#this story was so funny though. like for the LONGEST time i thought heavens secret was gonna be like

[hopelessromantic-ghost]

that’s my mans 🥰💖

[unpeumacabre]

soaring dragon dancing phoenix - 龙飞凤舞: prologue

Yunmeng is no longer home for Wei Wuxian, for he is no longer welcome. And so when he visits he can always count on Jiang Cheng descending upon his head with the full strength of heaven's fury, to chase him out. But one day when he sneaks into Yunmeng again, days go by without Jiang Cheng making an appearance. Something has happened to Wei Wuxian's prickly shi-di, something that - once they reunite - they will find is far greater than they could ever have anticipated. Accompanied also by Wei Wuxian's dear friend (?) Lan Zhan and a Lan Xichen who has only just reluctantly left isolation, the four of them set out on a journey that will bring them across the greater part of China to the mystical Kunlun mountains of mythology - and more importantly, may bring them love, healing, and reconciliation.

If only Wei Wuxian could take his head out of his oblivious arse and start putting himself in other people's shoes for once...

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Wangxian, Xicheng, Wei Wuxian & Jiang Cheng

Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting + more extensive author’s notes on the story)

Count: 1.5k

next ->

One year after the events of the Guanyin Temple, and the death of former Chief Cultivator Lianfang-zun.

Lan Zhan!

I agree with what you said about Sect Leader Yao, that old fart. He wouldn’t know a good idea if it bit him on the arse. If I were you I’d have snuck into his room at night and shaved off his eyebrows – but then again, you’re Chief Cultivator, and you have to follow boring things like rules and protocol. Don’t worry, the next time I’m in Pingyang I’ll … It’s a secret! Look forward to the next time you have a discussion conference with that pig-headed old fool.

I’ve finally reached Yunmeng. Little Apple took such a long time to get started from the inn in Jiangling. I think he had a crush on one of the serving girls, to be honest. Even apples didn’t work to drag him away from her. I had to conjure a mirage of her all the way from Jiangling to Yunmeng to get him going – can you imagine that? One of these days I’ll have to find a nice little female ass to keep his little Little Apple happy … Hahaha! I can practically see you rolling your eyes at me now, Lan Zhan. You still can’t take a dirty joke after all.

Anyway, I digress. It’s nice to be back in Yunmeng and be able to pick all the lotus pods I want and to flirt with all the pretty Yunmeng girls, although none of them are as pretty as you are, of course. You’d make a big stir if you came to Yunmeng – you should visit with me one of these days when you’re free! Although I know of course you have responsibilities as Chief Cultivator etc etc but I promise you it’ll be fun! One of these days I’ll come kidnap you. Then Lan Qiren, that old man, would really have an aneurysm, ha! I’d kidnap you just to see his reaction.

Don’t worry about me, I’m talking nonsense as usual. I wouldn’t really kidnap you, unless I was really bored. And Jiang Cheng would probably beat my ass for trying. Honestly, it surprises me that I haven’t had the honour of Jiang Cheng’s company yet. Somehow, he always knows the moment I step into Yunmeng – it’s like he has a spell set up to go off whenever I’m in the vicinity??? And he never fails to turns up for an hour or two just to shout at me, thrash Zidian around a bit and tell me to go back to Gusu. Then he storms off somewhere to drink tea or something. I swear he’s going to die of high blood pressure one of these days.

Well, I expect I’ll see him around. He’s bound to turn up sometime or other. Looking forward to your reply, and counting every one of your twenty words,

Wei Wuxian

***

Lan Zhan!

Thank you for expressing your concern for Little Apple’s wellbeing. He’s eating well (as usual) and living happily in the city stables where I left him. He has a new crush on the stable boy though, but I’m not worried about that – it seems like his affections are as transient as floating smoke and passing clouds. He seems to be like his former master in the sense of being indiscriminate with regards to his choice of partner, which makes me wonder why he’s taken such an intense aversion to me. I guess it’s just the same old story with me and animals all over again.

It’s my third day in Yunmeng, and still no sign of Jiang Cheng anywhere. Perhaps he’s simply busy with some night hunt or other and can’t be bothered to whip my ass into shape. I’ve been visiting his favourite haunts the past few days but no luck – it seems like he’s really busy this time. I’m starting to worry, and although I never thought I’d ever say this, I miss his grumpy ass. It’s been the longest I’ve gone without hearing him call me a fucking idiot, haha!

