#the fact that it is already friday again is actually deeply unsettling who allowed time to pass and may i have a word

[stories-by-rie]

127 try once more like you did before

it is time for another thing for @flashfictionfridayofficial, minor warning for mentioned smoking, other than that it's actually very lighthearted i think, 780 words, hope you have fun <3

----

Someone too close was smoking too much. Usually Rabea was not that deep in someone else’s business--if they want to smoke, they can smoke! But this had to be the fiftieth cigar this evening because the smoke was actually clouding the tavern’s room and the whole atmosphere got a kind of mysterious that was too dramatic even for her tastes. Which really meant something, considering she sat in the darkest corner, the hood of her cloak covering half her face in shadows.

All she wanted to do was to get a tiny break before setting out into The Forest again, but perhaps journeying to the sea  was a better idea, to get her lungs cleaned out by the salty ocean air. Actually, it seemed like a better idea the more she thought about it. A change in scenery had never hurt anyone and, sure, she had that one hire to venture into The Forest and destroy the wall’s gate and obtain a book from the library behind it that may or may not be cursed, but her client was immortal so a little vacation should be in it. Right?

Rabea just got ready to leave when the door opened and a group of young travellers came in. It was impossible not to overhear their conversation and who was Rabea to deny her ears.

“I followed the manual to the T”, one of them proclaimed. “My sword is polished, the tinctures are correctly labelled and my water bottles filled. There is nothing that could go wrong.”

“Did you also work through the chapter “Waterfalls and Other Sopping Escapades”? I mean, we’re going into The Forest, how many bodies of water could we possibly encounter?” another wondered.

“Well, I mean I skimmed it and I know the gist, so I consider myself well prepared, still”, the first one said.

Rabea took a deep breath and instantly lapsed into a coughing fit. Those younglings were about to see the last of their days.

“Very reasonable”, another mumbled, “I also skipped the chapter about fighting fire witches. Everyone knows those live near volcanoes, there’s no way we’re going to encounter one.”

The rest of the group agreed in different tones of mumbles and Rabea felt herself nearly cringe to death. It would be an embarrassing end, but surely everyone would see its inevitability. Fate truly was the cruellest of all.

“If I may be so bold to interrupt”, Rabea boldly interrupted with a raspy voice that made her sound at least another 430 years older, “but I happen to have ventured into The Forest before and I cannot recommend the chapter about fighting fire witches enough.”

The group turned towards her, eyeing her with suspicious gazes and one or two blanching faces.

“Oh shit, are there truly fire witches in The Forest?”, one of them asked with a thin voice.

“Well, not exactly, but there definitely are burning bog snakes and handling them roughly works the same way as handling fire witches”, Rabea replied. Not that anyone had given her that advice when she had walked into The Forest the first time, but she was a great supporter of shared and free knowledge. So.

Suddenly each and every one of them had burning questions (well, not that kind of burning) about The Forest and Rabea found herself answering them all with enormous professionalism backed by her own experiences.

“Who even are you?” one of them asked with an impressed spark in her eyes.

“Me? I am Rabea.”

“Rabea the Ruthless?” one cried and suddenly, the whole group looked again as if they were ready to bolt out of the tavern.

“I? Don’t know?” Had she gained a moniker while she had been trying to conquer The Forest? Why had no one told her about this?

“Rabea the Ruthless who is known for slaying even the greatest beast, who has ventured into The Forest countless times and remained victorious no matter how many times she tried? Who ruthlessly goes against anyone in her way? That Rabea?”

Well. That sounded somewhat more dramatic than she had expected. With great flourish, she pulled back her cloak’s hood.

“Maybe? I sure have been in The Forest quite a lot. But only because I keep failing at my mission? So I am really not certain if that holds up to anyone’s expectations.”

The group stared at her now with a mixture of wonder and fear.

“If even Rabea the Ruthless keeps failing, how are we supposed to even make it behind the first line of trees?” the biggest of the group cried pitifully.

Rabea took a coughing sigh. It seemed like the ocean would have to wait.

[laurasinele]

Magpies

Prompt 4: “I know you didn’t ask for this”

Fanfic from: the Harry Potter series

Tags: preslash Drarry, epilogue what epilogue, heavy dialog, seven years post Battle of Hogwarts, ofc, Harry & Draco’s friendship, mental health, guilt

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of abuse, mentions of war, mentions of death

Ao3

Outside the window a couple of magpies were fighting over an apple, effectively distracting him from his reading. Not that he was very focused to begin with. One of the birds had picked a rotten apple from the orchard ground and the other was trying to steal it. They cawed angrily and flopped their wings in ampulous, threatening motions while clashing talons. Draco was engrossed by their belligerent dance, open book forgotten on his lap.

