes. "You're the guest of honor, mate. This is your release party."

Harry grinned at Greg, then looked back down at Lexy. "I invited a lot of people."

Lexy's heart was beating so rapidly that she was certain if she tried to speak, she would be out of breath. So, she simply nodded.

"I love Beginning with February," Harry continued, naming her title. Lexy couldn't stop staring at his damn smile. It was so perfect. Her dad could never afford braces for her, and she had a thing for people's teeth. "It's my favorite book right now. After I finished it, I immediately read it again. I must've read it eight times by now. I tell everyone it's the perfect antidote to loss and loneliness—I don't think there's anyone I've ever met who explains love and friendship and death the way you do. I've bought a whole box of copies to hand out as Christmas presents. Of course, it would be better if you signed them."

Lexy stood frozen from his exclamation—still processing the fact that she was standing in front of Harry Styles and that he had read her book. More than once.

"I had my publicist reach out to yours, and I was really hoping that I could make it out to your reading tomorrow, but unfortunately I have an interview."

He smiled at her again and Lexy knew it was her time to say something. She tried to seem cool, seem the way that any of the people in the house might would respond, but her brain only backtracked far enough for his last few sentences. "Uh…I'll read you anything you want."

Lexy wanted to punch herself at how stupid she sounded, yet again, but Greg snorted, and Harry smiled, ducking his head.

"What I mean," she rushed to explain. It was his damn smile that got her. "Is that I'll give you a private reading of whatever you want. Like—"

This was just getting worse and worse as Greg began lightly laughing. She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, then back to meet Harry's. He was a lot taller than she'd imagined he would be, but though his lips twitched, he was giving her his entire attention.

"Thank you for your kind words," she swallowed. "Of course, I'll sign anything you want."

Harry's smile deepened, his dimples appearing. Greg pointed to the door with his thumb, and Harry nodded at him.

He turned back to Lexy, just as the song from the other room changed. This one she'd heard before—something by Lorde, that she couldn't remember the name of.

They gazed at each other, then Harry suddenly clapped his hands together. "So, can I get you anything to drink? Wine? Water? Vodka?"

She was alone with one of the most famous singers of the time. And he was offering her a drink, in his kitchen, somewhere in Los Angeles. She wasn't just living her dream; she was living the whole dream. Everyone's. All of them. A place on Barack Obama's recommended reading list could have never prepared her for this one.

"Um, water. Please?"

He nodded, and turned around to the island, taking one a wine glass, similar to the one Greg was drinking out of, from the side and filling it with water from a pitcher.

He handed it to her, then leaned against the island and picked up his own drink, something green. He was dressed so well…Lexy had always admired fashion but could never get the hang of making anything look good other than wearing neutrals and blank shirts.

"I hope you don't mind being here," he drawled slowly, his eyes on hers, darting back and forth as if trying to determine what her true feelings were. Lexy hadn't heard him talk since the height of her One Direction days, when she would watch every interview that came out multiple times, but she wondered if he had talked quite so slowly back then. "This is my album release party, for my friends, and I was quite hoping you'd do the intermission."

All…of those people…at least a hundred…were his friends? Lexy could count all her friends on both hands. She probably only talked to three of them a day.

"Intermission?"

His eyes still on hers, he nodded. "Yeah. Do you know that bit in your book, the part where Jamaica dies? You have two pages of just wonderful prose there, and I was really hoping that you would read it. Maybe halfway through the songs?" He paused in thought, his eyes rolling up. "Actually, maybe after track seven would do."

She took a big sip of the water. It was room temperature and Lexy thought, in a moment of spare humor, probably the most expensive water she'd ever drank.

But her hand was already shaking, and she doubted that she could convince herself to read in front of everyone in that other room. Well, at least. There would be no way she could control the tremors in her voice. She was used to reading in front of people who knew her, in front of people who liked her reading, who cared about her characters as much as she did.

Not in front of talented, model millionaires.

"I'm sorry. I thought this was a reading."

"It is a reading," he insisted. He ducked his head and crossed his arms and smiled at her again. Lexy had to look down to keep from disappointing him. Those damn dimples.

She felt awful turning him down. But there was so much about the day that wasn't turning out right. Her car, her first day in Los Angeles. And here she was, about to tear up in front of this singer who had to share his work with everyone.

"I'm really sorry, Harry. It's just been a long day. I really thought this was just going to be a regular reading at a bookstore. My publicist, she never really told me, like, what this event was, or I probably would've been really prepared. But I think everyone wants to listen to you. Not me." She opened her purse and pulled out the printed-out pages she'd rendered just for her readings—she didn't know a single author who didn't at least tweak their writing somewhat before reading. "I don't even have those paragraphs with me. I only have chapter one."

Harry took the creased paper from her, frowning down at it. They had her scribbles all over it. Her first chapter had a lot of dialogue, and it was never the best for reading out loud.

But from the expression on Harry's face, you'd think that she'd just taken all of the magic out of it.

She was just about to say as much when the music changed, and her ears perked up. She frowned at the beat. "Is that—"

"Yeah," Harry said, still dejectedly frowning down at the papers. "Never get far from your roots, right?"

"That's what they say," she sighed.

Harry glanced up at quizzically but didn't ask for clarification. He handed the papers back to her. "Look, if you don't want to read, you don't have to. I'd be honored if you would, but I understand if you won't."

She nodded at him, folded the papers back in her bag, and took another sip of her water.

"Harry, love," a man called, walking into the kitchen. This man had brown hair and a long face, and a dark-haired woman at his side. Both of them were dressed—much better than she was.

Harry's face lit up and he set his glass on the counter. "Mitch! Maia! Well, you both look lovely!"

He walked over to them and Lexy took a step back, observing the way he interacted with them. The couple seemed completely at ease around him and it was obvious they'd known each other a while. Before Harry could turn to introduce her to them, Lexy had already set her water on the counter and left the room. She skirted in between the crowds of people, wondering why she'd always thought black was the classiest of colors, yet literally everyone in the room was dressed colorfully. That familiar urge to run away was strong, and she just told herself to get out of the room, and that no one would remember her.

The last chords of What Makes You Beautiful ended, and she vaguely registered the sound of something else start—an older tune, one that she was certain she'd heard before.

There was a group of people standing by the door, but she was able to open it and get out by not paying attention to the looks that they gave her.

More people were out on the porch. Did Harry really have that many friends? They were all laughing, clearly happy to be invited, and here she was running away.

She took the steps two at a time and nearly knocked herself over, sprinting to her car. She yanked open the door and got inside, slamming it back closed. She pressed the lock button, then tried to regain control of her breathing.

There were moments in life that suddenly took her over. It had been like that her entire life. When the air from her lungs would disappear and suddenly feel like there was a valve closed. And while she did have asthma when she was younger, she knew that this wasn't that. She took deep, deep breaths and tried to regain herself.

But the pain was too strong. It came quickly, the way her wrist broke in fourth grade when she fell off her bike and took over her body like it was an epidemic, consuming every organ.

She had to get out of there.

She rummaged through her bag for her keys, landing on her phone, her mirror, her makeup. For the most part, everything Lexy owned was somewhere in her car. It wasn't easy to know what you would need on a three-month trip across the country. At last she found them and jammed them into the car.

Two breaths.

She could feel the steering wheel beneath her hands.

Two breaths.

She could hear the people from the porch laughing, unseen behind the row of rovers in front of her car.

Two breaths.

She could smell the leather of her car, the sun-burnt smell it had acquired from being years old.

Two breaths.

She could see the scent ornament hanging down from her mirror, a green pine tree.

Deep down, Lexy knew why she felt like this. It had come back so suddenly now that she could breathe again—the way it felt to first hear it in the auditorium, how much it hurt, afterwards, almost in hindsight, to hear Mr. Mack, the principal, stumbling over those two words. He couldn't seem to figure out the best phrase, so he said them all. Is dead. Has passed away. Has died. Lexy stared ahead at the little ornament hanging off the mirror and tried not to think of the blue curtains in the auditorium. Or the ugly carpet that covered the floor. That little ornament was meant to smell of pumpkin, but the scent had gone away somewhere in Illinois, and if she stared at it long enough, the auditorium went away and she was alone in her Toyota.

She took another deep breath, convinced she would never again think of Harry Styles, or One Direction, or the night again once she had the opportunity to yell at Samantha—her publicist. She reached forward and turned the key.

But of course, in the spirit of the night, it wouldn't start.

Lexy laid her head upon the steering wheel.

She'd at least have to stop crying before she called her dad, lest he buy a flight and come all the way to LA to lose his job. And what use was being in a healthy state of mind if she destroyed her family’s, too? 

A/N: lmk what you think/thoughts/feelings etc etc 

[anistarrose]

To See The Unseen - Chapter 1 (Gravity Falls)

Summary: A tale of old money, occult artifacts, and a man willing to try anything for a chance to see his brother again.

Warnings: see note below

AO3

A spooky mystery for Halloween! This first chapter is set during the night in which Into the Bunker happens, but as you’ll see, things are going to start to diverge from canon pretty quickly. I'm expecting this to end up as 4 chapters, but that's not set in stone.

This fic gets a little creepy at points, but if you were alright with everything that happened in the GF canon, there shouldn’t be any triggering stuff. But just in case, there is a warning for dq rxw ri ergb hashulhqfh (Caesar ciphered because of spoilers for the end of the first chapter).

***

The twins had left him a note saying they were out camping with Wendy and Soos, and while Stan had to admit he was a little worried, he forced himself to set those fears aside. With all the possible campsites in Gravity Falls, there was no way he was finding those kids even if he wanted to drag them back inside to safety, anyways. He’d just have to trust Dipper’s promise from yesterday that he wouldn’t go looking for any more trouble.

And besides, it was one of those rare nights on which he could be absolutely sure that no one would catch him sneaking down to the portal, and it would be a waste not to make the most of it. He spent the first half-hour or so of the evening lugging heavy toolboxes and clanking pipes down the steps and loading them into the elevator, and as the sun began to set, he retired to his desk in the basement to leaf through the two new Journals — or rather, Journal 2 and his photocopies of Journal 3.

He’d skimmed them already, and figured out just about everything he needed to know about the portal’s actual operation, but he’d skipped past most of the details of what Ford had actually gotten up to over the years. Unlike Journal 1, which he’d read and reread until his head ached and his eyes stung, desperate not just for clues but also for even the vaguest semblance of his brother’s companionship…

He started with Journal 3 but then quickly switched to Journal 2, because Gideon had made fewer notes and doodles in the margins than Dipper and Mabel had, and while the kids were admittedly good artists, it hurt to see them commenting on Ford’s research completely unaware they were talking about their own uncle. Journal 2 also had fewer codes — apparently Ford hadn’t been too worried about anyone reading his descriptions of various cursed artifacts, even though by his own account most of those artifacts were so dangerous that he’d needed to get rid of them by burying them in the woods.

One particular item caught Stan’s eye, though:

Scrying Eye Compact

This compact mirror got me in a heap of trouble, and though it holds incredible potential for the advancement of my research, even I have to admit that it’s too unsafe and unpredictable to keep around. Had my Muse not given me a helping hand, I almost certainly wouldn’t even be here to write this warning!

I buried it back where I found it, beneath the southernmost stall in the Northwests’ unused stables behind their mansion. I don’t even remember the reason I had for snooping around a place like that in the first place, so hopefully no one will dig it up again.

But even now, I have to admit that the power to spy on anyone, anywhere in the world, is incredibly tempting…

Stan’s breath hitched. If he could spy on anyone, anywhere with the mirror… could he see outside of the known world, too? Could he see if Ford was okay?

He flicked a few switches on the portal control panel, and a progress bar popped up on the display. It would be calibrating for at least another week, maybe even more.

He couldn’t wait that long. Not with a chance to see his brother again right within reach.

Not daring to take the Journal out of the basement, he jotted down the mirror’s location on a scrap of paper and tucked it into his pocket. Upon reaching the first floor again, he threw on a dark jacket, slacks, and a pair of boots, then stepped out into the woods through the Shack’s back door, flashlight in hand as clouds drifted in front of the nearly full moon.

***

Though Nathaniel Northwest’s riding accident was tragic and untimely, he was survived by a daughter, Felicity Northwest, and a son, Eli Northwest, the latter of which went on to establish Pioneer Day in his late father’s honor…

“Ugh.” Pacifica slammed her head into her desk. “I can’t believe there’s still over a century of this stuff left to read…”

Normally, she enjoyed the days her parents were out of town, since the rules were always significantly relaxed when they weren’t around, but this time, they’d left her with homework.

“I won’t need to know Victoria Northwest’s second favorite color to handle the family fortune responsibly! I won’t need to know the specific species of woodpecker that Reginald Northwest got disowned for trying to marry! There are so many better uses of my time than this!”

She flung open her window and stuck out her head, ready to scream her frustrations out to the empty nighttime void, but a flicker of motion near the bottom of the hill caught her eye.

From inside the abandoned stable, a thin beam of light swept past the window once, then twice. It disappeared after that, but Pacifica swore that she could see a faint glow still coming from inside, as if the light was pointing in a different direction, but still on.

