#this was kind of an excuse for me to put trolls in different clothes

[dracomysthical]

dave’s goncharov adventures pt. 3

[officialleehadan]

About Bout

“My lord! Care for a bout, my lord?”

The call surprised Edion, who hadn’t been addressed by any title since his arrival in Reinette’s world. He turned, and discovered that the call had come from a man in armor. Or, well, what would pass for armor in this world. It was formed of thick plastic, and probably would turn a blade reasonably well. The man, however, was not holding live steel.

“It’s a game,” Reinette explained when Edion stopped to see what the armored man was about. “You remember those foam tubes we use for bumpers in some of the tack sheds? “

He did. The foam was more plastic, the odd, mutable material that Reinette’s world used for nearly everything. They served nicely to prevent bumps and scuffs here and there, and worked nicely to keep the doors from slamming. Now that he looked more closely, he could see that the ‘swords’ the armored man held were made of the same foam tubes, likely with a rod of one sort or another to give them some shape.

“Practice swords,” he concluded with interest. “He is offering a match?”

It likely wasn’t fair, that he should take up a blade when he had been trained since he could walk by the finest swordsmasters his royal father could command.

“If you want one,” Reinette said, and rested her head on his shoulder, which pleased him more than he cared to admit, all things considered. “They do historical reenactments so people can see how things looked in our history. I imagine it’s a little like your world in some ways.”

It… wasn’t. Not honestly. The plastic armor bore resemblance to the armor he knew in general form, but real armor moved differently, and wore differently. It had to, to protect against real blades.

But for practice blades, the plastic armor likely did very well indeed.

“I’ve some training,” he told the armored man, mostly to gauge his reaction. Most of the combatants seemed to be children and teenagers, There were a few adults too, who mostly seemed to be trying their luck more at flirtation than swordswork. “My father… believed in a rounded education.”

No one in this world would believe the truth of his life, and he had thought a great deal about how to excuse the skills he had learned in a world apart from this one.

Fortunately, his statement, and likely Reinette’s place by his side as a known performer in he Faire likely clued the man in. He came over and let some of his flamboyant air fade away.

“We do these matches for the kids,” he explained with a wry grin that spoke of years of experience. “It’s all good fun, you know? But we also play with another group that takes this kind of fighting a lot more seriously. I wouldn’t mind putting on a real show, if you’re in the mood.”

“I haven’t my armor.” It was in he truck, according to Reinette, who had admitted to packing it with an eye to finding one of the smiths who might be able to repair his breastplate. The rest was in reasonably good condition, Edion had gone over it with a soft cloth and oil to make sure it suffered no ill effects from his dip in the river. All the same, the breastplate was halfway caved-in, and was nothing near to wearable until it was fixed. Not a cheap proposition, but he and Reinette had been discussing money in her world. “I’m afraid it’s badly in need of a skilled smith, and I haven’t the skill.”

That caught the man’s attention. “You have armor? What sort?”

“Plate and chain,” Edion said, baffled by the sudden interest. “But the breastplate took… rather a bad blow. It isn’t wearable.”

“Metal?”

“Yes.”

The man offered a hand to shake. “I’m Albert, but everyone calls me Bertie. You got that armor with you?”

“I do,” Edion said, completely baffled now, but he shook Bertie’s hand. “My name is Edion. Do you know a smith who might be able to help?”

“I am a smith who might be able to help,” Bertie said cheerfully and waved at one of the other men in armor. “Troll, I’m taking a break. Be back in an hour or so.”

The man he called to, short, red-headed, and carrying a huge foam hammer, waved back but didn’t reply. Then again, he was surrounded by a whole pack of giggling children, so his attention was rather occupied. Break secured, Bertie ducked under the rope barrier and passed his foam weapon off to a woman who waited nearby.

“”Love working with the kids, but that heat is brutal in full armor,” Bertie said once he had stripped off his armor and left it on a stand out of the way. Beneath it, he wore a simple cotton gambeson that was comfortingly familiar in design. He waited until they were out of sight behind the row of tents before he stripped that off too and dumped a bucket of water over himself with a sigh. “So, what’s wrong with your armor? I assume it’s not a matter of a few broken straps, or you’d have fixed it yourself.”

“I took a blow to the chest,” Edion said cautiously after a glance down at Reinette, who nodded him onward. “The breastplate is caved in about the ribs. I believe it could be repaired, but I’ve neither the skill, nor the equipment.”

It wasn’t far to Reinette’s truck, and Edion lifted the plastic crate of armor down out of the back so Bertie could take a look t it. As soon as he opened the crate, Bertie let out a low, impressed whistle and leaned in.

“You know,” he said after some thought, and a careful examination of Edion’s ruined breastplate. “I thought I was seeing things. Lots of people in this world have fine steel, and some of them know how to use it. Not so uncommon in the Faire circuit, anyway. But see, every now and then, something turns up. So I’ve got a question for you. It’s a strange one, and if I’m wrong, we’ll say I was in the sun too long.”

“Alright,” Edion agreed cautiously. It almost seemed like Bertie was coming at a point. A tingle down his spine felt almost like magic. “I’ll hear your question.”

Bertie got a strange smile on his face, and looked down at the breastplate in his hands. The one that bore the symbol of Edion’s royal family, visible even through the deep dent.

“How long,” Bertie asked slowly in a language Edion thought he might never hear again, “Have you been in this world?”

+++

Sent Beyond:

Her farm is at stake. His country is at war. Their worlds couldn’t be more different, until a mysterious portal drops him into her bedroom, and changes their lives for good.

Unspoken Words

The Sign of a Healer

Two Words Shared (Subscriber Only!)

Of Horses (Free on Patreon!)

Wish to Stay (Subscriber Only!)

Wish to Ride  (Subscriber Only!)

Faire Dance

+++

More Stories!

+++

[harrytpotter]

A Dangerous Bet — Chapter One.

Plot: A big change can make a person do crazy things. Take on dangerous bets. And that’s exactly what Y/N and Sirius Black did. Can a random and thoughtless occasion completely change two people’s lives?

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader.

Warnings: Sexual content.

A/N: And here is my newest series, this time starring Hogwart’s ultimate heartbreaker Sirius Black! My original plan was to make the Reader house-neutral but for the sake of the story, I decided it would be better if she too belonged to Gryffindor. Hope you guys like it! :) ps: it’s unrevised because I’m lazy sooo I’m sorry for the probable grammar mistakes.

It’s always an unsettling feeling to go through a massive change. When something you thought would last forever just ends suddenly. When you realize it was all just a big lie. You feel like a complete fraud. Frustrated. Cheated on by the universe. And that was exactly how you were feeling. Like a big fat deception.

“How are you feeling?” Sirius’ voice popped into your ear, his mouth clung to it so you could hear him through the loud music that echoed in the common room. You realized you had been staring at the void, lost in your thoughts.

“Honestly? I don’t know. But if I had to choose a word to define it, I’d go with relief,” you screamed into his ear, a dose of firewhisky in your hand.

“That’s actually the last one that I’d ever think of,” he laughs. “Why is that?”

You started answering him, but Sirius shook his head and pointed negatively to his ear, letting you know that he couldn’t hear a thing. Pulling you by the hand, Sirius led you out of the party that was happening at full-force inside the Gryffindor tower. Once the two of you reached the hallway, he leaned against the wall and waited for you to answer his previous question.

“I don’t know, I just... think we’ve been together for this long because we were used to each other, it was...”

“Commonplace?” He completed the sentence for you. “I always thought you deserved better anyway.”

“Says the guy who’s with a different girl every week,” you joked, rolling your eyes at him.

“Ouch!” He laughed and scrunched in mock offense. “I know I’m one to talk, but you’re one of my best friends, L/N. I know you. He was just...”

“Too plain for me,” you roll your eyes at him, laughing. “I know, you’ve been saying that to me ever since he and I went on our first date.”

“Excuse me! Because he was!” He laughed even harder than before.

“I’ll never give you the satisfaction to say you’re right if that’s what you’re expecting, Black!” You retorted, lifting a brow at him.

“You don’t need to say it, love, knowing you know that is enough for me,” he winked at you.

“Come on, let’s head back,” you smirked with a roll of your eyes, pulling him by his hand back to the party.

Sirius never left your side at the party, making sure you were having the best time. You were both completely drunk and lost inside your own little word, which made the fact that your ex-boyfriend Bentley Styles was snogging Clark Summers go unnoticed by the two of you.

“SIRIUS!” You shouted suddenly amidst the loud music, feeling the alcohol cursing through your veins.

“YES?” He shouted back, smiling as he put away a strand of your hair that was stuck into your sticky forehead.

“I WANNA DO SOMETHING CRAZY! SOMETHING STUPID!”

“LIKE WHAT?”

“I DON’T KNOW! YOU ARE THE MASTER OF MISCHIEF HERE, BLACK. SURPRISE ME!”

Sirius smiled wide at you for a second before taking his right hand to the back of your head and pull you into his direction, a mischievous spark flickering in his eyes. He brushed his lips against yours teasingly, a grin playing on his features, before nibbling your lower lip. He then stared into your eyes with a burning intensity.

“Is that the best you got Black?” You asked teasingly and you could see his eyes darkening a little.

“Y/N L/N...” he adverted you.

“Sirius Black...” you retorted in a challenging tone, enough to drive him over the edge.

Next thing you knew, your tongues meet and briefly tussle with each other, quickly escalating into an epic battle for dominance. Your lips remained locked as your tongues danced tirelessly, until you finally gave in and let him had it. And he did. It was a kiss like no other, something you’ve never experienced before. It was like both of you were kissing with all of your senses, electricity flowing through every inch of the two of you. You tangled your fingers in his hair whilst he grabbed your waist with a tightened grip, both feeling the need of something to hold on to, both wanting more of each other even though you couldn’t get much physically closer than that. After what felt like hours you eventually pulled away, both out of breath and holding a look of pure longing. You couldn’t hear the music or any other noise for that matter. It was like the outside world had just disappeared and the two of you were the only ones in the room.

“Well, guess I can say I understand the appeal now,” you smirked weakly at him, the longing crystal clear in your face. “Unfortunately, this was not stupid or crazy enough for me.”

Sirius took one of his hands to your cheek, his mind clouded and fuzzy from what just happened and his heart aching with a burning longing. “Y/N, we’re drunk...” he said in a husky low voice, sending shivers down your spine.

“I know. But I’d still be doing this even if I was sober. Wouldn’t you?” You asked with a whisper.

Sirius stared at your lips and started brushing his thumb across them. You closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation. “Yes. I would,” he finally said.

“Good. Come with me,” you said, taking his hand in yours and leading him out of the tower.

As the two of you exited the portrait hole into the seventh floor, you dragged Sirius to the left corridor. Walking past through it three times with a very specific scene in mind, a door suddenly materialized itself on the wall, right in front of a tapestry depicting the attempt of Barnabas the Barmy to teach trolls ballet. Sirius smirked at you as you pushed the door open and pulled him inside, a mattress laid on the floor in the middle of the room. Pillows and cushions were scattered all around it on top of white pieces of fabric that covered the floor. Some pieces of fabric also hung from the ceiling. The walls were enlightened like a projection screen, showing landscapes like an old movie. Closing the door behind him, Sirius decided he couldn’t take it anymore and advanced towards you, grabbing and kissing you hungrily. You quickly entangled your fingers in his hair for the second time in the night as you felt his mouth sliding through your jaw on its way to your ear. Sirius nibbled your earlobe before trailing kisses and nibbles down your neck. You tilted your head a little, pressing him against your body.

“I want you so bad, Sirius,” you mumbled. You could feel his skin crawl at your words.

“Not more than I want you,” he whispered into your ear before kissing you one more time.

Sirius led you in the direction of the mattress and as soon as you approached it, you undressed each other hurriedly, barely containing the desire that was spreading through you like wildfire. Getting on the mattress, your bodies began to swing together in a rhythmic pace, hands sliding through each other’s bodies as sounds of pleasure started to fill the room. Both you and Sirius felt ecstatic, completely wrapped in this sensual, spicy, magical moment where your bodies fitted perfectly together, as if one was the exact match of the other. It was fast, rough and hungry, yet gentle. You went on this high for as long as you could draw the moment, falling exhausted next to each other after you both cried out each other’s names as you came almost together. Sirius slid his arm underneath you and wrapped it on your shoulders, pulling you close to him. You rested your head on his chest, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours? Regretting your crazy, stupid decision already?” He asked with a laugh whilst drawing circles on your belly with his index finger.

“Although it was most definitely the stupidest and most reckless decision I’ve ever made, I don’t regret any bit of it,” you laughed, turning your head so you could look at him.

Sirius smiled and shifted his position so he was facing you. He took his free hand to your chin and gently pulled your head to him so he could kiss you. “So what are you thinking about?” He pressed his forehead against yours and brushed his nose on your own.

“That you’re surprisingly sweet after sex!” You exclaimed with a mockingly frown, earning a hearty laugh from him. “I was thinking that one time wasn’t enough, actually...” you added with a lustful look. Sirius got the message and smirked playfully at you before starting it all over again.

——————————————————————

“Morning, beautiful,” Sirius said as you opened your eyes, giving several pecks on your lips, causing you both to smile amidst them.

“You know, you never stroke me as the kind of guy who slept in and awaked the girl with sweet kisses in the morning,” you teased.

“That’s because I’m not, but since you’re my best friend I figured you deserved a little effort,” he shrugged playfully.

You opened your mouth in defeat at his remark before bursting into a laughter and threw a pillow to his face, getting up and starting to dress yourself.

“So, what are we doing now?” He asked, getting up.

“You i don’t know, I, however, am going to take a nice and long bath.”

“Want some company?” He winged his eyebrows at you, grabbing you by the waist.

You rolled your eyes with a smirk, playfully pushing him away. “Will you put some clothes on for Merlin’s sake?”

“Why? It’s not like you haven’t seen it before,” he winked at you.

“Aren’t you so full of yourself, Black?!” You rolled your eyes at him once again.

He laughed whilst throwing his underwear and pants on. He suddenly stopped with his shirt in hands, studying it with a fabricated interest. “I think we should talk,” he said, looking into your eyes. As you stared at him with a brow lifted, he added, “about what happened between us.”

“Sirius...” you sighed. “We’re cool. I know you don’t do feelings, besides I just got out myself of a long-term relationship, it’s not like I’m looking for anything serious right now.”

“And here was I thinking you were looking for all things Sirius right now,” he joked, his and your laughter echoing in the room.

“You really are something else, aren’t you?” You smiled at him. Sirius smiled back at you and the two of you stared at each other for a while.

“So, setting the record straight here, this,” he pointed back and forth at you and him, “was a one-time thing right?”

“Well... yeah,” you shrugged.

“Works for me, L/N,” he smirked at you.

“Goodbye, Black,” you smiled at him, taking a while longer before heading off.

——————————————————————

As the hot water streamed down your body, you closed your eyes, reliving all of the memories from the previous night. A smirked appeared on your face as you reminded of Sirius’ hands trailing your body. It was hands down the best night you’ve ever spent with a guy and you knew it had set the stakes high. But it would never happen again, it couldn’t. Sirius was your best friend and you knew him way too well to know that he’d move on to his next prey and never look back. Even with feelings off the table, he was not the kind of guy that engaged on something casual. He was a one-night stand kind of guy. Which was too bad because you could use the distraction yourself. Getting off the bath, you threw your uniform on and got ready for the day with an unusual disposition.

Glancing at your watch, you stormed off your dorm and the Gryffindor tower, fastening your pace in order to be able to have breakfast before your classes.

As you entered the Great Hall, you spotted all of your friends already sat on the table, including Sirius. Suppressing a smile, you went to take your seat between Lily and Alice.

“Finally! Where the hell were you?” Marlene asked as soon as you entered her field of vision.

“Yes, L/N! Where were you? It’s not like you to be late for breakfast,” Sirius shot a mischievous glance at you. You could sense his smirk from behind his mug.

Before you could say anything, James jumped in and said with a brow lifted: “you’re awfully cheerful for a Monday morning, Pad, which is not like you at all.”

“I had a good night of sleep, Prongs. That’s all,” he shrugged to his friend and sent a discreet wink on your way, cautiously so none of your friends could see it.

“You’re lucky, I barely got any sleep and my head hurts like hell,” Alice said, massaging her temples with her fingers. “Please never let me drink firewhisky again.”

“You always say that and end up drinking it anyway,” Peter noted, nodding vaguely.

“Wormy is right, Alice. Besides, it’s not like any of us could’ve helped you out, the whole night is pretty much just a blur to all of us,” James said proudly at the outcome of the party he had planned.

You smiled at your friends, gratitude filling you as you stared at each one of these weirdos. They were your family away from home. Amidst the vibrant discussion about the previous night, Remus reached for your hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Are you okay? I mean, with all that kissing and everything,” he asked, looking sympathetically into your eyes, searching for any traces of hurt. He had seen Bentley and Clark kissing at the party and assumed you had as well.

You chocked on your cuppa as you tried to look innocent and avoided Sirius’ eyes at all costs. “Kissing? What kissing?” You managed to say after pulling yourself together.

Your little group of friends fell dead silent, eyes wandering from you to Remus.

“Oh,” he opened his mouth in realization. “You haven’t seen it, have you?”

“Seen what exactly, Rem?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Bentley and Clark. They looked... pretty cozy at the party,” he shrugged as if he was apologizing.

You just shrugged, unsure of what to say. You could feel Sirius’ intense stare burning holes into your skin, but you didn’t dare to look at him.

“Well, we should probably get going if we want to make it on time, Minnie doesn’t look to be in a good mood today,” James said, breaking the awkward silence.

Slowly, you and your friends got up and headed out of the Great Hall. Sirius, James and Remus walked together, joking and laughing. Alice and Marlene were on their trail, engaged in a conversation with Peter. You and Lily walked a little slower, detached from the big group. The redhead was unusually quiet.

“I know why you choked on your tea earlier,” she said, bluntly and suddenly.

“Excuse me?” You tried to play dumb.

“I saw it. You and Sirius kissing at the party,” she said, stopping in front of you with a concerned look on her face.

You bit your lower lip, once again unsure of what to say. After a while, you shrug.

“Y/N... Do I need to remind you that you used to have a crush on him before you started dating Ben?” She asked, a mother-look taking over her features.

“Lils, it was a very long time ago! We were kids back then! Besides, it’s not like I’m expecting something from him or anything. It was simply a one-night stand,” you said, crossing your arms on your chest defensively.

“For your sake, I really hope it was. It’s a dangerous bet for you to take. Don’t get me wrong, he is one my closest friends, but he is...” she started, pausing suddenly.

“Sirius...” you finished her sentence with a heavy sigh. “Don’t worry, Evans, he might be my best friend but I’m not stupid to ever think he’ll commit to anyone. I was just having fun,” you reassured her, linking your arm in hers and leading her to class.

[headcanonsandmore]

Hermione and Veronica ‘Ronnie’ Weasley

Summary:  A Romione WLW AU, with Hermione and her best friend Veronica 'Ronnie' Weasley, the sweet redheaded girl who... well, who Hermione finds herself very confused about.

This fic was inspired by a similar AU scenario fic by @hillnerd. As with everything Hilly does, her fic is amazing, but hopefully my fic doesn’t look too bad by comparison. 

                  Read on FFN.                                      Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~~

Hermione Granger had a problem.

Well, not so much a problem. More of a…. confusion. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

And it had to do with her best friend. Veronica “Ronnie” Weasley.

Ronnie was funny, sweet, kind, and athletic. Over six foot tall, with a mane of long red hair and a mass of freckles, she immediately caught the eye. The boys couldn’t help but notice her, and many of the girls either admired her or felt jealousy towards her. Hermione had lost count of the time she’d seen Dean and Seamus staring at Ronnie from across the common room. On a few occasions, she’d even seen Neville blush after Ronnie had smiled at him.

Not that Ronnie noticed any of this. The redhead had always felt lacking, either to her older brothers or to her younger sister Ginny. Ronnie was, like all her siblings, good at schoolwork, but she had never felt like she could stand out. She had confided to Hermione that, even if she had done well, no-one would ever think much of it, since her brothers had all done it before.

And then there was Ginny. Ronnie’s little sister was about almost a foot shorter, and with more of a nervous energy than that of her older siblings. Hermione had often wondered whether the Weasleys all had a set amount of passion, and that those of a shorter persuasion tended to be more on-edge than their lankier siblings. Granted, this theory didn’t necessarily explain why the short Charlie was so relaxed, while the taller Percy was the exact opposite. Maybe the Weasleys all just reacted differently to their circumstances.

Ronnie was not an intense person. In fact, Hermione found her almost supernaturally relaxed and affable. More prone to telling a chuckle-inducing joke as opposed to an over-the-top prank that was the preferred tactic of Fred and George.

Hermione preferred Ronnie’s way of doing things. Hermione liked a lot about Ronnie. Even if Ronnie personally thought her own matey-ness with people made her unattractive, Hermione couldn’t imagine why such friendliness and kindness could be considered unappealing.

To boys, of course. Yes, just to the boys.

Hermione had the distinct impression that Ronnie felt lacking compared to her little sister. Maybe it was Ronnie’s lack of interest in “girly” things, or her seeming-inability to act with “decorum” (as Hermione’s parents would have put it). It was common for Ronnie to wear a pair of hand-me-down school trousers instead of skirts because, as she herself put it, she hated having to worry about whether people could see up her legs.

Hermione always found herself flustered whenever Ronnie joked about this. Ronnie did have very long legs after all.

She had been friends with Ronnie for years, ever since the Halloween of first year. They hadn’t exactly gotten along before then but, since the incident with the troll, they had become firm friends. It was nice being friends with someone else in the girls dormitory; Lavender and Parvati had never really clicked with Hermione. Ronnie was the first female friend Hermione had ever had.

And then third year had happened.