Anyway I have a funny story to tell! Yesterday I went to investigate rumours of walking corpses at the base of Yunmeng Mountain. Apparently some farmers came across them and ran away but one of them was caught and eaten.

But guess what, Lan Zhan? Actually, it was nothing more than a group of hermits who’d come down from Yunmeng Mountain five days ago after meditating in seclusion for three years, and they were doing their Bagua ritual circle walk around one of the dove trees at the base of the mountain. They hadn’t bathed once in those three years, and so when the farmers came upon them and saw them chanting and moaning and pacing around the tree they were mistaken for walking corpses! Hahahaha how ridiculous is that??? Anyway I cleared up the misunderstanding. The farmer who was apparently eaten fell down a cliff when he was trying to escape from the “corpses” and broke his leg, so the hermits rescued him and patched him up. He was perfectly fine. I talked to them and they seemed like a pretty normal bunch to me – they were quite a big group when they came down the mountain at first apparently but then most of them decided to go down south and back home instead of lingering in Yunmeng. That’s about all the excitement I’ve had so far, I think.

Well, anyway, thank you for the twenty-one words you used in your reply. You have gotten quite adept at teasing me, haven’t you? Looking forward to how else you may surprise me next,

Wei Wuxian

***

Lan Zhan,

No, I don’t think Jiang Cheng fell off a cliff too. As much as you might wish for it to happen, he’s still my brother an important sect leader, you know! Anyway I already checked all the cliffs around the mountain before I received your letter so it couldn’t possibly be so.

Besides, I went to Lotus Pier earlier today – just to check on how things are going, you know, in case they need my help or something, nothing to do with Jiang Cheng. I just stayed outside the gates because I thought Jiang Cheng would probably descend from the heavens on a cloud and break my legs the moment I stepped foot into Lotus Pier, but some of the disciples spotted me and asked me what I was doing there. They said there have been people disappearing just outside Yunmeng, to the southwest and twenty li outside the main city, and when some of the Yunmeng Jiang cultivators went to investigate a few days ago some of them disappeared. So Jiang Cheng decided to take a few more of the Yunmeng Jiang disciples and investigate himself.

Since I have some free time, I’ve decided to help them out. They’ve been gone for four days already – the beast must truly be a handful indeed. It might be fun to go and help, although I think Jiang Cheng might spontaneously explode when he sees my face. Well, maybe the explosion will end up killing the monster, who knows.

It’s quite odd, though; some of the disciples who escaped even said they saw the spectre of Jin Guangyao, that wily old fox, hanging around the cave where they were attacked. Although of course that is impossible, for he is probably still trapped in Nie Mingjue’s coffin, fighting a battle till the end of time. Well, I guess I’ll see for myself if what they saw was true or not.

I had not known that you were capable of silk embroidery. Your skill is indeed fine – as expected of the esteemed Second Master Lan! I shall treasure your gift until the end of time. The cherry blossoms flowered today, and they made me think of you. I wonder if you still remember visiting Tanzhou with me when we were looking for the remaining pieces of the Yin metal? Was it your first time attending such a festival? You looked so surprised by the petals raining down on you then! I miss those times. 

I will write to you again tomorrow when I have rescued Jiang Cheng from the human-eating monster. I will make sure to give you a good account of his face when he sees me there to interfere with his night hunt, ha!

***

Dear Lan Wangji Hanguang-jun Mr Chief Cultivator Sir,

I am writing this letter to you because I know you to be a good friend of Wei Wuxian. Just today, I visited Lotus Pier and found that my uncle has been missing for a week, and Wei Wuxian with him for two of those days. They have apparently gone in pursuit of a human-eating monster twenty li southwest of the main city limits of Yunmeng. It must have been a fierce creature indeed to have ensnared both my uncle and Wei Wuxian

Unfortunately, as I am currently extremely and regrettably tied up in Lanling Jin sect matters, this humble person would like to humbly request for your help in locating and possibly rescuing them. Thank you.