“It had better not be that hillbilly making a nest again,” she muttered, but she’d already made up her mind about going to investigate. If she got caught sneaking out and her parents gave her grief over it when they got back, she could always say she thought someone was planning to rob them — they were always paranoid about break-ins, on account of living essentially next door to Stan Pines. Hillbilly or not, the light in the stable was still a mystery to solve, and she’d take that over homework any day.

Maybe those Pines twins were rubbing off on her, loath as she was to admit it.

***

In all the rush, Stan had forgotten to bring anything to dig with, but as luck would have it there was a rusty shovel leaning against the wall in one corner of the mostly-empty stable. As he brushed the cobwebs off it, he wondered if it had once been Ford’s.

Unlike the slightly muddy ground outside, the soil on the stable floor was dry and firmly packed, and Stan quickly realized he was going to have to set his flashlight down and dig with both hands on the shovel. The whole place was so musty it was almost suffocating, with a faint metallic tang in the air.

It smells like old money, Stan thought to himself with a scowl. Gotta admit, Ford was in the right for snooping on these snobs. Only the Northwests, with money coming out of their asses, would abandon a perfectly good stable without even selling it or renting it out to anyone else once they were done with it.

Beneath his shovel, something clinked, and he froze, afraid he’d broken the very artifact he’d been searching for. But after brushing away the last of the dirt with his hands, he felt a cold, smooth, intact object beneath his fingertips, and he fumbled for the flashlight as he lifted his discovery out of the hole.

The closed compact mirror looked exactly how the Journal had depicted it, though Ford’s sketch hadn’t captured its colors. It was entirely silver except for two golden accents — first, the hinge connecting its two halves, and second, the long and skinny oval that bisected the top half’s circle. The silver was in need of polishing, but the golden slit gleamed beneath Stan’s flashlight as though it had never been buried beneath several pounds of soil and horse manure at all.

Looks almost like an eye with a slit pupil, Stan thought to himself, ignoring the chill that ran up his spine. Yeesh, it’s drafty in here, isn’t it? Maybe that’s why no one uses the place any more.

Poised to flip open the compact, he hesitated as an owl hooted in the distance.

He hadn’t been that careful about avoiding detection here, had he? He’d been so impatient, so desperate to confirm that Ford was alive — but he’d be no good to his brother if he went and got himself arrested now.

So he set off back through the woods, shutting the stable door behind him and grimacing at the sound of his boots squelching in the mud. For one moment, he froze, sure that he’d heard the whinny of a horse from somewhere behind him, but the noise — if it had even been real in the first place — was quickly drowned out by the sound of chirping crickets, and Stan figured that even if there was a security guard or ghost horse or whatever chasing him down, they wouldn’t be able to hear his footsteps if he couldn’t hear theirs.

Of course, leaving the scene of the crime was one thing, but he was far too nervous to wait until he got all the way back to the Shack to give the mirror a better look. He settled down under a tall birch tree, on a patch of earth that seemed drier than most, and crossed his legs as he pulled out the mirror. It still seemed cold even after having been in his pocket for several minutes, and Stan couldn’t help but harken back to Ford’s warning in the journal…

As he stared up towards the night sky, he could’ve sworn that from its position just above the treetops, the moon gave him an encouraging wink.

He opened the compact, and the chill spread from his fingertips up his arms.

Inside, only one of its two sides had a mirror. The other featured a circular portrait of a familiar bearded man, whose face Stan couldn’t place, standing in front of a grove of birches. Most of the picture was in either yellow or sepia tones, but the man’s dark red eyes seemed to flicker as they stared daggers at Stanley.

The mirror itself was even stranger, reflecting everything in grayscale except for Stan’s own face, which was a transparent, electric blue. But strangest of all was the way it called to him, and he just knew that if he let it pull him where it wanted, he’d be able to see anything he wanted to see, go anywhere he wanted to go.

From a distance, an owl let out a screech, but it hardly registered to Stan.

I’m ready to see my brother again, he thought, and the whole world melted into a monochrome blur.

He saw a pitch-black plume of smoke rise out of the portrait, red eyes gleaming with delight as an incomprehensible smile spread across its nonexistent face.

“Good on you, stranger!” it told Stan with a deep chuckle. “I was starting to doubt that you had the nerve to open it! Oh, thirty-two long years later, and I’ve returned once more to walk the earth…”

With a dark, smoky tendril of a hand, it grabbed Stan by the throat. “Hope you enjoy your stay in the beast’s mirror! I know I didn’t enjoy mine!”

On reflex, Stan aimed a punch as best as he could from his restrained state, but before his fist made contact, the entity disappeared in a flash of light. Stan was left all alone, floating in the air and staring at his hands —

His blue, transparent hands.

Something beneath him clattered to the ground, and he looked down to see the compact, having slipped out of the grasp of his own unconscious body. He saw his own face staring at him with a blank expression, completely devoid of color like the surrounding forest except for in his two half-closed eyes, which were glowing blue.

With a spectral arm, he reached towards his physical form, but it passed right through his own head.

The mirror had trapped him outside of his body.

***

Pacifica slipped past the butler with ease and made her way to the current site of the Northwest Stables, where she saddled and mounted Angel, her roan pony. There were other horses who would be faster, but Angel would be quieter, not to mention closer to the ground to facilitate searching for clues. (And to tell the truth, Pacifica trusted Angel the most — she was one of the older residents and more mellow personalities at the stables, unlike some of the younger mares who liked to get frisky.)

The two of them cut across the unused racetrack as they headed for the abandoned stables, Pacifica holding the reins in one hand and an old-fashioned lantern from the family heirlooms collection in the other. It was chilly for a July night, and with the wind blowing in her face, she was grateful she’d chosen to put on gloves and a jacket.

With a whinny, Angel came to a halt a few yards further away from the stables than Pacifica would’ve liked her to, and balked at all attempts to guide her closer. So with a sigh, Pacifica slid out of the saddle and approached the door on foot. It opened with far less resistance than she’d been expecting.

She held her lantern protectively in front of her chest, bracing herself for someone to leap out at her from the shadows within, but the stable stayed dead silent. Even as spooked and anxious as she felt, nothing inside looked alive, and the only motion she spotted came from the flickering orange flame of her own lantern.

The building had been out of use since long before she was born, so at first she wasn’t sure which details might be out of place — but as she made her way down the hallway and laid eyes upon the last stall, right next to the window she’d glimpsed the light through, her uncertainty immediately evaporated. There were no cobwebs covering the doorway, unlike every other stall she’d passed, and a hole had been messily dug in the ground, with the culprit’s shovel still stuck in the dirt and standing straight up just a foot or two away.

“Angel, we’ve been robbed,” Pacifica announced, bursting out of the stable and immediately mounting her pony again. “I don’t know what they stole or why it was even here in the first place, but if they think they’re going to get away with this, then they’re —”

As she guided Angel in a broad circle around the stable, a set of tracks in the mud caught her eye. In the lantern’s imperfect light, she almost mistook the footprints for her own, but at second glance, they were far too big, and led away from Northwest Mansion.

“Then away from the mansion we shall follow them,” Pacifica declared with a smile. “Angel, giddyup!”

I don’t know what’ll be better — the looks on the twins’ faces when I prove they’re not the only detectives in town, or the looks on Mom and Dad’s faces when I tell them that I never would’ve caught this robber if I’d been doing all that worthless homework instead…

They only followed the tracks for about a minute before Angel skidded to a halt, whinnying and shaking her head.

“Hey, what’s the matter? Did something — gah! Is that a corpse?!”

From his position above his body, Stan whirled around. “Hey! Northwest kid? A little help here?”

He began to float towards her, but Pacifica dismounted and walked right through him, pinching her nose. Unlike everything else surrounding Stan, Pacifica in her purple jacket and her lantern with its flickering orange flame were patches of color in a world of gray, but that didn’t seem to mean Stan could interact with them any more than he could interact with his own body.

“Wait… Mr. Pines?” Pacifica picked up a stick with a gloved hand and gingerly poked Stan’s unconscious body with it, watching as its chest slowly rose and fell. “And he’s still breathing and everything. Guess he just decided to take a nap in the woods on the off chance he’d scare someone who thought he was dead, huh?”

“C’mon, Pacifica!” Stan pleaded. He waved at her frantically, and for a split second, her lantern’s flame lit up blue as his hand passed through it, but Pacifica was preoccupied. “Please tell me you can hear me! I… I just need someone to get a message to the kids…”

Pacifica scooped the compact mirror off the ground, brushing the dirt away as she held it up alongside her lantern for comparison.

“Similar craftsmanship,” she remarked. “Guess he was trying to rob us after all, wasn’t he?”

“It’s not like you were using it!” Stan replied automatically, but once again, Pacifica didn’t seem to hear. “My body’s eyes are glowing blue, for crying out loud! You’re telling me you can’t see that either?”

Pacifica pocketed the mirror and mounted her pony once again, shivering slightly.

“Let’s get out of here, Angel. It feels like everything in this forest has been giving me the creeps tonight.”

***

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Thanks for reading, reblogs/comments are appreciated as always — especially predictions! I’ve had a lot of fun putting together this plot, and I’m very excited to see if anyone picks up on certain pieces of foreshadowing!

[honeymoonjinmain]

BTS Reaction: you become their favorite artist

JIN

⎝ Tbh i wrote this one last because I really don’t know how jin would react at all

⎝ He’s such a crackhead and never seems to get too fanatic about other celebrities

⎝ I reckon he’d discover you first when you were performing at a variety show, and even though he had never heard the song before, he’d be bopping out like an absolute idiot and making namjoon so terribly embarrassed to be seen with him

⎝ Because you were becoming kind of a big deal, especially in asia, he saw you at a lot of award shows and similar events, and every time you played, no matter what song, he found himself grooving along, whipping out the most random dance moves

⎝ I think jin would just appreciate good honest entertainment and not really care about learning too much about you yourself

⎝ Jin doesn’t really have a favorite artist, just different songs that get him jamming

⎝ Sorry ladies and gents, he’s going to have five of your songs on his party playlist but that’s about it

YOONGI

⎝ You came up on his Spotify while he was playing a radio channel for another one of his favorite artists and he stopped what he was doing so he could listen to it again and then check out your other songs

⎝ He’s really shocked when he likes quite a few of your songs, not just the one, and he finds himself playing his favorite track of yours when he gets stuck in a creative rut in the studio

⎝ Yoongi knows what he’s about and you know the second he gets obsessed with your style, he’s going to start writing a possible collab song

⎝ I feel like he would want to have a song demo before he approached you so that he could convince you faster

⎝ Mayhaps he neglects his BTS and Agust D music while he’s working with you but that’s just because he’s so gosh darn  e x c I t e d about it

⎝ He would be more likely to write a seesaw style piece rather than a rap-focused one so that the two of you could have a more energetic stage when you performed it

⎝ From that point on, even if you don’t make music together, he’ll be messaging you at strange hours to ask for advice on beats and hooks

HOSEOK

⎝ Hobi seems like the person to always be actively searching for more music to listen to, so he probably comes across your music when he’s 3 hours deep into youtube’s recommended music videos

⎝ He likes your attitude and the vibe of your music, and while he moves on without listening to more of your stuff at first, the chorus gets stuck in his head, and he has to go digging through his history to find it again

⎝ For a long time, he just loves that one song, and plays it on repeat until he’s sick of it, but slowly he branches out into your other singles

⎝ Hoseok is a giver so he’s definitely nagging the other boys to listen to some of your stuff, shoving an earphone in Tae’s ear on the plane or singing out loud backstage before a concert

⎝ Mentions on a v-live that he’s been listening to a lot of your songs recently, and keeps humming the same parts over and over when he’s reading comments

⎝ Army tracks you down and tells you on twitter that he’s a fan, but you don’t really do anything about it until you run into bangtan during an award show and he completely fanboys out

⎝ He talks about how cool you are to his bandmates for the rest of the night

NAMJOON

⎝ My intellectual son loves watching lyric videos almost more than music videos because he loves being able to actually understand the lyrics and the meaning behind them

⎝ He comes across a mash-up of one of your songs with a track from mono and is curious as to why that particular song was chosen

⎝ He googles a lyric video and reads it over and over so that he’s sure he understands the English, then downloads it on his phone

⎝ One particularly powerful lyric gets stuck in his head and he tweets it out one day, and later on, translates it into Korean for Korean army on v-live so that he can gush about why he loves the lyric so much

⎝ He is pretty dedicated to exploring all your other songs to see if any others make him feel like that, and soon enough his Spotify feed and YouTube homepage are filled with your music

⎝ He doesn’t really share your music with the members at all, because he sort of likes keeping you as his secret, and will always plug in his headphones to play your albums from start to finish (so that he could appreciate them in their proper order) on long flights

⎝ It does frustrate him sometimes when he does choose to share a song or a lyric with another member and doesn’t feel like he’s doing the translation justice

⎝ He would love to collab with you but wants to keep his priority as BTS so he remains content with listening to the mash-up that one army made