The hinges of the reading room door screeched as it opened. All the elfs in the Manor had left to work at Hogwarts or the Ministry immediately after Draco informed them of that possibility, so there was no one left to oil the joints nor announce visitors. Not that there was any need. The only visits he got regularly were Ministry’s agents on Ministry’s business or his designated/volunteered auror, checking weekly on the conditions to his house arrest. Mother wasn’t allowed to leave St. Mungo’s and his aunt Andromeda, who was trying to forge a family bond with him, was always sensible enough to owl before coming. By the works of the DMLE, the doors and floo system would not open for anybody else. 

Aware of this at all times, Draco didn’t pause his keen observation of the magpies’ strife. It was Friday after all, and Auror Appleworm made always her appearence on that day at the time of her best convenience.

“I would have prepared lunch for us both, had you come half an hour earlier”, said Draco as he rose and put the book aside, still looking out the window.

“Thank you Malfoy, I’ve already eaten”. 

Malfoy startled at the male voice, and then startled again when he realised who it belonged to. He turned slowly, disbelieving, his aristocratic training supplying a small surge of nonchalance thanks to which he managed to pocket his hands and look calm. 

“Excuse my surprise, I was expecting Mrs Appleworm, as usual. To what do I owe the pleasure, Potter?”

Harry remained near the door, politely waiting for an invitation to sit. His auror robes were impeccable, their maroon bringing back to Draco’s memory their quidditch matches.

“Mrs Appleworm’s daughter went in labor this early morning. She is going to take some months away, although we are trying to convince her to retire and enjoy her grandchildren. Septuplets”, he added at Draco’s curious expression. 

“Oh, my. I thought she wasn’t due until next month. I trust they are all healthy and well”

Harry nodded, “I paid a visit on my way here. They are all well and Agnes and Mr Appleworm are over the moon”.

“I’ll have to remember to send them a present”. 

An awkward silence settled between them while Draco reigned his nerves and Harry looked around the room, taking in the elaborate shelf-cases, the light upholstery and drapes, and the yellow wallpaper. It was nothing as he remembered the Manor. 

“I made some changes”, offered Draco, guessing Harry’s train of thought. “Now that I am the only inhabitant I figured I could make this house, eh, more welcoming. Please, do sit down”, he finished gesturing towards the armchair next to his, by the other side of the window. “And please excuse my manners earlier, I was caught in two magpies fighting over a piece of apple in mid flight right outside the window”

Harry looked perplexed at that confession and a small smile graced his face while he approached the window. “They don’t look like fighting now”, he said as he spotted them through the window, resting atop of an ornamental stone cornucopia, grooming each other. 

Draco followed Harry’s pointing finger and he couldn’t contain a delighted exclamation upon finding the two birds. 

“They must have learnt to share, then. Now, what can I do for you, Auror Potter?”

--

They fell in a comfortable routine. Every Friday at precisely 2 o’clock, Harry appareted outside the reading room door and knocked before entering. Draco would put aside whatever book he had picked from the list the Ministry had provided as one of the conditions to keep him out of Azkaban and, after the compulsory questions and tests, they’d settle in an easy conversation that could go on until dinner time. Draco would always politely extend an invitation to stay and Harry would always politely refuse. They’d talk about quidditch, muggle culture —a big part of Draco’s assigned readings—, recent news, what were the Manor’s elfs up to…

Over time, more than seven years if he wasn’t mistaken, Draco had struck a sort of friendship with Mrs Appleworm. He had started to forgive himself for his acts of war and his past arrogance upon learning how she saw him. A veteran auror and elderly mother, when she looked at Draco Malfoy she saw an abused child never too rotten to mend. Draco might not think as benevolently about himself yet, but he was willing to get there someday, which was a huge step forward from the self-deprecating, self-harming depressive state Agnes Appleworm found him in. This days he barely indulged in regret and sadness and fear. He stayed firmly attached to calm and apathy. 

After five weeks of Mrs Appleworm leave, eagerness joined those two main emotions. Draco found himself eager for Friday afternoon well early in the week, and Saturdays and Sundays were usually filled with a peaceful sensation akin to happiness. It felt good to face Potter once a week for a few hours. It gave his before and after a certain continuity. They never talked about school or the war, not even a passing mention, but the fact that Harry Potter existed, and acknowledged Draco’s existence, made all the memories and every movement away from them and past his prior ways, somehow more real. 

That afternoon, however, Harry’s dark mood was all over the place, making it impossible for Draco not to ask if everything was alright. 

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing important. I just had a tough session with my therapist last evening”, said Harry with an apologetic smile. 

“A therapist? Like a muggle psychotherapist?”, Draco couldn’t refrain to ask, surprised as he was. Harry scoffed.