Best regards, yours sincerely and most humbly,

Sect Leader Jin Ling, Lanling Jin sect

[hklunethewriter]

But seriously, why do I never hear about Irene Iddesleigh around the Internet? It’s practically The Room of late Victorian literature! I have to tell y'all about this book. See here:

Got published because Amanda McKittrick Ros’s (the author’s) doting husband paid for it, but not for the “I want to have more control over publication/don’t need the traditional system” reasons—no, she simply thought her writing was too amazing for that

Mark Twain called it “one of the greatest unintentionally humorous novels of our time”

C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien would deadass have reading parties where whoever could go the longest without laughing won

“Hope is like a shimmering oaken ship on the turbulent seas of discord, fear, and impertinence, cast by the hollow winds of despair. The sun’s rays of goodness and victory tumble down from the heavens, but lo! The clouds of uncertainty beat them back as though"—ALMOST EVERY PARAGRAPH IS LIKE THIS. Metaphors and similes and alliterations and melodrama is the entire book.

a humorist from that era named Barry Pain (lmao) called it the book of the century. At first he found it funny, but then apparently he “shrank before it in tears and terror”

When Ros read what Pain said, she called him a “clay crab of corruption” and then claimed he did it because he was secretly in love with her (my gosh. her mind)

And for all that, it’s not even just the outrageously

🌌 purple prose 🌌

that’s the whole issue here. The plot is basically just

Act I: I’m going to willingly marry a man I hate, and I hate him because he isn’t my secret lover >:(

Act II: I hate him even more each day but we have a kid, oh and I’m having an emotional affair with my secret lover

Act III: husband discovers affair and locked me in a “cursed” room for a year (Charlotte Brontë is literally shaking) but I escape to America with my lover. Huh? I have a child? Never heard of him

Act IV: I somehow legally marry my lover in America and will live there the next fifteen years, but whoops! Suddenly he’s super bad with money and also a drunk and abuser and hits me and then dies by suicide

Act V: I go back to England. Nobody recognizes me even though I’m, like, 35, but they all hate my guts and love my dead husband. My son got the whole story from his dad and hates me the most. I’m sad. I walk to a cottage my lover used to use and literally drop dead. The end

So if you’re looking for something ridiculous to read and be entertained by, I can heartily recommend Irene Iddesleigh. It’s about 100 pages, so it isn’t a slog (somehow)—I read it in an afternoon. You can read it storybook style here or find it over at Project Gutenberg. It’s what Tolkien and Lewis would want.

In case you aren’t convinced yet, though, allow me to show you.

Until now he was inclined to be prejudiced against the snares and allurements of women, but he strongly resolved to try gradually and abandon every unkind thought harboured in his mind against them, fearing lest all his conjured imaginations were both unjust and selfish; and determined to drown them for ever in the clashing gulf of fate, felt a prouder and happier mortal than before.

But time would solve the problem and heal the wound which penetrated so deeply his bosom. Yea, a short time he hoped would bring his creeping fever of endearment under the binding stay of appointed authority, and heal its weakening effects with the sacred salve of truth.

Aka “my long-worn misogyny has just been reversed by a pretty woman”

Great

Chapter IV: When on the eve of glory, whilst brooding over the prospects of a bright and happy future, whilst meditating upon the risky right of justice, there we remain, wanderers on the cloudy surface of mental woe, disappointment and danger, inhabitants of the grim sphere of anticipated imagery, partakers of the poisonous dregs of concocted injustice. Yet such is life.

Chapter VIII: A word of warning tends to great advantage when issued reverently from the lips of the estimable. It serves to allay the danger pending on reticence, and substantiates in a measure the confidence which has hitherto existed between the parties concerned. Again, a judicious advice, extended to the stubborn and self-willed, proves futile, and incurs the further malice and fiery indignation of the regardless, the reckless, and the uncharitable.

Chapter XIII: It is astounding to view the smallest article through a magnifying glass; how large and lustrous an atom of silver appears; how fat and fair the withered finger seems; how monstrously mighty an orange; how immeasurably great the football of youth; but these are as nought when the naked eye beholds the boulder of barred strength—a mountain of mystery.

Every chapter has a paragraph like this. I won’t spoil them for you.

Such is life.