JIMIN

⎝ Jimin hears your song play during an intermission at an award show, and it gets stuck in his head, but since the lyrics are in English, he can’t remember what they were to google the lyrics and find out the song

⎝ The general melody is all he has for a few years, then one day he’s in a café and that same song plays

⎝ He feels nostalgic and he’s in awe that the song has come back to him after all this time, so he asks namjoon if he can understand the lyrics

⎝ Namjoon types out some of the lyrics as he hears them and finds the most popular result on google is your first big hit

⎝ Jimin is excited when he’s finally back at home and can pull out his headphones and fully immerse himself in the song

⎝ He spends the next few hours going down a rabbit hole of all the music you’ve put out since then, and just about dies from joy when he sees you are releasing a new single in a few days

⎝ Turns out the single is one that you’re featuring on with a k-pop girl group, and so some of your lyrics are in Korean

⎝ As he’s been struggling to learn the words to your other songs, when the new single comes out, he tries to learn your part straight away, and it becomes his new favorite

⎝ He starts to watch all of your interviews that had Korean subtitles, and falls in love with your personality as well as your music

⎝ When he hears you’ll be performing live at a show he’s also doing, he is so excited he gets all hyper and jumpy, and whoops and cheers the loudest during your performance

⎝ He never really gets close with you because of the language barrier, but namjoon does help translate a short interaction between you two, so jimin can rest happy that at least you knew how much of a fan he was

TAEHYUNG

⎝ This soulful angel loves ballads, and he is always willing to memorize the English lyrics so he can sing along

⎝ You aren’t a massive star like he is, but you’ve gained enough of a following that many army stan you, and regularly comment on tae-s v-lives and tweets that he should cover your most recent single

⎝ He gets curious and listens to it, and immediately falls in love with how powerful it is

⎝ He spends a few nights going over and over the lyrics, then lowers it a few octaves to fit his register, and goes around singing to himself at every chance he gets

⎝ Tae almost always sings backstage before a concert, and while it’s usually BTS songs, the other members notice he’s been singing unfamiliar songs recently

⎝ They ask, and he’s only too happy to sing your song for them from finish to end, and once Hobi tells him he thinks it sounds beautiful, tae won’t shut up

⎝ He sings it for army on his next v-live, and as you’re an army, you are watching the v-live as he’s livestreaming it

⎝ You send him a comment, and the fans catch it, commenting wildly at tae until he takes notice, and then you and him exchange a little back and forth

⎝ He’s a little bashful that he was just singing your song in front of you, but you insist that it was beautiful

⎝ You start messaging him on kakao talk after that, and he decides to pull a leaf out of jungkook’s book and duet your song with you at a concert sometime

⎝ You, of course, return the favor by performing a slightly higher pitched version of singularity, and he just about melts in front of you as you’re singing

⎝ He is probably one of the only members that would keep close enough contact that a relationship would be possible (yoongi would keep in touch but value you more as a peer than a romantic partner) and having already seen your on-stage chemistry, most army are shipping you from the get-go

JUNGKOOK

⎝ Recently you featured on a Charlie puth track, and jungkook, being the fanboy he is, has already streamed the song just about a thousand times

⎝ At first, he doesn’t pay attention to your part at all, he’s all about the puth, but he finds himself singing your verse more than charlie’s part

⎝ After a while he checks out some of your other songs, not expecting much, but is pleasantly surprised at how catchy and well performed your songs are

⎝ It’s not long before he’s sending his bandmates your music videos so that he can gush about your dance moves, or screenshotting your selfies on twitter and making them his phone background. This bitch is a TOTAL fanboy I’ve said it once I’ll say it again

⎝ He’s not above messaging Charlie puth and asking about you and how you were to work with

⎝ He desperately wants your attention, even if just for a moment, because it feels so good having someone you’re a fan of acknowledge you exist, so he records himself rocking out to one of your songs and posts it on the official twitter account

⎝ A couple days later fans are tweeting him like crazy, and he’s tagged thousands of times in a video

⎝ It’s you at their most recent concert, rocking out to euphoria, even copying some of the moves he used in his video, so clearly, you’ve seen it

⎝ You see him along with the rest of bangtan in your audience during a concert, and you get a security guard to invite them backstage

⎝ You get to talking and hang out long enough for Jungkook to start treating you like an equal human being rather than some amazing celebrity, and from then on the two of you are always publicly supporting each other’s work and going to each other’s concerts

[aidanchaser]

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero​, @magic713m​, @ccboomer​, @somebodyswatson​, and Aubs

Chapter Twelve Silver and Opals

As soon as the door to the cell closed behind her, Tonks slumped against the cold stone wall. She breathed out a silent prayer of gratitude that at least she did not have to deal with dementors on this trip to Azkaban. As horrifying as it was that the dementors had left and were loose around England, she was not sure she could have survived this visit otherwise.

“Alright?” Proudfoot asked with a raised eyebrow.

Tonks gave him a wan smile. “Alright. Except that the guy doesn’t know anything. Don’t know why Scrimgeour’s insisting we keep him.”

Tonks pushed herself off against the wall and followed Proudfoot down the stairs of Azkaban’s western tower. Her interrogation with Stan Shunpike had gone exactly as she’d expected. Stan had pleaded innocence, said he didn’t know anything, he’d been exaggerating, he’d been trying to impress people.

“I suppose even people who pretend to have associations with Death Eaters ought to be taken seriously. Prevents people from….” Proudfoot rubbed the side of his head and winced. Tonks didn’t think he noticed it anymore, but it had become a tick of his whenever he thought too hard about something, a remnant of his duel with Pyrites last spring. “Sorry. I guess I just mean we’ve got to take any threat seriously.”

“I don’t blame Scrimgeour and Robards for having him brought in,” Tonks said, and tightened the scarf around her neck as they reached the large doors leading out of Azkaban, “but I think he’s learned his lesson, don’t you? He’s not going to give us anything useful.”

The doors out of Azkaban stood nearly as tall as the castle wall itself. They were each a meter thick, crafted out of ironwood and reinforced with bands of steel that were then reinforced with enchantments that left the metal glowing an eerie silver. On either side of the doors were two security trolls who towered twelve-feet high, nearly as high as the door, and beneath them stood two burly wizards, arms folded over their chest. As Tonks and Proudfoot approached, one whipped out a Secrecy Sensor and the other a Probity Probe. Without further prompting, Tonks and Proudfoot raised their arms over their heads and waited until they were cleared. They’d done this a hundred times. It was standard practice before going into the office these days — so Tonks went in as little as possible.

When the guards seemed satisfied that Tonks and Proudfoot were exactly who they said they were, they ordered the trolls to open the doors.

Each troll grabbed the enormous handles attached to a wheel and chain and pulled. With a loud clanking and a low-pitched creaking, the doors to Azkaban opened, just enough for Tonks and Proudfoot to squeeze out, and then they slammed closed behind them.

The North Sea crashed around them, drenching Tonks’s hair and clothes. She pulled her cloak tighter and shivered, and reminded herself to be grateful that it was not her job to stand out here as a guard.

The two wizards who did have the unfortunate duty of protecting the gates outside of Azkaban handed them their wands, for no wands were allowed inside Azkaban. Finally, she and Proudfoot were able to Apparate back to the Ministry. It was not quiet, at least not as quiet as the late night hours usually were. A pair of witches waited at the golden gates for Security to let them in. Another wizard stood by someone in bright green healer’s robes, having a whispered discussion. Several Hit Wizards lined the Floo Network entrances, prepared to detain and interrogate anyone who appeared suspicious. They were not far from the new, gaping hole in the Atrium, while the Ministry figured out how they would replace the Fountain of Magical Brethren that had been destroyed in Voldemort and Dumbledore’s duel.

Exhaustion kept the two of them quiet as they headed through security and up to the Auror offices. Anne Scrimgeour was there, ready with their assignments for tomorrow. Just seeing the scroll in Anne’s hand made Tonks’ exhaustion level increase twofold. She hadn’t even finished her day, and already tomorrow’s task was looming in front of her.

She slumped into her chair and carefully flattened the scroll out over her desk. Part of her hoped it might be hunting down Fenrir Greyback, though she knew that Marcy had been put on that trail weeks ago. Instead, she discovered she was scheduled to be at Hogwarts for the weekend.

The Ministry had, of course, insisted on extra security for Hogwarts. They wanted round-the-clock Auror patrols of the corridors and grounds in addition to all the extra protections Dumbledore and the Ministry had already placed on the school. Dumbledore had, in turn, submitted a list of Aurors he deemed appropriate to patrol Hogwarts — meaning, Aurors who were also in the Order.

Shacklebolt was still working with the Muggle Prime Minister, and the Longbottoms were in charge of the recently added Dark Wizard Detection and Detainment Task Force, so it was mostly her, the Prewetts, and Moody. Moody was still technically retired, but he at least helped guard Hogwarts when he was needed. Tonks did not think there was any favour Dumbledore could ask of Moody that Moody would not give, and that was a hard level of respect to earn from Moody.

Padfoot leaned on her desk and craned his neck to get a look at her assignment. “Hogwarts? I got Knockturn Alley rounds this weekend with Savage. How did you even get on the Hogwarts list? You’re still the youngest of the Aurors — Diggory doesn’t count, and don’t tell me he does. He’s got three years of training to get through, just like we all did.”

Tonks tucked the new orders into her coat pocket. “You were still out for your injury when Dumbledore made his list. I’m sure that’s all it is. Did you write your report yet or are you just harassing me to procrastinate?”

When their reports were finally done, and they’d approved each other’s account of their interrogation of Stan Shunpike, they finally left the Ministry of Magic. Proudfoot, while not his usual cheery self, was his usual chatty self. He talked about his sister’s plans for a holiday in Florida in an effort to escape what was likely to be a harsh winter, the strange smell that had started to creep into his flat that he hadn’t had time to investigate fully, and a half-dozen other things on their wait in the lift and their walk out of the Ministry.

The night sky over London was dark, not a single star visible. Tonks was only able to find the moon, a vague, silvery light behind the cloud cover, because it was nearly full. Tomorrow night it would reach the peak of its cycle, and someone she loved very deeply would endure a lot of pain.

“I know a great twenty-four hour place,” Proudfoot said, pulling Tonks out of her staring contest with the hidden moon.

“What?”

“I thought you just said you were hungry.”

Perhaps she had murmured an agreement accidentally. And, as she thought about it, she actually was hungry.

Tonks checked her pocketwatch and groaned. “I can’t. I’ve got to be at Hogwarts first thing in the morning.”

“Hogwarts patrol is easy enough. Dumbledore’s got all the security in place, hasn’t he? You’ll wander around, get yourself an excellent meal, and be done with the day.”

Tonks did not think a Hogwarts patrol would be as simple as all that, but she agreed with him that it would be easier than today had been.

“Fine, but I need to let my mum know I’m alright. Hopefully she’ll believe me.” With a muttered incantation, Tonks summoned her Patronus and sent it off to deliver her hasty apology and promises she was alright.

It wasn’t until she saw Proudfoot staring at her, dumbfounded and scratching the side of his head, that she realized he was only familiar with her quick rabbit, not the lumbering silver wolf. An apology leapt to the tip of her tongue, but she held it back, unsure what she was to apologize for. Not telling him she’d fallen in love?

Proudfoot was the one to apologize. “Sorry. I thought — I dunno what I thought.” He continued running his hand through his thick brown curls and let out a long, slow breath. “A wolf, huh?” His patronus was a Kneazle, a far cry from the one she’d just revealed.

“Yeah — a wolf.”

“Used to be…?”

“A rabbit.”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He frowned, eyes still on the space where her wolf had vanished. “It’s the old legend, isn’t it? Patronus changing to match someone you love?”

“I didn’t ask the wolf, but — well, I ‘spect so.”

“And I haven’t heard about them because…?”

“Because it’s complicated.”

“Well, my food offer still stands. Tell me all about him. Or her.”

Tonks, who knew how hard it could be to extend friendship to someone you wished would love you, appreciated his offer more than she could put into words.

Proudfoot led Tonks towards a caff around the bend of the Thames. It was a few miles to walk, but the cold, fresh air felt good after so many hours in Azkaban. It also made it easier to talk.

“Start with their name,” Proudfoot prodded.

Tonks thought that was the last place she wanted to start. It would be easier if Proudfoot didn’t know who she was talking about and didn’t make a number of assumptions based on Lupin’s previous run-ins with the Ministry.

“He’s a friend of my cousin. So I knew him growing up. Always thought he was sweet, y’know? And funny. I mean, I really looked up to my cousin — Mum always thought he was a bad influence, but you know my Mum.”

“In concept,” Proudfoot laughed. “Just promise me the cousin you’re talking about is Sirius Black and not Regulus Black? Or Draco Malfoy?”

Tonks had never been more grateful for Proudfoot’s sense of humor. It was why the two of them got on so well. “Of course I’m talking about Sirius.”

“And the friend isn’t James Potter, is it? Because I think I can point out some quick problems with that relationship.”

“I do not have a crush on James Potter! Stop — did you want to hear about him or not?”