“A muggle psychotherapist, actually, yes”. 

Draco made a very polite, very English face of understanding and promptly looked through the window in search of and urgent change of topic, for he could not possibly fathom a non-personal, prim and proper way to continue this conversation. Providence delivered in the form of two magpies landing on the windowsill. 

"Oh!", softly exclaimed Draco, inexplicably delighted. "Would you look at that!" 

"Are they the same two?" 

"I couldn't tell…"

Both young men fell silent, watching the birds. They had landed side by side with a fraction of a second between them. They had looked around with that avian sort of movement that made most corvids look offended, and then started to skip all along the windowsill, apparently without purpose but very pointedly ignoring each other. 

After a while, Draco could not take the ominous feeling that scene had sparked in him, and turned to Harry, who was still transfixed by the magpies' bizarre dance. 

"Should I ask? About your therapy". 

Harry smiled as if he had been expecting the question, and didn't say anything nor looked away from the birds for a little while. 

"Why, Malfoy, what would you ask?", inquired Harry, finally looking at him with a placid expression, devoid of any hostility Draco might have anticipated. At this, Draco shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly and gave a spontaneous response that seemed to be aching to be spoken.

“What is it for. Although I can imagine. How is it going. Or whether it helps or not”. After a very brief pause he added: “How are you”. 

Harry laughed softly, throwing his head backwards. He covered his face with his hands and sighed. 

“I am fucked”, he declared meeting Draco’s gaze. “I’m a child soldier with PTSD, abandonment issues, identity issues and claustrophobia. I’m an abuse victim and have a deep distrust towards any authority figure. This, added to my natural tendency to bend rules results in ‘severe misanthropy and incapability to work within a hierarchy’”, he said, signing in the air the quotation marks before dropping his hands on his lap with mild frustration. “Every fatherly figure I ever had aside from Hagrid and Arthur Weasley is dead. All my friends are war heroes with similar issues, so we barely talk about normal stuff. So to avoid feeding each other’s neurosis we barely talk, full stop. My adopted family was so invested in actually making me one of them that they unconsciously pushed a relationship that ended up feeling unsettling close to incest and finished awkwardly and dramatically, distancing me from them. Oh, and right when a single month had passed without the press pestering me, tomorrow the Prophet is going to be all about me being queer because the guy I met at a muggle gay pub last Friday happened to be a squib, and he knew exactly who I was. So, uh, yeah. I’m fucked”.

Draco’s eyes were wide in shock and concern. He hadn’t known what to expect when he had enunciated the hypothetical questions he would make, but he was pretty sure he’d have been shook even if he had imagined the half of what Harry had just said. 

“I am deeply sorry, Potter. I shouldn’t have brought the subject up”.

“I wouldn’t have told you if I hadn’t wanted to”.

“Nevertheless, it is none of my business”.

Harry scoffed, this time a tad irritated. When he spoke it was patent that he was trying to refrain from lashing out completely onto Malfoy:

“How is this not your business? My psychopathic tutors certainly aren’t, but all the rest? My parents’ death? Voldemort’s return? The war? You were a part of it ever since you were born!”. Draco only managed to mouth like a fish, watching as Harry grew more and more indignant. “You conspired and helped to set on the battle at Hogwarts. At a bloody school!”, he boomed now. “You put a cursed necklace on a student! You let the Deatheaters into the castle! You were a bloody little soldier just like I was!”.

Draco rose from his seat, trembling with rage and shame: 

“I didn’t have a choice, Potter! I was born into it! I didn’t ask for any of it. I didn’t ask for this!”

From his armchair, Harry was looking up at him, at first with defiance. Upon hearing this, watching Draco looming over him, eyes wet and breathing deeply, his features softened. 

“I know you didn’t ask for this. It was uncalled for. I am on edge since I knew about the Prophet, but that’s not an excuse. I am very sorry for yelling at you and bringing up the past. For the record, I think you’ve already done more than enough to repay your debts and change your ways”. 

Draco was still staring, still looming, still breathing heavily and holding back his tears with all his power. He stood there for a few beats, and then he sat back down slowly, not taking his eyes off of Harry. A few moments of silence elongated between them, faces flustered, bodies tense, eyes locked. Finally, Draco relaxed into the backrest and spoke calmly:

“I never knew you were mistreated as a child. It’s an abomination”.

“I never knew you would be learning about muggle culture willingly”. 

“It’s part of my sentence”.

“Hermione told me you wrote her like six feet of an apology letter and asked for books, music and films”, shot back Harry with a mischievous grin. Draco rolled his eyes, mocking annoyance:

“You can’t keep secrets anymore”.