“My dearest and much beloved, I assure you your remarks have astounded me not a little! Your words sting like a wasp, though, I am quite convinced, unintentionally. You are well aware that within a short period I will be marked  out publicly as mistress of Dunfern mansion—an honour revered in every respect by me; an honour to which I at one time dare never aspire; an honour coveted by many much more worthy than I, whose parentage is as yet bathed in the ocean of oblivious ostentation, until some future day, when I trust it shall stand out boldly upon the brink of disclosure to dry its saturated form and watery wear with the heat of equality. You are about to place me in a position which cannot fail to wring from jealousy and covetousness their flaming torch of abuse. Yes, Sir John, on me you have not ceased to lavish every available treasure and token of your unbounded love. You have been  to me not only a loyal admirer, but a thoroughly upright and estimable example of life’s purest treasures. You have resolved to place me by your side as your equal, whilst wealth in boundless store is thirsting for your touch. You have elevated my unknown position to such a pitch as to defy taunt or jeer, and at any time if I may have, seemingly, ignored your advances, it was purely want of thought, and not through any underhand motive or scheme whatever.

“I assure you your allusion to my verbal answer last night is very pronounced, and may be overlooked on the ground of pure disappointment. Our time of singleness  is now short, and begging your forgiveness for my seeming neglect or indifference, I hope the tide, which until now has flown so gently, may not be stayed on the eve of entering the harbour of harmony, peace, and love.”

At the commencement of Irene’s answer of lavishing praises and flimsy apologies, her affianced moved to the opposite corner of the rustic building to scan the features of her he wholly worshipped and reluctantly doubted. Every sentence the able and beautiful girl uttered caused Sir John to shift his apparently uncomfortable person nearer and nearer, watching at the same time minutely the divine picture  of innocence, until at last, when her reply was ended, he found himself, altogether unconsciously, clasping her to his bosom, whilst the ruby rims which so recently proclaimed accusations and innocence met with unearthly sweetness, chasing every fault over the hills of doubt, until hidden in the hollow of immediate hate.

Ros is so close to being self-aware at the start of the last paragraph here, but then it’s lost in the same circular language found throughout. Ah, well.

[hughiecampbelle]

War Boy (John Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: John

Word Count: 1,682

Inspired By: Holiday by Dana Williams

Warning/s: abuse mention

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @death-of-a-mermaid @lotsoffandomimagines @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @theshelbyclan

A/N: I think this is the longest fic I've ever written, which is pretty cool :) I never thought I'd be able to write something greater than 500 words. It's not my usual style, which is a little frustrating, but in the end I like how it turned out. I had no idea where it was going until the very end, and if that doesn't explain the writing process, I'm not sure what does! I'm super close to 200 fics/a third part of the fic masterlist and that's really exciting! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

Infidelity. Lust. Greed. Envy. He always wanted what wasn't his. A sin, if he believed in those kinds of things. If all the things he'd done in his lifetime weren't so much worse, he would have been afraid. But he wasn't. He should have been ashamed, guilty, pleading on his hands and knees to a bitter God for forgiveness, for understanding he wasn't deserving of, but he couldn't, he wouldn't, because he didn't feel bad. A man of crime, of impulse, sharing a bed with someone who slipped their ring off for him was the least of his worries. To anyone looking in, it would have seemed wrong, sick. It was. It should have seemed that way to him. But he watched from the inside, he knew what really was going on, the full story behind the locked windows and drawn curtains. There were things the rest of the world thought they knew, that they put their faith into, but only you and John knew what was really going on.

It wasn't about the sneaking, the secrets, it wasn't about revenge, getting back at him for all the things he ever did, all the things he put you through. It was about finally being wanted. It was about bloody fists. A heavy silence blanketed over the dinner table. A shove, a grin, a power dynamic. You loved him most when he wasn't around. Felt the most safe, the most adored when the space between you grew, the soil between you deepening, rotting. A man of war, who'd kissed her cheeks and cried when she fell instead of him. It should have been him in those trenches, in her arms. He'd told you that only once, his eyes restless, crazed, begging for one night of rest, too ashamed to admit in daylight. It should have been him, not the brave men beside him, not the innocent boys thrown into this without a second thought. It should have been his funeral, his shallow grave, his things distributed among friends, desperate for anything they could get their hands on. They'd be sad, of course, mourning another loss, but sad didn't matter when the world was ending.

It should have been him. And sometimes, you wished it was.

Someone you worshiped, someone you would have done anything for. That's what love made you believe. He was the light of your life, the reason of your very existence. A boy, then. Kids, you both were, blinded by something bigger than yourselves, something you thought could escape death herself, last a hundred lifetimes. Young, sweet, with summer in your veins. You were so naive. He was different before the war. Softer, tender, he was affectionate, drunk on the ideas of a future together. Married before he left, a ring around his finger when he stepped on that train. He'd lost it, somewhere along the line, and that should have been the first warning when he came back. They all changed, but not like him. The bombs, the guns, the shock of it settled in his gut, poisoning his blood. The fire of the explosives lived inside him. It slept when he did, but it was always looking for something to set it off.