“You didn’t give me his name, Tonks! I’m just making sure the reason you’re keeping him secret isn’t because he’s already married to a very powerful and terrifying witch who has it in for the Ministry.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. It was sudden, uncontrolled, and brief. She couldn’t remember if she’d laughed in the last month. She couldn’t remember if she’d laughed at all since Voldemort’s return was finally public. Since she’d had a real conversation with Remus. But it was funny to hear how the Ministry felt about Lily Potter.

“I’m not in love with Potter. Promise.”

“Alright, alright, carry on.”

Proudfoot led her through a garden along the bank of the Thames. On any other day, Tonks might have worried he was trying to make this walk romantic, but she found it so much easier to breathe, now that he knew she wasn’t interested in him. She wished she had tried to talk to him about it all sooner, but they’d danced around the line between friendly and flirty for so long, she hadn’t known how to bring it up. Perhaps an accidental discovery like this was the only way for them to move forward.

“So I always sort of liked him,” she said, “but it was just a silly crush, you know? I dated at school and everything, but, well, I dunno, after I finished at Hogwarts I saw him at a party and I just — it all hit me all over again. My heart got all jittery, and I didn’t want to leave, even when my mum and dad left. I just wanted to keep talking to him. But then there was Auror training, and I was so busy and exhausted all the time —”

“I remember Moody ran you hard.”

“Yes! It was miserable, but worth it… Anyway, this past year, we’ve spent a lot of time together and — I dunno, I thought he finally saw me as an adult, not as his friend’s kid cousin. I thought that maybe he liked me too.” Tonks felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes and she instead latched onto her anger at herself for being so upset. She shouldn’t be reacting this way. Unrequited love hurt, but it was nothing worth crying to a co-worker about.

“I’m sorry.” And Proudfoot sounded like he meant it. There was no relief in his voice that Tonks wasn’t actually taken. There was no hope that because her love was unrequited she might turn her feelings to him. He was just sympathetic.

“When I tried to talk to him about it, he said there was nothing to talk about. It hurt, but I knew I could be alright with it. Even if he did have feelings for me and just wanted to be stubborn and deny it, fine. If he wanted to date someone else, fine. If he was content with his own company, fine. I could make my peace with that. But he….” She sighed and ran a hand through her thin, mousy brown hair, wishing that she could turn it back to her favourite vibrant pink. “It’s just a lot more complicated.”

Proudfoot considered this. He kept his eyes on the road ahead, following the occasional Muggle automobile that passed them along the embankment. His hands were in his pockets, presumably one on his wand, and Tonks hastily shoved her wand hand into her pocket. She’d been using her hands to assist her talking, but she knew Moody would have criticized her for taking her hand off her wand for even a moment.

“What reasons has he given you for not wanting a relationship?” Proudfoot finally asked.

“He says I don’t deserve him because he’s old and… and sick. He thinks I ought to fall in love with some young attractive Auror instead of him — his words, not mine.”

Proudfoot’s face flushed and a grin spread across it. “So he knows me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. But yes, he’s seen you before. He knows we’ve worked together. And it just makes me angry that he thinks he can tell me who I should fall in love with!”

Proudfoot nodded. “Yeah, I see that. Has he admitted that he shares your feelings? It almost sounds like he’s making excuses to avoid hurting your feelings — and failing spectacularly, I might add.”

“I thought that for a bit, but then I talked it over with Sirius, who knows him best. Sirius said he does have feelings for me, that Sirius is sure of it. Sirius seems to think the problem is that Remus doesn’t want to deal with his own feelings and insecurities, so he’s running from them.”

“Oh. This is about Remus Lupin. I see.”

The tone of Proudfoot’s voice turned from as comforting as her mother’s homegrown herbal teas to as cold and icy as a dementor’s chill. Tonks felt her hurt and anger stunned into temporary submission as her brain tried to work out which part of Remus Lupin it was that made Proudfoot so angry. Was it that he finally had a name and a face for Tonks’ love? Was it the werewolf thing?

Tonks did as she did best: tried to brush it off with a joke. “What? Would you be less upset if I’d said it was Emmeline Vance?”

Proudfoot did not see the humor. “I just think what he is matters. You can’t have a serious relationship with someone like that.”

So it was the werewolf. “Glad to have your opinion on it,” she said coolly.

“I just mean that you ought to think about it practically. He certainly is. You can’t live with someone with that kind of condition — it’s dangerous! You know he never registered himself? And imagine what might happen to your children —”

“Merlin’s merchant, Proudfoot, where do you get off talking about me having kids?”

“I’m just looking at it in the long-term. That’s all.”

“And I was so glad to have a friend to talk to about it.” Tonks rolled her eyes, embarrassed by the gratitude she’d felt just moments ago. “You’re unbelievable. Sirius is in love with the man and he’s a better comfort about all of this than you are.”

Without checking for Muggles and without waiting for another poor, insensitive explanation from Proudfoot, Tonks Disapparated, leaving the man she had — until just a moment ago — considered her best friend standing alone on the roadside in London. She Apparated into her mother’s garden, with no care for the mint plant she trod over, and stomped into the house.

Despite the late hour, Andromeda Tonks was still up with a book in her lap, and looked relieved to see Tonks. Her relief turned into concern when she actually took in Tonks’ expression.

“What’s happened?”

“Nothing. It’s fine, Mum,” she grunted, and stomped up the stairs to her bedroom, slamming the door closed.

“Nymphadora!” her mother shrieked, with the same strength and indignation she’d used throughout Tonks’ teenage years.

As another set of footsteps stomped up the stairs behind Tonks, the house seemed to groan with weariness. It had endured hundreds of similar arguments as Tonks had passed through puberty and into adulthood; it was likely to endure a hundred more.

Tonks was barely out of her coat when her mother threw the door open.

“Nymphadora!”

“What, Mum?” She was so tired of every adult treating her like a child, and she wished she knew how to stop herself from responding as if she still were a child.

“You know better than to come barging into this house at ungodly hours making that kind of noise —”

“Because you haven’t just woken half of the neighborhood yourself —”

“Don’t interrupt me! I’ve been up half the night, worried sick about you, and you brush me off like I’m little more than a house-elf —”

“I’m sorry, Mum. I’m tired. It was a long day.” Tonks hung her coat in her wardrobe, simply because her mother was still standing in her doorway and she knew she’d get another scolding if she left it on the floor.

There was a heavier set of footsteps in the hallway, joined by a loud yawn, and her father came stumbling down the hall, dressed in his nightclothes. He joined her mother in the doorway. “Dromeda, Dora, must we do this now?”

“She’s the unreasonable one!” Tonks said, raising her voice more than she meant to, an old habit of an oft-repeated phrase growing up. “Shouting like it’s the end of the world at Merlin knows what hour of the night!”

“I’m the unreasonable one? I’m just asking for the bare minimum — the absolute least you can do is say hello when you come home. Some basic decency is all I ask for in this house.”

“I’ve said I’m sorry, Mum. What else do you want? I’ll remember to send my Patronus earlier next time.”

“You have no idea what it’s like, waiting up with worry while you’re only child is off fighting who-knows-what and who-knows-who and —”

“Yeah, and I ‘spect I never will. I was at Azkaban half the day, and I’ve got to be at Hogwarts in the morning, and I’d like to get just an hour of good sleep in, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Ah,” Ted Tonks said, and stifled another yawn. “There it is. Did you have another run-in with Lupin?”

“No! Dad — just go back to bed.” Her cheeks flushed, and had she been thirteen instead of twenty three, her hair would have burned bright red with embarrassment.

“Are you really still interested in him, Nymphadora?” asked Andromeda. “It’s been nearly six months since you’ve even spoken to him.”

Tonks rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mum, I’m aware. You say it like I can help it.”

“Oh, please. You are not the protagonist of some Russian novel who can stand around waiting for him to reform bad habits and realize he’s been in love with you all this time. You cannot mope about —”

“I’m not moping!”

“Then change your hair. Fix your nose. As much as I love seeing my face on my daughter for once, I miss seeing your father’s. You’ve let this man take a wonderful gift from you, and it’s growing ridiculous.”

“Dromeda,” Ted said, and put his arm around his wife, “don’t pretend you were any less romantic about love when you were her age. I recall several impassioned speeches about what you thought of your family’s philosophy, and how you didn’t care what it cost you, you would have me no matter what.”

Andromeda’s face grew red. “That was different! We had each other — and we had a plan —”

“It’s not the same, but it’s not that different,” Ted said. “Come on, let’s get to bed before any of us say something we’ll regret in the morning. Will you be home tomorrow night, Dora?”

Tonks, still furious with her mother shook her head. “No. I’m at Hogwarts this weekend. I expect I’ll be home on Monday.”

Andromeda’s face was shrewd. “Why not come home tomorrow night? London’s no closer to Hogwarts than we are.”

“Let it go, Dromeda,” Ted said. “She’s an adult, and if she wants to keep throwing herself at this, that’s her choice.”

Andromeda did not look like she was going to let it go. “This conversation isn’t over, Nymphadora.”

Tonks rolled her eyes. “Brilliant. Can’t wait until we pick it up again.” She considered never coming home again, but the last thing she needed was her mother pounding on the Potters’ or Weasleys’ doors, demanding to know where she was and how to get to the Order’s headquarters in London. As her bedroom door closed, and she was finally alone, she reminded herself that her parents were simply looking out for her. Her mother cared, as difficult as that could be to see. Tonks tried, as she tried every night in the middle of this war, to count the things she was grateful for, and having two living parents who loved her was at the top of the list.

—————————— ✶✶✶ ——————————

At the bottom of Tonks’ list of things to be grateful for was the weather. Though she’d been glad to have the dementors out of Azkaban just yesterday, she was already wishing them back. Hogwarts was bitterly cold, and it wasn’t even November.

Tonks doubled her scarf around her face to shield herself from the biting cold atop the Astronomy Tower. She leaned over the edge of the parapets and watched the students file out, all successfully passing Filch’s Secrecy Sensor. She thought about how many times she’d tricked Filch during her time as a student, and wondered if his Secrecy Sensor was as reliable as he’d insisted.

Tonks watched until she saw a group of four wrapped in Gryffindor scarves — one with short, messy dark hair, another with long untidy red hair, someone with dusty blonde hair, and someone with long, thick, curly hair — set out from the castle to brave the icy cold wind that blew down the path to Hogsmeade. Tonks was, as her Auror assignment said, guarding Hogwarts in Dumbledore’s absence. But more than that, she was guarding Harry.

And she’d expected him to head out into Hogsmeade, which is why she was up here on the Astronomy Tower, watching to make sure he’d gone, though she’d been hoping he wouldn’t bother to brave the weather. With a disappointed sigh and a curse on courageous Gryffindors, Tonks cast a simple Disillusionment Charm on herself and mounted her Comet Two Sixty. She wasn’t used to having to resort to spells for Disguise, but she’d gained a lot of practice these last few months.

Her gift hadn’t vanished right away. It had been slow, like exhaustion creeping in as the day grew longer. At first, she’d thought it simply was exhaustion. Changing her appearance became like stretching an over-extended muscle. It hurt, and she could do it, but not for long. Then the things she did without a second thought seemed to take all of her concentration. Her hair, her eyes, her nose, her jaw — the things about her that mirrored her mother that she had spent her whole life disguising, first out of spite and then out of habit — all relaxed into their natural shape. Until one morning, she found she was unable to shrink her nose or soften her cheekbones. She could not grow her nails into claws or turn her hair from brown to pink.

She’d thought it was the war that had worn her out, but when she had seen Remus after his transformation last July, she had known exactly why she was so tired, so exhausted. The war was something she had trained for, and she’d been trained well for it by Mad-Eye Moody. Falling in love with someone who repeatedly tormented himself — not just on the full moon but on each night of his life — had never been something she’d prepared for.

Tonks landed her broom just outside the Three Broomsticks and tucked it away in a shed behind Rosmerta’s pub. She’d retrieve it later.

For now, Tonks walked the streets of Hogsmeade. She was familiar with its layout, having visited enough times as a student. It wasn’t particularly crowded, with how terrible the weather was. Still, she found it strange to watch the clusters of students hurry from shop to shop. It wasn’t too long ago that she had been one of them, and yet it felt like a lifetime ago. The only students she could possibly know were the seventh years, who had only been bitty firsties when she’d been in her final year. She didn’t think she’d recognize any names.

The students she did know — Harry, Hermione, Neville, and the Weasleys — were nowhere to be seen. Tonks tried to think of where Harry might go. She knew he’d been to the Hog’s Head before, but from what she understood it had been a special occasion. She wondered if he was continuing Dumbledore’s Army now that Umbridge had been deposed, if he’d decided it was still necessary with Snape in charge of Defense.

Tonks wandered the path down to the Hog’s Head, but it didn’t seem like any students were particularly interested in braving the long walk to the edge of town, away from the warm, inviting shops. When Tonks did open the door to the Hog’s Head, she was greeted by the smell of animal dung and an unwelcoming grunt from the barkeep. The place itself was empty.