“Not between Hermione, Ron and I, no”.

They smiled at each other with something warmer than the pleasant politeness that had grown between them during the past weeks. Harry broke eye contact first to look out the window. Draco kept looking at Harry, letting the list of his presumed flaws sink in. They both spoke at the same time: 

“The magpies are gone”.

“Did they know?”.

Harry looked at him, seeming at loss.

“Sorry, who knew what?”.

“The new head of Muggle Relations and her husband. About you being queer”.

Harry avoided Draco’s eyes and bit his lower lip. “No they didn’t. If I don’t tell them today, they’ll find out tomorrow and they’ll be pissed I didn’t tell them. Luna Lovegood was the only one that knew besides my therapist. We had a one night stand some years ago. In the afterglow we were talking about this and that and I told her I liked guys. She said that people is people no matter what they pack, and love is love. Honestly we were high and I’m derailing. You’re the third person I tell this and I’m not getting any good at it”. 

Draco smirked. He rested his elbow on the armrest and his face atop his open palm, his little finger tracing the corner of his smile.

“I used to think I was asexual. Many honorable wizards were by birth or choice. Something to do with amplifying magic with your ‘life drive’”. Harry stifled a laugh and Draco smiled wider. “I used to think I’d marry Pansy Parkinson, or Millicent Bullstrode or one of the Greengrasses, force myself to produce one single heir and dedicate my life to study potions and being a socialite. Then I saw Cedric Diggory on a broom”.

Harry gaped, completely pleased with this piece of gossip, and maybe also with the fact that he and Draco Malfoy were talking about Hogwarts and it was not a sensible topic.

“Cedric whispered in my ear that I should bath with one of the clues for the Triwizard Tournament and I still get the chills when I recall it”. 

“He was stupidly handsome”, murmured Draco looking away, suddenly aware of the cause of Cedric’s death. “And stupidly brave. Like you”. He looked back at Harry just in time to notice he was flustered. He told himself it was because they’d been talking about Cedric. 

“I have to go soon. I have owls to send”, stammered Harry standing up to take his cloak and leave. Draco stood to see him out.

By the door they stopped and looked at each other, not knowing exactly what to do. In the end Draco offered his hand and said:

“Thank you. For telling me all that. And acknowledging that I’ve changed. And volunteering to be my counselor. I know nobody else beside Agnes was willing to come here and not beating me up”. 

Harry ignored Draco’s hand, his earnest look of gladness invading all of Draco’s range of sight. He pressed his lips together and dove for a hug. It was a tight, deliberate embrace, oozing sincerity and the true, deep affection that only likeness invokes. Draco wrapped his arms loosely around Harry, completely dazed by such gesture.

“Thanks to you”, whispered Harry on Draco’s ear. “For trying, getting there, and leveling me all the way up to here”. He stepped away and out the door, and a muted snap confirmed that he was gone until next Friday.

Draco stood there, the chills running through his spine. 

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 41: Deluge

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Forty-One: Deluge

Notes: This chapter was a fun time to write! I mean, they all are, but I like what I was able to set up in this one. Can’t wait to see your predictions for Friday after you read this! *Evil Laugh*

(-~-)

The dining room had grown quiet, all parties present unsure of what they could hope to do in such a strange and uncanny situation. None of them really knew what was happening beyond a surface deep level, and even then, they were only viewing the symptoms of a much larger condition. Explaining the situation to Nico had not yielded any additional results aside from causing her vast amounts of confusion when she realized for the first time in a very long time that her companions were just as incredulous as she was. That was disturbing to her.

Before long they were joined by Hydrangea. She seemed dazed and only semi-awake, but otherwise capable and eager to help. At least that was until she took a first-hand look at the actual issue in question. Her eyes widened slightly and the normally cheerful look that seemed to be permanently plastered to her face dissipated almost instantaneously at the sight of the strange network of black markings that were beginning to form in V’s veins, their unwelcome presence threatening to spread like a malignant infection. They knew instantly that she had no idea what this was. She didn’t need to speak a word.

V looked to her for reassurance, but there was little that could be offered, and after a short while, she requested that Flora escort Nico somewhere more secure just to air on the side of caution. Sirrus opted to do the very same, noting that he was but a few doors away should they need anything. “These are personal matters best left between brothers” He had said respectfully before departing, wishing them the best, but fully ready to assist them should the need arise and the situation stipulate that he had something worthwhile to contribute. Otherwise, as far as he was concerned, he was just wasting valuable oxygen and standing space. Perhaps he would think better in isolation.