The smallest spark would be enough.

Then it wasn't just anger, but rage. Wrath. A sea of red. Everything in his path needed to be destroyed regardless of the skin it wore. Shattered glass. Broken furniture. Holes in walls. Fabric ripped, or torn, or punctured. Even when he dreamed he clenched his fists, as if he were ready for a fight, a battle, that would never come. You were his favorite, though. Once a cherished item in his collection, sat on the top shelf for safe keeping, now you were nothing but a rag doll. Thrown around for his own entertainment. Bruised, bleeding, left to clean yourself up, mend your own wounds. Sometimes it was barely noticeable. Sometimes it wasn't. And that's when John came into your life.

An old friend, one he'd witnessed war with.

A visit. Simple, quick, a check up on someone he regretted losing contact with. Heard stories of someone special back home, someone who kept him going. From the second you saw him, though, you knew he was different. Careful eyes, all smiles and a wicked humor. He'd held on to that. With bloody nails, he wouldn't let her take that from him. He took notice of everything, whether or not you realized. The purple fingerprints in your skin. The badges under your sleeves. Your limp. The flinching, the bracing when a glass was set down too fast, too hard. John made a point to find his way in this part of Birmingham more often, knowing not only had the men changed, but their lives and families as well. It wasn't just the soldiers who suffered.

He became a source of comfort. Walking your husband home when he drank too much to remember where he lived, helping him up the stairs when his dead weight was too much to carry. It was his way of coping, his way of control. If he was too far gone to remember his own name, he couldn’t hurt anyone. Drown the demons in booze, forgetting how violent he could be when he was hungover. Passed out, leaving the two of you alone. You found yourself confiding in him, telling him things you never would have told anyone. Admitting to your own exhaustion, your own defeat, raising your white flag. You didn't have to explain the flinching, the hesitation to trust, all the little things he picked up on, all the things he'd seen too often. He was a man of destruction. Smashing his bottles, begging for a fight, starting them when no one else would. A form of self mutilation. Too many nights John spent taking care of the gashes in his face, of his open knuckles.

He was trying to beat the war out of himself. Scare it away. Make it rupture.

Sometimes he was unexpected. Knocking out of nowhere when your husband was at work. You should have known he wasn't looking for him. You should have known, but you didn't. And neither did he, inviting him for dinner, for drinks, any occasion. Before you knew it, you were spending every night together. Over the table, your laughs hushed, your words effortless. Learned more about him than you ever thought. A wife he loved, passed away. A brood of kids he fears he's not good enough for. A complicated family and a business with a license to kill. The thought of him, funny John with his quips and fast wit, with his endless supply of dirty jokes and filthy words, a father. You had a hard time picturing him reading bedtime stories or folding baby clothes. It was something you used to dream of, having kids. Not anymore, not with a man like that. You'd never forgive yourself, ruining an innocent life, raised in a field of landmines. It wouldn't be fair to them. You couldn't do that.

He brought them a few times. Pudgy fingers, toothless giggles, tales about school, about all the things they were learning, all the people they'd become one day. It did something to your home. Turned a lifetime of pain and fear into excitement, into joy. They didn't know what life had in store for them, the possibilities endless. Infinite. All of them wanting a piece of you, sitting on your lap, whispering all the secrets their father told them not to tell. He spoke of you often, or at least, that's what they said. John in his natural state, a child on his hip, another pulling him by the cuff. He was needed. That was more than you could say for yourself. A pain, an ache in your chest, watching your husband. Awkward, anxious, angry. Angry at little fingerprints across every surface. Angry at the noise, at the constant energy, the neediness. You knew he thought that was weak, to need someone. He couldn't stand to be near them.

He couldn't stand anything anymore.

John would have killed the man. If he were anyone else, he would have sliced him in half, make a godless man see heaven for himself. But he wasn't just anyone, they'd seen hell together. Walked through fire, spit in the face of the devil himself and lived to see another day. That was rare. It made a bond unlike any other. But that didn't mean he had to like him, that he had to approve of everything he did. Drunk together, one night, the last two at the bar. He never meant for it to get out. It was the whiskey talking. A single sentence, a threat in passing. If you ever hurt them again, I'll fucking kill ya. His words were slurred, and heavy between his teeth, but there was truth to them. He could have said something a lot worse. He could have told him he was undeserving of you, that he was fucked up to hurt you, to take you for granted. He could have said that he changed, that he wasn't the friend he was anymore, that he couldn't stand the sight of him. John could have admitted that he loved you, from the second he saw you, he loved you and he wanted to protect you, that he thought of you every single day.