The two of them had fallen out over their pets. Crookshanks and Scabbers had never gotten along and, at one point, it had looked like Crookshanks had eaten Ronnie’s rat. It had been really lonely not speaking to Ronnie for all that time.

But they had become friends again, and things had settled back to how they had been before.

Well, not exactly.

Ronnie had always been a good friend, but Hermione hadn’t understood why she had missed Ronnie so much when they weren’t speaking. She certainly hadn’t missed Harry in the same way, which was even weirder considering that Harry was a boy.

Hermione had missed Ronnie’s smile, her laugh, her beautiful red hair, the way she would throw an arm around Hermione’s shoulders as they walked to class, the way she would bound up to her and hug Hermione tightly, and the way she would stretch out in the common room so that Hermione couldn’t help but notice her-

Yes, she had certainly missed her friend Ronnie. The same friend who made butterflies appear in Hermione’s stomach whenever Ronnie smiled at her. The same friend who began to inhabit Hermione’s dreams in ways she was becoming very confused about.

Hermione had hoped that… whatever this was would disappear over the summer holidays, and she could just enjoy her friendship with Ronnie with no extra complications.

No such luck. Fourth year had just made everything even more confusing. Harry and Ronnie hadn’t spoken for a while after Harry’s name had appeared in the goblet of fire. Hermione had desperately tried to patch things up between them but, in the end, they had worked it out themselves after the first task.

It was good for them to be a trio again. Although Hermione, Ronnie and Harry had always been a bit unusual. Parvati and Lavender had always been giggling over it, asking both Hermione and Ronnie about which of them Harry was dating. Hermione had always rolled her eyes at this. To her, Harry had always been like a younger brother. Like all younger brothers, he was always getting into mischief and being annoying, but he was her brother nonetheless.

Ronnie had always laughed her head off whenever this question was proposed by Lavender and Parvati. Harry was “her best mate”. End of. Nothing more to say.

But… well, as the Yule Ball approached, suddenly Ronnie stopped laughed and started blushing, avoiding Hermione’s eyes.

‘It’s none of your business,’ she had mumbled, her ears flashing their tell-tale pink.

Hermione had felt her heart slowly sink, although she tried to avoid thinking about why.

Sure enough, the day before the Yule Ball, Hermione had asked Harry about who he was taking, and the boy who lived had blushed scarlet.

‘Er… I asked Ronnie.’

Hermione dropped the book she was holding. The two of them were in the library.

‘What? You mean… you…’

‘I-I don’t know, okay!’ Harry stammered. ‘It’s just… I needed a date for the Ball and Ronnie’s my best mate, so it made sense.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah.’

At that moment, someone tapped Hermione on the shoulder. It was Viktor Krum, the Durmstrang champion.

‘Excuse me, may I have a vord?’

Harry looked at the Bulgarian suspiciously.

‘Yes, it’s fine,’ Hermione said, leading Krum away into the next aisle of bookshelves. ‘Which section are you looking for?’

‘No… I… er…’

 *

 ‘Krum?!’

Ronnie’s face looked horrified. It was several hours later, in their dormitory.

‘Well, it wasn’t as if I was going with anyone, so why not?’

‘He’s eighteen, Hermione!’ Ronnie said, urgently. ‘He’s way too old for you!’

‘He’s not dating me, Ronnie,’ Hermione replied. ‘He’ll be more like a chaperone than anything else. Besides, it’s just one ball. It’s not like he’s asking to marry me.’

‘I should think not!’ Ronnie’s face was strangely angry. ‘You’re too good for him.’

Hermione felt her cheeks blush.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Er, congratulations about you and Harry, by the way.’

‘You… you know about that?’ Ronnie asked.

Hermione nodded, wondering why the mood suddenly felt so tense.

‘Yes, he told me earlier. It was nice of you to go with him.’

‘You think so?’

‘Yes. I think you’ll have a great time.’

Hermione hoped that her voice didn’t sound as falsely-cheery as she suspected.

 *

 The Yule Ball was something of an event. It was interesting hearing from Viktor Krum about what Bulgaria was like, but she found herself distracted. Possibly due to the fact that Ronnie and Harry were sat only a few chairs down the table, and kept giggling over stuff. Ronnie was wearing a very lacy dress that Mrs Weasley had only managed to get third-hand; since Ronnie was so tall compared to most girls, her clothes had always been a bit… well, difficult to acquire on a budget. The dress was a few inches shorter than her normal summer shorts were, and Hermione had got the distinct impression that Harry was trying not to stare too much when they had walked through the crowd with the other champions and their partners.

Hermione probably would have enjoyed the dancing too, except that she kept looking round to see what Ronnie and Harry were up to. Ronnie’s hair was long and had a sweet flowery scent that seemed to follow it around the room. Her smile was wide as she danced with Harry, and the way she kept laughing made it difficult for Hermione to concentrate on her own dancing. Why was she so distracted?

‘Vould you like a drink?’ Viktor Krum asked, after a very fast song had finished.

Hermione nodded, and he left for the buffet table.

At that moment, Hermione noticed that Harry and Ronnie were walking towards the balcony area.

Deciding to catch up with them, Hermione darted between several other couple, and poked her head out through the curtains.

Her stomach turned to lead.

Harry was kissing Ronnie on the mouth, and Ronnie was kissing him back.

Stumbling backwards through the curtain, Hermione pushed through the crowd and began to make for the exit. However, she bumped into Ginny and Neville.

‘I’m… feeling a bit unwell,’ she mumbled. ‘Could you tell Viktor Krum that I’ve had to leave?’

Ginny and Neville nodded, but looked concerned and a little confused.

Hermione didn’t stop hurrying until she had arrived back in her dormitory. She washed her make-up off, changed into her pyjamas, and climbed into her four-poster bed.

She had started crying before her head even hit the pillow.

 *

 ‘So… yeah.’

‘Bit weird, but… well, that’s it.’

It was the next day. Harry and Ronnie were talking to Ginny about what had happened. Hermione was eating her breakfast without looking at any of them.

‘So… are you two dating?’ Ginny asked.

Ronnie laughed nervously.

‘No; but… well, we’re gonna see how things change. If it’s not our cup of tea, we can stay friends instead.’

‘Yeah,’ Harry said, cheerfully. ‘Take a bit more than kissing for us to stop being best mates.’

‘Yeah, but…’ Ginny said, her eyes darting to Hermione and then back to Ronnie. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Er, yeah,’ Ronnie said. ‘H-Hermione, what do you think?’

Hermione blinked hurriedly.

‘Oh, I’m sure you two will be very happy,’ she said, a little too cheerfully. ‘I hope you don’t me being a third wheel, then. Anyway, we need to get to first period now.’

Harry nodded, and stood up.

Ronnie remained sitting, looking at Hermione with a slightly confused expression on her freckled face.

Ginny gave a sigh, and went back to her breakfast.

 *

 The next few weeks were not fun for Hermione. Ronnie and Harry had always been a duo and, now that they were sort-of together, Hermione had never felt more like a third wheel. Even though both of them were clearly trying their best not to exclude her, she couldn’t help but feel miserable.

And that wasn’t even getting into the way her heart would thump painfully whenever she caught Ronnie looking at Harry.

It was ridiculous. Hermione couldn’t be jealous! What was there to be jealous of? Harry was like a brother to her, so it clearly wasn’t that.

No, it was something else.

It was Ronnie.

Hermione was in love with Ronnie.

She tried to not think about this. Which normally would have been difficult. But luckily, they were both helping Harry about the second task, which took up a lot of time and mental headspace. And their coursework was so time-consuming that Hermione barely had time to think about her feelings for Ronnie.

Could girls even fall for each other? Hermione had read about that sort of thing happening, but she never would have imagined that it would happen to her.

The day before the second task, she (along with Ronnie) were helping Harry with his preparations for the second Triwizard task, when the Weasley twins arrived.

‘Ronnie, you and Hermione have got a message from Professor McGonagall.’

‘What?’ Hermione asked, confused. ‘She can’t seriously ban us from helping Harry, can she?’

‘No, she just wants you and Ronnie to go to Dumbledore’s office.’

Hermione exchanged confused glances with Ronnie.

When they arrived at Dumbledore’s office, they were not the only confused people there. Cho Chang was also there, plus a young girl speaking in fluent French who was presumably Fleur Delacour’s little sister.

Dumbledore explained about what the second Triwizard task was, and how it would include all of them. Each of the champions would have a hostage, who would be in an enchanted sleep at the bottom of the great lake. The hostages would be perfectly safe underwater, and would return to normal once they were brought back to the surface of the lake.

‘Professor,’ Hermione asked, raising her hand. ‘I don’t understand; why has Harry got both me and Ronnie as his hostages? And where is the hostage for Viktor Krum?’

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

‘Miss Granger, you are Mister Krum’s hostage, not Mr Potter’s.’

Hermione’s eyes widened in confusion. Viktor Krum? She was his “the person he would miss most”? Why? She’d been to the ball with him, but that was it. She hadn’t really spoken to him much since, aside from apologising for leaving the Yule Ball early. Why was she his hostage? Surely, he had friends from Durmstrang that would be a better pick?

Hang, on. Ronnie was Harry’s hostage. The person Harry would miss most.

So, that meant Ronnie was…

Hermione felt her heart sink. She couldn’t even look Ronnie in the eye, but she felt the redhead tense next to her.

Maybe Harry and Ronnie will become a full couple after he rescues her in the task, Hermione thought, miserably, as she slipped into unconsciousness from the sleeping spell Dumbledore had casted, I guess there never was any hope for me…

The next thing Hermione knew, she was treading water in the middle of the great lake. Viktor Krum was pulling her towards the shoreline. Her uniform felt heavy and sodden.

‘Where’s… where’s Harry and Ronnie?’ she asked, as Madam Pomfrey bustled them over to a tent nearby. ‘Haven’t… haven’t they come back yet?’

Madam Pomfrey patted her hand in sympathy, and tutted under her breath, as if she’d quite like a word with the person who came up with the idea for the second task.

A portion of pepper-up potion later, plus some warming spells, and Hermione was stood on the shoreline with Cho Chang and a very worried-looking Fleur Delacour. The French girl’s hostage was still down in the lake. Cho had put an arm around her.

‘They’ll be fine,’ the Ravenclaw was saying. ‘The judges won’t let any harm come to- oh, hello, Hermione.’

‘Hello. Have… have Harry and Ronnie got back yet?’

Cho shook her head.

There was a shout from the crowd, and Hermione looked round. Three people had just surfaced in the middle of the lake. Hermione could see a mane of very familiar red hair. Dashing past Viktor Krum (who seemed intent on chatting to her about something), Hermione wade into the shallows of the water. Fleur Delacour and Percy Weasley joined her.

‘I’m fine, Harry,’ Ronnie was saying, as Harry helped her towards the shore. The two of them were stood awkwardly in the shallows. Percy had stopped fussing over Ronnie, and had gone to find them some warm blankets, followed by the Delacour sisters.

Harry leaned forward and kissed Ronnie on the lips.

Hermione felt her heart sink and, turning away, she walked out of the lake, ignoring Viktor Krum’s renewed attempts at conversation, and left for the castle. People looked at her in confusion as she pushed past. She was glad that she had been given the pepper-up potion, as the February wind whipped through her.

Before she knew it, she was lying in her four-poster bed, crying her eyes out. She had somehow managed to close the curtains around her before she broke down completely. When was she ever going to get over this? She had no “claim” on Ronnie; after all, Ronnie liked boys, Ronnie liked Harry. And, next to Harry, why would Ronnie possibly look at Hermione? A bookworm. A girl. Just the best friend.

‘H-Hermione?’

Ronnie. Oh, god, Hermione thought, she can’t see me like this…

‘G-go away, Ronnie.’

‘What, and leave you miserable? Not on your life.’

‘I’m-I’m fine, Ronnie. J-just a bit exhausted from the task.’

‘Did… did Krum do something to you?’

‘No!’ Hermione exclaimed, pulling back the curtains of her four-poster. ‘Of course not! He’s barely even held my hand! What… how could you…’

‘W-well,’ Ronnie said, her ears turning pink. ‘You were “the person he would miss the most”, after all.’

Hermione stared at her for a second.

‘I don’t see Viktor Krum like that,’ she said, earnestly. ‘He’s… well… like a chaperone.’

‘He fancies you.’

‘You mean like Harry fancies you?’

Ronnie looked as if Hermione had slapped her.

‘You… you saw him kissing me, then?’

Hermione nodded.

‘Is that why you’re crying?’

Hermione mentally cursed. Her cheeks were still wet with tears.

‘I’m… I’m very happy for you both.’

‘Don’t insult my intelligence, Hermione,’ Ronnie said, hotly. ‘You’re clearly upset about it. What, you fancy Harry or something?’

‘What? No!’ Hermione said. ‘Harry’s like a brother to me! Why would you-’

‘Well, what’s your problem, then?!’ Ronnie exclaimed, coming to stand barely a few inches away from her.

‘Don’t be… it’s… well…I-’

‘Hermione, what is it?’

‘It’s not Harry that I fancy, Ronnie; it’s you!’

There was a deafening silence.

‘I… I shouldn’t have said that,’ Hermione mumbled. ‘Sorry, forget I-’

‘No, what do you mean?’ Ronnie asked. ‘Do… do you mean that?’

‘Y-yes,’ Hermione whispered. ‘I’m sorry. I know you don’t see me like that. I’ve ruined our friendship-’

Hermione stopped talking. Because Ronnie had suddenly leaned forward and was kissing her on the mouth. Hermione’s brain seemed to disengage. Ronnie’s lips were soft and delicate as they pressed against Hermione’s. The redhead’s body heat felt like a warm fire against her, despite how little they were touching.

A few seconds later, although it could have lasted for hours for all that Hermione knew, Ronnie pulled away slightly.

‘Do… do you really mean that?’ Ronnie whispered, her hands tender as they interlaced with Hermione’s. ‘You… you really fancy me?’

Hermione nodded, feeling very confused.

‘Yes. Ever since… actually, I don’t know when. But… why…’

‘I… I fancy you, Hermione,’ Ronnie said, softly. ‘I… I thought you didn’t feel the same way.’

‘You fancy me?’

‘Er, did I not just kiss you? Would have thought it’d be a giveaway…’

Hermione giggled.

‘Okay, I believe you. But how-’

The door opened. Harry poked his head through.

‘Everything okay?’

‘Yeah,’ Ronnie said, cheerfully as she held Hermione’s hand. ‘She’s okay. And so am I.’

‘Cool. And… did you both…’

Ronnie nodded.

‘Fantastic!’ Harry said, grinning. ‘I’m so happy for you two!’

‘W-wait, what?’ Hermione exclaimed, utterly at sea. ‘Harry, did… did you know?’

‘I guessed. Besides, me and Ronnie work better as friends anyway.’

‘You… you two aren’t a couple?’ Hermione gasped, looking between them both. ‘I thought… after you kissed at the lake-’

‘You are one daft maid,’ Ronnie chuckled, pecking her on the cheek. ‘But that makes two of us, eh?’

Hermione smiled, as she held Ronnie’s hand. Maybe, on occasion, the best friend did get the girl. Even if they were also a girl, too.

 ~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed it!

[samshogwarts]

I'm not suprised to see this happening again, after first one. My hopes for this fandom is keep dying everyday. Have fun in your own problematic fandom.

First of all, I should have bet something like this was coming. It's a shame I didn't do that.

Second: Thank you for wishing me fun in my fandom. I wish you the same.

Joking aside. I have to admit, I wanted to write some kind of troll abbot word first. But let's be honest. What would that do? I think everyone present knows that I won't change your mind and you won't change mine. To think otherwise would be nonsense.

You say your hopes for this fandom die anew every day. I don't know your expectations for this fandom, but if you don't like my work and my contribution to the HP fandom, that's fine with me. I also don't like all people or all works, I'll be honest about that. I don't have any problems with being blocked either. If you don't like the content of my blog, you don't have to look inside yourself and you can design the Fabdom the way you like it with several hundred blogs on tumblr alone.

Nevertheless, I would like to go back to the real issue. Indeed, the actual criticism has already been in Nights Pic that an apparently underage person is portrayed freedom of movement and that comes across negatively with some. In advance it should be said that I can understand the concerns and the problem. I also assume that everything I say on this topic will only be labeled as "excuses" by most of the critics. I still say my opinion :D

Personally, I don't find it bad at all when teenagers want to feel sexy themselves and try out different styles of clothing accordingly. I admit that Samantha's character is designed in such a way that she would not put on such a putfit without cause. But as soon as music can play, Samantha feels good. So I decided to draw her dancing and happy. I don't think there is anything against it. In my eyes it is not "forced" by anyone. But I also find it difficult to speak of "force" or "voluntarily" when it comes to a ficional, self made character.

As long as it's not completely out of character, I don't think that's bad. But everyone has to decide for themselves. But if you don't like that then that's ok. I really enjoyed drawing and I'm also a little proud of the picture. (I like the shadows. heheh rarely happens).

I actually hate posting for so long, but what the heck. I am open to exchanges and opinions. The anon ask are now active again. And as long as the whole thing happens at a certain eye level, such an exchange can also be very interesting. As I said, everyone knows that an Anon question or this answer will not change their mind. I'm not interested in that either, but I think it's up to each individual how fandoms are designed and how you perceive them. And that people should keep in mind that these are also simply fictional characters. But as I said, each his own.

Have a nice day 💙❤💚💛

[mellie1409]

Alohomora (ft. knj) - 5.2k

Badum badum badum

That's the only thing y/n can hear in the deep silence the dinning hall is submerged in. Her own heartbeat marking the rhythm of a frantic and desperate song. This is the moment she had so long been waiting for: the moment she would be chosen a family for her to join. A family that would take care of her and love her as one of their own and protect her at all costs for this one short year she would be spending here, at the most magical and hopeful place on planet Earth, at Hogwarts.

Y/n straigtens her back as the hat is lowered onto her head. A sudden smell to old papyrus surrounding her and becoming more intense as the weight of the hat increases on her head. And when suddenly professor McGonagall lets go of the hat, it unexpectedly starts moving.

'I see' he says turning to the left and then to the right, scanning in the process the room and all his different choices for y/n. 'Hmmm, a golden heart disguised because of fear, high expectations for the future... Interesting, well, I'll put you in a house, where they will push you to reach your full potential, to prepare you for your final decision. But before revealing it, do mark my words: the choice has already been made in your heart, by some achieved courage you'll reach your final destination.'

Those words resonate into the dining hall as if someone had fired a gun, a race gun that gives the queue for everyone to start talking at once. It was normal for the hat to mumble about someone's abilities, but to make a prophecy? That only happens when someone's life was about to take a huge turn. Which secrets is she hiding? Did it have anything to do with her far away origin?

Only when director Dumbledore stands up, does the hall fall back into a heavy, thick silence. 'Sorting hat, please do continue as we can't spend this whole starry night in here.' He speaks with his elderly voice aiming for the enchanted roof that was replicating a night sky full of stars.

'Well then! ' the hat grumbles 'Her house will be...

...Slytherin! '

This time, instead of starting applauding like they would do with every other selected kid, a thick silence covers the room like a mantle. Not even a fly can be heard as she slowly approches Slytherin's table and takes a seat next to the people of her age, the 3rd year.

She sits next to a blackhaired boy, although his hair seems to change color every few minutes by some kind of spell Y/n hasn't heard of before in her life.

As the ceremony continues, the coloured hair guy turns to her with a cheeky smile and whispers: 'Hi! I'm Jimin, nice to meet you, I'll be your guide to this castle and if you want to know how to get to a place, just let me know. I know every corridor and stair in this school' he says while winking his eye.

Y/n doesn't know how to respond after the strange encounter with the sorting hat but she just smiles back awkwardly at him as she turns around to continue watching the sorting ceremony.

┈

The day after, they start their classes. And y/n's first class is also her favourite subject: defense against the dark arts. After breakfast at the dining hall, she takes realizes she has forgotten her pencil case at her room, so she quickly leaves her classmates behind to go grab it.

What she hadn't thought about was the fact that she did not know the school. So as soon as she tries to look for the class she is supposed to be in, she finds herself lost and wandering around corridors and rooms she doesn't know.

At a certain point she distinguishes someone at the other side of the gardens. He looks like Jimin with the colour changing hair, but when she calls his name, the figure ignores it and disappears through a different door.

It takes her 15 more minutes to find her class and by the time she comes in running, the class has already begun. As she notices Snape is writing on the board with his back to the class, she silently tries to get to her sit. That is until a voice makes her stop on her tracks: 'To what do we own the honour of you joining us in this apparently not so interesting class today, Miss y/l/n?

Freak, she thinks to herself. She chooses to remain silent as she knows it's the best choice with a teacher such as Severus Snape.

'Well I do hope that cleaning the potions room this afternoon during your free time will be more interesting than this class for you. And now please tell me, what si the first rule in defense against the dark arts? '

And like this the class starts for y/n with a punishment for being late. What a great start of the school year...

As the clock hits 5 o'clock, y/n leaves Slytherin's common room towards the potions room were Severus is waiting for her. Although when she comes in, she can't find him anywhere. She does find a howler from him there. She opens it carefully: 'MISS Y/N! As you can see, this room hasn't been cleaned since last year's trolls disaster so I expect from you to clean it and sort out all the potions alphabetically. Enjoy! ' and the howler desintegrates in a moment.

Y/n takes a deep breath, says some encouraging words to herself and starts working. She starts by taking away all the dead spiderwebs, no way she is touching the ones that are still being used as she is scared of almost all living creatures on earth.

She then continues by sorting out all the potions' ingredients she can find on the shelves: fluxweed, knottgrass, lacewig flies...

┈

Namjoon is running around the castle like a mad man. He needs to win this game, he wasn't going to be paying next round of butter beers! So he looks frantically for it, not caring about who he was passing by or about the fact that his red and golden tie was half way undone and his shirt untugged.