For several minutes, they were left to their own imaginations. Hydrangea seemed to be none the wiser, a fact that was clearly bothering her a great deal. Nero had the impression that she liked to have the answers. Helping people was probably something she took great joy in, at least from what he could tell by how eager to assist them she had been. He was willing to bet that this feeling of uselessness was probably quite detrimental to her. And the not knowing was getting to all of them, all three tossing ideas around within the depths of their subconscious in the hopes that something, anything might yield a result that they could latch onto and work off of. But there was simply nothing. Not a single person present had the slightest idea what was going on aside from the unanimous notion that they did not enjoy it, and that was anything but helpful in this case.

After several minutes of silent wandering, V was certain that no method that he was aware of possessing was capable of helping him figure out this situation. He didn’t resonate with these markings as he did with the tattoos that covered his skin, and he had no way of descending their purpose aside from assuming that whatever had caused them probably wasn’t very good for him. From what he could tell, the blackness was spreading through his veins, much like hot wax being poured into a mold. It seeped deeper and deeper into him, soaking into every available permeable pathway until it reached its end goal. 

Or, at least from what he could tell.

He had no way of knowing just yet.

But either way, there was a part of him that felt strangely calm now despite his ever-growing concern. In truth, there was a certain inevitability to this situation that he just found… grounding. Part of him knew that this wasn’t good, and that was something he could work with. He was used to that concept by now. Most of the things in his young life hadn’t been, but he wasn’t just going to sit here and take things lying down. No, he was going to fight this as best as he could. Push every limit that he could. That was all he could do. All he could hope for was that that would be enough. He would have to live with the result either way.

Just as despair was setting in in earnest, they were joined by the lady of the hour. Aluta rounded the corner with a supernatural silence that occurred to them in unison only after they saw her, the two descendants of the Dark Knight Sparda realizing rather rapidly that they had not heard her come down the stairs on the other side of the wall or even so much as walk down the short hallway between the landing and the door despite the fact that they were sure she had done so.  It was as if she had floated down the hallway, her feet never touching the ground.

Stopping just inside of the doorway, she looked at each of them quietly. She seemed to study her surroundings, unsure as to what was going on, but with a basic idea granted to her by the worried mutterings of the group of children that had made their way to her study. She didn’t know what needed to be done just yet, but she was going to find out and then do it. The process wasn’t particularly complicated in that regard. But all this talk of darkness and curses… one could only hope that it was simply the misguided, excited ramblings of ill-informed children.

Casually approaching them, V watched as she quickly located the source of this issue. It was as if she instantly knew that this had something to do with him. He could see it in her face. Hydrangea stepped out of the way, allowing her aunt to stand in front of him. While she didn’t exactly tower over him, she most certainly dominated the room in every other respect. Nero had already been quiet, but the absolute silence that settled over him as she stared down at his brother was admittedly much more unsettling than it probably had any right to be.

Leaning over, she gestured for him to extend his arm for her so that she could take a closer look at it. He obliged, noting for the first time that it felt uncomfortable to do so. A noticeable uptake in weight had made lifting the limb more difficult than before, even though he knew that the additional weight didn’t come from any direct source. It was as though his arm was being held down by something, and he had to fight against it to be able to move it, pulling upward when everything else wanted him to buckle. It was strange, but not unfamiliar. The sensation was similar to that of being pulled under by deep water. Perhaps a bit too similar.

“You need to come with me.” She said calmly in a tone so definitive that it was somewhat surprising to both V and Nero. Hydrangea looked at her aunt for a moment before politely excusing herself, realizing quickly that this situation was very revisions out of her league. She would go join her mother. Perhaps that was best. She knew how to read a room, and she wasn’t going to press the matter. There was no need to.

Upon leaving, she turned to V and gave him a sympathetic look, nodding in acknowledgment of his situation before scampering off down the hallway. While he wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse, he appreciated that she had taken the time to make sure that he knew that she cared. She was a gentle, kind soul. A part of him wondered what she would think of the other girls if she ever had the opportunity to meet them. Hopefully, she would after this was all over. It would be nice to enjoy the little things in life again at some point.

“What do you mean? Is something wrong?” Nero asked, now more obviously worried than he already had been. It was worrisome that she wanted to take him somewhere. He didn’t know her yet, and although he was sure that anyone related to Magnolia was on their side, the young hunter didn’t like the idea of his more vulnerable sibling just striding off into the darkness with her. Who knew what she was going to do under the guise of helping? In fact, as much as he was certain that her intentions were pure, that didn’t mean that she couldn’t cause unintentional harm as well.

Pushing his worries aside for a moment, he took a look at V. The young summoner was clearly deeply uncomfortable, probably for many of the same reasons, but he was hiding it very well. But Nero knew that V was probably slightly overwhelmed. He had an awful lot going on right now.