But he didn't.

Instead he made a promise, an oath to you, to him. One he never wanted to go to through with. One he'd have to, he knew it. Now he was waiting across the street, ducking in the shadows, watching for him to leave, to go to the bar after another meltdown. The screaming could be heard through the neighborhood. It didn't matter who he used to be, this was him now. This was his fate. He should have listened to John that night, but he didn't, he didn't listen to anyone anymore, and now he'd face the end.

John just hoped you'd forgive him after all this.

[astroellipse]

heavensward main quest done, for a second time!!! finally!!!

Wow! Yeah, still bad. The Heavens Ward was a terrible set of villains. they COULD have been good. We only really interact with like... 3 of them? And for just about a single scene each. Really coulda expanded on Ishgard’s religion and the inquisition and you know, the beliefs and conditions that led to the rise of literally the final boss of this expansion. Doesn’t even let me kill Zephirin directly. Still mad about that.

But anyways. I am going to complain again about this thing I’ve complained about while writing these I don’t even know how many times already. ACKNOWLEDGE THAT THE WOL IS TOO POWERFUL! PLEEAAASSSSSSE!!! Make an issue of it! Spark some angst or something! More than just them absorbing too much light, take it further! Take issue with their OWN power! Thordan, who was momentarily the most powerful being in existence, was TERRIFIED of the WoL! And Hydaelyn wasn’t even at full strength backing them up or anything, they’re simply terrifying in how strong they are! Even Elidibus acknowledges it!

I’m gonna PUNCH something. This is why I have my own little story with Secret, just to play with this idea. The obvious endgame here is to create a world without the capacity to summon primals, and since the gods are primals, a world without the need for gods. That’s right baby, we’re playing Xenoblade Chronicles now! All that’s left is for the WoL to beat up both Hydaelyn and Zodiark, take on that mantle of power for themself, and... well, there isn’t an obvious answer. Secret’s, at present, is to destroy herself but there is in fact going to be more story after the Zodiark/Hydaelyn saga, so that’s a no-go unless they pull another reboot which I don’t think is even a possibility at this point.

God dammit man. I fucking love this game and this stupid story even for how incoherent it is. There are so many good ideas! I just wish so many of them weren’t left to rot!!! Alright. Okay. I have that out of my system now.

Anyways. I think it’s funny how different my reaction to Ardbert is now. He left my mind immediately after his introduction and I actively loathed him for the longest time. But man I just saw him for the first time in this playthrough and started giggling so much. Love this dude. Love his stupid default midlander hyur face. Even the title “Warrior of Darkness” didn’t make my skin crawl too much this time around. Just. God. I’m glad the writing gets better later on. I will say for the umpteenth time that I can’t understand why people like HW so much.

I think I touched on this before too, but it’s really just the individual characters that carry things for me. Haurchefant is obviously such a highlight and his death is incredibly emotional even for how plainly stupid the circumstances are. Or, like, I don’t really care whatever the hell Nidhogg’s doing, but I DO care about my guy Estinien losing it, again.

This entire bit with him fighting for control has actually been made 100x funnier by doing the DRG quests. “I can control the power, I’m the master, I won’t let it take control” Oh yeah, you absolute dambass? Then why’d I have to beat the sense back into you just a couple of moons ago? Huh? Oh, because you’ve already given into the power before? But it’s different this time, even though you’re clearly more agitated about getting your revenge? Extremely doubtful. And now this leadup to the second Nidhogg fight has turned into one big “I told you so”.

But! I’m done for now. Might write again later tonight still... actually no, it’s already 3am. But know that I am developing Thoughts about Doran. My precious little purple man. Love this dude.

[the-shadow-of-atlantis]

All the Stars Pt 6

Tagging: @melyaliz @thespacebuns @coffee-randomness @the-sun-and-their-moon

Summary: Nova goes down memory lane as she heads out for the holidays

A/N Pam belongs to @thespacebuns

Read Earlier Parts Here

By the time Christmas arrived Nova found herself not wanting to leave Hogwarts. The temptation to further explore the castle while hardly anyone was there was too great to resist. But also most of her friends were going home for the holidays and it just wouldn't be the same.