“Wotcher, Aberforth,” she said as she approached the counter.

Aberforth half-growled. “Don’t have time for your funny business, Nymphadora.”

Tonks wished she felt anything like funny business. With the loss of Proudfoot, Aberforth was the last person left in her life she could joke around with. “I’ve outgrown all that,” she said with a shrug. “Just checkin’ to make sure you aren’t serving Firewhiskey to firsties.”

“Not unless they’re as wrinkled as shrivelfigs. Or if you’ve got another student that can make their face look as weathered as mine.”

“Just me, far’s I know. Any interesting shrivelfigs come through?”

“In this weather?” Aberforth stroked his beard. “‘Dung came in here, tried to sell me something. I gave him a firm reminder he was banned. Are you going to buy something or did you just come to annoy me?”

A drink sounded tempting. “Sorry, but I’m working. Maybe tonight.”

“Butterbeer for the road, then?”

Tonks could not resist something warm in this terrible weather. As grumpy as he was, Aberforth was an excellent salesman. Or maybe he was just trying to unload his dusty collection of butterbeers on unsuspecting Aurors. Tonks’ lips curled back in disgust as he handed her the glass bottle coated in a quarter inch of muck, as if he’d unearthed it from the floor.

“Cheers,” she said, and tucked the glass bottle into her coat. At least it was warm.

She left Aberforth, cheered by the interaction. She’d once made the mistake of impersonating Dumbledore in her third year in order to get herself a drink at the Hog’s Head. It had gone terribly, but how was she to know that the barkeep was the Headmaster’s estranged brother? Aberforth had promised not to tell the school what she’d done as long as she promised not to let everyone know who he was. It had been a fine arrangement, one Tonks had leaned on and abused to get the occasional free drink in her later years.

As Tonks headed back to the shops in the center of Hogsmeade, she wished she’d spent time practicing warming charms instead of Disillusionment Charms. The wind was picking up, and she was pretty sure there was a storm coming.

She caught sight of Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hermione exiting Zonko’s and hurrying across the street towards the Three Broomsticks. They didn’t seem to notice her, which she was grateful for, though disappointed they’d chosen the Three Broomsticks. She couldn’t very well go in and have Harry recognize her, but she did very much want to get warm.

She ducked into Gladrags. Though most of the window was plastered with Death Eater wanted posters, there was a space in the corner where she had a good view of the Three Broomsticks. Tonks settled into the corner and when the shop owner asked her to buy something or leave, she simply flashed her Auror badge. He ignored her after that.

Harry and his friends stayed in the Three Broomsticks just long enough to enjoy a nice, warm butterbeer before heading back into the cold. She waited until they’d passed by Gladrags before heading out into the cold herself. The butterbeer in her pocket wasn’t especially warm anymore, and she pulled her coat closer to stave off the bite of the windchill.

She squinted up at the castle, and wondered if she ought to take her broom back. The wind was picking up, and she didn’t have any desire for her Comet to get caught in a gale and have the both of them into the Whomping Willow. She also had no desire to walk into the wind. In the end, Tonks chose the lesser of two evils. She pulled her collar tight and trudged up the path towards the castle. She had barely crested the first hill and taken in the vision of the Black Lake, with white caps on its traditionally mirror-smooth waters, when a blood-curdling scream cut through the air.

Tonks bolted into a run. The glass bottle in her coat pocket swung like a pendulum as she hurried towards the sound, wand out, eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of distress. The scream continued, even as she ran, and as she mounted the ridge where she had last seen Harry, she saw a young girl, hovering six feet in the air just at the end of the bridge that crossed the Black Lake, screaming with all her might as the wind whipped around her. Tonks had barely taken two more steps when the girl collapsed to the ground in a heap. Five students clustered around her. Tonks saw the one she thought was Harry run towards Hagrid’s hut. That was good; Tonks was still far enough away that Harry might reach Hagrid first.

Tonks searched for more strength to put into her sprint, but it felt like no matter how hard she tried, she could not run fast enough. Then, as her feet left the well-worn path and hit the hard, stone bridge, she tripped and sprawled onto the ground. She heard the glass in her coat pocket shatter, and the left side of her chest grew wet and warm. She did not even stop to consider the sensation; she only cursed her clumsiness and picked herself back up.

When she finally reached the end of the bridge, she skidded to the young girl’s side, this time intentionally slamming her knees into the bridge. Hagrid and Harry were just steps away.

“Get back,” Hagrid shouted at the students as Tonks ran her wand over the girl on the ground.

The girl was still screaming and writhing in pain. Tonks hated these kinds of curses, the ones you could neither see nor defend yourself against. She was not very good at treating them, either. Snape was better. And Hagrid was faster.

“Get her to Madam Pomfrey,” she said, though Hagrid had knelt down to scoop her up as soon as Tonks pulled her wand away. “And get Snape!” she added as he ran off with the still-screaming girl in his arms.

“Is anyone else hurt?” Tonks looked at the five students — Harry, Ron, Neville, Hermione, and a girl she’d never met.

They all shook their heads.

“Did someone attack her? What happened?”

The girl Tonks did not know pointed at some brown wrappings on the ground. “It — it was when that package tore,” she sobbed.

The wrappings were nearly soaked through, and as the wind whipped the loose edges around, Tonks saw something glittering underneath.

Ron knelt down and reached for the package.

“Don’t —” A jinx shot from the end of Tonks’ wand and knocked Ron backwards. She hadn’t meant to use the Knockback Jinx, but she’d been so determined to keep Ron away from whatever was in that package, she’d reacted without thinking.

Harry knelt next and, before she could even open her mouth, said, “I’m not going to touch it!” Instead he reached for the wrapping, and pulled it back to reveal a stunning opal necklace, glittering with iridescent greens and blues and whites.

“I’ve seen that before,” Hermione gasped. “Or one just like it. It was on display in Borgin and Burkes this summer. The label said it was cursed. Katie must’ve touched it.”

“Where’d your friend get this necklace?” Tonks looked at the group of students. They all looked at the girl.

“That’s why we were arguing.” The girl started to shake, and Hermione put an arm around her. “She came back from the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks holding it, said it was a surprise for someone at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it…. Oh! Oh no — she must have been Imperiused and I didn’t realize!”

“She didn’t say who’d given it to her, Leanne?” Hermione asked.

“No —” Leanne hiccuped on another sob. “She wouldn’t tell me. I said she — I said she was being stupid and not to take it up to the school, but she wouldn’t listen, and then I tried to grab it from her and —” Leanne let out another heaving sob and buried her face into her hands.

Tonks appreciated how calm Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Harry were as Hermione patted Leanne’s shoulder, and how carefully Harry and Neville examined the necklace. They had what it took to be Aurors, or maybe they’d just been through enough to make them that way.

Tonks took off her wet cloak and tossed it to Ron. The warm butterbeer had quickly grown cold, and Tonks thought she’d be better off with no cloak than a cold one. “Wrap it in this. Do not touch it — do you understand?”

Ron nodded solemnly and used her cloak to scoop up the necklace. “Why is it sticky?”

“Hippogriff piss,” Tonks said, and didn’t feel any urge to even smile at her own humor. “I need you to run on ahead and get that to Snape. It’ll help him treat Katie.”

Ron, though he looked pale, did not ask questions. He did as Tonks said and hurried on ahead.

“Come on,” Tonks said to the rest of them. “Let’s get out of this wind and get somewhere warm.”

Hermione kept her arm around Leanne’s shoulder as they walked up to the castle. Harry fell into step beside Tonks.

“Do you think Katie will be alright?” Harry asked as they trudged into the wind.

“I don’t know,” Tonks answered honestly. “You lot were in the Three Broomsticks just now, weren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me everyone who was in the Three Broomsticks.”

Harry frowned. “I dunno — Ron, Neville, Hermione, and me. A Slytherin from our class. A couple of warlocks… Katie and Leanne…. I dunno who else. It was kind of full with the weather so bad.”

“I thought Mad-Eye would’ve taught you better.”

“What do you mean?”

Had Tonks been her usual self, she would have scrunched up her face into her wizened mentor’s shape. As it was, she simply mimicked his voice. “Constant vigilance!”

Harry looked appropriately reprimanded. “I didn’t think about it in Hogsmeade. It’s so close to Hogwarts, I thought it was — I don’t know, safe?”

“Doesn’t matter where you are. How many times have you been attacked in places you’ve felt safe?”

Harry didn’t answer, and Tonks didn’t need him to. She could tell from his face it was a mistake he wouldn’t make again.

“I think it was Draco Malfoy,” he said suddenly.

Tonks raised an eyebrow at him. “You sound certain.”

“He saw the necklace in Borgin and Burkes this summer,” Harry said. “Remember I told you we tailed him?”

“You didn’t tell me he purchased something. You told me he bullied Borgin into repairing something for him.”

“Right but — he could’ve purchased it. Or he could’ve gone back and purchased it.”

“Did you see Malfoy in the Three Broomsticks?”

“No, but there were a lot of people there.”

“And you think a lot of people would not have noticed a young man in a Hogwarts uniform slip into the girls’ bathroom?”

Harry considered this. “Leanne didn’t say Katie got it in the bathroom, just on her way back from the bathroom.”

“Alright, that’s a fair point, but I’ve got one more question.”

“Okay.”

“Katie — she looked like she’s a sixth or seventh year?”

“Seventh.”

“She a good duelist?”

“Yeah. She was in the D.A. She’s on the Quidditch team, too, ever since she was in second year. Good reflexes.”

“You think if Malfoy so much as approached her in the girls’ bathroom or anywhere in the Three Broomsticks with his wand out she wouldn’t Stun him or even shout?”

Harry didn’t answer, as they climbed the steps into Hogwarts. Filch growled at them and waved his Secrecy Sensor, but McGonagall came running down the stairs and waved him away.

“Let them in, Filch,” she said. “My office, all of you.”

Tonks could not help but feel like a student again as she trooped into McGonagall’s office. Ron was already there, with Tonks’ wet and sticky coat draped over the back of a chair. The necklace was nowhere to be seen.

“Well!” McGonagall said, and shut her office door firmly behind her. “Hagrid says you are the ones who saw what happened. Mr Weasley, I hope you’ve caught your breath enough to tell us what’s happened.”

“Leanne’s the one who saw it all,” Ron said. He still sounded short of breath, and Tonks was proud of him for putting in so much effort.

Leanne, between sobs and hiccups, was able to tell McGonagall what she had told Tonks: Katie had entered the bathroom at the Three Broomsticks and come out with a strange parcel and acting very odd, and they’d argue over delivering the strange package, until they’d torn the package in their argument. At this point, Leanne became inconsolable, and neither McGonagall’s stern demands nor Hermione’s gentle coaxing could convince her to finish her story.

“Go up to the hospital wing, then, Leanne,” said McGonagall in a kinder voice than Tonks had ever heard from her, “and have Madam Pomfrey give you something for shock.”

Leanne rubbed her eyes and obediently left the office.

“What happened when Katie touched the necklace?” McGonagall asked. She was looking to Tonks for answers, but Tonks did not have any. She looked at Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Neville.

It was Harry who hurried to answer. “She rose up in the air,” he said, “and then began to scream, and collapsed. Professor, can I see Professor Dumbledore please?”

McGonagall frowned, clearly uninterested in this change in topic. “The headmaster is away until Monday, Potter.”

“Away?”

“Yes, Potter, away. But I assure you, we are in quite capable hands regardless. Now, is there anything else you have to say about today’s incident? I believe I am most needed in the hospital wing.”

“That’s about it, Professor,” said Tonks. “I’ll see these four back to their common room.”

“Thank you,” McGonagall hurried out of the office without another word. Tonks could see Harry burning with frustration, but she ignored it, instead looking at the Quidditch Cup sitting on a shelf in McGonagall’s office. She felt bitter at seeing it here, especially after so many years of Charlie Weasley crushing her team in Quidditch.

“Who do you reckon Katie was supposed to give the necklace to?” Ron asked as he handed Tonks her cloak.

Tonks shook her head. “I doubt we’ll know unless Katie can tell us.”

“Whoever it was has had a narrow escape,” said Hermione. “No one could have opened that package without touching the necklace.”

Tonks led the four Gryffindors out of McGonagall’s office and towards the stairs to Gryffindor tower.

“It could’ve been meant for loads of people,” said Harry. “Dumbledore — the Death Eaters would love to get rid of him. Or Slughorn — Dumbledore reckons Voldemort really wanted him and they can’t be pleased that he’s sided with Dumbledore. Or —”

“Or you,” Neville whispered.

Tonks raised an eyebrow, prepared to comfort Harry, but Harry only shrugged.

“Couldn’t have been, or Katie would’ve just turned around in the lane and given it to me, wouldn’t she? I was behind her all the way out of the Three Broomsticks. It would have made much more sense to deliver the parcel outside Hogwarts, what with Filch searching everyone who goes in and out. I wonder why Malfoy told her to take it into the castle?”

Tonks sighed. “Harry, the Malfoys have been searched as thoroughly as anyone has ever been searched. And I find it far more likely that a woman cursed Katie with the Imperius Curse and had her deliver the parcel.”