Much to his surprise, V looked down at his arm for a moment before sighing softly. It was a barely audible thing, but a sigh nonetheless. He watched as the normally soft-spoken summoner nodded politely before gesturing towards Nero, a calm but serious look on his face. “I wish for my brother to accompany me.”

Realizing that this was a non-negotiable term, she seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding and shrugging softly, gesturing for both of them to follow her. She clearly had no time or interest in debating this with them. They had better thighs to do with their time in a situation like this, and she planned to utilize this opportunity more appropriately. They needed to act quickly. She’d sensed the presence of something problematic the moment that she had entered the door, and she needed to verify her hypothesis before it was too late.

(-~-)

Seemingly arriving just a few moments later than they had planned to, Dante and Lucia were surprised to find no trace whatsoever of the commotion they were so sure they had seen from the other side of the manor. The large precession of seemingly panicked young girls had gone tearing down the hallway, but their destination and reason had been totally foreign to them. Now the youngest Son of Sparda was starting to wonder if he had been mistaken when he’d seen them, mixing up what could have been playful child activity with a clandestine emergency. It was entirely possible that recent events had simply made him overcautious.

Rounding the next corner, they were met by the sight of one of the Ludwig girls making her way up the hallway. From what both of them could tell, she was in something of a hurry. Lucia politely flagged her down, gaining the distracted teen’s attention as she seemed to nearly pass them without noticing their presence at all. Strange indeed. Lucia wasn’t sure she had ever been that hyper-focused before in her entire life. One could only hope that something terrible wasn’t going on that they were both simply oblivious to. From what the young Guardian could tell, trouble was just over the horizon. So it wasn’t too far-fetched to assume the worst at all times as a general rule.

“Excuse my asking but… is something wrong?” Lucia asked gently, not at all sure why she felt the need to do so, but feeling that she should either way. It was better to be safe than sorry in these sorts of situations, and while she was certain that no one here would harm them, it still didn’t hurt to air on the side of caution.

Turning to look at her, the young woman seemed to shake out of her hyper-focused state and give Lucia her full attention. Upon noticing Dante, she went slightly wide-eyed for a brief second as she cleared her throat and closed her eyes before shaking her head slightly. She then reopened them, giving them what seemed to be a more worried look. Dante gave her a slightly sideways look but said nothing, waiting to hear what she had to say first.

“You two wouldn’t happen to be related to those two white-haired boys, would you? Because if so, madam Aluta is handling the situation. They are probably headed to her study as we speak. I don’t think she’d mind if you paid her a visit.”

Both devil hunters turned and looked at one another, perplexed, confused, and now slightly worried. Now it was Dante’s turn to ask questions. “There’s a situation? Had the feeling something was going on. Where’s this place at that you were just talking about?”

Pivoting slightly, she pointed over her shoulder towards the staircase she had just walked up. She then pointed upwards towards them, signaling that they needed to ascend them further in order to reach their destination. 

“Ascend the stairs to the tower above. Do not be surprised if you knock on the door but find yourself in the basement. Madam Aluta is quite… unconventional. She means well, however. I’m sure she can explain everything better than I can.” She started to walk away, but then stopped for a moment to say something else before actually leaving. “Good luck. I wish you all well if we do not cross paths again before your inevitable departure. Be careful in the times to come. I fear that something dark is just over the horizon. Please excuse me, I have to return to my duties before I’m missed.”

With that, she hurried off towards the hallway, breaking into a light jog before transitioning to a full sprint in order to reach her destination. Lucia and Dante watched her go for a moment before turning to look at one another, nodding in silent agreement. They didn't know what was going on, but there were a few things that they were certain they did know. One, was that whatever was going on probably had something to do with V. He seemed to be magnetically attracted to unfortunate events. And two was that they needed to get Vergil. Fast. He would kill Dante in cold blood if no one told him that something like this was going on.

But on that same note, where the hell was Vergil?

(-~-)

Their journey across the house had gone completely uninterrupted, not a single soul passing them or otherwise interacting with them. Perhaps it was still too early in the day, but admittedly, V had the suspicion that someone had provided the manor’s residents with a general overview of what was going on, and everyone had simply elected to stay in their rooms until the coast was clear. If that was the case, the young summoner couldn’t say he blamed them. He didn’t understand the nature of what was going on, and from what he could tell, most of them couldn’t either. It was understandable if not a bit off-putting. But he was trying his best to keep calm and assist those attempting to help him in any way that he could. He just hoped that he wasn’t making everyone uncomfortable or putting them at risk for his sake. He genuinely hated the idea of doing something like that to someone.

“So V, you got any idea what’s going on here? Because, to be frank, I’m not picking up shit from this end. You're coming up blank, buddy. Sorry to have to tell ya.”