"What are you going to do as soon as you get home?" Nova asked as she finished settling Apollo's cage in place.

"Oh I do hope my parents have set up the tree I really want to decorate it." Adeline said as she took a seat with her brother and Jamie sat beside them.

"I'll probably have to help my parents at the shop, believe it or not it gets crazy around Christmas time." Pam sighed as she took a seat beside Nova making Cedric take her other side.

Nova smiled, pleased that Pam was starting to become more open about her parents profession. She remembered how that conversation went down shortly after they became friends.

"You know if you shine them under a red light it'll give you tips on how to do certain tricks." Pam said as she saw Nova begin to play with her cards one day as they opted to spend their time in the dormitory.

"Really?" Nova asked, suddenly looking at the backs of the card.

She had had this deck for the longest time and was always curious about the strange markings on the back of the cards.

"How do you know that?" Nova asked after a moment of silence.

"My dad showed me." Pam said simply, her expression was hesitant the way it usually got when she wasn't sure if she should share certain information with Nova yet.

“My parents own the magic shop. They have a special printer for the cards.” She finally caved watching Nova’s expression.

It took a minute for the information to settle into Nova’s head then she cracked a smile and Pam pouted.

“Forgive me but you have to admit the situation is a bit ironic in a funny way.” Nova slightly giggled. “I mean what are the odds a family who does muggle magic end up with a witch for a daughter. I bet they just thought you were a natural at everything they taught you.”

Pam smiled sheepishly. “Yeah pretty much. They had no idea until the ministry person showed up.”

“What about you?” Cedric asked, interrupting her memory.

“Pardon?” Nova asked, blinking her eyes as she remembered what they were talking about.

“What will you do when you get home?” Cedric asked curiously. Nova had quickly found out that Cedric was always fascinated with all her stories of the muggle world.

“Well as much as I would love to start decorating for Christmas.” Nova began as she slumped against the seat. “I did ask my parents to record any of my programs that I’ve missed and then to buy any movie that has come out recently. I'm not sure how much I have to catch up on.”

“Oh why didn’t I think of that.” Jamie frowned. “And we got a new vhs player before I went to Hogwarts this year.”

"Programs?" Cedric asked his brows furrowing in confusion. "Movie? VHS?"

All the girls giggled as he continued to look around utterly confused.

"Oh you should all come visit me for a weekend. We could show Cedric around London and show him our favorite movies." Nova said perking up at the idea of at least still having an adventure with her friends over the holidays.

Nova quickly pulled out a piece of paper and began to scribble out her phone number.

"Here, give me your numbers as well so I can call as soon as I get an answer from my parents." She handed out small slips to all the girls. "And I'll send you a letter through Apollo as soon possible."

Cedric nodded though he seemed upset he didn’t get a slip of paper. Half of the train ride back was spent wondering the train checking in with friends they hadn’t been able to squeeze in the compartment. Nova made mental lists of which friends to send at least small gifts to. The Weasley kids had warmed up to Nova over the course of their time at Hogwarts and she remembered their father really enjoyed muggle artifacts. It would seem Apollo would have his wings full this holiday, Nova just hoped he was up to the task.

In the end everyone was almost resisting the urge to separate. They went through the secret entrance in pairs and huddled as closely together as possible as they looked for their parents. Hugging each other tightly before saying goodbye. When Nova finally let go of Pam she rushed over to her parents and hugged them tightly.

“How was your first semester at Hogwarts?” Her father asked once they pulled away from the embrace.

“So much fun!” Nova said bouncing in place, her parents chuckled as they walked towards the car.

“The castle is ginormous, I don't think I’ve fully explored it all. I almost wanted to stay for the holidays.” Nova began as soon as they were all in the car. “Would it be okay if I stay during the Easter holidays? I mean we don’t really celebrate it much.”

“We’ll see sweetheart.” Her mother said and Nova slightly noticed her tone of discipline? What was that about?

“I was also wondering if my friends could come during one of the weekends. We have a pure blood friend and we want to show him around London and muggle stuff.” Nova continued but paused when she felt a strange silence spreading between her parents.

They glanced at each other nervously as if not sure how to bring up something.

“What’s wrong?” Nova asked.