As he reaches the next door he opens it and asks:' has anyone seen a... '

He doesn't gets to finish the sentence as he sees a strange scenery in front of him. A cute, although he wont admit it, and beautiful girl is sitting on the second to highest shelf of the potions' room holding on for dear life.

'... toad maybe? ' she answers silently looking terrified at the ground. As Namjoon looks down he realizes indeed, there is a toad lying on the floor, staring at the girl like it was wondering what about him was so terrifying.

'Well, well, of it isn't the prophecy girl behaving like a little squirrel right in front of me I wouldn't believe it! ' he says with a ironic voice.

'Ugh great,very witty mister toad, as if I hadn't heard that already. And you are...? '

'Namjoon, Kim Namjoon to be exact. Gryffindor member and 5th year student in Hogwarts. ' he answers quickly. 'Now I recommend you clean this up quickly as I hear your beloved professor Snape walking down this corridor. Good luck miss squirrel!! ' and like that he leaves running with the toad he had just picked up.

┈

A creacking door, thats all it takes y/n to wake up at midnight. 'Who on earth is walking around at this hour?!' y/n thinks to herself. Without hesitating she stands up from her bed trying not to wake up her roommates in the process. She changes her clothes to more appropriate ones and takes off trying to find the source of the sound.

As she spots someone leaving the common room, she decides this is the right time for an adventure. So she takes her shoes from the rack and puts them on as quickly as the leather laces allow it.

As she slowly looks into the corridor she spots someone turning right into some ascending stairs. She follows him and carefully looks at the stairs while staying behind the wall. It's then that she can distinguish who it was thanks to the moon lighting. She holds in a gasp as she recognizes the color changing hair of Jimin, and what surprises her even more is that, there are two color changing heads! How is that possible?

She decides to find out what is going on and follows them around the castle for what seems like a pretty long time. Until they stop at the kitchen entrance to say some silent words, a password, y/n can't reach to hear. As they get into the kitchen and the door closes back up, y/n approaches the entrance and tries to listen what is going on behind the door.

'... sure no one was following you? ' a voice asks.

'Of course! Who do you think we are?! ' Jimin answers offended.

'Well, I think you guys senses must have been toned down because of the cold, because there is someone listening right behind that door! ' another voice speaks up.

The door opens so suddenly, y/n doesn't even have the chance to turn around to run away.

As she grows accustomed to the lighting of someone's candle, she starts counting the figures standing right in front of her: one, two, three... seven! There are seven of them!

'Miss Squirrel! 'Namjoon exclaims 'what are you doing here? '

'You know her?! ' someone asks.

'What are YOU doing here?! Shouldn't you guys be sleeping? ' she asks angrily after having surpassed her surprise mode.

Namjoon snorts: 'well excuse me if I didn't want to be sleeping like a lame third year student. '

'Hey!' Jimin reacts 'who are you calling... '

'Can we please focus?! We are gonna get caught if we stay here longer! ' a mint haired boy answers. Y/n recognizes him from the common room, a slytherin 5th year student. 'Miss squirrel, or whatever your name is, go back to bed, you shouldn't be here... '

'Eh excuse me, my name is y/n and no way I'm letting you guys go, in fact I think we should all go to bed or we could visit Snape if you prefer that. ' she retorts sarcastically.

It's at that moment they all hear some faint steps coming in their direction. As they all start panicking they jump into action. Someone y/n can't distinguish, grabs her wrist and sturts tugging into the opposite direction of the sound, y/n so scared she doesn't even resist.

They guide her through a small door and a dark corridor lighted only by the candle the first person is carrying. As the adrenaline rises in her blood, y/n doesn't know if what she is hearing are foot steps or her own heart beating in her ears.

The corridor seems endless, but after a left turn, a right one and a left turn again, they find themselves in front of a staircase with a door on top.

A black haired boy that seems to be the oldest instructs them to put the hoods of their capes on and then proceeds to open the door.

The cold air of the night hits y/n like a truck, the air being punched out of her lungs. It's then that she realizes how tired her legs are and how short of breath she is after running what felt like kilometers. Right! They were running because they were being followed!

She turns around with panic written all over her face only to find Namjoon looking strangely at her. God? Had she always been so cute? 'Don't worry miss squirrel, we are safe here. ' he simply comments.

He smoothly passes by her and leaves her jaw dropped behind as they all start walking towards the back entrance of a pub: the Leaky Cauldron.

She collects herself and follows them hesitantly: it was written in the school rules that they weren't allowed to be there after midnight... Also, teachers used to go there to drink! The were gonna get caught!

As if he had read her mind, the other colour haired boy turned to her: ' Don't worry, J-Hope knows the owner and he owns us a favor. We can go through the back entrance and ask for some butter beer to take away. Do you like butter beer? ' he asks casually.

'Yeah...'

'Great! I'm Taehyung by the way, Jimin's younger twin brother, although most people doubt it because he's a Slytherin and I'm a Hufflepuff, but I promise you we were born out of the same womb. In fact... ' he continues talking casually while y/n thoughts go a thousand miles per hour.

So they were twins! That explains a lot! They look alike but at the same time, they are so different. Taehyung is talkative and innocent while Jimin was known for being a little... dirty minded.

' I was always the one to eat second cause...' Y/n snaps back to reality as Taehyung continues narrating his whole infancy to her while they wait for J-Hope to come back out of the pub.

'... and so he was selected for Slytherin while I went to Hufflepuff. A pretty big family drama, but we're okay now so... '

'Omg Taehyung, leave the poor girl alone she is gonna regret not staying with McGonagall in the castle' Jimin says while putting some butter beers down on the wooden table.

They are know in a tree house in the middle of the woods. Sitting around a round table on the floor, very oriental, in y/n's opinion.

As they all acomodate, y/n looks around at the small room the house consists of. It has glass windows to keep the cold outside and even a small stove they use to keep the room warm!

As the last of the boys sit down, the oldest turns to face y/n and starts explaining: ' Hi, I'm Jin and I'm the oldest member of this friend group: the Bangtan boys. We are seven wizards from Korea who moved here to England to study at the best school in the world: Hogwarts. Let me introduce you to the members. The mint haired guy is Yoongi. He is a Slytherin, as you already know. Then it's J-Hope, a 4th year Hufflepuff. And then Namjoon. I'm guessing you already know each other... '

'Yeah... ' you answer shily without looking at him from fear of the redness of your checks getting caught.

'Great! Then there's the twins' he continues' Jimin and Taehyung. And last but not least we got Jungkook, our youngest member. He is a second year student, who is a ravenclaw. And me myself, I'm a Gryffindor. Why don't you introduce yourself to the rest? '

'Well... Hi, I'm y/n. I'm a third year Slytherin student and I'm also from abroad, from Bangladesh to be exact' she tells them while looking at everyone.

'WELL! Cheers to international friends my loves *hiccup* Jungkook screams while lifting his nearly empty pint of butterbeer.

As everyone starts laughing, they all lift their own pints and exclaim: 'Cheers! '

It is then that y/n feels alive again, with a wonderful, new friend group and many stories to tell. Now it is her time to enjoy, and no one was going to ruin it...

┈

Namjoon has been walking around the castle trying to find some new adventures to live for an hour, when he suddely hears a noise. An unusual noise for him to say the least, always used to the laughter that filled his common room, hearing this now made his heart upset. He starts to follow the sound and when he turns into a dead corner he finds himself in front of a sad scenery.

Sitting on the floor is y/n. With her knees between her arms and her nose buried in them. Crying like there was no tomorrow, sounding so desperate Namjoon has to take a deep breath not to instictively give her the tightest hug of her life.

He slowly aproaches her and he speaks out loud, trying to hold back the arrogant tone he, last time, used with her: 'Y/n, I don't know what's up and you don't have to tell me if you don't want, but please let me help you. '

'There is really nothing you can do, Namjoon. But thank you though, I appreciate it. ' she says while sniffing her nose.

A bit amazed, he wonders what it can be that it's making her so upset. From what he knows and has heard, she is a good student and, although many may not see it, she has a big heart for others. Right then, an idea starts taking form in his mind.

'Then take my hand, I wanna show you something. ' He speaks in a soft voice as he opens his left hand for y/n. Indecisively, she accepts it, slowly standing up from the cold, hard floor.

As he leads her through corridors and moving stairs, the cold air of the night seems to help y/n settle down. Instead of thinking about her problems, she relies on his hands to guide her and closes her eyes so the only thing she can process is the touch of his gentle, soft hands tugging at her so she keeps up the pace.

After what feels seconds but at the same time hours, she suddenly feels him stop. As he turns around, he realizes her eyes have been closed all the time. Slowly, not wanting to scare her, he whispers: 'y/n, you can look now. '

As she opens her eyes, it takes her some time to get her eyes used to the darkness in this corridor. Nevertheless, as they grow accustomed to the little lighting, she starts to distinguish an old, wooden door carved beautifully but terrifying at the same time. So intrinsic that focussing on the details seems to absorb every last bit of energy in her.

She snaps back to reality when she hears Namjoon speak again. 'Y/n, I've brought you here because I wanted to show you two things... ' he pauses. 'There is a spell that can open all doors, all except for ones. Only you can open the doors to your heart and only by following your heart, you'll reach the right path for you. '

She opens her mouth to speak, words dancing on the tip of her tongue. 'I don't think you'll understand what my situation is. ' she finally answers.

' That's why I brought you here' he replies. 'You are the only one that can open your heart, but in this room there is a window to it. Something that will help you realize what it is that you desire. '

After saying this he gives her a soft, reassuring smile. He stands behind her and instructs her to lift up her magic wand. As she does, he whispers a spell in y/n's ear. So soft only she could understand. A word that sends electric sparks through y/n's spine and as she shivers, she pronounces it out loud with a trembling voice: 'alohomora'.

Like a resort that comes loose, the door opens to the inside revealing a circular room. Marvelled by it, y/n slowly, but steadily walks in. Taking a deep breath she savours the smell of wood and as she looks around she realizes the room is empty except for one covered object.

As she reaches the object, Namjoon has surpassed her and reaches out to take the silk sheet off the tall item. And as if magic, an old, majestuous mirror stands in front of her.

'This is the Mirror of Erised' Namjoon speaks ' it shows us the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. Go ahead and take a look y/n. This is your window, go look inside. ' he encourages her.

Y/n sets a step back to have a full vision on the image the mirror is displaying. But the only thing she sees is a scared girl clutching her wand for dear life. Until... Until the image starts to change.

She grows older, into her late twenties. Her outfit changes color, it becomes a long, white dress... A wedding dress! And she is looking at someone, she can't distinguish who, his face is so... common, it could be anyone. But she looks in love, she is smiling with her whole body.

Suddenly the image looks at her. As y/n slowly starts to walk to her older self, so does the image and as she elevates her hand to touch the mirror, the image disappears and she is left looking back at her young self.

This whole time Namjoon has been looking at her reactions, trying to read y/n as if she was one more of his books. He couldn't see what she was seeing in the mirror's reflection. But when she suddenly touched the mirror, he knew something was wrong. Like she had cut herself glass she takes her hand back. With wild eyes she gives him one last look. And just like that, she starts running.

Aimlessly she runs and runs around the school hoping to loose Namjoon and finding some quiet place for herself. When her lungs start to feel like they are on fire and her heart threatens to jump out of her chest, she stops on her tracks. She can recognize where she is: the stables where the pegasi sleep. As she approaches an empty stable, she lies on the ground and closes her eyes hoping for the morning to never come as she needs to think about her most difficult life choice.

┈

The next few weeks, y/n spends the time wandering around the castle. She manages to stay hidden from Namjoon, while his words of the last time still stay with her like a splinter in her heart.

She also wants to stay away from the Mirror's room. She is afraid of what she had seen as she knows, one day, she would have to face the truth and fight for her dreams. This all, if she chooses for her own destiny of course, and that is a choice she didn't want to make just yet. But as the end of the school year neared and so her return to her hometown, she is aware her time is coming.

Days pass by and y/n doesn't change her technique: she hides from Namjoon everytime she hears his voice and only talks to the other Bangtan boys when she truly needs some help with her classes.

But one day, after a long class of defense against the dark arts, she finds herself wandering around the castle yet again. Although this time, she chooses a different path, she doesn't knows why, but she feels a driving force that lures her into a very specific place of the castle. It isn't until she is standing in front of that same wooden door that she realizes: the Mirror of Erised is right behind there.

She takes her wand and murmurs that one spell she hadn't forgotten. 'Alohomora' and like that, the door opened once again, to her biggest fear but also her biggest desire.

She walks in and silently closes the door behind her. And she stands again in front of the mirror, but this time, she was facing it alone. As the image starts to change, she distinguishes the same scenario she had once seen: herself in her late twenties, happily getting married to an unknown man.

But after some short time, the image changes. This time she has a few white hairs. She is still with that man, but this time, they are surrounded by three children. A kid, a toddler and a baby she is holding.

She gasps, and takes a step forward and, just like the first time, when she goes to touch the mirror, the image disappears.

She is left alone with her heartbeat and the words that Namjoon once told her that still resonate in her head: You are the only one that can open your heart, but in this room there is a window to it.

Is this what she truly desires? She isn't sure, but one thing is for sure: she would be coming back to look into that mirror.

Like this, the room of the Mirror of Erised continues appearing in front of her as she wanders around the school. Day after day she spends hours watching her happy reflection have a life full of laughter. Never touching the mirror as she is afraid that the image will disappear and so her dreams.

But slowly, the images start to change. That man starts to get charasteristic face features. At first, she doesn't recognize him, but then she slowly starts seeing similarities between the image and someone she knows. Of course she doesn't want to believe it and as time passes by and the image gets clearer she decides the mirror is wrong.

Still, she continues visiting the room. She spends her free hours there, in the sweet silence that accompanies that beautiful life movie she was able to watch and live through the mirror. And even accepts that, maybe it was him the one she desires.

It is that, that she is thinking one day when she suddenly hears a noise behind her. She turns around and watches the door open to let a person in. She can't distinguish him in the darkness at first, but when he comes into the light the mirror reflects, she recognizes the dorky, gryffindor boy that had brought her here for the first time: Kim Namjoon.

He looks surprised at her, not having expected her to be here as he thought he had scared her off the last time he had seen her. She looks pale and tired, as if she hadn't slept a single minute for the last two weeks. And so thin her chubby cute cheeks had disappeared and the only thing remaining where her cheekbones under her beautiful chocolate-coloured eyes.

Y/n quickly recovers and turns around to go back into her reflection, but as she frantically looks into the mirror she realizes it's gone for good. She doesn't know if it's the image having disappeared or if it's her not being alone for the first time in some long weeks that makes her break down.

Right as she let's goes and falls into the ground, Namjoon catches her and while holding her tight he sits them both on the floor. As he sushes her and rocks her from side to side he just mumbles things to try to calm her, focussing on his tone and not on what he is saying.

They spend hours like this, holding onto each other for dear life, Namjoon whispering sweet nothings into her ears as she cries her heart out onto his chest. And it is his soft whispering that starts to calm y/n down. As she sniffs and looks back up at him, he can see the sadness gathered in the pearls at the corner of her eyes.

It break his heart and his voice trembles when he speaks loud for the first time since he walked into the room: ' y/n, I'm here for you, I want to help you. But I can't do so unless you tell me what it is that it is making you go under like this. Talk to me, tell me what it is that you see on the mirror. '

She is unsure, she knows no one can help her. Her destiny has been decided for her a long time ago. But she has been carrying this secret for way too long. The weight of it making her heart age by the minute. And so she turns around, still in Namjoon's embrace, to look at her reflection once again.

With a shaky voice she starts to talk: 'I see... I can see my life. I am happy, very happy and all of my dreams are becoming true. I marry a man of my choice that I love and have kids with him. We grow old and spend the rest of our lives together. '

As she speaks, Namjoon heart starts to break, he shouldn't have expected nothing, but yet here he was, that's what he was here for. To see if that was what he desired. His hopes started leaving him with every word she pronounced until...

'And the man I'm with... He is the most gorgeous man I've ever seen. With bronzed cheeks and deep, black, dragon eyes... ' she turns around, and as she looks into those same eyes, she speaks up: 'it's you Namjoon, it's you that I can see myself living my life with. You and only you make me happy. I've come to realize that the last few days, but... '

But she can't finish her phrase as suddenly two soft, plump lips are crushing into her, into a sweet but desperate kiss. She is startled, her eyes open as she never would have expected such a response from him. But as he sweetly starts moving his pillow-like lips against her, her eyes fall close and she starts to follow his rhythm. Soft at the beginning, but frantic by the end, trying to connect to each other not only as much as possible at physical levels, but also emotionally. Their tongues dancing to an eccentric song that only them can hear. But as the oxigen starts to desappear and their lungs start to fill with fire they break their kiss to lean onto each other's foreheads.

Breathing heavily, Namjoon speaks up: 'y/n, I love you. I've loved you since the first day I met you, I just didn't know until now. I came here because I was confused by what I was feeling and wanted to look into the mirror. But now I know, I don't need no mirror to tell me you are the most important thing in my life.'

Still short of breath, y/n can't process what she is hearing. So, the life she so much desired was still a possibility? Still her family would never accept it. What was the point of trying then? Softly, with tears wielding in her eyes, she answers: 'Namjoon...oh Namjoon, God knows I love you more than my life and would do anything to be with you. But our love is an impossible love as my destiny has already been chosen for me. '

Namjoon can't believe what he is hearing. What could possibly be her destiny that she wasnt allowed to be with him? Lovingly, he looks at her: 'y/n, I don't care what kind of trouble you are in, I want to help you, but for that, you need to talk to me and tell me about it.'

'I just... Okay, I guess you need to know the truth if I have to hurt you anyways. '

Namjoon wants to speak up to this comment, but he doesn't want to scare her off, so he silently stares at her as she sits back and starts her story.

[disenchantedfaerie]

So many things to say and so many things not to say.

Fandom: This fandom is toxic. There is no other way to put it. It’s toxic from top to bottom, left to right, diagonally. My partners and I discussed this today because we were bored. We whole heartedly believe it starts at the top and by top I mean her majesty of the written word. Of course, now that’s she’s dropped the self diagnosis of “somewhat autistic,” you really can’t say anything because then you’re a horrible person. But she uses that as an excuse for her snark and condescending attitude. Hey. Whatever lady. I don’t follow you, I don’t read your books and aside from the few things I see, you’re no better than the leads. The difference is you’ve been milking the fandom for 30 years; people are waiting for you to finish and you can’t even complete the one that was supposed to be done last year. Yet you continue to yak about this side thing or that side thing and really, I don’t need a JF origin story. We’ve gotten that enough in the 9 other flipping books. You see the pattern here tho folks?

The female lead: She has done her share of being flippant and rude to people on her SM. She becomes sweet as pecan pie on Thanksgiving when she wants to want to launch something though. She was the one who wanted to end the shipper rumors and so IFH happened but sadly when you skirt around a subject and don’t say your partner’s name or take photos of them/with them and only take photos with your male lead in what could be construed as compromising positions - yeah. People will continue to buy what you sell to them. I’ve said it time and again, they are the biggest trolls in the fandom and do more to fuel the ship, even now that she is married to another man who is not the male lead, than anyone else. That’s all I have to say about her. She doesn’t owe anyone anything, none of them do actually, but sometimes being kind goes out the window with the lot of them.

His highness: Where to begin? His “fans” come all the way over here to our little corner of tumblr to hide behind Anon Asks to spew their hate and vitriol to those of us who seem to have opinions that differ from theirs. Namely, he is not a god. He is not someone we worship. We simply come together over coffee and tea and trade stories of current events and talk about the what if’s. My opinion of him is based on his own actions. Maybe all these “fans” want to blur the timeline of events and take it as gospel from his highness that he went on his luxury vacation before the travel ban while the rest of us cancelled ours and many lost jobs and incomes. Well that’s simply untrue. When he was called out, knowing he was wrong, instead of being the sweet, humble, normal guy that everyone says he is, he doubled down, became rude, flippant, went on a blocking spree, posting articles about COVID being no worse than the flu. Did his traveling companion get serious threats. I believe so. I believe he has as well from the same kind of people that come here to our little corner of tumblr, keyboard warriors that hide behind their anonymity and spew hate and vitriol. I also believe that people have gone to Glasgow and stalked his flat, which, come on people. That’s wrong on so many levels. I lived in LA for many years. It never occurred to me to drive to Malibu, Hollywood Hills, Laurel Canyon to actually stalk the celebs. Why? What’s the point? So I can see them in their grungy clothes looking like real people? No thanks. I don’t have that kind of time or energy. Thus the 4 page rant. Hey good for you dude. It’s about time you grew a pair actually but what did it accomplish? Nothing really except people stopped talking about his covidiocy. Why? Not because he wasn’t a covidiot and quite frankly still is (remember, he’s the king of “it’s not worse than the flu”) but because he pulled the mental health card. I think he does have mental health issues. I still have high hopes that some day he will realize this himself and seek the help he needs.

Now these Anons come to our little corner of tumblr and drop their comments saying things like “I hope you get COVID and die. It’s because of you he did his 4 page rant. The people you call mommies are his real fans.” Mmmkay. I used to blindly defend him. I used to buy into his shilling and his ever so sweet exterior, I even bought into the “best fans ever” bullshit. You want to blame us who never name him, her or the one who “writes” in any blog, never hashtag him, her, or the other one or the show, never interact with any of them on other platforms of SM for his 4 page rant, his mental illness, all of his flaws and accuse us of not being fans - fine. He who is without sin, cast the first stone. Perhaps you need to sit back and take a long look at yourself in the mirror as well. Wishing a deadly disease on people, making threats, spewing hatred - isn’t this the exact same thing that was done to his highness and you were all up in arms about it, yet you come here and do it to others and think that’s okay. What makes it okay? Because you’re defending your favorite star? If this is what it means to part of this fandom, part of his fandom specifically, no thank you. When y’all can walk on water, then you can judge me. Until then, judge not lest ye be judged.