V registered Griffon’s voice in the deeper recesses of his mind, silently acknowledging that his avian companion had registered his discomfort and was doing everything in his power to try and help, but coming up empty-handed as everyone else had so far. In a strange way, V found Griffon’s inability to do anything more disconcerting than anything else so far. It was just unnerving to him that a demon that was quite literally attached to his body couldn’t identify or even recognize the source of this particular problem. Was it not demonic in nature, then?

Climbing stair after stair, they finally reached the top floor of the manor. V had barely registered the ascent in spite of the fact that he was quite winded by the time he reached the top. His mind was understandably elsewhere, and he didn’t have the mental reserves left to care about the dull throb that had suddenly settled into his right leg as he steadied himself, almost turning his foot over on a stair.

No. Falling down all of these stairs was something he utterly refused to do.

He had enough problems as it was.

The trio approached the door and both young Descendants of Sparda watched in quiet trepidation as Aluta unlocked the door and entered, holding it open for them as she stepped out of their path. The room on the other side of the door was dark, but not in an average sense. No, this was no regular dark room with the lights of. The sheer blackness that enveloped the space beyond them seemed to almost flow, daring to suck in and expel any light that had the audacity to enter. It didn’t feel exactly evil, but there was something notably corrupt about it.

Realizing that he had few other options, V sighed softly and came to the conclusion that he did probably need to enter that room. For all he knew, it was simply some sort of portal, like the one at the front entrance. A quick glance over at Nero revealed that he, too, was concerned about entering the space, but he was willing to do so if his older sibling was. He wouldn’t leave him behind.

“Do you want me to go in first?” Nero asked so softly that it took V a moment to register what he was saying. The summoner looked at him, quietly grateful that he would go to such lengths to reassure and protect him. He would never put Nero in such a potentially dangerous situation for his own personal gain. No, he would enter the room first. He would meet his fate on his own terms, and Nero could follow him of his own accord if he wished. That was only right.

Shaking his head to indicate that he didn’t wish for him to do that, he stole another timid glance at the door. Aluta had disappeared into the darkness and was no longer visible on the other side of the door. She was probably waiting for them. “... You don’t have to follow me if you don’t want to. I understand.”

Nero smirked and shrugged. “Well, now that that’s been cleared up, let's go. Probably not a good idea to keep her waiting.”

With that, the pair turned to face the door and walked towards it. Perhaps it was best that they just go together on equal terms. They could both live with that.

(-~-)

Hi, everyone! How are you this week? Sorry it took me a while to get to your comments last week. I was busy working on something. And my bad if there are any mistakes. My brain just isn’t working today! I hope you're all well! This mysterious darkness sounds like bad news, hu? Only one way to find out! See you in the comments, and when I release the next chapter on Friday! Take care! Bye-bye!

[mrgameandpie]

Sometimes, I imagine what it’d be like for someone to love me. Like, to REALLY love me, a lot. For spending time with me to be a high priority for someone, something a person wants to do on a regular and frequent basis. For someone to find me attractive, enjoying my silliness and memes and puns, being into my skeletal figure. For the kind of person I am to actually satisfy another person’s desires.

I’ve only had two significant others before, and both relationships ended pretty quickly due to fundamental parts of who I am clashing with fundamental parts of who they were. It can give the impression of me being unlovable, even if it’s just two people out of so many in the world. I tend to get crushes on fictional characters, and I like to cuddle or otherwise engage in affectionate gestures extremely frequently. Neither of those things seem like traits that are fundamental dealbreakers for most people. On the contrary I’d imagine there are a lot of people out there would would appreciate the cuddles, and many still who would accept the fiction pining. However, because these are the two things about me that primarily caused previous relationships to end, it can still generate a negative view about myself regardless.

One element here is that I really crave affection and praise. I want someone to tell me that they love me, that I matter to them, that they want me around and appreciate what I do. I never feel like I get enough validation in my life, and as such its something that would mean a lot to me. If someone were to say that I looked hot or cute or beautiful or really anything positive about my appearance, that’d shock me, but it’d also mean a lot. Nobody ever says that kind of stuff about me. If someone so much as said I mattered to them, that they considered me an important part of their life, I don’t think I’d know how to respond, but it’d launch my mood straight to Jupiter that’s for sure!

I give out this kind of support and praise to others fairly frequently, generally to people who I feel especially close to. I love doing this, letting people know they’re important to me, validating their feelings and providing comfort and assurance, it is immensely fulfilling and I don’t think I’d ever stop. I’d just like to be on the receiving end too sometimes. It’d mean a lot to me.