“He could’ve asked Pansy Parkinson,” Harry said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Pansy couldn’t curse a toad to sing.”

“Whoever it was,” Ron said as they arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, “wasn’t very slick, were they? The necklace didn’t even make it into the castle. Not what you’d call foolproof.”

“You’re right,” Hermione agreed. “It wasn’t very well thought out at all.”

Tonks examined each of the brave Gryffindors and considered her own Auror training. They all had the temperament for it, if nothing else. And they were asking all the right questions, the ones she’d been asking herself since she’d seen what had happened.

“What was it about the plan that went so wrong?” she asked them, curious to hear what they’d noticed.

“Even if Leanne hadn’t thought it strange, Filch would’ve caught the necklace with his Secrecy Sensor when they walked in,” said Neville.

“And no one’s really traveling alone these days,” said Hermione. “Someone like Leanne being suspicious was practically guaranteed.”

“Anyone could have opened the package,” said Ron. “Or like what happened — it opened accidentally and Katie got cursed.”

“The possibility for collateral damage was high, and the chance of success slim,” Tonks agreed. “So what does that tell us about the culprit?”

“Someone not very bright,” said Harry, “like Malfoy.”

Three pairs of eyes rolled in unison. Tonks sighed and shook her head.

“Not necessarily. What happened to Katie requires a certain level of skill. And brilliant people can make foolish mistakes. But it does tell us she’s definitely inexperienced. You four thought quickly today and reacted coolly in a stressful situation. That’s something to be proud of. Stay vigilant, alright?”

They each nodded and Hermione said, “Dilligrout.” The Fat Lady’s portrait swung open. Ron helped Hermione inside, then followed. Neville scrambled over the large step into the common room. Harry, though, hesitated.

Tonks thought he was going to give another argument for why Draco Malfoy had been the one to curse Katie, but instead he said, “How long are you staying at Hogwarts for?”

“As long as I can be useful. Mad-Eye should be here ‘round supper time. He might be a better help for Katie, but I’ll do what I can.”

“Are you… Are you going to see my parents at all tomorrow?”

Tonks wished she had control over her Metamorphmagus ability if only so she could hide the blush creeping up her neck. “I’m supposed to spend the night with your mother, actually. I hope she won’t worry too much if I’m late.”

“Oh — does that mean… does that mean he’s coming home tonight?”

“As far as I know, he’s planning to, yes.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, I hope so.”

“I’m glad someone can keep Mum company, too.”

“I’m happy to do it. Your Mum’s cool. You’re lucky, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Go on, before your friends worry that you’re having a tryst with a mature, older woman.”

Harry pantomimed searching high and low, and even peered around the Fat Lady’s portrait. “Huh. I don’t see one around.”

Tonks stuck her tongue out at him and playfully shoved him into the short tunnel into the Gryffindor common room.

—————————— ✶✶✶ ——————————

That night, when Mad-Eye relieved Tonks of her duty, she trudged back down the path to Hogsmeade. The wind had died down, but it was still bitterly cold, and she didn’t have a cloak. She had her butterbeer soaked cloak draped over one arm, and the only thing really protecting her from the cold was the knit scarf around her neck.

Though Tonks would have loved to stop in the Three Broomsticks for a proper warm butterbeer, to make up for the broken, dirty one, but she was expected at the Potters’ Hogsmeade cottage, and she didn’t dare delay any more than she already had filling Moody in on the events at Hogwarts.

Remus Lupin had not come home for the full moon at the end of August, but he had returned for September, of his own accord. Lily had said he was reluctant and sullen about it, but regardless, he’d finally come home.

Unfortunately, all of that bitterness and irritation that Remus brought home with him carried over into the full moon. It wasn’t just that he’d surprised Lily by showing up on their fireplace hearth an hour before sunset, asking if it was alright to stay the night. It wasn’t just that Lily had needed to put together a half-dozen potions on little notice. Whatever it was that Remus carried with him into the full moon had nearly ripped both him and James to shreds, and Lily, with the help of the Potters’ house-elves, had barely managed to keep the two of them alive.

So this month, she’d asked Tonks to help.

When Tonks reached the cottage, she knocked, and was surprised when one of the Potter house-elves answered. Tonks hadn’t really been properly introduced to them, but she thought this one was called Picksie.

“Miss Tonks!” the house-elf squeaked. “A moment —” The small elf squeezed her large, purple eyes closed and snapped her fingers. There was a blue spark, and Tonks felt a shock run from her head to her toes. She jumped back, startled, and fumbled for her wand.

The elf, however, opened her eyes and smiled. “It is you! Come in, come in.” She stepped aside and motioned for Tonks to enter. “Picksie has been practicing, detecting Polyjuices and hidden curses! But you is you, so come in, come in!”

Tonks could not help but smile as she walked in. Picksie’s pride in her success was contagious. “Impressive. House-elves might make better guards than trolls if they practice as hard as you.”

Tonks was not certain whether house-elves could blush — the only one she’d had any real interaction with had been Kreacher — but she thought that Picksie was glowing with pride.

“Thank you, Miss Tonks! You is very kind. Mistress Potter is in the kitchen, finishing a potion.”

Tonks let Picksie show her the way. She’d never actually been to the Potters’ cottage. She knew James had purchased it to be closer to Lily during her brief stint as a Hogwarts professor, but she wasn’t sure why they’d held onto it all these years. It certainly came in handy on a night like tonight, when their house was occupied by a bloodthirsty werewolf, and the Order’s headquarters were little more than a way-station for overworked Aurors these days. The life that had returned to Grimmauld Place when the Order had needed a London base had all but vanished after the Ministry was no longer the primary battle ground. Even Regulus wasn’t around as much. Tonks had heard he was on a special mission for Dumbledore, separate from the Order’s task, but she couldn’t recall who had said it to her.

Tonks didn’t find this cottage much more homely than Grimmauld Place as she looked around. The fireplace was empty, and the furniture was covered. It was clear that the Potters didn’t spend much time here.

The kitchen Picksie led her to was smaller than Styncon Garden’s, which said a lot, considering that their kitchen there was not especially large, not compared with homes like Grimmauld Place or the Burrow. There was enough room for a woodstove and a hand-pump sink. It seemed that James hadn’t been looking for grandeur or comfort when he’d bought the house. He’d only been looking for somewhere close to Lily.

Lily stood over the wood fire, waving her wand over a cauldron. Picksie waited in the doorway until Lily had finished her spell and used her wand to siphon the potion into a bottle before announcing Tonks.

“Mistress Potter — Miss Tonks is arrived. Picksie is doing the checking of her myself. Miss Tonks is who Miss Tonks says.”

Lily smiled. “Thank you, Picksie. I don’t know what I’d do without your help. Tonks can help me with the last of the Blood-Replenishing Potions. Why don’t you check on Mellie and get some rest?”

Picksie bowed and disappeared with a pop.

“Is Mellie alright?” Tonks asked.

“She’s old, and more and more tired these days…. But we all are, so maybe it’s nothing.” Lily corked the bottle of thick red liquid and set it into a box. “One more should do the trick. I wish I could brew these in advance, but they only last about forty-two hours, and I never know how much I’ll need.”

“Depends on his mood, doesn’t it? How was he tonight?”

“Better with Sirius gone, I think.” Lily rubbed her eyes and leaned against the sink. “You haven’t heard from Sirius or Emmeline, have you?”

“I read his report about two weeks ago. It seemed like they had a lead.”

“I’m just worried that she threw herself back into the field too soon after her recovery… and for Sirius to take a mission that would take him so far from us for so long….”

Tonks worried, too. But she had a feeling Sirius had run to give Remus less excuses. The last thing he’d said to her in July had been, “Whatever I’ve been doing to help him hasn’t worked in all the years I’ve known him. Maybe I’ve mucked up too many times to make it right. I don’t know….”

Lily stared at the fire as it slowly burned itself out. The dim, flickering light danced in her green eyes, and it made it hard for Tonks to tell if she was near tears or not. “If Sirius isn’t back next month, he’ll miss Harry’s Quidditch game.”

“No one ever said any of this would be easy,” said Tonks.

“No, but I don’t understand why Remus has to make it harder on everyone.” Lily shook her head. “Sorry — I know that isn’t fair to say. I just….”

Tonks knew what she meant, though. They couldn’t blame Remus for going through something difficult, any more than Tonks could blame herself for not being able to use her Metamorphmagus ability. They each had their own boggarts to confront, and all of it happening in the middle of a war only made things more difficult on everyone.

So Tonks didn’t press Lily to explain. She simply began to help clean up the cauldron Lily had abandoned on the fire. She wasn’t the best at cleaning, and she fumbled each time Lily handed her a glass vial, but Tonks did her best to help Lily prepare another bottle of Blood-Replenishing Potion. Lily didn’t seem interested in talking while they worked, and that was okay. Tonks focused herself on the task at hand, making sure not to break anything or accidentally drop anything into the potion. She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d passed Potions at N.E.W.T. level with her consistent clumsiness, other than through sheer determination to become an Auror.

When the potion was safely sealed and labeled, Tonks put it in the box with the others. There was one potion glowing light blue — a fresh batch of Burning Bitterroot Balm, she guessed — and the rest were red potions with dates and times scrawled on them, going back to noon yesterday.

Lily made them a quick cup of tea, using her wand to heat the water instantly. Tonks took a moment to be in awe of Lily, who seemed a master of the house-keeping charms that had eluded Tonks, Potions, which had always been a challenge, and dueling, which was the only thing Tonks had ever shown a talent for. Tonks had spent her life mastering one thing and working hard to be passable at others; Lily seemed to have it all under control. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d told Harry his mum was cool.

“Thanks again for helping me.” Lily led Tonks back into the sitting room and pulled a cover off of the sofa so that they could sit. “It’s nice not to sit up alone, praying everyone’s alright.”

Tonks carried the warm mugs, and was careful not to spill as she handed one to Lily. “I think you’re doing me a favour just as much. It’s nice to know that I can do a little something for him, even if it isn’t a lot, even if he won’t talk to me.”

Lily used her wand to light the fireplace, then curled herself up into the corner of the sofa, hands wrapped tightly around her mug. “I can’t understand it, really. But I’ve never been good at understanding Remus.”

“I thought you two were close.”

“Close, yes — we tell each other almost everything. We spent a lot of time together as prefects. I almost made him my chief bridesmaid,” she laughed, “but I don’t understand him. I was rather harsh with him last July.” Lily blew on her tea and took a sip. Her gaze was not on Tonks as she spoke; she seemed to be staring at something much farther away.

“I didn’t know about his condition until our seventh year. I’d always assumed he understood what I was going through because he had a Muggle mother. I’d never dreamed it was because he knew better than I did what it was to be persecuted by wizards. But I always fought to prove myself. I was loud, angry, and maybe not willing to hex someone who mocked me, but I’d certainly outshine them in class. Remus was always quiet, secretive, and avoided people as much as he could. If he hadn’t been roommates with Sirius and James, or at least with people like them, I don’t know that he would’ve ever made friends.”

“It’s a bit different, though, isn’t it?” said Tonks. She flinched as she took a sip of tea and found it still too hot. “I just mean — being Muggle-born. You had ten years at least of a normal life.”

“I suppose. Though I always knew I was a witch. I had… a friend who was a wizard, who knew all about Hogwarts. But he never — well, while we were children — he never did treat me differently because I was Muggle-born. I suppose Remus never knew anything like that, not until he met James and Sirius. But we’ve all been friends for twenty-five years now. And I know what he goes through isn’t easy, but I’m so tired of him tearing himself up over it. I don’t know how to make him understand that we love him, not despite what he is but including what he is.” Lily closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the sofa.

Tonks ran her thumb along the edge of her mug. She took a moment to let the steam warm her face before blowing on her tea and taking a sip. It didn’t hurt so badly as her first sip, but maybe she’d just burned the feeling out of her tongue. “Sirius says he’s just using the werewolf bit as an excuse so he doesn’t have to deal with his feelings.”

Lily hummed in agreement. “I’m sure that’s part of it. James described you as a catalyst, and I think that’s the best way to put it.”

“I don’t want to be anything — I just want to be me. And part of being me is loving him. But that part of me is making it harder to be myself, to be the person I know that I am.” Tonks bit down on her lip, realizing her words were heading dangerously close to thoughts she had been trying so desperately to avoid.

“Love changes us.” Lily’s smile was fond and distant. “You should’ve seen the way it changed James. I changed, too. James made me learn patience and humility, two things I’d never bothered with before. The love that makes you better is the one you want to keep around.”

Tonks was not sure she had changed for the better, at least not in these last six months. She liked spending time with Remus. She thought he made her more empathetic, more considerate, and more careful. Lately, though, she wasn’t happy with the ways she’d changed. She didn’t joke the way she used to, and she knew the loss of her Metamorphmagus abilities was an unfortunate effect. She supposed those losses weren’t because of her relationship with Remus, but because of how he had shut her out.

“What do you do when parts of him are good for you and other parts aren’t?”