I walked away long ago but I’m still human and still have an opinion, everyone does. If he’s your favorite celeb then perhaps you should follow his advice the next time you see something you don’t agree with - suggest you ignore. He’s the one that started the entire “be kind” campaign right? Or does that only apply when it’s comvenient? If you think this is the sort of behavior that will get you on his Christmas card list or the top of his potential list of never ending “girlfriends” - well, good luck. At some point this man (again, he’s a man, he’s flawed, he makes mistakes and he’s not perfect) will fall from the pedestal his fandom have put him on and then where will you all be? He has been unapologetic for all the things he’s done. He continues to shill his swill and all his other crap when a lot people can’t make ends meet. He continues to ask for donations to HIS causes instead of asking people to take care of themselves or their own communities. I love Scotland as much as anyone but my money right now is better served in my community. I ignore most of what they all do, following his own suggestion of ignoring, but things cross my dash and I do not condone or appreciate threats. I didn’t condone it when the threats were directed at him, his traveling companion, or anyone else nor have I ever made a threat against anyone.

I wish to be treated the way I treat others and if you can’t do the same, if you can’t engage with me in a calm, adult manner, I don’t have time for you. You can have a differing opinion than me. It’s okay. We don’t have to agree but we can respectfully disagree and discuss, not argue, about who’s right and who’s wrong. It isn’t cut and dry, black and white. We can agree to disagree and still be civil and still be friends.

My Scotsman added this: When will the games end, when will the games stop? I had high hopes for his highness to lead by example and be better but he’s a follower and he followers her majesty’s lead. He follows his business partner’s lead. He sees her milk the fandom, so why can’t he and he does an excellent job of it. His fandom vote for meaningless awards until their fingers bleed, buy all of his merchandise, buy anything he sells up to and including the ship. Is there an ounce of him being a genuine person left? Yes. He gives us a glimpse now and again but make no mistake, he will take you for what you’re worth. Maybe one day he’ll change and we’ll follow him again. Until then, I’ll be watching like my partner. I’ll be around.

I guess at the end of the day my point is this, the fandom made itself toxic and I highly doubt at this point it can or will turn around. Why would it? All we can do is choose to be part of the toxicity and contribute to it and pass it forward like these precious anons have been doing or we can choose to walk away, scroll on by, try to make the world or at least our little corner of it better.

I’m still disenchanted. I hope one day my wings turn white again with the promise of a better time and place. Until then, take care my friends. I’ll be watching and I’ll be blogging.

[eleanorbloom]

When You’re Ready Ch. 11

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f! MC (Eleanor Bloom) x Ethan Ramsey.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warning: Angst and cursing.

A/N:  We are already halfway through this journey and things are finally getting interesting, so thank you all so much for all the support I’ve received and for stuck with me till this point.  ❤

Taglist: @utterlyinevitable​ @binny1985​ @shanzay44​ @choicesficwriterscreations​ @laiba-the-person​ @starrystarrytrouble​ @lahellacute​ @lucy-268​ @aylamreads​ @cinnamonspongecake​ @romewritingshop​ @angela8756​ @bratzlahela​​

Let me know if you wanna me added or removed from the taglist!

Enjoy!

_______

Chapter 11. Don’t Start Now

Don’t show up, don’t come out

Don’t start caring about me now,

The following weeks were calmer than previous. The conversation Eleanor had with Ethan seemed to work because, since that day, he stopped directing his anger toward her, and instead, he did what he was good at in second place: ignore her.

Eleanor didn’t mind, obviously. If she confronted him in the first place, was because she was tired of his childish attitude and knew very well that his next obvious reaction would be ignoring her like he did the past months. She needed peace and that was the only way to get it.

Still, she couldn’t deny that the situation was painful. She never expected to spend the first months in the Diagnostics Team in such a bad position with Ethan, when it had to be the best time to learn from him, learn from his mentor, the person she had idolized since she was in high school. And all because he was jealous.

The silver lining in all this was that it soothed things with Bryce. As she didn’t rant about Ethan with him, the next weeks were very sweet and calm in the company of Keiki. For some reason, Eleanor clicked very well with her. Perhaps it was the fact that she had many similitudes with Bryce, even if they hadn’t lived together for ten years, and Eleanor thought she was undeniably attracted to that, so it couldn’t be any different with Keiki.

Some nights a week, she would stay with the Lahelas and have sleepovers in the living room to talk and watch movies until they would fall asleep on the mattress of the new bed Bryce had bought for Keiki. Some other nights they would play cards, or just talk about the day and about life.

Eleanor would even chat throughout the day with her too.

“Wait, my sister is sending you memes?”—Bryce asked, really offended while they were taking a break in the cafeteria—"Why she doesn’t do that with me?”

“Because she likes me more than you.”

“But I’m his brother!”

“Hey, take it as she has the same good taste as you do. Another thing you two have in common.”—She winked at him and Bryce couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Mmh you’re right. Spending so much time with me it’s getting on you, uh?”—He whispered proudly, leaning to her to kiss her in the cheek.

“Couldn’t be any other way”

“She’s really disappointed when I get home and you don’t show up. It hurts my feelings.”

Eleanor released a hard laugh at his pouting lips and his puppy eyes just like a Golden Retriever.

“Ohmygod, finally I’m seeing your Golden Retriever side. Are you jealous of attention?”

“What do you think? Keiki came for me but only wants to see you.”

“She just enjoys my company, a female presence, that’s all. But what she really needs it’s her brother. You have nothing to worry about, Goldie.”

She stroked his cheek and a second later, he furrowed his brows.

“Goldie?”

“That’s my new nickname to you when you’re behaving like a Golden Retriever, just like now.”

“Excuse me? You still have no pet names for me, but I got a freaking dog nickname? Seriously, Bloom?”

“Bloom? You think you can offend me by calling me like that?”—She grinned—"We talked about this. I’m not comfortable enough to use pet names yet, Bryce. But it’s a step, don’t you think?”

“It is a pet name after all”

“God, you’re impossible.”—Eleanor sighed, getting up from the seat with the empty paper cup in her hand.—“I gotta go”

“Don’t ignore me.”

“See? You’re such a Goldie.—She laughed again.—"Gosh, you’re sooo cuteee”

Eleanor placed a hand over his hair and patted him softly, just like she would do with a real puppy. Bryce scowled her, feigning to be offended.

A moment later, she leaned close to his face and looked at him tenderly.

“I love you, Goldie.”

Then she kissed him, a soft brush against his lips that made him cackle before she parted her lips from him.

“Goddamn, you know how to manipulate me, don’t you?”—He stood up from the chair and pulled her in a tight embrace—"Love you too, princess.”

“Good boy.”—She praised, hugging him back before untangling herself from his arms and dragged him outside the cafeteria so both could get back to work.

*

Eleanor was snuggled to Bryce, deeply asleep when she heard a knock in her bedroom door. It took her a while to wake up and go to see what it was. She didn’t even think about how poorly dressed she was. Just a rose satin tank top and her panties.

“This better be important”—She murmured opening the door mid-third knock, only to find a tall figure with deep blue eyes in front of her—"Oh!”

Ethan was standing on the other side his face impassive. He tried to focus on her face, but he couldn’t resist roaming his eyes over her body for a few moments.

“Oh, uh good morning.”—He greeted, returning his eyes to her face, only to notice someone behind her, under the sheets of her bed.

“What is it, babe?”—He heard a husky voice and then he saw Bryce stirring under the sheets and looking in their direction with a drowsy expression.

Babe.  

Eleanor saw how his face disfigured hearing that single word. And obviously, the fact that Bryce was in her bed, sleeping. Ethan glanced at her stoically, but she could decipher the disappointment when his eyes betrayed him for a split second.

“It’s Dr. Ramsey”—She murmured looking back at Bryce, her cheeks flushed.

“Ramsey?”—Bryce sat up, startled, waking up in an instant.

Ethan followed his gaze.

“Good morning to you too, Dr. Lahela.”—He scowled at him briefly, evidencing how much he was hating that he was there.—"I’m sorry Dr. Bloom, I didn’t know you had company.”

His words sounded like an iceberg that made her shiver even if the room was warm with the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains.   

“What are you doing here?”

“We have a case, I need you to dress up and go with me.”

“But is my day off!”

“The Team doesn’t have days off, Bloom. Wear something nice, the board is desperate to impress this patient”

“Okay.”

“Hurry up, I’ll wait outside.”

Eleanor closed the door and looked at Bryce biting her bottom lip, guilty.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry. You better finish this case soon, so you can come back to me.”

“We planned this for weeks. It’s your birthday.”—She pouted, sitting over the edge of the bed, beside him.

“Baby, we celebrated last night.—He took her hands and caressed her palm softly—"I slept with you, I woke up with you, and I have my sister here in Boston, what else can I ask?”

“Well, if you put it that way…”

“Just hurry up and go to my place once you’re done, okay?”

“Okay, promise.”—She leaned to kiss him and then got up to look for a formal dress in her wardrobe until she found a navy-blue corporate dress that had been saving for that kind of occasion.

Bryce chuckled suddenly.

“You saw his face? Oh, man. I know this is cruel, but it was some kind of birthday present to me.”

Bryce crossed his arms behind his head with a satisfied smirk over his face, while he was staring at Eleanor stripping from her clothes and putting on clean underwear.

“What do you mean?”

“His face when he realized I was sleeping in your bed. It was like his eyes were just about to jump out of his face and strangle me.”

“I want to know who thought it was a great idea to let him pass knowing you were here.”

Eleanor unfastened the dress, stepping into him one leg at a time.

“Maybe that person did it on purpose.”—Bryce speculated, standing up from the bed—“C’ mere”

Eleanor took a few steps and turned her back to him so he could zip her dress up.

“I bet was Jackie. She is such a troll and would totally do that.”—She turned to him—“Thank you.”

“If it was her, I have to thank her.”

Eleanor scowled him.

“What? She did you a favor. You didn’t want to tell him, fine. He just found us.”

She stood in silence for a couple of seconds, thinking.

“Yeah, it’s kinda relieving, actually.”

Eleanor conceded, before going to brush her teeth in the bathroom. Even if he had had his suspicions and this was nothing surprising, still she didn’t know how Ethan would react from now on. And what could unleash in her.

When she returned to the room, Bryce was already dressed up.

“Hey, you don’t need to leave. Sleep for a couple of hours more.”

“Nah, I prefer to go home, Keiki has been too much time alone.”

“Well, that’s true.”

Eleanor collected her things, cellphone, keys, and purse, and both left the room.

Once they opened the building door, they found Ethan leaned against a red mini cooper. The moment Ethan exchanged glances with them, he turned around to get in the car. Eleanor stopped a few feet away from the vehicle and smiled at Bryce, her cheeks blushed.

“Well, that’s me. I hope this ends soon.”

“I hope so too. Have a great day, babe.”

“You too, birthday boy.”

She kissed chastely in the lips and then turned to get in the vehicle.

The first consequences of what had happened were seen a few blocks away for her apartment. Ethan started to call her out because if they were doing home service to patients now was only because of her and her decision to pursue wealthy patients to save the Team. But she didn’t waste energy in replying. Instead, she decided to simply turn a deaf ear to any of his outbursts and ignore him the whole ride.  

However, when his anger risked the possibility to compete with Mass Kenmore to cure Leland Bloom, one of the wealthiest men in the country, Eleanor decided to speak up. She didn’t brook up for weeks his hurtful words just to let go of a wealthy patient that could probably help to solve two and maybe more patients that don’t have the resources to be treated in any other hospital.

As Ethan left the house after declining the competition Leland Bloom had offered,  without consulting with his colleagues, Baz, June, and her followed him outside to talk some sense into him.

“Ethan”—Spurted Baz—“Please, we need this. You know we need this.”

“No, I’m not going-”

“Could you please surgically remove your head from your ass for one second and consider that this is for the Team?—Eleanor interrupted, employing the same words he had used last year when Declan Nash was denying to even have a conversation with him about a possible treatment for sepsis. She wanted him to know how stupid and irrational was being at that moment.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re behaving like a goddamn diva, a freaking a spoiled child, you know? Do you think your ego is bigger than the needs of the Diagnostics Team? How unprofessional of you, seriously.”

Ethan’s face disfigured at words, exposing his embarrassment and mortification. After a few moments, he glanced at his colleagues apologetically.

“I, uh… Spoiled child seems to suit the occasion. And unprofessional. I owe you all an apology.”

Baz and June seemed clearly surprised by the bold words Eleanor had used on him and how she got to tame his anger in just a few seconds when Ethan had been punishing her for weeks after what happened with Gwyneth. When Ethan wasn’t looking at them, Baz raised his thumb, nodding amazed. 

*

After the meeting with Leland Bloom, the team returned to Edenbrook to discuss the possible diagnosis with the information provided by the patient.

“The results will be ready this afternoon, so I’ll be doing rounds while I wait for them”—Eleanor informed after ordering the exams in the Nurses’ Station.

Ethan nodded imperceptibly but didn’t say anything, making Eleanor sigh.

She needed to talk about this. Her colon couldn’t support another day or another week avoiding the topic and hearing his outbursts just like that day. Now that the truth was out, there was no point in avoiding facing it. She looked around to check if there was any sight of June or Baz near, but the hallway was absolutely deserted.

“So, you stopped acting like a spoiled child, but you’re keeping the unprofessional act?”—She asked, standing in front of his desk, arms crossed and serious glare.

“Excuse me?”—Ethan took off his glasses, visibly offended.

“You are clearly pissed off with me because you saw me this morning with Bryce, and if you are bringing personal stuff to our working relationship, let me tell you that you’re being pathetically unprofessional, Ethan.”

“Watch out your tone, Bloom.”

“Watch out your reactions, Ramsey.”—Snaped her, instantly—"You have scolded and snubbed me for weeks just because I’ve ignored all your insinuations, and  you can’t keep being like that.”

“Insinuations, what are you talking about?”

“Oh, please. Don’t act like you don’t know it. Since you came back from the Amazon you have waited for me to make a move on you, even if you said we were over for good. And when you realized that I wasn’t gonna play that game, you started to act like an ass just like before you left.”

“Clearly ego issues are contagious, and the scalpel jockey infected you badly.”

“Oh. So why the hell you’ve been acting this way with me, then?”

“Because you went behind my back in contacting Gwyneth Monroe.”

“No, it started before her. When we visited Evelyn Vega’s art exposition you were already acting weird. The fool’s act doesn’t work with me, Ethan.”

He stared thoughtfully, trying to suppress the words that were about to come out of his mouth. He didn’t want to say it. It was against his nature and against the decision he had made. But like everything that involved Eleanor, he was about to act against all his self-control.

“Four months ago you were so… persistent about us being together, and now you’re dating him?”

“A lot of things can happen in four months, you’re smarter than that, Ethan. And should I remind you that you were the one who ended things and only wanted a professional relationship?”

“No, I know that.”

“Then tell me, why is all this fuss really for? We broke up whatever we had four months ago, so clearly my personal life it’s not your concern, and yet it’s messing with our working relationship.”

“I just don’t understand why you’re with him.”

“What do you mean by him?”

“He’s shallow, annoying, egocentric, a scalpel jockey, and you deserve more than that.”

“Don’t you dare to talk about Bryce like that, Ethan.”

Ethan stopped, eyes wide opened, surprised with the almost visceral reaction she had had at hearing his words.

“I’m wrong? Do you know what’s behind all that skin-deep beauty and ego?”

Ethan knew he was more than that, but still, he wasn’t enough for Eleanor. He needed a sharp mind, someone, that challenges her. Someone like him.

“Of course I know him, why the fuck do you think I’ve been with him for three months?”

Since the first moment her intention wasn’t to hurt him, but god, he was being so mean that somehow now she wanted to throw all over his face how much time she had been with Bryce, so he knew this wasn’t an insignificant relationship and that she didn’t spend two whole months crying for his absence. At least not physically, but emotionally, she did.

“D…”—Her words were like a punch in the face. Three months.—“Don’t you see he’s not for you? You deserve better than that, Eleanor.”

Eleanor took a deep breath, containing all her anger. She didn’t want to make a scene. She had to be an adult, but it was difficult when Ethan was acting this irrational and stupid.

“I don’t know who you think you are to talk about someone you clearly don’t know. Not even your status as a second-best diagnostician in the country gives you the superpowers to know a person without really talk or spend time with them.—She took another breath—"That said, I’ll inform you that Bryce has been all the transparent you never were with me in all this time. When I was about to be suspended by the Committee, he was there to give me moral support. When you left for the Amazon, he started inviting me out because he couldn’t stand to see me sad. He saw my pain and did something to relieve me, not like you, that every time you saw me drowning, you preferred to ignore me because it’s easier than to deal with my emotions and yours. When I’m sad, when I can’t deal with this whole situation with you, he is there for me, to supporting and listening to me. So, do you really think I don’t deserve someone like him?”

Ethan felt how his ego was taking hostage of his body, he hated to be this way, but that question had been wandering her mind since the moment he saw Bryce in her bed.

“Do you still love me?”

That question took her by surprise. She knew he would ask her at some point, but not now. Still, she didn’t have intentions to deny it.

“Unfortunately, yes. But it isn’t important, actually.”

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“Eleanor…”

“Why do you care now?”—She interrupted before he could say anything that could trick her mind.—"You were very clear to me that nothing can happen between us, you ignored me for two months when you left for the Amazon, and now that I’m doing my life you suddenly care? The bollocks, Ethan.”

“I never thought you…”—He stopped mid-sentence.

“That I would move on? That my life would keep going after you? I can’t believe you’re this selfish Ethan. And this egocentric.”

“I don’t mean it like that…”

“I don’t care. Whatever you have to say, save it. You had your chances, and you preferred the easiest path. Punish me and ignore me, and I don’t deserve that.”

Eleanor left the room, her heart racing really fast. She was angry, scared, sad, anxious, guilty. All the stupid feelings Ethan always managed to make her feel, now were invading her mind and heart, threatening to explode inside her. She ran to the nearest restroom she found and once there she locked herself in the cubicle, releasing a sob.

All that had been holding up these weeks since Ethan was back in Boston, was now free. All that had been holding up because of Bryce, because she wanted things to work, but she wasn’t going to make Ethan a regular topic in their relationship. She had shared with Bryce the whole fight and how of an ass he was acting but never told him how she really felt. How devastated she was with the fact that he was ignoring her and scolding her because she had moved on. Never told him how difficult it was not even looking at him in the eyes because she was afraid that she would surrender to her most deep desires. Never told him that this whole situation was unfair because that was a moment to be learning from him, not avoiding him. Instead, she was receiving the worst of him as a person and as a doctor as he was throwing all outside the window because he was jealous.

And now she was feeling angry and more disappointed than ever. She never expected that Ethan would question her choices, especially the person with whom she had to move on. And never expected him to be this prejudicious. That he would suggest that Bryce as her partner was synonymous with insult and indignity. 

She felt sick at realizing how blindly selfish he was. And for a person like that, Eleanor couldn’t spend another tear, so after a few deep breaths, she wiped the tears from her face and started to wander around the hospital to find something useful to do.

Half an hour later, she was informed that the results couldn’t be ready that day, so she went back to the office to inform Ethan, in the hopes that she could leave early to spend the rest of the afternoon with Bryce and Keiki.

“Dr. Ramsey, the lab has informed me that the results couldn’t be ready today, there was a problem with previous analysis that had to be made again and that is on top priority, but they’ll be ready tomorrow morning.”

“Alright. You’re discharged, then.”

“Thank you.”

She was about to grab her purse when Ethan stood up from his chair.

“Eleanor, wait.”

She turned to him, her face emotionless.

“I need to understand why.”

“Why what?”

“Why you… moved on so fast when you… you said you love me. How could you leave what we had in the past just after a month? Was all you said a lie?”

Eleanor felt heartbroken. She sensed his pain and how subtly he was acknowledging that after all this time he still couldn’t move on, but at the same time, she couldn’t believe he was questioning her feelings when he had been the one who broke everything they had.

“How… How can you doubt my feelings, Ethan? How?—She said as her voice was breaking—"I was honest with you the whole time. The whole time you were ignoring me I opened up my heart to you, I ridiculed myself in front of you every time I tried to make to your senses. You really think that all that was a trap?”

“No, but…”—Ethan walked towards her and stopped a few inches away as he sensed her discomfort.—"How could you do it so fast and…. with someone so shallow, you deserve better than that. You’re brilliant, you need someone who comprehends your sharp mind…”

“Shut up!”—She roared—"I’m tired of this shit, Ethan. Don’t ever talk about Bryce like that, you hear me? You have no idea…”—A sob escaped from her throat. It really affected her how bad he was treating Bryce—“…how wonderful he is and all the things he had done for me. If you knew, you wouldn’t be saying this bullshit. You should be grateful to him instead.”

“Why you say that?”

“Because he cleaned the mess you made. You were the one that broke me into hundred pieces, and not just when you left, but every time you ignored me and pretended that I didn’t exist, every time you didn’t answer my calls or emails, even when you started to punish me for moving on. You have spent months breaking me, Ethan. In million pieces. And you know who took all the broken pieces of me, who is putting them all together? Him. Like the brilliant scalpel jockey he is, he has been stitching every single piece of me with love, dedication, with patience, with a lot of patience. He has shown me how real and selfless love is by being a good friend, inviting me out, making me laugh, putting me on top of his priorities when not even I was putting myself first.  And he had never hurt me, you know? So don’t ever say that I don’t deserve him, because he’s precisely what I deserve after all the hell you made me live.”

Ethan couldn’t say anything, and after a few moments, Eleanor turned to leave, but before she could take her belongings, he spoke.

“Do you love him?”

She faced him, bravery in her entire body even if she was still crying.

“Yes”.

Eleanor could see how his life fell apart, how she broke him with just a single word.

“But you said that you…”

“I love him but I’m not in love with him, yet.”

“You’re still in love with me, then?”—He said with a hint of hope.

“Yes, but that doesn’t change anything between us.”