I guess looking back, there are a few times where people were interested in me. When I was a little kid, preschool through elementary school, all the girls were my friends in essentially any scenario. The secret, of course, was to respect them as people and be kind, who would’ve guessed? As is typical for kids of that age, a couple of these girls did have crushes on me and at least one claimed she was going to marry me. I remember I always said I felt I was too young to really have a girlfriend and a relationship like that. And, yeah, I was too young! Go little GnP, being reasonably mature.

Even in my adult life, there was one woman who was deeply interested in me, but that did not end well at all. Let’s call her Cindy for simplicity. I met her at church, and she asked if I wanted to hang out sometime. I wasn’t going to college at that moment, I think it was summer, though I was looking for a job. I also was pretty lonely, having lost contact with just about everyone from highschool, not having connected with anyone at college, and most of my internet friends were in a busy period. As such, it was a real no-brainer to take her up on the offer.

The first warning sign happened when she arrived at my house and started talking to my parents about marrying me. Like, we had talked maybe once and already she’s talking about this kind of stuff. However, things only went downhill from there. As previously noted, I love physical affection. Can’t get enough of it. Cindy like touching me a lot, generally on the shoulder or one time where she had me hold her, but unlike with anyone else I’ve ever physically interacted with, with her it felt wrong. So very uncomfortable and unsettling. Cindy didn’t like things or do things, and generally never had anything positive to say. She wasn’t in college at all, wasn’t looking for a job, didn’t have hobbies or even any interests like games, shows, or sports. She read books and manga which is pretty cool, but I could never get her to talk about any of these things. If she said anything, it was almost exclusively life drama. I’m certainly willing to listen about that, support one emotionally and the like, but that was the only thing she ever talked about.  On the flip side, when I would try to talk about anything I was interested in, she always made it a point to let me know she couldn’t follow a word of what I was saying, which was always really disappointing. I make videos where I explain how videogames work and discuss what their positive and negative points are, being able to effectively convey such information even to someone generally uninformed about such matters is a skill I typically take some pride in, for someone who wanted to be important in my life to not understand what I was talking about at all despite my best efforts, it was really disheartening.

As time went on she began to get really mean with me. She’d make fun of my interests, chastise me for not laughing at the jokes she laughed at. Even after I let her know, in no uncertain terms, that I wasn’t romantically interested in her, she continued her attempts at flirting regardless. Finally, one day, she poked or touched me in a way that made me extremely uncomfortable and I asked her to stop touching me. She continued touching me, and made fun of me for wanting some space. After I dropped her home that afternoon, I never saw or talked to her again. She had become a toxic source of negativity and discomfort in my life, and I didn’t need that at all.

One good thing did come out of Cindy though. In an attempt to avoid being alone with her, I began to invite an old highschool friend I hadn’t hung out with in roughly a year. The two of us used to hang out every Friday as the weekend started up, but when I began college that stopped for a time. After the incident with Cindy, my friend and I have regularly spent time together every week, which is nice since he’s basically my only IRL friend at this point.

Quite a few years have past since then, but still the fact remains she’s the only person who has expressed any notable interest in me in my adult life. The two significant others alluded to previously tended to be fairly one-sided when it came to gestures of affection and the like. Not to say either never said they liked me or that they never did anything for me, just that it never felt like either were especially head-over-heels for me. Nor has it felt like anyone was that way.

One thing that’s helped me when I felt I needed affection or assurance has been the previously mentioned crushes on fictional characters.  Throughout my life I’ve probably spent more time inside my imagination than in anything resembling actual physical reality, and as such one of the fantasies I live out is having a stable healthy relationship. Jade Harley, Roxy Lalonde, Sanae Kochiya, Mei Ling Zhou, Kibbles, the list of characters I’ve had crushes on goes on really. Sometimes I’ll refer to them as my “waifus” or the like but that’s generally only sarcastically or as shorthand without having to explain further. In truth, waifu culture tends to indicate a degree of interest that I’ve only really achieved once. You won’t find me buying dakimuras or reading innumerable ReaderXCharacter fics or the like, my own casual fantasies are good enough for me. The one fictional woman I really got into was a unique combination of personality, interests, lifestyle, body type, overall aesthetic, and capability that checked absolutely every checkmark I didn’t even know I had, topped off with a RP scenario that actually allowed me to interact with her which hadn’t even remotely happened outside that instance. The original creator of the character completely lost interest in her though, and now she’s actually my character, who I do intend to using in something in the future. Even still, she continues to act as a comforting force within my mind that nothing has really compared to, we’re a lot alike and even though I didn’t originally create her, she’s a strong part of me now, even stronger than numerous characters I made myself. All that said, I hope to grow to a point some day where I don’t need her anymore, where I’ve found someone real who will want to be with me, who will crave my Thomasness that nobody else can really provide.