Lily was quiet. Tonks wondered if she’d fallen asleep, and her question had gone unheard. She thought if she closed her eyes for even a moment, she might slip away too.

But then Lily said, “I think that’s why relationships are hard work.”

Tonks added emotional wisdom to the list of things Lily excelled at.

Tonks watched the fire as it slowly burnt out, intent on keeping a vigil all night, but at some point, Lily was shaking her shoulder gently. Tonks looked out of the window to find gray daylight creeping in. She stretched and groaned, stiff and sore from sitting on the sofa for so long. It was a familiar feeling after a life full of naps in odd places.

“Time to go already?”

“Just about.” Lily’s eyes were rimmed red and puffy. Her long red hair was a tangled mess. Tonks decided that she had no interest in looking at her own reflection.

They gathered up the potions and the house-elves. Tonks belatedly remembered her broom was still tucked away in Madam Rosmerta’s shed, but there would not be time to grab it. There was no telling what state Remus and James would be in. She just had to hope it would go unnoticed a bit longer.

Picksie, as a house-elf, had the ability to Apparate into Styncon Garden, and Tonks found it incredibly convenient, having made several uncomfortable Floo trips herself. She disliked traveling by Floo. She was always nervous that she would step into the wrong sitting room. Apparating was far more efficient.

Picksie’s ability also allowed her to Apparate around the grounds of Styncon Garden, which meant they did not have to waste time looking for James and Remus. Picksie was able to check the grounds quickly and return them to the kitchen for Tonks and Lily to treat immediately. With a pop, the house-elf was gone, and with another, she had returned to the kitchen with two very beat up and bloodied men.

As they had discussed beforehand, Lily prioritized the bite marks in James, and Tonks was to heal as many of Remus’s injuries as she could.

What caught her attention first were several punctures in his chest and abdomen that dripped blood. What worried her more than the blood was the way Remus gasped for air. Something, whatever it was that had gored him — Tonks couldn’t imagine what — had probably punctured a lung. Or if it hadn’t, any internal bleeding could be pressing on his lungs and even keeping his heart from beating properly. He may have had both a punctured lung and internal bleeding, judging by the pair of dark purple, heart-shaped bruises on Remus’s chest. Quickly, Tonks ran her wand over Remus’s abdomen, focused first on repairing the deepest of his wounds. Blue light pulsed at the tip of her wand, and she concentrated on that combination of Charms and Transfiguration that made up the root of healing magic. Her father’s voice filled her mind, reminding her of the basics of healing injuries. “The body wants to be fixed, and knows what to do; you’re just helping it along,” he had always said.

She did not have a lot of experience with internal wounds, and found it challenging to work on what she could not see, but she trusted in her own skill, and when his breathing was no longer strangled gasps, she dragged her wand over each of his external wounds, drawing blood away from cavities and knitting together open veins.

Once the immediate danger was settled, and she was certain Remus’s heart and lungs were working appropriately, she took an assessment of everything else. He seemed to have several misaligned joints, which Tonks thought odd injuries, but they were easy enough to set straight. There were also several superficial cuts and scrapes that she left alone, and three breaks in one of his legs that she set, but did not heal for fear of overtaxing his body. When she was confident she had done all that she could, she Levitated his body into the sitting room.

The last time Tonks had been to Styncon Garden, the sitting room had served as a make-shift hospital room for Remus and Sirius, and it looked as if it had not changed. Lily had thrown down towels and padding over both the floor and the furniture, then covered the entire room in white sheets.

Tonks gently set Remus down on the sofa and pressed the back of her hand to his cheek. He was cold and clammy. She hurried back into the kitchen, careful to step around Picksie and Lily, who were still at work on James — Tonks glimpsed a deep bite mark in his stomach as Picksie lifted a cloth so Lily could drip dittany over the wound — and dug a Blood-Replenishing Potion out from the box. She hurried back to Remus’s side and woke him just enough to get him to drink. Some of the potion spilled as she uncorked the bottle, staining the white sheets with bright red blooms, but Tonks had not expected to be perfect at this. She hadn’t been doing this for years the way Lily had.

Once Remus had finished the potion, with minimal loss down his chin, Tonks helped him lay back down. His eyes closed and he immediately slipped back into sleep. Not only was the transformation itself taxing, and running around at night exhausting, Tonks had needed to draw on his body’s own stores of energy for the healing. It was likely that he would be asleep for a while.

Tonks turned to help Lily, only to find Picksie lifting James with her own wandless magic and setting him down on a set of cushions not far from the sofa Remus rested on. Lily was two steps behind her, uncorking a Blood-Replenishing Potion. “Tonks, please get me another one,” she said, and Tonks rushed to follow instructions.

By the time Tonks returned with another potion, Lily had already gotten James to drink the first one without spilling a drop. Tonks made sure to uncork the second one before handing it to Lily. She thought she saw tear streaks on Lily’s face, which startled her, but she forgot as James coughed and spluttered.

“Hold him still, please —”

Tonks rushed forward and helped hold James’s shoulders still. She realized she was staring at the scarred half of his face and quickly focused on Lily instead.

“No,” he mumbled, half-awake. “I can’t do another —”

“James, please, you lost so much blood.”

It took a bit more coaxing, but Lily was able to convince James to finish the second bottle. Tonks helped him lay back down and pulled a blanket over him. Lily recorked the bottle and pushed herself back to her feet, but James grabbed her hand.

“Lily —”

She knelt back down and squeezed his hand.

“Lily, I can’t do another full moon. Not with him like this. Not without Sirius.”

“I know,” she said. She brushed some of his dark, messy hair out of his face and tears fell from her cheeks onto his. “We’ll talk to them both. We’ll make it work.”

Tonks looked away, embarrassed to be intruding on this private moment. She did not know what had happened during September’s full moon, but she knew that in July, Sirius had been the one to take the brunt of Remus’s anger, and James had largely been unscathed. She wondered if something had changed between them, or if James had simply become a surrogate for Remus’s anger.

Her eyes caught on something familiar on the mantelpiece. There, tucked among photographs of James and Lily, Remus and Sirius, and Harry, was a wand. Curiosity seized practicality and Tonks crossed the room to examine it more closely. She estimated it was just over ten inches, with a darkly polished handle, and a fine twist to the wood before it tapered off into the end of the wand.

“It’s Remus’s,” Lily said softly.

Tonks turned. Lily was still seated at James’s side, holding his hand, but James appeared to be asleep. Lily wiped her cheeks with the heel of her free hand.

“Remus left it here last May.”

“I thought he broke his wand dueling Bellatrix.”

“Yes, his first wand. He got a new one when Barty Crouch stole his wand a few years ago, the one you’re holding now. He used it for about a year, until Regulus took his old wand back when he killed Barty. It was that one he was using to duel Bellatrix. He never did care for the replacement wand, and hasn’t picked it up since his duel. Says he doesn’t need it when he’s talking to other werewolves.”

“Doesn’t he Apparate?”

“I suppose he doesn’t.”

Tonks set the wand back down carefully beside the jar of Floo powder. Lily extricated her hand from James’s with similar care.

“Watch them for me, will you?” Lily asked. “I’m going to help Picksie take care of the kitchen. I think James left half his blood in the floorboards.”

“Is it always this bad?” Tonks asked.

Lily shook her head. “I think it’s a lot harder, not just because Sirius is gone, and what that means to the both of them but — well, I think simply it is much harder for a deer to manage a wolf than for a dog to manage a wolf.”

Tonks suddenly understood all of Remus’s wounds. She imagined what it must have been like for James, who maintained his reasonable senses during the full moon, to have to corral a wolf in the body of a prey animal, to know he could defend himself but not in any way that might injure Remus too terribly until it was nearly sunrise, and help would be on the way. Tonks could see why he was so desperate to not let another full moon pass in this fashion.

She walked back to Remus’s side and settled herself into the small space between him and James, listening to their steady breathing. Though she knew Remus had passed a violent night, and those violent feelings were still trapped inside of him, he looked peaceful like this. Worn down in the corners of his eyes and in the grey in his hair, and gaunt just hours after a transformation, but peaceful. There was a thin scar that split his lower lip in two, and a striking set of stripes across his nose, but she did not think they made him any less attractive. She’d always been intrigued by her cousin’s best friend, this man who was quiet, respectful, and yet had somehow managed to capture the attention of someone as wild and loud as Sirius Black.

Remus’s breathing changed, and Tonks was pulled from her reverie. She pressed two fingers against Remus’s neck and checked his pulse. It was steady. She let out a sigh of relief, and, just to be sure, took her wand and ran it over his chest again. She saw no sign that anything had torn or open, felt no injury she had not repaired. Her own heartbeat slowed as she realized Remus was alright.

Then his eyes fluttered open and her heart rate picked up once more. They were green like Lily’s though not as striking, and they seemed strangely unfocused. They settled onto Tonks’s eyes and she wondered for a moment what colour they were. Were they her more usual warm brown? Had they settled into her mother’s grey eyes? Were they something else entirely? Something out of her control?

“Well this is a cruel trick,” Remus whispered, and smiled wryly.

Tonks’ mind whirred like a Snitch desperate to be free of a Seeker’s grasp, but she found no answer, no way to interpret the strange words and expression. Remus only made it worse as he reached up and pressed his hand to her cheek.

“I always knew I hated myself but I didn’t think I’d punish myself with a vision of you with his face.”

Before Tonks could protest that she was not a vision and that this was her face, just her unaffected face, Remus pulled her close and kissed her.

He tasted like blood. He smelled like morning dew. She had not expected to feel the raised scar on his lower lip, but she did. For a moment — the briefest of moments — she closed her eyes and allowed herself to believe this was real, and that she wasn’t going to pretend, for his sake, that he truly had been dreaming.

She pulled herself away and swallowed down the tears that swelled in her throat. “You should rest,” she said.

“You won’t be here when I wake up,” he protested.

“No,” she said. “I won’t.”

Despite her honesty, it seemed that the brief attempt at wakefulness was all he had, and he returned to his proper dreams. Tonks wondered if she would continue to feature in them. It was unfortunate she had never mastered Legilimency. There had been a special course for Aurors, but it required the steadiness of a one-track mind. Tonks may have been stubborn enough to succeed at difficult challenges, but focusing on one thing alone was too much for her.

Which is why her mind was still spinning down several different paths, spiraling out of control. Remus had kissed her. He had not thought she was Sirius. He had not thought she was someone else. He had known who she was, and had only noted she looked like a Black, that she looked like Sirius. He had known who she was and he had kissed her.

But he had thought it was a dream. Did it make a difference?

She wondered if that moment was the only one she would ever get.

She wondered if that moment made everything better or worse.

“Everything alright?” Lily asked. “Tonks?”

Tonks still had her wand on Remus’s chest. Though her mind was running at a hundred miles an hour, she had not moved an inch.

“Fine,” she said, though she could feel the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She shoved her wand into her pocket and rubbed her eyes until she did not feel like she was about to break. “He’s alright — I just had a little…. It was nothing.”

“Why don’t you get some rest? You’ve got to go back to Hogwarts soon, don’t you?”

“Twelve on, twelve off,” she sighed. She was supposed to be there by nine in the morning, but Mad-Eye had made her swear not to come back until noon. She’d overworked her shift to make sure Katie was cared for, and he’d made her promise to take her entire break. She checked her watch. It was nearly eight am now. She might have fallen asleep on her feet or curled up under the portrait of Sir Cadogan if she’d had to be at the castle by nine.

“I have a few hours,” she said.

“I made a room ready for you yesterday, just in case.”

“Thanks.”

Lily warned her to skip the fourth step on her way upstairs. Tonks thought remembering on her way up was simple enough. Remembering on her way back down would be harder.

Tonks collapsed into bed, not even positive it was the right bed. She could be in Harry’s bed for all she knew, but she didn’t care. Even her worries over Remus vanished when her head hit the pillow, and she knew nothing but sleep.

When her pocketwatch alarm did finally chirp at her, reminding her it was time to return to Hogwarts, the warm afternoon sun was spilling over the bed. It was warm, and she did not want to leave it for the brisk wind of Hogsmeade. Why did Hogwarts have to be so far north anyway?

But she had a job to do. Tonks pulled herself out of bed with a lot of grunting and groaning and stumbled downstairs. She skipped the fourth step largely by accident, after nearly tripping over the fifth, and returned to the sitting room.

Lily was there, but she had fallen asleep on the floor, not far from where James had been laying. She did not see James, but she noted that the door to James and Lily’s bedroom was open. She was glad James was awake and on his feet. She ought to be polite and say goodbyes, but she didn’t want to disturb any of them.

That, of course, all fell apart when she reached for the Floo Powder and dropped it to the floor. The ceramic bowl crashed into the stone hearth and Tonks swore under her breath. It was easy enough to repair, but the damage had been done. She heard movement behind her, the rustling of sheets. She prayed it was Lily. Her prayers went unheard.