“It does. Eleanor, I wanted to make things right, but I was afraid.”

“Don’t you think I wasn’t afraid too? I exposed myself in front of you a hundred times and I kept doing it even if you rejected me ninety-nine times before.”

“You have always been braver than I am.”

“Yes. That’s why I asking you to please end all this crap for good and let me be happy.”

“I … I don’t know if I can.”

Suddenly, he heard a hiss and before he could direct his eyes to the source of the noise, an imponent and categorically voice filled the air.

“Enough. ”

Ethan and Eleanor turned to the voice, startled, only to find Bryce standing in front of the sliding doors, his face frozen in a cold glare.

“Enough of your stupid game of making her feel guilty for the shit you created, Ramsey.”

“Bryce…"—Eleanor said in a tiny voice, clearly surprised of his attitude, but grateful that he had interrupted that tortuous exchange.

"This is not of your concern, Lahela.”

“If you are making her feel like shit, if you are making her cry like she is now, of course it’s my concern and I won’t let you do this to her anymore, you hear me?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, I’m asking you to behave like a decent human being and stop torturing her with your mistakes. She has paid more than enough for them, and it’s not fair you keep doing this. So, if you really, really care about her like you’re trying to show, take a step back and leave her alone.”

Ethan was speechless. He never thought he would see Bryce this serious and commanding, and that he would call him out like this. His eyes were now burning with fury and was standing a few inches ahead of Eleanor in a protective way, waiting for anything Ethan could throw at her or him and respond.

When Bryce understood that Ethan wouldn’t say another word, he turned to Eleanor.

“Come on, babe, let’s get outta here.”

“Okay.”—Her voice was barely a murmur.

"You have your purse here?”

“Yeah, it’s…”

“ Got it"—He said when he localized the black leather bag hanging from a chair in the circular table. Once he was standing beside her again, he held her hand and together walked out of the office, while the examining eyes of Ethan followed every movement of them.

The last thing he heard before the doors slid shut was a soft "It’s okay baby, I got you” after a few sobs, while through the windows he could see how Bryce was holding her in his arms, her face deep buried in his chest. Then, total silence. His hammering head full questions and guilt had deafened him. 

___

A/N2: So, with this chapter, I officially declare that Bryce is Leo cusp Virgo in my AU, thank you very much. 

[thecandywrites]

Blood For Gold Part 9

Short and sweet but powerful and impactful. Also this is just an excuse to show how GORGEOUS Chinese hanfu is. Look at it. I want to wear it and feel like an empress too. Not that I’m fetishizing it or anything, I just think it’s gorgeous. Thanks to @kriskukko for letting me use that regency orc art. He’s gorgeous. Don’t worry the troll will be coming up soon. I haven’t forgotten about him, not at all. Also thank to you @punkhorse96 for all your amazing feedback. 

Blood For Gold 

Part 9

Demsey woke up early and quickly got dressed in one of his nicer, and more flattering suits, eager to not miss a moment of your presence before he got out at about the same time as his brothers, also dressed in some of their nicer clothes only to see the moura men come out of their rooms across the hall, all of them wearing silk robe like garments that flowed like water around them, but the way the robes were designed and patterned, they were clearly more than just..robes, at least they looked that way as they all greeted each other good morning cordially before they rounded a corner to see Calla, Bennie and yourself also leaving Bennie’s room, dressed in similar robes, all the women had their hair down and these robes were much prettier and in striking colors as you all kissed each other’s cheeks and warmly murmured your good mornings to each other. 

“So what kind of dress is that?” Sierge asked Bennie curiously. 

“It’s Chinese hanfu, it’s extremely comfortable, it’s cool in the summer, warm in the winter depending on which layers you use and how many layers you put on and it’s easy enough that you can dress yourself all by yourself and it provides freedom of movement. Mouras really love anything we can move around a lot in and do so comfortably and there’s pants under it so you can ride horses, pegasus’, griffins and dragons easily, we decided earlier this morning that every day for the next two weeks, we would want to show our English counterparts Dorierran culture which is a world culture and show you all the different styles Dorierra has and embraces in all of it’s quarters and we decided that today was hanfu day, we already informed the Dauphine who was delighted at our choice and had her old moura clothes pulled out of storage while Audra gave Charlotte one of her other hanfu dresses to wear since Charlotte and Audra are similar in size.” Bennie revealed just as Demsey’s sisters were coming out of their rooms from across the hall and stared in awed wonder at the clothes. 

“Those are gorgeous!” Callie gushed as she came over and looked closely at the dresses. 

“Thank you! It’s Chinese hanfu, we have spare dresses, would you like to change into one of ours?” Calla offered before Callie looked to her brothers before her parents came out of their rooms. 

“Calla offered me to wear what she’s wearing could I?” Callie asked hopefully. 

“Sure.” Gwen, Callie’s mother answered. 

“Would anyone else like to change in hanfu?” Bennie asked Demsey’s sisters before they gave a look to each other and nodded yes before all the girls went back into Bennie’s room where you all helped Amara, Kiera and Callie dress into traditional chinese hanfu, taking off their corsets and trading them for the more traditional moura and much more comfortable undergarments which other than securing the bosom were not nearly as restrictive.  

“Ooooh, this is nice, I like this.” Amara said as she appraised herself in the mirror as you walked her through tying the sash around her waist before you lent her one of your other fans. 

“Isn’t it?” You laughed as Bennie helped Kiera and Calla helped Callie who because of her smaller size ended up needing one of your hanfu outfits to fit her better. 

“So what do you think?” Calla asked Callie

“I love it, do you guys just pick whichever kind of dress you want from whatever culture you want every day?” Callie asked. 

“Yup. We can dress in Chinese hanfu for breakfast, we can dress in Japanese kimonos for lunch and be in Indian sarees for dinner.” Calla answered. 

“But kimonos are very restrictive, and they take at least one or two helpers to get dressed into properly. Because while Chinese hanfu is flowy, kimonos are very stiff and try to put your round body into a straight box shape. But Indian saree’s are like hanfu in that they’re meant to move in, they’re prettiest when you dance and twirl in them actually.” You pointed out. 

“But my favorite style is the Dorierrian style, it’s a mixture of all of them, elements of everything all together to make something perfectly unique and it combines comfort, beauty, ease of movement and functionality.” Bennie insisted as she finished getting Kiera put together. 

“Now twirl in front of the mirror.” Bennie instructed before Kiera obeyed as she began and couldn’t help but giggle and laugh as she did so before all her sisters did the same, all of you laughing together. 

“I’m never going to want to take this off and get back into that blasted corset.” Kiera said as she smoothed her hands down the fabric. 

“Me either.” Amara confessed before you all left and went to breakfast where the Raymond’s had already began eating. 

“Well aren’t you all just as lovely as pictures.” Yalin cooed when she saw all of you, herself in the royal red and gold hanfu befitting an empress. 

“Yes, they duchesses wanted to try out hanfu.” Bennie reported proudly as she took her seat between Sierge and Demsey as Ramsey eagerly had you sit next to him as you reluctantly agreed and sat down in your own seat next to Ramsey but across from Demsey again as Jane meekly sat next to you. 

“Do you think my parents would be mad if I dressed in hanfu too?” Jane murmured to you. 

“Even if they did, I wouldn’t tell them if you wouldn’t.” You murmured back to her. 

“Do you have another hanfu dress?” Jane whispered.

“I do, I can get you changed into it after breakfast if you’d like.” You offered her before she nodded in confirmation. 

“And your excellency, how exquisite you look in hanfu, like a proper empress.” You complimented Yalin from her spot next to her husband. 

“Thank you so much Sultana,” Yalin thanked you graciously. 

“Please, won’t you dispense with the formalities? You may simply call me Audra.” You offered. 

“Only if you will call me Mama Yalin.” She returned happily. 

“Bennie!” Benyana insisted.

“Calla,” Callalea chimed in. 

“Amara,” Amara followed suit before it was quickly agreed to go by first names, even the Dauphin, Gregori agreed to it as Demsey’s parents rose their eyebrows in surprise but agreed to it as well, thinking it was novel and fun and it would give them a chance to get to know the jewel orcs better. But even still, Gwen could see from her spot that Ramsey was already making his intentions towards you crystal clear and feared that Demsey was already in over his head and was headed for at the very least disappointment, if not disaster, but she also knew her son well enough that once he set his mind to something, he wouldn’t quit until it was all said and done, she just hoped he wouldn’t be wounded too deeply or get his hopes too high only for them to be dashed to pieces. 

After breakfast, the group decided to tour the grounds where Bennie took Gregori and Yalin aside. 

“So I have a report,” Bennie began as Yalin and Gregori turned towards her eagerly. 

“Audra states that only love will induce her into matrimony this time around and because of the abusive treatment she received at Broadcove, she is a shell of her former self and it was like trying to pry open an oyster with a wooden spoon to get her to talk about anything. But there is leverage. She insisted that she has “insurance” against the Morrigans should they ever decide to stop paying for her silence, which is smart because she’s used that insurance to double the living Edward afforded her, I think if you enticed her to share that insurance with you, you could double that number even still and gain at least fifty to sixty thousand pounds a year out of the Morrigans because you can “sue” them for damaging Audra who will be a member of the Raymond household and Ramsey especially can sue them for damaging his future fiance and the Morrigans will pay anything to keep whatever insurance Audra has from going public or going to the royal family or whatever. However, if you truly wish for Audra to join your family, there is a simple solution- use a messengerari, use this address at lunchtime because it’ll be breakfast time there, and that is the family’s main one. Tell them that you have Audravienne safely and comfortably at your palace and that they are welcome to come and see her and talk with her with no interference, no strings attached and that she will confide in them how and why she became a shakan and Audravienne will take their council and advice which I can’t imagine them ever giving her any advice that would be against joining your family. Make sure to especially invite her twin brother Axalarize, or Axal for short. And if anyone can bring Audra back to her full glory and most importantly to her senses and her wits so that she can clearly and plainly see that Ramsey is the man for her and allow herself to give her heart to him- it’s Axal, and once she does, the rest of her will follow, you’ll have grateful inlaws, you’ll have a grateful daughter in law and a very healthy and substantial income and an ally under your thumb. Because the Morrigans should know that for every drop of life and blood you squeeze from a moura, must be paid back in gold, and don’t worry about having to pay a fee for them to come, they will come on their own dime and all you need to do is open your house up to them when they come.” Bennie suggested as she handed Yalin and Gregori her slip of paper with the address of the Saharrazat’s messengerari address as Gregori took it and grinned triumphantly. 

“Excellent work Bennie.” Gregori praised. 

“Well the royal family paid a pretty penny to get us here, it’s the least we can do to make sure you get your monies worth.” Bennie smiled charmingly. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a Duke to charm.” Bennie excused herself before she practically skipped away. 

[elizabethemerald]

Mistress of Shadows

Ok, I just really liked the idea of Pre evil Morgana being a mentor figure to Claire, especially when she senses dark magic around her. Also this story uses some of my personal headcanons and original ideas on how magic works. Enjoy!

AO3 

“Hand maiden? Could you attend me?” Morgana called softly into the study attached to her rooms. The girl, Claire of House Nuñez, entered her rooms with a sour expression on her face. A strange child. She had accompanied Merlin’s apprentice Hisirdoux, and Lancelot’s newest squire. 

Morgana extended her awareness a little. She could sense hostility radiating off the girl. The same hostility had been mixed with a wave of fear when the girl first sighted her in the throne room. However she quickly schooled her face, showing nothing but pleasant interest. 

“What may I do for you, Lady Morgana?” Claire’s voice was so carefully trained to a pleasant neutrality. She would do well with statecraft, though she would need to learn how to hide her emotions from other magic users. 

“There is a celebration to happen tonight. Would you assist me into my formal attire?” Morgana watched the girl with shrewd eyes, as she gestured to her outfit for the evening. Claire stepped up to the dress, her careful mask slipping for a moment as she examined the dress. Her face briefly showed her confusion, as she worried her lip with her teeth. Then her mask returned and she picked up the first piece of the outfit. 

Morgana would have raised an eyebrow, if she did not have her own mask firmly in place. The girl didn’t recognize one of the most popular and current styles of attire. And yet she had control over shadow magic. Morgana could feel the unmistakable aura around the child. 

As Claire walked around her, helping her into the dress, Morgana examined her closely. There. At the corner of her eyes, as she leaned closer to adjust a button. And there. On her hands as she placed a cloak around Morgana’s shoulders. The tell tale hairline cracks of dark magic. 

Truly no one who didn’t have personal experience with dark magic would have noticed. Morgana had felt her own skin splintering under the force of the magic she wielded. Had seen the cracks spiderweb up her arms and had seen the scars they leave on her own face. 

“Claire?” Morgana said softly. The girl’s eyes flicked to her own before returning to the garment. “That is your name correct? Claire?”

Claire nodded, not making eye contact again. “Yes it is, Morgana- uh, Lady Morgana.”

“There is no need for such formalities when it just the two of us. You can call me Morgan if you like.”

Morgana moved a hand to lay on Claire’s shoulder. To her surprise the girl flinched back like she expected to be struck. And if Morgana hadn’t been watching her closely for any signs, she might have missed her eyes briefly changing from brown to purple and black. Morgana allowed her hand to return to her side. 

“You don’t need to pay attention to all the stories Hisirdoux tells about me. The boy has quite the imagination.” Morgana paused, watching Claire’s face closely. She also kept her senses tuned to the waves of emotions flowing off her. “I won’t hurt you Claire.”

“Of course my Lady.” Claire gave a slight curtsy, no longer meeting her eyes, before turning on her heel to leave, Morgana’s attire set for the evening. 

“Though continuing to perform Dark Magic might.”

Claire stopped, her back straight and rigid as a spear. The hostility that had permeated the air around her since meeting her was suddenly swamped in fear. Morgana moved to sit at her table. 

“Come here girl.” Claire turned, and Morgana could almost see the dozens of lies and excuses bubbling to the surface. “Do you think I wouldn’t recognize the signs of someone who had used Dark Magic?”

She stood there stiffly for a few moments, before slowly stepping closer. When she was closer Morgana carefully lifted her hands, keeping her motions slow and deliberate. She didn’t want to spook the girl again. When Claire didn’t flinch away again, Morgana put her hands on her cheeks, examining her face even closer this time. 

The cracks were carved deep. And yet there was only one set. If someone had used dark magic multiple times the cracks would be layered on top of each other, changing the color of the skin to an ashen gray. Their depth however was interesting enough in its own right. A singular use of dark magic, yet powerful to a degree she had rarely seen before. Morgana sat back, allowing her hands to drop to the table top again, a small smile on her face. 

“I recognized your shadow magic earlier. How could I not? I’ve been the sole practitioner of shadow magic in the castle for years. But I thought I felt a trace of dark magic. That is a dangerous magic to use.”

Claire’s face crumpled in frustration. “I already got this lecture from Merlin. I know shadow magic is dangerous!”

Morgana allowed one elegant eyebrow to rise towards her hairline. “Not shadow magic, Claire, Dark magic.”

She leaned back, again carefully bring her hands up, making sure she broadcasted each movement clearly. A hint of shadow danced at her finger tips. The light in the room dimming a little. 

“There is nothing inherently wrong with Shadow magic. It just another specialization. Like fire magic, or healing magic, or even Merlin’s artifacing. It is neither good, nor bad. It simply is.” Again Morgana carefully watched Claire’s face. The girl looked surprised, and watched the dancing shadow with interest. Her rapt attention showed a calculating mind, quick learning. Morgana had no doubts that she would be able to perfectly replicate the magic after only a little practice. “It is certainly true that the nature of shadow magic makes it a favoured tool of assassins or thieves, or even the trolls in the wood. But that does not make it evil.”

“However,” Morgana continued her lesson. “Dark magic is a different beast all on its own.”

Claire stepped back a moment, then glanced at the other chair at the small table, almost unconsciously. Morgana gestured to the chair, inviting her to sit. Then when she was seated and again paying attention, Morgana breathed in, then out slowly. She drew on the darkness that was only ever a whisper away from her. It was as close to her as the clothes on her back. 

Claire gasped as the dark magic took hold. Morgana knew hair line cracks were appearing around her eyes. She carefully made sure they were not deep enough to leave any permanent mark. Then she sighed and released her hold on the magic. 

“Shadow magic is a tool. As one may prefer a hammer over an axe so might one prefer to dwell among the shadows as among the flame. Dark Magic, however is a source of power, not a tool to direct.”

“You know that all magic has a source?” Morgana waited for Claire’s hesitant nod. “Most wizards utilize the magic within their own bodies. Merlin is quite the fan of using the magics inside minerals and elements of the earth around him. Dark magic allows the wizard to pull more magic than their body can hold. It kills the body, to do so, but it allows for powerful works of magic, for those in dire need or with little care for the value of life.”

“Dark magic… kills the body?” Claire asked, her eyes wide now. 

“Yes. It can cause the mess that is inside a body to die, the cracks that are on the skin only show the barest hint of the damage that is being done. Enough usage of dark magic could cause the organs to fail, the lungs to be unable to draw breath, the heart unable to beat.”

Morgana knew that a careful practitioner could exclusively draw on this necrotic force from outside their body, ensuring that only other living things paid the cost of the magic. Or, as Morgana often did, just the opposite, ensuring that only they pay the cost, so nothing else is harmed. However this wasn’t a lesson she wanted to impart on to a young magic user. That way laid corruption. And eventually, succumbing to the evil of killing those around them for their own reward. 

Claire’s face was closed off. Thoughtful. Good. Morgana well knew the danger of Dark magic. It was difficult to tread the line between the benign shadow and the cruel darkness. Too easy to began to enjoy the death and suffering the darkness could cause. Morgana leaned forward, catching Claire’s attention again. 

“There are only two kinds of people who resort to dark magic. Those who care not for the suffering their magic causes.” Morgana watched Claire’s mask drop again. She looked horrified. Scared. Morgana gave her a warm smile. “Or those whose need is so desperate that they must resort to destroying their own body.”

“So tell me. Claire of House Nuñez. What road lead you to such desperate straits as to risk your body and soul to cast a spell of this magnitude?”

Claire had tears in the corners of her eyes. Her hand, almost on its own accord flew to cover her mouth, suppressing a sob. Morgana prided herself on her perceptiveness. This Claire was not a girl to play with magics without reason. Much less with dark magic on a scale that could have caused the cracks on her face. 

“The-the troll, I was found with-” Claire hesitated, her eyes flicking away, grief and longing on her face. 

“You love him?” Morgana said softly. She waited for Claire’s nod, then again put a gently hand on the girl’s shoulder. This time Claire did not flinch away. “A human and a troll in love? I never thought I would see the day.”

“Well he was my boyfriend first!” Claire declared, her usual forcefulness and fire returning to her voice. 

“In that case. If you would resort to dark magic enough to mark yourself like this, then it seems there would be no sense in keeping the two of you apart.” Claire looked up at her, tears still shining in her eyes, but determination shining there too. “After all, I’m sure the two of you would do anything for each other.”

Some fun author notes on this one. I really loved Morgana’s arc in Wizards and liked how she acted as a narrative foil to Claire’s own study of magic. Morgana thinks Claire flinched from her because she had been abused in the past. Its why she makes sure to telegraph her movements clearly so Claire isn’t taken by surprise. Claire doesn’t know how to put on the dress Morgana picked out, having never seen the style before. However she is able to make some connections between the style and certain historical costumes she’s seen. If the story had been from her perspective Claire’s thoughts at the dress would have been about breaking it down and analyzing it as well her doing her best to emotions, unknowning that she was projecting those emotions. Also I feel like Claire is constantly surrounded by men, so I wanted to have one time where there is another woman around her, to help her with her magic. 

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Our Lady of the Underground || Morgan & Miriam

TIMING: Current/the Winter Solstice 

PARTIES: @meflemming & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan Beck, dead witch walking, gathers her final sacrifice.

CONTAINS: Violence, mentions of torture, death

Morgan tried trolling the Magic Circle for gossip about who was getting into dark shit and doing experiments they probably shouldn’t, but everyone was more curious about why she had stopped coming by Amity Row and why she wouldn’t take them up on their drink offers. So Morgan left it to chance, or fate.When the day came, she loitered around outside some other bar, her lonely act not much of one at all, and waited for someone to ask twice for her company. Somehow, he took all her grimacing and turning away as signs of just being nervous and offered to get some air outside with her before she could come up with a good excuse.

And now he was bound and gagged and unconscious before the Devil’s Gullet, which just went to prove you really shouldn’t follow women who invited you for a late night stroll in the woods after dark. Fog rolled in thick, obscuring the line between solid ground and bottomless pit and stifling the sound of any life around them. Even the rest of the air felt suspended, hiding. Morgan tucked her jacket sleeves into the rubber kitchen gloves she put on to search pockets for anything dangerous or distinct enough to get them caught, but there was nothing out of the ordinary, except for some runestones and a tarot deck. Not enough to prove spellcaster one way or the other. Miriam would have to be okay with a certain level of ambiguity when it came to their mark; they both would. The maybe-spellcaster guy twitched, groaning, and Morgan jumped back. She knew they needed him awake if they were supposed to get any paint out of the situation, but that didn’t mean it was her preference. She cast a furtive glance Miriam’s way. Was this how things were supposed to go? Was she doing it right?

Taking in Morgan’s caution and overall appearance of being uncomfortable, Miriam made sure to appear steady, confident. And, truthfully? She was. This was her element, just as much as the leather shop was. They were in a good location for body disposal, the Gullet being a location she’d used frequently years ago on the occasions that she hadn’t wanted bodies immediately found. It would certainly serve their purpose well. Miriam had waited to feed a few days just for this, and she was starved. It didn’t help that her fangs had been coming out at random times. She figured that it had something to with the hunger, but it was curious, and more than a little annoying. She wanted this done as quickly and effectively as possible. So she pinned her curls up in a bun, put on a pair of gloves, and pulled her skinning knife out of her pocket. As the man started stirring, and Morgan cast a look in her direction, Miriam gave the small zombie a nod and walked up to the man, an easy, lopsided smile on her face. She patted him on the cheek gently. “Wake up, sweetness. Join us in the land of the living, won’t you?” Though, looking at Morgan and then realizing she was talking around a mouth full of fangs, Miriam rectified her statement. “Well, semi-living. Come on, now, eyes open. Let’s talk.” She ran the knife along his jawline, drawing out a thin line of blood. Best not to wait.