“We’ll stardust theres something we need to speak to you about.” Her father cleared his throat.

“You see we received quite a number of letters from your Head of House Professor Snape.” Her mother continued.

“You mean Mr. Snape.” Nova grumbled under her breath.

“Nova!” Her mother reprimanded her.

“I’m sorry but last I checked Mr. Snape does not have an actual doctorate.” Nova huffed.

“Would you call Professor McGonagall, Mrs. McGonagall?” Her father inquired.

“Heavens no I do value my life.” Nova said.

“Right, well Professor Snape has sent us… many letters regarding your behavior in school.” Her mother continued.

“My behavior?” Nova asked wondering what she could have dont that would warrant a letter to her parents.

“Apparently you bewitched a chalkboard to do something?” Her father finally said and it suddenly clicked.

“I can’t believe he gets away with this.” Nova fumed as she left the potions class. “Just because I try to correct something and suddenly he takes points away from Gryffindor? The twins weren’t even doing anything during this lesson.”

“Don’t stress Nov.” Fred said.

“Yeah Snape takes points from our house all the time.” George said.

“Its still not fair.” Nova huffed thinking about how Snape needed a taste of his own medicine.

It suddenly clicked and Nova paused.

“Oh whatcha thinking?” Pam asked, eyeing the look Nova had on her face.

“I need a large chalkboard.” Was all Nova said and they quickly went hunting for one.

Nova bewitched the chalkboard in a way that would add points towards certain heads of house, then she hung it over the glass tubes that kept the score of the houses. Nova started to give points to all her professors making sure to score everyone high but keeping Snapes in the negatives. In the end Snape eased up a bit and nova retired the chalkboard much to everyone’s dismay. Though she kept it tucked away just in case.

“Well?” Her mother asked, waiting for Nova to explain herself.

“If you think I made it write something vulgar I didn't.” Nova said then continued to explain what it is that really happened.

By the end of her tale her father had to fight back the urge to laugh and her mother was a strange mixture of worry, disappointment, and annoyance.

“Why haven’t you told us how Professor Snape has been treating you?” Her mother asked.

“Didn’t seem important at the time. IfI had known he was sending letters every time I had a thought about his methods of brewing potions, then I would have sent one right along about how big of git he is.”

“Nova.” Her mother reprimanded again while her father disguised his laugh as a cough.

“Well he’s definitely no Slughorn.” Her father said to lighten the mood.

“Does this mean my friends can’t come over?” Nova asked as she realized why her parents had been in such a strange mood when she was asking to spend time with her friends.

“Well.” Her mother sighed, wondering what to do now that she knew Novas' side. “Why don't you give your father and I a day to think about it.”

In the end her parents caved, as long as Nova kept them more up to date over what happened during her classes. Nova was surprised to know that Adeline didn’t live that far from her and was able to visit her more frequently. They both alternated between going to visit Pam and having Pam visit them. Though Nova had a mother who was basically considered muggle it was a bit of a strange experience meeting her friends parents.

Adelines parents seemed like smart people; they didn't seem to mind the fact that they had produced two magical children and instead tackled it as some new challenge. Meanwhile Pam's parents were enthusiastic that their daughter had turned out to perform real magic, they loved seeing the simple spells Novas father had to help around the house. Pam’s parents had also hoped that Pam's younger sister would also turn out to be gifted magically.

Though meeting the muggle parents had been a bit of giggle, traveling around London with Cedric. Nova, Adeline, Pam, Jamie, and evening a couple of Cedric friends had all spent a day together. They took the boys to a movie and made try as many muggle snacks as possible. Pam had even showed them how to mix their popcorn with certain candies. They also went to a mall and made them try on muggle clothes. In the end the boys had actually purchased a couple outfits.

“I want to live in London.” Cedric sighed as they drove away from the city.

“Im surprised Amos as never brought you before.” Novas father said peering at them through the rear view mirror. “With the way he speaks of you I think you just need ask and he’d consider moving.”

Cedric turned pink at the mention of his father and Nova scolded her own.

“I'm just saying.” Her father chuckled.

“You’re more than welcomed to come whenever you want.” Nova said, rolling her eyes at her father. “Trust me we haven’t even begun to scratch the surface with muggle things.”

“Sounds fun.” Cedric said smiling brightly at the thought.

Novas father glanced through the rear view mirror again and sighed softly at their familiar expressions. Ah kids.