“Tonks?” Remus said in a quiet, groggy voice. It was such a raw tone, and Tonks wished he would repeat her name that way over and over again. That prayer went unheard, too.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

As she scooped Floo into the newly fixed jar, she reminded herself not to turn around. She could not let him see her face. She could not let him realise his mistake.

“I just came to make sure you were alright,” she said. “Sirius and the Potters aren’t the only ones who get to worry about you.”

He was quiet as she replaced the jar of Floo Powder on the mantle. She told herself not to turn around. She told herself to throw the powder in and just go. He was alright, he was awake, and she did not need him to know that he had really kissed her. It would only hurt him.

“You shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t what? Shouldn’t be here?”

“You shouldn’t care.” It was such a vulnerable whisper, Tonks wondered if he still thought he was dreaming.

“But I do,” she said, with as much of her own vulnerability as she could muster.

“Well don’t,” he snapped.

Remus was the most reasonable and empathetic person Tonks had ever met, but in this one thing he was proving to be so unreasonably stubborn. She couldn’t understand how he could tell her to simply stop caring, when surely he, of all people, knew how little control you had over who you fell in love with.

She turned around, and it brought her no joy to see his tired, defeated face slacken into shock then twist into horror as he saw the proud Black family cheekbones and her strong jawline, so like Sirius’s. She knew the horror was not at how she looked but at the realisation of what he’d done.

“Fine,” she said. “If you don’t want to talk like adults, we won’t talk like adults. When you’ve decided that you’re ready to be friends again, and actually talk to me like another human being, let me know.” Tonks threw the Floo Powder into the fireplace and stepped through the green flames into the Potters’ cottage in Hogsmeade. She let the cold, brisk wind dry her tears as she continued her solitary walk back up to Hogwarts castle.

[ocean-park-avenue]

Tom Hiddleston X Reader: Your Solace

Relationship: F/M

Words: 1581

Tags: Injuries, gore-ish, Angst

Originals found on my AO3 account: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18797740

Summary: Something goes wrong at the Endgame premier in LA.

The loud cheering of the crowd echoed of the lit streets of Los Angeles. Black and white limousines pulled up against the curb. The driver of each opened the black door to reveal each stunning celebrity that was dressed in the finest of fashion and elegance.

You sighed.

So far, almost the entire cast of Endgame was on the red carpet now. You spotted Chris Evans and Anthony Mackie laughing along with a cute blonde reporter. You also spotted Tom Holland and Benedict Cumberbatch having a casual interview with a reporter from Entertainment Tonight.

All this commotion and still, you had not seen Tom Hiddleston once.

You sighed again, deeply.

A small hand slapped your back, causing you to bump into the metal bars that separated the common public from the busy celebrities on the other side of the road.

“Oops— sorry!”

You glared at your friend Tamara. “You didn’t have to slap me to get my attention.”

“Well, it’s really loud. So, it was the best way to not cause a scene,” she replied sheepishly.

You just chuckled and went back to facing the red carpet. “Yeah, whatever.”

More limousines pulled up to the street side. You could see Pom Klementieff, Evangeline Lilly, and Jon Favreau step out of each of their vehicles and wave to the adoring crowd.

“Still don’t see Hiddleston?” Tamara asked as she leaned on the metal rail with you.

“Nope.”

“I’m sure he’ll show. I think he tweeted that he was coming. I’m not sure though.”

“Oh, no. It’s fine if he doesn’t show. I can still admire Sebastian from here.”

Tamara giggled. “Yeah, but I specifically bought these tickets so you could meet him . Though, your not wrong about Stan. That navy suit works for him.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” You waved your hand dismissively. “If the universe doesn’t what me to meet my idol, it’s fine.” You focused your eyes back to the red carpet and exhaled loudly.

“Well, fuck the universe then! I say you will meet him! And he will come! As a matter of fact...”

By now, you had already drowned out Tamara’s voice. It wasn’t that she was annoying of anything. She just had a habit of constantly rambling on unless someone or something interrupted her. You’d learned it was better to let her be. Interrupting her just made her forget what she was saying and then have her repeat it all over again.

The next line of limousines had pulled up to the curb. The drivers each held the door open. Out stepped Chris Pratt, Josh Brolin (you still hadn’t forgotten what Thanos did to Loki in Infinity War), and finally...

Your breath hitched when a smiling Tom Hiddleston came out of the last limousine, enthusiastically waving to the crowd of Marvel fans, guarded by the metal railing you were having trouble grasping.

It was him. It was really him , in the flesh. Not some picture on the internet, just him . Tom Hiddleston was right in front of you (well, more like a roads length away).

You wanted to yell out to him or something , but the lump in your throat said otherwise.

“...and that’s why is so important that this happens for yo— Hey, isn’t that him?” Tamara finished her rant and looked to the same man your eyes were locked on.

All you could do was nod.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Yell out to him, flash him for all I care,” —Tamara earned an elbow to the stomach for that comment—,” just do something. You deserve his attention more than any of these thirty thots.”

“Hey! That’s a bit rude. And no I don’t. They all paid for their tickets, just like us. I deserve as much attention from him as anyone else here. I’m not someone with special privileges.” You retorted.

“Yeah, but you’ve been through so much just to get to this point in your life. You at least deserve a little recognition for that.”

Tamara was starting to sound childish at this point and you rolled your eyes.

“My life is far from what I want it to be,” you said looking down at the asphalt road. It’s even unbearable sometimes .

“Ugh!” Tamara groaned. “You’ve been through so much shit and you don’t give yourself enough credit for getting through it all! Your family is full of assholes, your dating life was filled with assholes at one point, and even your friends were assholes! Well— not me. And...”

As Tamara began to rant again, you looked back at Tom. He was standing next to Chris Hemsworth as a report mainly asked questions aimed at the blonde. Tom just smiled and laughed along with the jokes being told. You admired all of it from a far.

Your admiration for Tom Hiddleston came the first time you saw Thor: Ragnarok. You were just so amazed with how he portrayed Loki. You’d wished you had found out about him sooner. After, you binge-watched all his movies. Everyone seemed to be better than the last. You developed a deep respect for him, and from then on, vowed to watch every movies, film, play, or musical with him in it.

His work had come into your life when you were at your lowest. All you wanted to do was meet him and say how thankful you were. Without all of his amazing acting, you wouldn’t have been here to see him in real life.

Taking a break from just blatantly staring at the man, you stretched your neck and looked down the side of the road. Your head stopped when you saw a man wearing all black enter a black SUV with a pistol in his hand. In the front seat, he started up the car and cocked the gun. Your eyes widened.

As soon as the car started driving, your legs were already hoisting yourself over the metal bars. A few security guards tried to run after you but all you could focus on was the the car speeding down the road.

Everything moved in slow motion from then on.

You ran as fast as your legs could carry you and managed to make it to the other side of the side walk before the car could run you over.

The window of the drivers side rolled down and a silver pistol peaked out from it.

Tom was just a step away from you when you heard the pistol fire and you jumped.

The world was no longer slow. Everything was loud and chaotic. The sound of people running and screaming filled your ears. It was irritating.

You wanted to cover your ears but you couldn’t. Your hands were already pressing firmly on the bullet wound on your stomach. You could feel the thick blood trickle onto your hands and down your side as you laid in a pool of your own blood.

Among the loud noise of screaming and running you could make out a familiar voice with a particular accent. “Oh, my God! Someone call 911! Get an ambulance! Now, please! She’s going to bleed to death!!”

You felt your torso lifted and placed into the lap of someone. That someone also joined in on pressing on the bullet wound.

Your vision was blurry and the loud noise mixed with the awful pain the wound provided was somehow becoming more relaxing by the second. Your eyelids felt heavy and your heartbeat slowed with each passing minute.

A pair of soft hands gently cupped your face and your eyes fluttered open. Tom Hiddleston stared down at you with an expression full of concern and worry.

“No, no, no. Please don’t fall asleep. You have to stay away until the ambulance arrives.” His voice was so calm, but you could hear the fret behind the facade.

“I want to sleep.” You mumbled as hot tears ran down your face. “I-it hurts too much.”

“Shh, shh,” Tom whispered. His thumb delicately moved under your tear-filled eyes yo wipe them. “I know, I know. Just, please, stay awake. They’ll be hear any minute.”

You began a coughing fit, coughing blood into your shirt. You felt the blood roll your jaw and onto your neck.

You focused on Tom’s rapid breathing, instead of the piercing pain the wound left in your stomach.

It feels so much better when I close my eyes, you thought and your eyes began to flutter.

Tom noticed right away and brought you back to your miserable reality. “What did I say? No sleeping, please.”

All you could manage was a nod.

There was silence before Tom spoke again. “Wh-Why?” he whispered.

“Wha...?”

“Why did you jump in front of the bullet? It was aimed at me and you ran all the way across the street just to take it for me. Why?”

For the first time in this terrible situation, you smiled. “Because of you. If I died no one would care. But if you died, all your fans would be left without you and you’ve helped so many people... including me. So, all I want to say is thank you. Thank you for everything you do. It means the world to me and so many others.”

You reached with both arms to envelope him in a hug.

At that moment all of the pain you’d ever felt, seemed to leave your body and mind all at once. You smiled once more. Your heart beat slowed and the world around you went black.

[phoenixwaller]

Dark System: Hallan - Ch 1.1

Next up in my try before you buy books... Dark System: Hallan. 

The Ebook is free through June 23 on Amazon, but if you want to get a signed copy send me a message. I’ll need to order copies to sign, but I think I can do it with as few as 5 interested people. 

Anyway, get your free ebook at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B009ANBUWK and enjoy this short preview. 

********************************************

The team watched as the guard opened the gate to the beach. The eight of them were there to try and discover what had happened to the thousands of colonists who disappeared from beaches across the planet one year before.

Three-thousand nine-hundred and seventy-two colonists had disappeared, all on a single day and only from the beaches of Hallan. This beach, Paradise Cove, had seen the disappearance of two hundred and seventy-five colonists. It would have been two-hundred and seventy-six, but one man had been able to escape. He was the only person they had found on the entire planet who had managed to survive the events of that day.

Unfortunately, the team assembled to investigate the strange disappearances could not convince him to recount his story in a secure environment. Instead, he insisted on being brought back to the place where it had happened.

As the team started through the gate the guard issued each person a badge.

“What are these for?” asked Beth Jenkins, a stunning blond who looked as if she should be modeling the latest fashions, not studying specimens from the lavender waters of the planet. Her gray eyes studied the badge warily.

“These badges are a safety measure,” replied the guard. “They have a locator beacon and a panic button, just in case.”

“Why are we getting them now though? This is the last beach that we are visiting and we have never been issued badges before.”

“Ahh, some crackpots in the cities are worried about it being close to the one year anniversary of the disappearances. They think that it might happen again, so we were told to have appropriate precautions taken.”

“Is this really necessary?” asked another member, Stan Harris, as he snatched his own badge and clipped it onto a uniform that was unsuited for the task at hand. He scowled as he examined it again. “The calendar year has nothing to do with the year of this planet, so the anniversary should be a moot point.”

“Just following orders, Sir,” the guard said nervously as he eyed Stan, noting the rank displayed on the uniform of the stern-faced Planetary Security Officer. He then turned to hand another badge to the next person.

“I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss the safety precautions,” replied another voice. It belonged to the survivor. “If you knew what I saw you wouldn’t question these things.”

“How did you ‘see’ anything, blind man?” asked Stan, his ice blue eyes glaring  from the strong features of his face. His prematurely salt and pepper colored hair blew slightly in the breeze.

“I wasn’t blind then,” the man replied. “If you had read my initial account of the events you would know that.” With that he took his badge and strode confidently toward the path that led to the beach, barely even tapping his cane to locate obstacles.

The rest of the team collected their badges and hurried after him.  

Beth was the first to catch up to the survivor. Since the blind man had not been on the team previously, and had not been introduced she decided that it was a good time to introduce herself. “I don’t believe that we’ve met before. My name is Beth Jenkins.”

“Nice to meet you Beth Jenkins,” he replied, then  continued walking toward the beach.

Beth caught up to him again. “I don’t believe that I’ve caught your name.” Like most of the people of Hallan she knew it from the multitude of stories that had referenced his survival, but wanted to be polite enough to give him the ability to indicate how he wanted to be addressed.

“Haven’t thrown it, and unless you can tell me what happened here a year ago I suggest that we get to work.”

Startled at the reaction Beth stopped short.

“He’s suffered a serious traumatic experience. We should let him be,” said a voice behind her.

Beth jumped, and then whirled to face the speaker. Her eyes fell upon a man who looked as if he would be more comfortable in trousers and a cardigan than shorts. “Mark!! You scared me half to death.”

“Sorry,” said Mark Parsons, absentmindedly running a hand through his brown hair. “I thought  you heard me coming.”

“It’s ok, just don’t do it again. By the way I thought that you were a paranormal investigator, not a shrink.”

“I have many talents m’lady. Besides, when one is investigating the paranormal it is always a good idea to be able to help those traumatized by the experience. For that reason, I took a number of classes specializing in crisis and grief counseling.”

“Ok, but we need him to talk to us or he will be of no use in this investigation.”

“Leave that to me.”