If Morgan just looked at the guy without looking at him, as if he were a set piece, or part of the atmospheric scenery. On your left, observe the ashy remnants of bone and suspiciously stained rocks. Further back, the creepy mist gets a little thick and likes to take the shape of malevolent spectres, and in the center, a human vessel for ritual bloodletting! Morgan took out her own knife and her Nalgene, unscrewing the lid and looking for an easy place to make this go quick, well, quickly enough. Not enough pain, then they’d just have to hurt someone else, and that wasn’t something she really wanted to put out into the world. She had made it this far without needing a do-over. She could get to the finish line and hand the blood to her exorcist and have something to show for these last four months.

The maybe-caster grunted with pain, starting to life. He looked around him wildly, straining his arms and screaming through his gag. Morgan looked around them and saw nothing and no one from one end of the mist to the other. “It’s okay to struggle,” she said gently. “The more the better. You should try to exert as much influence as you can over your situation. It will irritate your injuries, which is good for my purposes, but it might minimize the severity of any PTSD you develop after this too.”

He looked at her, shouting muffled cries of confusion and anger.

“I would prefer it if you survived this, but that’s going to depend on what kind of influence you try to exert. Please bear that in mind.” This would be the part where she made a cut, like a spigot into a tree, and let the material flow. But the man thrashed and Morgan, for all her practice with animals, struggled to make her incision so easily. Instead she came around behind him and wrapped her arms around, squeezing him with her full strength. She looked to Miriam for guidance again and nodded toward her Nalgene. “Please don’t waste anything,” she mumbled.

Watching impassively as Morgan talked to the man, Miriam stepped up again when Morgan moved behind him. “I’ve done this quite a bit,” she said, an easiness in her voice that didn’t match the intensity in her crimson eyes as she stared at the man. “Relax, darling.” She glanced at Morgan, then back at the man, smiling at him with sharp teeth. “Not you, darling. I don’t think you’re going to be able to relax much for this.” She got in the man’s face, pulling the deck of tarot cards out of his pocket. “This.” She threw them into the pit. “This is why you’re here. And for whatever she needs you for. You serve some purpose to her, at least. For me, you’re just a meal.” Then she grabbed the container that Morgan had brought and her knife, and she set to work.

According to Miriam’s research, back when she’d first realized the more pain meant that she was better fed for longer, the Chinese had perfected an art of torture called lingchi, or slow slicing. Some called it a death by a thousand cuts. It wasn’t dissimilar to flaying, and, the way she did it, it wasn’t as messy as skinning, though there was still quite a bit of mess that came with bleeding a person out. Miriam set to it, creating shallow incisions designed to elicit pain, starting on the man’s right arm. The wounds began to bleed, slowly, and the man began to scream against the pain of it. This would certainly be blood brought by suffering, Miriam thought, and the man was miserable, too, his pain and misery almost as familiar as blood on her tongue.

Morgan tried to shut her ears to the muffled cries of agony from the man in her arms. This was not going to be the first body she’d ever made, and for all she knew this guy who didn’t take the first ‘no’ for an answer had done something as bad as Cece’s coven friend to deserve being here. Maybe he’d earned this and she just didn’t know it.

Slowly, Morgan’s fingers grew slick with blood. Most was dripping into the Nalgene (slowly, so fucking slowly), but Morgan could sense it in how much more effort she had to put into holding him still. She’d encouraged struggle, encouraged anything to make this a little less terrible, but this was the price of torture. There was no room for mercy. No room for kindness. Miriam’s knife cut right through any ideas like that, shredding them along with the man’s skin. His cries grew throaty and desperate. He thrashed, messing Miriam’s handiwork, and groped blindly at Morgan’s clothes, like he could pull her into doing something different. “Y-you’re...you’re doing good…” she said faintly. This only made him scream louder, and it finally occurred to Morgan that all the affirmations in the world wouldn’t change what this must be like for him.

The phone rang in a short burst of sound: some anime sound effect Morgan vaguely recognized from Skylar’s recommendations but couldn’t place. She was sure she’d put it on silent when she took it, but apparently. “Shit, shit, shit...sorry…” She prised one bloody hand off the man’s anguished body and fished out the device. It was just some girl asking “u up?” And yet Morgan couldn’t help but stare at the lit up screen. There was a picture of a happy looking golden retriever being hugged by a kid in overalls on the lock screen, too messy to be a stock photo. Both of them couldn’t be his, right? “Mim, how much longer?” She asked, words wavering in her throat.

The poor bastard was quite miserable, as Miriam slowly sliced off pieces of his flesh and cut into him, but she still wasn’t satisfied. Not yet. It was a slow process, an agonizing process for both him and her, though she’d walk away from this encounter feeling full and sated, a smile on her lips. “Not much longer,” she told Morgan, the container filling up. She licked a bit of blood off the knife, grinning as the man in front of her whimpered. She set back to work. There was no need to take hours, and she could tell Morgan was probably getting uncomfortable with all of this blood and gore. Despite the name, slow slicing wasn’t a particularly long process. She only needed about half an hour, though she preferred longer, occasionally chatting and breaking bones. Not this time though. The man’s screams turned into whimpers, short, wretched little sounds in the back of his throat. Miriam didn’t know how a blood sacrifice was supposed to work, didn’t know if he was supposed to be louder for the full effect or whatever. She wasn’t the witch, wasn’t the one with the intimate know-how on all of this. Personally, she thought he could beg a bit, be a little louder. “There’s no one to hear you,” she told him, gently, next to his ear. “There’s no one that cares. So, please, by all means, continue screaming.”

The phone kept lighting up. There was no more weird anime sound to remind Morgan of Skylar or her dead student, who had at least been popular enough for the school club to turn out for her and make some memorial art of her as some magical girl character. But there was still the dog, dopey and excited and probably going to get shipped off to the pound after it had wandered the house going hungry, waiting for someone to come home that never would. The kid, definitely-definitely-definitely not his, but still tiny and happy and if this guy loved them enough to put them on his screen, they had to be important. And there was a group chat talking about a videogame release, a request for help with a calculus program on a tutoring app. And Morgan thought of the kids at Maxine Johnson’s funeral, and that clearing in the woods where she had begged that wolf to spare Deirdre, Ariana trembling her arms, the witch screaming in Cece’s house, the anguish on Deirdre’s face as she staggered home after a fucking week. The guy finally thrashed hard enough to get his gag loose, or looser, and he let out a scream that sounded so much like Morgan’s own. “Fucking fuck…” she whispered. The knife just cut deeper, scoring more holes into the universe, more loss. Nothing redistributed or balanced, it just spread, taking more and more, giving less and less.

“Stop!” Morgan’s hand shot out to Miriam’s wrist and pushed it away. “We need to stop now. You have to be full, he’s been screaming forever, this has to be over a-and this is...it’s done. This isn’t helping anything and it’s finished.” Her grip tightened. It was the only thing steady about her.

There wasn’t any enjoyment coming out of this, and she’d nearly been done, almost been willing to let this man and his annoying phone and his incessant whining leave with nothing more than a few bad feelings and some terrible scars, but Miriam still felt slighted at being told to stop. Stop, as if she had no self-control. Stop, as if she was a child to be scolded, being physically held back. This was a new low, even for Morgan. For all of her holier-than-thou attitude, she’d still agreed to Miriam’s help, had known going into this that it was just as much about Miriam getting a meal as it was about Morgan getting her blood sacrifice. And she’d commanded Miriam to stop? Put her hands on her in an attempt to make her. Miriam felt something inside her tighten and tighten and tighten as she looked down at the smaller woman, her teeth gritted. Something snapped, and Miriam relaxed.

Then, with her free hand, Miriam gripped the man by the shirt, pulled him close, and ripped his throat out with her teeth. Grin bloody, she shoved the container of blood towards Morgan, though she was controlled enough in her movements not to spill it. “There,” she said. “No more screaming. All done, sweetness.” She smacked her lips but didn’t wipe away the smear of blood that lingered on her chin. Miriam pulled herself away from Morgan and set about cleaning her knife, taking the gloves off of her hands and preparing to dispose of them.

“NO!” Morgan screamed and pulled the man back, but it was too late. Miriam bit, and his body flopped back, bleeding and lifeless. “What the fuck! That’s not what I wanted, that’s not--he would’ve been fine! I said stop to let him go, not to--! He didn’t even DO anything! He was no one! Tarot cards are just glorified mind tricks! Fucking---” Morgan’s screams broke with sobs. The mess of his throat was all over her hands now and Morgan couldn’t stand it. She got out from under him and edged away. She shook off as much as she could, but the blood stuck to her hands and made a home in her nail beds. “Fucking universe, I changed my mind, that’s it! Why couldn’t you…” Listen. Or see; see anything besides her own pain and want. But Morgan wasn’t even sure Miriam could see her right now. She was polishing her knife, like cutlery was really the thing that mattered right now. Morgan’s voice tapered off, shattering between horror and disbelief.

“Well, now he’s certainly no one at all, is he?” Miriam mused, though she swallowed hard, refused to look at Morgan at all. This was no place for regrets. She was not one to feel regrets. If she did, they would crash down around her so brilliantly, and she’d never get up again. She’d sooner be able to rip out her own throat than allow that to happen. “You’ll want to make sure the body goes over the side, and make sure there’s nothing plastic on him.” She looked over to the body. “Or I’ll do it myself, actually.” She finally looked at Morgan, scowling at the expression on the zombie’s face and refusing to let it feel small. She hadn’t buckled under the woman’s scolding before, and she wouldn’t do it this time, either. “I didn’t change my mind, and I wasn’t finished. That’s simply the way things are, sometimes. You got your blood. I got my meal. I think that both of us came out on top in this situation.” Certainly much better than him, she thought but didn’t say as she looked at the dead man on the ground.

“That’s not how things are! You don’t get to say that about something you did!” Morgan screamed. She pulled on Miriam, trying to make her look at her. She reached up and held her face, blood smearing all over it as she tried to get a grip. “You have choices, Mim! You have fucking choices. We all have choices! We don’t have to be like this, it’s too fucked. Look at me--no, really look at me Miriam and tell me that wasn’t so fucked and you don’t feel one bit better! Maybe you’re full, but better? Really?” She could barely see her for the tears streaming down her face. She’d waited too long to figure this out, and Miriam needed to eat no matter what, but this was reckless, this was just more unfairness and aching. Someone was going to miss that man and go looking and ache, wondering, and they’d never know that Morgan was the reason behind the worst day of their life and it would all just keep spreading. “Tell me you can feel how wrong this is.”

“That is exactly how things are, and if you’re foolish enough to not see that, then open your fucking eyes, Morgan!” Miriam snarled. She tried to pull away, but the little zombie was like a damn vice, forcing her to look and see. She did not want to. She did not care to. “I made a choice. A rash one, certainly, but it was my choice, and I stand by it. I do.” She looked Morgan in the eyes, red meeting blue like a clear warning sign. Did she feel better? No, not really, not much at all, but she’d never admit that, never give Morgan the satisfaction that she was spot on. If Morgan hadn’t pushed her, if she hadn’t literally grabbed her and forced Miriam’s hand, things might be different. She forced herself not to look away at the tears streaming down Morgan’s face, steadied her resolve and her feelings, her anger and her rage. She was angry that Morgan tried to stop her. She was upset over the thought that Morgan didn’t think she could stop herself. “None of that matters. It’s done now. I made a choice. It’s done now.”

“Because why!” Morgan demanded. “Because of your pride? Because I’m the one saying it? Because then you would actually have to do something different instead of just being so fucking scared? You are so terrified that things could be different, because it would mean you and everyone else has suffered for no good reason and it really was as shitty as it felt this whole time!” Her voice snapped and she cried again, though she no longer knew for who. “You could’ve stopped. We could’ve had someone do a memory charm, do something, so he wouldn’t tell about what happened. He could’ve been okay if you’d just stopped, Miriam…” Her hands fell and she backed away from the whole mess. “I really thought you were better than this.” But maybe she wasn’t. And hadn’t Miriam tried to tell her so this whole time. “Keep the blood,” she whispered. “I don’t want it. I need to fix something about this mess…”

“I am not scared!” Miriam screamed back, avoiding the questions because they did scare her. “Any part left of me that had anything to fear died before my heart even stopped. I’m not scared! I have never been scared.” She gritted her teeth so hard that the taste of blood in her mouth was less of that man’s and more of her own, the dead taste of it unsatisfying and bitter on her tongue. She felt prickles of tears in her own eyes, but she blinked them away, swallowed the taste of her own blood like bile. She would not cry. She wouldn’t. “But I didn’t. I didn’t, and playing around with what ifs and should haves and could haves does no one any good at all, darling. It simply doesn’t do any good.” She choked back a laugh. “I have been trying, so hard, to get you to see that I am, in fact, not better than these. I can’t be! I’m incapable!” She looked down at the container, disgusted with it and everything that it represented. She wasn’t disgusted with herself, though. No, she was not disgusted with herself. “I don’t want the fuckng blood, either. It was gotten for you.” She couldn’t imagine it’d taste alright, either. The man’s blood had turned sour the second it entered her mouth. She didn’t want it.

“Everyone is scared, you complete dumbass!” Morgan cried. She kicked the Nalgene over, letting the blood spill into the grass and drip down the sides of the hole in the earth. “But fine, you don’t want it--” She kicked it again. “There you go. Keep the bottle for the next time you get miserable.” She stood still, hands flexed. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do to Miriam, if she could shake more sense into her, fight her, or wipe the tears building so clearly in her eyes. But the exorcist was due in town tomorrow, and she needed to solve Constance another way before then. “You’re only incapable right now because you’re a fucking coward. But you know what? Mission accomplished! You win! You’re a monster and a liar, but it’s not because of the magic boogeyman universe that made you. It’s just you. Alone.” She stalked off into the trees, wiping the blood on her jeans and fumbling for her phone. She’d already ruined one person’s life, but maybe there was time to save Constance and whatever was left of herself.

“Fuck you!” Miriam screamed after Morgan’s receding figure, but there was little fight in it, nothing more than the petulant words of a child that she so desperately tried not to be. Because that’s all she was, wasn’t it? A child, one that found out the boy who teased her on the playground really was only teasing her and not simply pulling her pigtails because he liked her. She was a child, one that threw a fit every time she didn’t get her way. She was-- No, she was stronger than this, better than this, and she wouldn’t be reduced to anything less than she was by one tiny zombie who couldn’t keep her nose and her wretched moral compass out of other people’s lives. Miriam shook her head harshly, closing her eyes, not even realizing that tears were running down them and making rivets in the blood on her cheeks as she did. She thought about just kicking the bottle into the fucking hole, consequences be damned, but she didn’t. Instead, she continued cleaning up the mess. Determined not to get herself or Morgan caught. She didn’t watch the body disappear over the edge, just picked up the phone from where it had fallen out of the man’s pocket. There was a dog on the screen, a few messages. Miriam felt a pang in her chest and picked up a tarot card as well, stuffing them both in her pocket. She wiped away a few tears, sure that Theo was laughing at her in whatever corner of hell he’d slithered off to. In the distance, she could see eyes watching her. Fucking Wildes. “Do you like the mess I’ve made of myself?” she muttered, and, everything cleaned and packed up, she walked away.

[hayleysstark]

snowball fight

words: 1281 warnings: none  summary: Poppy rolls her eyes. "Oh, and I suppose you've never been in a snowball fight?" / "Nope," Branch says. "Can't say I have." / "Wait, what?!" 

Read on AO3. 

Branch isn't sure what's going on here, but he is absolutely one-hundred-percent sure he doesn't want to find out—it's so much easier to just not get pulled into Poppy's wild, bizarre hijinks if he doesn't have to, but she's crouched down in front of a large, snow-covered mushroom, with a scoop of snow clutched in her hand and a grin on her face that just screams trouble—so, when he asks, it's very much against his better judgment.

"What are you doing?"

Poppy jumps—like she really didn't know he was there, like she really didn't hear him come up behind her, but even she can't be that unobservant, even she can't miss the crackle and crunch of ice and snow under his feet—and she spins around to face him, eyes wide and cheeks bright pink from the cold. "Branch! Shh!" She puts a finger to her lips and continues to talk in the loudest whisper he's ever heard. "We're in the middle of a war here!"

"Looks deadly," Branch says flatly.

"Like you wouldn't believe! Look at this!" She shakes her head, and an enormous clump of white powder falls from her hair to the frozen ground. "That's what Chenille did to me! She's worse than Smidge!"

"No one is worse than Smidge."

Poppy thinks about it. "Hmm. Yeah." She nods. More snow falls out of her hair. "Point taken. But have you ever seen Chenille in a snowball fight? She's vicious, Branch! I barely got out with my life!"

"A snowball fight?" Branch echoes.

"Yeah! I'm serious! That girl takes no prisoners!"

"Aren't you guys a little—" it takes him too long to find a way to say it that's not going to sound mean, so he finally just says it in a way that's going to sound mean, "—old for that kind of thing?"

"What?" Poppy laughs. "No! Of course not! You're never too old for snowball fights!"

"I beg to differ."

She rolls her eyes at him. "Oh, and I suppose Mr. No Fun over here has never been in a snowball fight?"

Branch almost rolls his eyes right back, but he's not going to sink to her level. "Nope, can't say I have."

"Wait, what?" Poppy whips her head around to stare at him, with a wrinkle in her brow and a frown pulling at the edges of her mouth. Even more snow falls out of her hair, but she doesn't seem to see it, or maybe she just doesn't care. "What do you mean, you've never been in a snowball fight?"

"I mean I've never been in a snowball fight," Branch is already a few hundred miles past completely done with this conversation, and if she would just stop looking at him like that, like he's just told her he slaughters entire litters of kittens in his spare time— "I know it's hard to believe, but I haven't had much room for fun and games in my life, Poppy."

(He tries not to think about it. He tries not to think about all the nights locked down in his bunker, breathing too hard and too fast, shaking all over like a damn leaf and never knowing why, never having a reason, just feeling like something bad was coming, and all the days on the edge of the village, staring out at all the lights and listening to all the talking, all the laughing, all the singing, looking down and wanting, but knowing he could never have--)

A freezing clump of snow slams into the side of his face.

"Poppy!" Branch swipes the powder off his cheek. "What are you doing?"

Poppy beams back at him, brighter than the sun. "Looks like it's time for your very first snowball fight!"

Branch almost laughs, because of course that's what this is, of course that's where Poppy's mind is going, and it's so ridiculous, it's so childish and silly and absurd and it's so Poppy—but he knows if he even smiles, she won't take him seriously when he tells her no. "Poppy, I’m not—"

"No! No, no, no, none of that! We're not doin' none of that, buddy!" Poppy scoops up another handful of snow off the ground and packs it into a ball. "We're having fun here!"

Branch reflexively puts his hands up to cover his face and turns his head away to hide the little twitch at the corner of his lip—it's entirely irrational, but there's just something about this whole thing that makes it really, really hard to stay serious. "No, we are not having fun here! You're just looking for an excuse to hit me with things!"

Poppy giggles. "Well, then, hit me back!" She lobs her second snowball, which clips the pointed tip of his ear, and sails on past him to smack against a tree.

"Stop!" But his mouth edges up in a full smile, and he knows if she sees it, he's a dead man. "Don't!"

"Come on!" She pelts him with another lump of ice. "You know you want to hit me!"

"No, stop it, Poppy, I'm—" a laugh slips out before he can catch it, and oh, no, that's it, he's doomed, it's over, he'll never come back from this, "—I'm serious!"

She already has another wad of white powder balled up in her fist, but she drops it to clap her hands over her mouth and squeal. "Oh, my gosh! That was a laugh! That was a real laugh! I've never heard you laugh before!"

Branch's face burns hot in a furious flush. "Yeah, there's a reason for that."

She doesn't drop her hands, but her eyes crinkle up at the corners. "It's so cute! Let me hear it again!"

"What?" If his cheeks get any warmer, he's going to burst into flame and die, which would still be better than this. "No! Stop being weird!"

"Okay, okay, wait—" Poppy pries her hands away from her mouth, "—wait, okay, so, a troll, a Bergen, and a glowbug all walk into a party—"

Branch throws a snowball at her.

It's just to get her to shut up, to get her to stop talking about this, but it hits her full in the face, and for a second, she freezes, her mouth still open and her eyes wide, sparkling crystals running down her chin in a rushing white river.

She reaches up, slowly, to wipe the white powder out of her eyes. "Okay," she says. "It's on."

Branch leans down to scrape up another fistful of snow, but he's too late—a hunk of ice hits his cheek, and slides all the way down to his neck, melting to water in the thick cloth of his jacket—

"Poppy!"

"Don't dish it out if ya can't take it, Stick Man!"

Branch flings a fresh clump at her, and it smacks her right in the forehead, but he doesn't even have the time to feel proud of himself, because she's already got a blast of her own locked and loaded, and it gets him on the nose with a solid thwack.

And, all of a sudden, the air is thick with screams and shouts and snowballs, and this is crazy, this is insane, and Branch is laughing, wild and loud and breathless, so hard he can't throw straight, so hard he can barely stand up, and he thinks this might just be the most fun he's had in his entire life.

(When it's over, his ribs ache with how hard he laughed, and it feels so weird and it feels so good, and he thinks that might just be the first time he's laughed in twenty years.)

[lieutenantcharleslorem]

Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Data/Geordi La Forge Additional Tags: daforge - Freeform, AU, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Goblins, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Mermaids, Pirates Summary:

The Corsair ship Enterprise is not exactly a pirate ship, but they do what they have to to get by on the high seas. Without someone knowledgeable in steam mechanics that becomes even harder. Data is a gear filled robot who can be wound like a watch, and Geordi is merman who cannot see above water. But perhaps this odd friendship could solve some of their problems.

Hi! This was written for a commission for @datalaur​. This takes place in a weird vaguely steampunk, D&D type universe where certain alien species names are interchangeable with mythological names like trolls and goblins, and everyone calls Data a robot. The world building isn't perfect, but I still think it's a good time. 💜 (Here’s a link to chapter two)

 CHAPTER ONE

The sea rippled in the wind, and the ship creaked as the sails were turned.

“Captain,” said the first mate, “We can’t go on like this.”

“What do you want me to do, Will? Stop and ask for directions?”

“It’s not just that. When we go into battle, we can’t have you and the rob’ut shoveling coal.”

“There’s so much more to it than that.”

“Well then? That’s my point. We’ve got to replace O’Brien. I know you were holding out hope, but when we dock at the ninth port again, sure he’ll sing songs, and welcome us like old friends, but he’s not gonna be convinced to go back to the life of a corsair. Not now that he found someone who could love that ugly mug of his.”

The Captain sighed. “You’re right. But Data knows this ship better than anyone—”

“The rob’ut can’t fix himself, Picard,” Riker spat. He steeled himself and tried to speak more respectfully. “We need a new crew member. Even if he doesn’t know the engines, if he’s got a mind to learn, if he can figure Data’s gears, he can pick up slack. Because we need you both on deck, sir.”

“Captain, I’m afraid I have to concur.” The gears in Data’s shoulders creaked as he turned the wheel and changed their course. “Not only that we need an extra crewman, but that we should stop and ask for directions.”

“Data…” Picard said, frustrated, “Who do you suppose we ask. A siren?”

“I propose we anchor along this approaching landmass,” replied Data. “There are signs of life.”

Picard removed his spyglass from his pocket and took a look at the approaching shore. There was smoke in the distance and a path cut through the trees. There was no way to tell if these people were friendly, but they were certainly people.

But Captain Picard was nothing if not an adventurer. If he had been afraid to meet new and mystical species on faraway shores, he never would’ve found Data, or Worf. Even Troi was half Elvin, and they’d all learned to live with her mind trickery. While the old girl, Enterprise, was just beginning to take on this diversity, Picard suspected there were pirate and privateer ships in which humans were the minority.

When they anchored a few hours later, the crew was informed to sit tight while the Captain and Worf sought out the people to make sure it was safe.

The first thing Worf noticed about the locals was that they didn’t seem all that mysterious. They looked human. The only difference being that his humans kept themselves better trimmed.

“Trespassers,” said one of the men.

“We mean no disrespect,” said Picard, putting his hands up to show his open palms. “We’ve only lost our way. We don’t mean to intrude.”

“You have a Klingon with you,” said one of the women.

“This is Worf,” said the captain. “He is a friendly Klingon. He wasn’t even raised on the mountains of Kronos. He was raised among humans.”

Worf nodded. He resented his trustworthiness being equated with how human he may be, but now was not the time to be offended.

“What are you doing here?” asked the man.

“We’re lost,” said Picard. “We’ve been tasked to find the Goblin homeland. They’ve stolen some inventions—”

“They’ll gut you for your latinum.”

“Alas, we have none at the moment. We will be paid for retrieving the machinery.”

“They won’t stop to find out what’s in your pockets. They’d sell the clothes off your corpse.”

“We are familiar with the goblins, and their confrontation tactics,” said Worf, “Money is no doubt the reason for their thieving, not a hope for technological advancement. However, were they to sell to an enemy, the human government would not be pleased.”

“I see. Privateers then?”

“You could say that,” said Picard with a smile.

“Hmm, the kind of privateers who are also pirates, or the kind with a certain code of conduct?”

Picard and Worf shuffled their feet.

“It depends on your definition of pirate,” said Worf. Picard shot him a look that told him to keep his mouth shut.

“We definitely have a code of conduct,” Picard assured them. “You have nothing to fear from us. We’re only asking a little help…”

“You’ve gone too far,” said the woman.

“Excuse me?” asked Picard, wondering what he could have possibly said to prompt this response.

“You’ve gone too far,” she repeated. “That’s how you got confused. You went too far north. It happens. Goblins are southeast of us. We could maybe mark it on a map, but can’t say how accurate it would be. None of us are cartographers.”

“If you’re willing to look at a map that would be great. But you’ve already helped. Thank you,” said Picard.

“You look weary,” said one of the men.

“You might stay,” said the other. “Assuming you are not pirates.”

“Oh, oh that’s very generous, but we should be on our way,” replied Picard.

“Suit yourself, but Jeham used to live the ship life, and any chance to spend a moment on land was cherished later when the chances didn’t come. If you would like to stay a short while we would not object.”

“Well… I don’t know how much time we can waste. But we will tell the crew that they are free to explore for the time being.”

“Explore?” asked the woman.

“Would that be a problem?”

“No,” said the man. “But there are some areas that are… not as safe.”

Picard nodded, not wanting to make a fuss. “Worf, why don’t you go back to the ship and let the crew know we’re welcomed.”

“But Captain—”

“I’m sure I’m safe with our new friends, Mr. Worf.”

Worf looked back and forth between them, nodded, and disappeared through the trees.

“I never asked your names. I am Jean-Luc Picard.”

“I mentioned Jeham,” said one of the men, pointing a thumb to the other. “And my name is Di.”

“And I’m Reese,” said the woman.

That evening they sat around a large fire. Some stood, some walked around, but they fit nearly 200 people into a clearing, Picard’s salty crew mingling idly with this sandy group of families. The doctor had disappeared somewhere. The Captain hoped she was having fun. Data stood very close to the circle around the fire, wanting to be included, but not wanting to take a warm place to sit from someone who would be comforted by it.

“May I ask you a question?” said Data quietly.

“Only if we can ask a few back,” said Reese.

“Of course, please do. I was wondering, you do not look terribly different from us, and you speak human, but—”

“We are human,” replied Di.

“This is only a settlement,” said Jeham. “I used to work on a ship too, but I’d been looking for an out for a while when my ship stopped here. I decided to stay, after I met everyone.”

“Most of the originals came to get away from the black fog of the big cities. We live a little simpler here,” said Di.

Data’s face fell, if only minutely, and he said, “You came here to get away from machinery.”

“Perhaps, you could say that,” said Reese, “But we have no problem with machines. Only the smell of industry.”

“What are you?” asked Di, standing up to look more closely at Data’s skin, “A robot?”

“Yes.”

“Who made a thing like you? Is he with the crew?” asked Reese.

“No. My creator was lost at sea many years ago.”

Di reached out and ran a finger along Data’s forehead and down his nose. “You’re not like any robot I’ve ever seen.”

“I wouldn’t imagine we’re up on the latest trends, Di,” said Reese.

Di continued trailing his finger down Data’s face, and Data resisted the urge to shudder when he reached his lips. Though he would’ve preferred Di ask permission, he couldn’t deny that in some ways Data enjoyed the stimulation to his- his what, he wasn’t sure. He had speculated that he had artificial nerve endings, but it was far beyond the realm of any science in the land. There were rumors on the ship that Soong had not just used engineering, but magic to bring Data to life. But if it was true, that didn’t change that the robot still needed to be wound.

As the feel of Di’s fingers on his neck suddenly became absent, Data realized he had shut his eyes. He opened them abruptly and whispered. “I am… one of a kind.”

The captain cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should do a little exploring in the morning before we leave. Get some exercise before we have to be cooped up on the ship. If you could suggest any trails…?”

“We could take you to look at some pretty areas, but you shouldn’t go off alone,” said Reese.

“Oh, I’m sure we could handle any animals that might come our way.”

“It’s not that,” said Di. “You don’t want to go very far from shore. You don’t want to get near the water.”

“Water?” asked Worf, “What do you mean near water but away from the shore? That does not make sense.”

“There is something of a lake, but it drains in from the ocean and it is quite deep.”

“Everyone on our crew can swim… Except for Alyssa,” said Data.

“It’s not about that either. This is the good water.” Di gestured behind him. They couldn’t see the shore through the trees but knew it was in that direction. “It’s mighty shallow. Just stay away from the rivers and estuary. They’re deep.”

There was an awkward silence as they tried to figure out if they should keep asking questions, and then there was another voice in the darkness.

Troi walked up to the fire seemingly out of nowhere. Her skin appeared to glow in the fire light, and they could see the smallest bit of her brazier at the opening of a men's collared shirt that was a little too big for her. She whispered, “I get the sense you don’t actually want us to know why we shouldn’t see these deep waters.”

“It’s the creatures,” said Jeham.

“Jeham,” warned Di.

“What kind of creatures?” asked Picard.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of sirens,” said Reese.

Data cut in, “The captain mentioned them this morning.”

“Then you know.”

“I know of myth,” said Picard. “I know of imaginary creatures,”

“I doubt you’re so cynical. With a Klingon, and your mechanical man. You would question the possibility that sirens exist?”

“An entire race that is solely female and dedicated to killing sailors? I’m afraid it does cast some doubt.”

“They aren’t only female,” said Jeham. “And they’re not sirens… They’re merfolk. They’re just a species like any of the ones we’ve seen. We’ve all met groups of people that seemed scary,” he glanced at Worf, “and we’ve all met people with a special ability or two.” Now he looked at Deanna but looked away when she caught his eye.

“Well, now you make it sound like they’re just new friends to make.”

“No,” said Di. “People have tried. The merfolk seem friendly sometimes. But this is where the siren myths come from. They’re intelligent. They make you feel things. They can control your emotions.”

“I have no emotions,” said Data.

“Excuse me?”

“They could not possibly control my emotions; I am not capable of feeling emotions, as I am a machine.”

Di sighed. This conversation had gone on longer than he would have liked.

“Fine,” he said, “Chance it, Robot. But don’t blame me when you are dragged into the sea.”

“Well, perhaps if we have time,” said Data.

Troi slid into the circle and sat down in front of the fire. “Now what are the chances that you lovely people happen to have marshmallows?”

Things had stayed friendly and hours later, after everyone had agreed to call it a night, Data sat in front of the dying fire.

Since he didn’t sleep, he was often presented with extra time to occupy while those around him were unconscious. On the ship he usually continued navigating.

There was a pull on the gears of his ticking brain. Almost a tingle to his mind. He wondered, if he were human, would this be the need to be rebellious? After all, he was never a child, neither a teenager.

He needed, like an unquenchable curiosity, to go find the deep waters Di and the others had spoken of. He wasn’t afraid of what he might find there, for he couldn’t feel fear. Even if he could, he also couldn’t feel pain, so there was really nothing to be afraid of.

He got up quietly after the fire had gone out. He didn’t want to ruin their fire pit by extinguishing it or leave it unattended while burning. But now, in the light of only the moon he got up quietly and crept beyond the clearing, heading away from the shore.

It might have taken a biological being a few hours to navigate through the many trees and over jagged rocks, but Data did not tire, and found the estuary before sunrise.

The water here seemed different than that which he had sailed on for many years. This was eerily calm, and the moon shone off it in such a way that made it appear to glow.

Data sat down at the edge of the water, and waited. Nothing happened, but that was okay. He thought about navigation, and the mission they were on, and watched the sunrise.

Just as he was thinking perhaps he should return to the clearing, something in the water moved. Slowly a dark face emerged, with completely gray eyes, like nothing Data had ever seen.

“Are you waiting for someone?” the being asked.

“I suppose I was waiting for you,” replied Data.

“I've never heard your voice,” he didn’t look directly at Data as he spoke. “You don’t live here.”

“No, I’m a corsair.”

“I… I’m afraid I don’t know what that means.”

“I sail… on an independent ship.”

“You’re a pirate,” said the man in the water.

“… We don’t like to hurt people.”

“I’m not here to judge you.”

“What are you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“You are a merman?”

“If the name suits you.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Do you?”

“My name is Data.”

“A name befitting a mechanical man.”

“You knew I was a robot?”

“I can hear your body tick.”

“But you cannot see me.”

“Merpeople don’t see the same way land folk do.”

“Oh, I understand.”

“Mm, I doubt that.”

“Well, it is true that I probably cannot imagine how you process sensory input, but I also can’t imagine how any biological being does such things.”

“You experience your senses differently than everyone you meet, don’t you?”

“I have yet to meet anyone like me. Other robots do not…”

“They do not compare.”

“I suppose not. Some people think my creator was a genius. Others think he was mad. I’m sorry to say I am sometimes in the latter category… You never told me your name.”

“Geordi.”

“Is that a common merfolk name?”

“Not particularly.”

“I understand that you see differently than humans, but it appears as though you do not see me at all.”

“I saw you when I approached, but we are adapted to the water. We lose certain things above it. But others change. Everything is louder above water as well.”

“If I were human I would get in with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I would hold my breath, and swim with you, so we could see each other properly. But I can’t get water in my gears.”

“Sailing seems like an odd job for someone who can’t get wet.”

“Well, I can get a little wet. But it could be troublesome to be fully submerged. It’s correct that if I fell overboard, I would most likely die, but that is true of most of the crew when on the high seas.”

“You’re quite the interesting device, aren’t you Data?”

Data didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry,” Geordi said suddenly. “That was rude.”

Data smiled even though he knew Geordi couldn’t see it. Just acknowledging that it was possible to be rude to him was more than some people gave him.

“I’ve been called worse than a device,” said Data. “And definitely worse than interesting.”

“Well, you are. Interesting, I mean.”

“I find you fascinating as well.”

“I’m really interested in mechanology. I hope you don’t mind me saying. It’s just, that sort of learning is limited when you live in water.”

“I would imagine.”

“I’d love to get a look inside you. I mean… that came out wrong.”

“You do not have to worry about offending me. I have learned over my time as a corsair, that it is not the words, but the feeling behind them.”

“Well, I mean, I can’t really get a look.”

“Figure of speech, I assumed.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure it would be terribly invasive to… to…”

“Examine my mechanics? If it were something you would enjoy, and you would not change anything—”

“Oh, of course not! I would never tamper with you without your permission.”

“Then you may open the compartment on my back,” Data said, unbuttoning his doublet. “I only ask that you dry your hands first.”

Geordi’s eyes widened. “Yes, yes of course I will.” He floated awkwardly for a moment before scrambling to get up onto land with Data. He fumbled as he couldn’t see the edge of the rock. Hands reached out and took hold of him around the waist. If he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve guessed them biological hands. The only sign that there was a difference was how effortlessly Data lifted Geordi out of the water, and sat him gently next to him.

Geordi’s tail hung off the edge and into the water but the rest of him was visible, and Data took in the details before handing Geordi a handkerchief and turning away from him.

He pulled the silk shirt he’d been wearing under his doublet over his head, not bothering with the buttons. Geordi finished drying his hands and felt out in front of him. He slid his hands down Data’s smooth back, finding in the middle, something like a key.

There was that feeling of Data being touched again, but this time it was invited.

“Does this keep you going?” Geordi asked, fingering the key.

“Yes, turned clockwise it winds my gears, but if you turn it counterclockwise—”

“I can unscrew it and open this hatch. And it won’t cause you any problems?”

“No.”

Geordi did as Data said, placing the key off to the side, and sliding open a door in his back. Data had of course been worked on and examined before, but this was somehow different. Geordi had to feel the parts to understand what was in front of him and Data could almost feel it himself. Geordi’s soft slick hands running along the springs and wires.

“There’s lots I could do back here,” Geordi said lazily fumbling over some screws. “Are you always so trusting with people you’ve just met?”

“No,” Data replied, eyes closed, “Never.” And it almost sounded breathy to Gerodi’s ears.

“Well, I’ll take this as a compliment… Ow.” Geordi pulled his hand away abruptly.

Data glanced back and saw Geordi put his finger in his mouth.

“You have burned yourself.”

“Nah,” said Geordi. “Just hurt for a second.” He went back to his examinations. “I see, so you breathe to keep this cool right here.”

“Yes.”

“It’s like you’ve got a little engine roaring away inside you. It’s amazing.”

“Do you… know anything about engines?”

“A little. I’d love to learn more.”

“Data!” said a voice in the distance. It was the captain.

“I have to go now,” Data told Geordi, like he was telling a playmate that his mom said dinner was ready.

Geordi nodded and shut the compartment. He felt around for the key before fumbling to screw it back in for Data. Once it was in he kept turning.

“All wound up.”

“Thank you,” Data whispered.

“Data?” shouted Dr. Crusher.

“I am here,” replied Data pulling on his shirt. “No need to go any further, I will come to you.”

He buttoned only a few of the buttons on his doublet before going to stand, but Geordi stopped him while he was still on his knees. He reached out and took Data’s hand.

“Will you be back?” Gerodi asked.

“Back?”

“Will I see you again? I’ve never met anyone like you.”

It wasn’t lost on Data that the merman called him one instead of thing. Data had to admit that though he had only known the being for all of 20 minutes, he wanted to promise he would be back. But it was not a promise he knew he could keep.

Data debated whether he would be overstepping a boundary for .3 seconds, and then decided to place a hand on Geordi’s cheek. “I will try,” he said honestly. Geordi shivered. “You are cold. You should return to the water.”

“Data, please inform us of your location,” said the captain.

“I will be right there, Captain.”

Geordi stayed on land for a few more moments to listen to the sound of Data’s footsteps as he walked away.

Beyond some rocks in the thick of trees and vines, Data found the captain and the doctor searching for him.

“I apologize for the inconvenience, Captain.”

“Out looking for mermaids, Data?” said the Captain with a smirk.

“Of course not, Captain. I would never go looking for something someone told me could be dangerous.” Data had recently begun to master facetiousness. He found it easier than sarcasm, because it didn’t require the same bite.

“Oh!” replied the doctor with a smile, “Of course not.”

“Well, I hate to interrupt our recreation, but we’re trying to get some maintenance done as quickly as possible so that we can be back on the sea before noon.”

“Captain, will we be coming back?” asked Data.

“Back?”

“To this shore…”

“There were no plans to. I know this is no concern of yours, but it depends on where our next meal is coming from.”

“I understand, this little village, of sorts, is not particularly profitable.”

Data was silent for the rest of the morning as they prepared to leave. He spared one passing glance at the shore as he steered the ship back onto the high seas.

With the locals’ changes to their maps they were able to find goblin territory faster than they expected. They came into port in the late afternoon as the sun was setting, and they had a plan before midnight. Goblins were ruthless, but they were also easily scared.

They would beat them at their own game, and retrieve the technology from right under their noses. Under cover of darkness, the captain, Riker, Data, and Worf, crept through the city. They took along a few crewmen who were new to the seas but could provide a little muscle. All of them pulled up their hoods against the rain. They’d been told before they came that it never stopped raining in goblin territory. But they hurried despite their discomfort. They could not be seen under any circumstances. This was not a place they could blend in. Their height alone would make them stand out to any goblin.

They inched into the building where they’d heard it was being held. They were fairly certain the goblins they’d interrogated were telling the truth. It had taken what little latinum they had left, but every goblin has their price.

Inside there were many locking mechanisms, but it was nothing Data couldn’t handle. Though he hadn’t been designed for theft, thieving from thieves brought exceptions. Being a corsair brought oh so many exceptions.

Coming down a hall, lit only by a torch, was the final door. Behind it should be the stolen machine. It was wood, and shorter than human doors, as had been all the doors in the building. It was covered in chains which the goblins no doubt thought were strong. Worf took a chain in hand on one side, and Data took it on the other. Pulling against each other like they might play tug-o-war, one of the links near the middle gave way and opened, and the chains fell apart.

The captain pushed the door open and ducked into the room. The device’s silhouette was monstrous in the darkness of the room, but Picard could tell they could get it through the door if they carried it on its side. After all, the goblins had to have gotten it in here somehow.

Squeezing it through the door and down the hall with the strength of a robot, a Klingon, a Bolian, and 3 humans was easier than expected. They shuffled out of the building, and were almost home-free when they heard a footstep.

A little clay colored boy with the biggest ears they’d ever seen screeched and pointed at them. Suddenly the sound stopped and the boy was on the ground. Worf had put down his corner of the device and hit the little goblin in the back of the head. He flinched as he looked at him. No one on the ship enjoyed when their adventures came to such things. Stealing and defending oneself was one thing but hurting innocent people never felt good.

“He should be fine,” whispered Data.

Worf nodded and picked up his end again and they were able to get it onto the ship uninterrupted.

As they rushed out of dock, wind in their sales, it almost seemed too easy. The simplicity was almost dreamlike, being so unsettling and anxiety inducing, that it was almost a relief when they heard goblins shouting in the distance. Something about profit.

And then, there was just enough light from the moons to see a ship gaining on them. It was a strange looking ship, with little cohesion, different colors and shapes that reminded them of other races they’d met along the way. It was almost as if the goblins had built the ship from spare parts of other ships they’d come across, purchased, or robbed.

The word Ferengi was messily painted on the side. It must’ve meant something in the goblin language, but they didn’t know what, and didn’t have time to think about it.

There was yelling and swift conversations as they heard cannons go off. Were they out gunned? Could they call someone for help? Goblins had always seemed so cowardly, but there had been a feeling in the air, and now it seemed inevitable that they had underestimated them.

While people on the Enterprise were loading cannons, Riker took the wheel, and the captain told Data to go change the direction of the sails. Data nodded and ran to the ropes. Just as he was finishing, he heard Troi shout, “What’s going on?”

“The goblins,” he replied. “Help with cannons!”

Looking at her when he spoke, he was caught off guard when the entirety of the Enterprise shook with a particularly well aimed cannon ball. The ship lurched, and Data tried to grab onto the rope, but his hands missed it by a centimeter. Data went toppling into the water, Troi running to the railing after him, but knowing there was nothing she could do.

“Data!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

He could hear faintly the water muffled warbling of Troi explaining to someone, “The robot, he’s gone overboard!” before he became waterlogged and shut down.

Data assumed this would be the end of his experiences.

-Chapter Two-

[middleofnowhere92]

The Worst Morning After (Chapter 2)

Chapters: 2/2

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Ty Lee/Zuko (Avatar), Ty Lee & Zuko (Avatar)

Additional Tags: Morning After, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Modern Era

Summary: Ty Lee and Zuko unexpectedly run into each other. It goes uphill from there.

Read on ao3 or below the cut

Toph had said this would be a small get together, only a few people. After all these years, he should have known that was a lie.

Toph had said this was an anti-valentine’s day party, for single people to not feel pressured into relationships. He disliked Valentine’s day. It was an asinine holiday. The hearts, the pink, the glitter- gross. It was over commercialized and an excuse to make half the population feel like they were unloved.

He didn’t know half the people here. As he squeezed past groups of people. He spotted a girl perched on an armchair. She looked different, but she clutched a pink bedazzled phone in her hand that had been under his bed a few hours prior.

Shit.

He evacuated the immediate area, weaving in between people to get to the kitchen. He wordlessly herded Sokka out onto the balcony. He closed the glass doors and looked at his friend. “Dude. I have a situation that normally happens to you, but it’s happening to me and I don’t know what to do.” Sokka put his hand on Zuko’s shoulder, “Zuko, buddy. You’re in the middle of a fuck up. Tell me all about it.”

Zuko ran his hands down his face, “I brought a girl home last night and now she’s here in the living room.” Sokka looked at him in confusion, “Did it not go well? Is she annoying or something?” Zuko still looked panicked, “No, no. She’s fine. This morning was just so fucking awkward.”

Sokka shrugged, “I know you don’t hook up a lot dude, but it’s always kind of awkward and well, with you I’m not surprised.” Zuko glared at his friend, but dismissed the jab, “Look, we didn’t even hook up. We both just slept at my place.” “Huh,” Sokka eloquently responded.

Zuko sulked, “I thought you’d be more helpful.” “I thought you’d have a real problem.” Zuko glared at him even harder. Sokka threw his arm around his friend’s shoulder, “Bro, just follow her lead. If she acknowledges you, go with it and if she ignores you, go with it.” That actually wasn’t terrible advice. Zuko nodded.

Sokka raised his eyebrow, “We could make this interesting though..” Toph popped on the balcony, “Make what interesting?” Zuko groaned. Toph always had the worst timing. Sokka conspired, “Zuko’s lady friend from last night is here. Toph, I bet you I can find her first.” Toph shook his hand, “It’s on like Donkey Kong!”

Zuko grabbed both of them, “If either of you says anything to her or make her feel uncomfortable-” Toph brushed him off, “We got this Sparky.” The two of them shoved through the patio doors. Sokka immediately called across the apartment, “June! I need your help with something.”

Zuko face palmed. He really needed new friends. His were awful. The only thing that comforted Zuko was that his friends probably wouldn’t identify her, because she wasn’t his usual type.

He sighed and then looked up to see her standing in the patio doorway. This morning when he had glanced at her in his bed, the sun coming in through the blinds gave her an ethereal look. Now that the sun was setting- the oranges, pinks and purples all reflected in a way that still made her look more like a Spirit, about to lure him into the next realm. She was clasping her hands uncertainly, “Uh hi. Got a sec?”

He pulled himself from his thoughts, “Uh yeah. What’s up?” She closed the patio doors. She leaned against the balcony and poked her Ugg into the ground, “I’m so sorry for this morning. I’m usually not like that. I know people say that all the time, but I swear I’m really not.” He cut off her long winded apology, “You’re definitely not. You told me so at least twenty times last night.” “Oh Spirits,” she groaned, “Do I even want to know what happened?”

He looked out at the city, “We left the bar, got about a hundred chicken nuggets and fifty crab rangoons. We had a sword fight with day old bread from Jimmy John’s and then we crashed at my place.” She looked at him confused, “Then why was I naked?” Zuko chuckled, “You said your dress was so tight it was strangling you. I tried to sleep on the floor and on the couch, but you would just start singing Taylor Swift until I laid down with you.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, “Spirits, I just keep getting more embarrassed.” He looked at her and sure enough her cheeks were pink enough to match the sunset sky. He bumped his elbow into her's on the railing, “Don’t worry about it. I was pretty lit too, I ate the crab rangoons by myself and then you started crying, because there weren’t any left.”

She held her hand over her mouth to conceal her smile, “I am never drinking again. I’m a total troll.” She looked at him bashfully, “I don’t mean to bother you or waste any more of your day. I just really wanted to apologize. My friends couldn’t believe me when I told them.” He chuckled, “My two friends have a bet running that they can identify you, so if anyone asks if you know me, can you just tell them you don’t?”

She started walking back towards the apartment, “Sure thing boss.” She gave him a mock salute. Then she stopped with her hand on the door knob, “What do I get if I help you out?” M y friends won’t traumatize you , he thought, but he answered, “Hey you still have my clothes, so I think technically you owe me.”

“Oh,” she put her hand over her mouth, embarrassed that she had completely forgotten about his clothes. He emphasized, “I was kidding. I don’t fit into my high school stuff anymore.” He then added on as an afterthought, “But maybe I could get your number to get my sister’s shoes back and uh, to maybe take you to breakfast sometime, if you want.”

She looked up at him, her gray eyes wide in surprise. Her answer was cut off by Sokka flinging open the balcony door. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” Zuko groaned. His friends really did have the worst timing. Sokka was trying to get more intel from him, “So tell me about this Valentine’s day mystery girl.” “Go fuck yourself,” Zuko snarled.

As Sokka tried to pry information out of him, the girl flounced back into the apartment and came back to the patio, handing Zuko a bag of fire flakes. Sokka ignored her, too lost in trying to figure out who she was. He could be such a dumbass sometimes. Zuko thought it was weird, but as he glanced down, he saw her number on the napkin she had given him in addition to the fire flakes.

He looked up as she gave a small wave behind Sokka and then turned to disappear into the crowded apartment. He looked down at the napkin one more time and smiled to himself. Her neat handwriting had artfully written her number and her name, Ty Lee. It seemed somewhat familiar, but Lee was a pretty common name.

He brushed it off as he sent her a quick text- Hello, Zuko here.

He guessed Valentine’s day wasn’t that shitty after all.

[shadow-wasser]

WIP Fic Whenever: Molting Pains

Might as well start doing this again. WIP Fic Friday Whenever is a place where I will put a ‘quick and dirty’ first draft of either a short story or a chapter from a longer story. This will hopefully encourage me to improve my writing output. This is from the ‘Meteorstuck’ AU, but is not strictly-speaking canonical to it. Molting Trolls, yaaaaaaay.

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

Molting Pains

or

Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Troll Puberty but Were Too Afraid to Ask

There were lots of strange things about trolls, . Their widely diverse horn shapes, their lack of anything that looked like an ear, their black tongues. And though they were aliens, and some oddities were to be expected, both Dave and Rose agreed that one of the most surprising things about the trolls was that they were so short.

Kanaya only came up to Rose’s chin, Terezi was even smaller, and Karkat’s tantrums made Dave think of an excessively angry gerbil. Even Gamzee was shorter than Rose, though his horns made him look bigger.

Seriously. It was kind of adorable.

Of course, they were still only thirteen, or six if you count in sweeps. Dave and Rose knew they might still put on some inches, and assumed that similar growth rates were true of trolls.

So as the years passed, the humans were only more perplexed and amused to see that the trolls did not grow at all. By the time Dave turned sixteen, he was 5’10” and could easily give Terezi piggy-back rides. He would make jokes frequently at Karkat’s expense, mostly about how the tiny troll was the perfect size for stuffing into a locker.

And the humans didn’t much think of it, honestly, in the chaotic years surrounding the revelation that they would never reach their destination. Even when they had to talk frankly about reproduction, they assumed growing up worked for trolls much the same as humans, differences in anatomy aside. They could be excused for this.

One day, five years after starting their journey, Terezi stopped eating. This would have been of note even if she hadn’t been stuffing her face ravenously for the past several weeks

“You ok?” asked Dave, as for third meal in a row she found herself unable to take a single bite of her grubloaf. “You’re not going to go anorexic on me, are you babe? Is this like, the purge after your binge?”

“I’m fine Dave, it’s none of your business!” snapped Terezi. “I’m just not hungry, that’s all.”

Dave held up his hands defensively. “Ok, ok TZ. Jeeze don’t bite my head off just ‘cause I care, goddamn.”

“If you care then you’ll leave me alone!” growled the troll, and she stomped off to her respiteblock.

“Not that it’s any of my business, but that joke was a bit off-color,” commented Rose, from the next table. “For all you know, Terezi might indeed be having body-image issues.”

Dave frowned. “Aw, come on, that is not happening. She knows I think she’s sexy as hell.”

Rose shrugged. “Have you told her that?”

“Sis, when you’re in a relationship as close as Terezi and I, that shit can go unsaid.”

Rose fixed her brother with a Look, and Dave shut his mouth.

“I’ll… tell her when she comes out.”

-----

Two days later, Terezi had still not come out. She only barely responded to pestering from Dave and Rose, and then usually snippily and without explaining her actions.

“Is she sick?” wondered Dave. “Is she even getting anything to eat or…?”

“She comes out sometimes,” noted Rose. “I saw her in the kitchen the other night. All the lights were off, and she fled the moment I came in. She left the tap running, so I assume she was getting something to drink.”

“She won’t let me help her,” continued Dave. “God, she’s driving me around the bend and right into oncoming traffic like some sort of drunk motorcyclist on a slippery mountain road, guzzling Jack Daniels while he slides towards his certain-”

Rose gave her brother a Look, and he shut his mouth.

“I’ll ask Kanaya,” said Rose. “Maybe she’ll have insight into Terezi’s behavior.”

-----

The other trolls had been remarkably reticent about Terezi, avoiding mentioning her in conversation. And when Rose brought it up to Kanaya, she looked distinctly uncomfortable. Maybe even more so than she had been years ago, when Rose had first inquired into the details of pailing.

Well. Maybe not that much. But comparable, definitely.

“It’s…” Kanaya fidgeted. “It is understandable behavior. Considering her condition.”

Rose blinked. “Condition? You think she’s sick?”

Kanaya shook her head vehemently. “No, no, I did not mean to imply she is ill. She is… well, remember how you described your monthly punctuation marks? I found that to be rather alarming at first, though you seem to find it natural.”

Rose smiled, slightly. “Ah. That explains some, but not all. I thought trolls didn’t get menstrual cycles?”

“Of course not. But the… mood alteration appears to be similar, during molt.”

That was a new term. “Molt?”

“Yes,” Kanaya nodded. “That’s right.”

There was a long pause.

“Well,” said Rose. “I think you might need to explain, as I associate the word ‘molt’ with a bird losing its feathers.”

Kanaya glanced uncomfortably to the side. “But… surely… when you transition to adulthood…”

It took some time, and considerable coaxing, for Rose to get the whole story from her matesprit

Dave, meanwhile, had taken things into his own hands.

----

“Terezi!” hollered Dave, pounding his girlfriend’s door. “Terezi, Gamzee is going on a rampage! You have to-”

The door opened and out whipped a cane, roughly shoving Dave out of the way. “Where? Where is he??”

“Oof!” Dave stumbled, fending off the cane. “Terezi, I’m kidding, he’s not actually-” Then he straightened, and got a good look at her.

Terezi looked horrible. Her skin looked sickly, mottled with irregular patches of light and dark grey. Her face was bloated and swollen, like she was having a severe allergic reaction, her horns had lost some of their vibrant ‘candy corn’ coloration, and even her hair looked like it was thinning. She was also not wearing any clothes, though she’d wrapped a towel around herself. She looked furious.

Dave stared. “Jesus, Terezi, what happened to you?”

-----

“I have not started the molt myself, obviously. At least not my terminal one. We molt when we are wigglers, and presumably pupation is a kind of molt.” Kanaya brushed back a strand of hair. “Anyway, I learned some basic anatomical diagrams from the schoolfeed, but most of what I know comes from hearsay. So I cannot say for sure which anecdotes are over-generalized or exaggerated, and which universal.”

Rose nodded, and continued to take notes.

-----

“Dave!?! How could you kid about something like that?” Terezi gripped her towel around herself more tightly. “This isn’t a fucking joke!”

“Terezi, you look like shit,” said Dave bluntly. “Is this some kinda troll disease? Did friendship literally give you a disease?”

“Oh my god. Dave, just… Ok, fine, come in.”

------

“Terezi may be acting in a self-defensive manner because she feels herself vulnerable,” continued Kanaya. “During molt, it’s expected that one’s usual physical capabilities become lessened. So the urge to retreat to a safe, secluded place is common.”

-------

Terezi’s room was dark, and Dave briefly lifted his shades so he could see. Terezi had covered the floor with rags, towels, and old clothes, and there were some stuffed dragons stacked in the corner, but the room looked otherwise normal.

Dave lowered the shades and sat down cross-legged across from Terezi, who had pulled the towel around her like a kind of robe.

“So,” said Dave after a moment. “You gonna tell me what’s going on, or what?”

Terezi said nothing.

“I’m worried about you,” said Dave. “And fuck, Rose is worried too.”

He reached over, to put his hand on Terezi’s shoulder, but she flinched away. “Please don’t touch me right now, Dave.”

------

“And is this process…. painful?” asked Rose.

Kanaya shrugged. “I imagine so. Sollux once confided that his hivestem neighbor screamed for days, during theirs. But it might not be so bad for everyone.”

-----

“Terezi…” Dave’s voice was quiet. “You're not... dying, are you?”

Terezi barked an explosive laugh. “Dying! Ahahaha, Dave, you’re so stupid.”

“Well excuse me that I don’t know the difference between like, Troll Chickenpox and Troll Ebola!”

“Dave, I’m not dying.” There was a rustle as Terezi wiped a tear, of what Dave assumed was laughter, out of her eyes. “I’m just growing up.”

----

“I think, beyond even the physical nature of the molt, the experience can be mentally very painful and frightening,” mused Kanaya. “Because we mostly learn the details from our cohort, who go through it and then are immediately shipped off world by the drones. It’s a great unknown, almost as much so as dying.”

Rose paused to consider. “That is… very insightful of you, Kanaya. I think you’d be good at psychoanalysis.”

Kanaya smiled. “I shall take that as a compliment.”

----

Dave nodded, slowly. “Ok. So let me get this straight. You’re… going through like, troll puberty?”

“I don’t know much about your teas of puber, but I am transitioning from an adolescent to an adult.”

“Right, same thing.” Dave paused. “But, I gotta say, when we humans do this, we don’t starve ourselves alone in the fucking dark.”

Terezi groaned. “Can we not go into the details? It is extremely embarrassing.”

“No, really,” pushed Dave. “Is this gonna be a regular thing now? As your boyfriendsprit, I just want to know.”

-------

“So how long does this take?” Rose queried.

“Not terribly long. The pre-molt appetite disturbances might last several weeks, but I haven’t heard of a molt itself lasting longer than perhaps a few days.”

-----

“No.” Terezi sighed, and shook her head. “When it’s done, it’s done.”

“Well, thank Troll Jegus for that.” Dave paused, embarrassed. “Terezi, look, I’m sorry I interrupted you in your adolescent emo phase or whatever, but I really was worried.”

“I appreciate your concern,” replied Terezi. “But I really will be fine.”

Dave got to his feet. “And since I take it you don’t want company, I will respect that and give you your privacy. Just… let me know if you need anything, ok? Food… Blankets… Faygo…”

Terezi made a gagging noise. “Smartass.” But he could hear the smile in her voice.

Dave turned to leave, opening the door.

“Wait. Dave.”

Dave paused.

“I… would actually like it if… you stayed. Not in the block but… outside? Like you were guarding the door?”

Dave’s face was impassive. “Sure, anything you need.”

Dave left, and took a place outside the room. He leaned against the door to the respiteblock, and made himself comfortable.

-----

And Rose found him there, leaning against Terezi’s door. “Dave,” she said. “I think I’ve gleaned the information we need, from Kanaya.”

Dave shrugged. “Yeah, I know. Puberty comes late for trolls, go figure.”

Rose paused. “You know about the molt? Did you speak to Terezi about it?”

Dave nodded. “Yep. It’s all cool now.”

“Oh,” Rose blinked. “Good, then. I’m glad we’ve sorted this out.”

After a moment, she continued on her way. But Dave stayed.

-----

Dave stayed by Terezi’s door, awake and asleep, for the next two days. Rose, Kanaya, and sometimes Karkat brought him food, but he ate only sparingly.

“It could be Terezi’s pheromones,” murmured Kanaya. “I’ve heard false-molt like symptoms can be induced by staying close to someone going through it.”

Rose doubted that, not least because Dave was human and not troll. But still, sympathy might have something to do with it. She would have to take notes on this fascinating new development.

------

On the second night, Dave was jolted awake by the sound of a door opening. He sat up, heart pounding, and watched as a stranger stepped out of Terezi’s room.

The stranger turned to face Dave. She - and it was definitely a she, she was only wearing two towels wrapped around her top and bottom like a toga- she must have been six foot at least, and she had pointed, deep orange horns, and thick, black hair, down to her shoulders. Her skin was this insane shade of velvet black, with a matte sheen, so dark he could barely make out the features of her face. She smiled, dead-red eyes gleaming, and showed a mouthful of silvery fangs.

“Hello, Dave,” she said.

Holy shit.

“Dave? You okay, coolkid?”

The troll-woman reached down to help Dave up, pulling him easily to his feet.

“Terezi,” gasped Dave. “You-”

Terezi crossed her arms, and twisted her mouth to the side. “I what?”

Dave swallowed, looked her up and down.

“You,” he said. “Are sexy as hell.”

[bonesthebeloved]

4 days and 4 months- Sanders Sides Part 1/2

Word count: 2427

Summary: After a fight, Roman goes on another quest to the imagination. After four days, Patton goes after him. Just to find that the issues might lay deeper than a simple feud

TRIGGER/SQUICK WARNING: Crying, Screaming, Mention of abandonment issues, neglective friends mention. (If there’s some I missed, please point them out to me (:  )

-Based on a request made by @ragingdumpsterfiremess

Patton had never been in the imagination before. He'd always thought it was kind of scary in there; With all of the dragons and witches and combinations of the two. Trolls lurking in caves and goblins glaring from behind trees.

He'd taken Roman his sword with him. The weapon laying heavy and unfamiliar in his hand as he stepped through the gates that lead him into an open field.

When looking back he saw how the door had disappeared.

The only reason as to why he wasn't alarmed by this, was because of Remus telling him that this would happen and that he if he simply wished for it to open up again, would see it appear right in front of him the moment the thought crossed his mind.

Questing wasn't really Patton his thing. And the large shoulder bag he'd taken with him cut into his shoulder slightly as he walked, the bandages and sandwiches and cookies and waterbottle moving around as he walked up a small hill, looking out over a forest, the leaves on the trees a bright green that sparkled as if the sun was hitting raindrops. Though when looking around he found that it hadn't rained and everything was dry a pleasant temperature and humidity.

"I do get why he likes it here. It's very pretty" he said to the air and continued to put on a song on his phone. Roman would like it, that he was certain of.

He hummed along while he followed the path, swinging his arms as the soft beat played, the sword on his back making a small clanging noise as it ticked against the bag now and then.

The sun was high even though he'd come there in the late evening, the temperature just right for the clothes he was wearing and the grass he was walking on looked so soft he was tempted to take off his shoes to feel it under his feet. A small smile slowly creeping onto his face as he looked around.

It really was nice. They should just make themselves a home in here! A little cabin or a house with big windows and a garden. Oh, how wonderful that would be!

"Sir? What are you doing in the forest all alone?"

A small boy, he couldn't be older than eight or nine, waved at him in greeting before running up to him. Patton wanted to coo at the little cape the kid was wearing and vaguely thought about how he should off brought some 'period typical clothing' as he knew that the imagination tended to be more dark-ages or renaissance based.

"Oh, I'm looking for my friend! Do you know where a Prince might be wandering around in these parts buddy?"

The kid made big eyes and stared up at him for a solid ten seconds before answering, seeming in awe that he even knew a Prince.

"If he'd be anywhere he'd be in the castle, sir! It's in my village actually, would you want me to take you there?"

"Sure little guy."

Patton found it endearing. How easily this kid trusted a stranger. He'd find it a dangerous habit in any other situation. But the imagination seemed nice and Thomas had always had a knack for seeing the best in people. He probably had made whoever was in this little world super nice as well.

Only a short walk and the forest, which Patton thought to be way bigger than this, cleared up to reveal a small village, the houses built on a hill, the top of it crowned with an impressive castle.

"Sir, if you do find the Prince, could you ask him if he could come and defeat the trolls that are haunting our village at night? They keep taking our chickens, sir."

Patton promised the kid that he would, smiled at him and, after dropping him off by what he'd said was his parent's house and giving him one of the two cookies he'd packed, he started on his way towards the castle.

The structure was made out of large white bricks and sported an impressive amount of stone statues lining the walls, monsters and goblins and ghouls and evil creatures all standing as if about to attack. It would have been pretty wasn't it for that fact that Patton quickly found out how lifelike they looked. It gave him the creeps.

He decided on not going into the castle just yet as he'd heard that the Prince would return from an important mission that day.

Instead, he spends his time going to the carnival. All kinds of stands and entertainers were all cramped together on the market place. Joyful music being played by a few people giving it all an even more fun and relaxed atmosphere. He'd bought himself a lollipop and was trying his best to win a stuffed bear for Virgil to bring home when the music suddenly stopped and the ball he'd just thrown to hopefully knock some cans of the table froze in mid-air.

It was incredibly quiet, so quiet that he could easily hear the sounds of two leather boots scraping over the gravel. The person wearing them adjusting his stance.

"Roman! I'm so glad to-" he stopped then, having finally turned around.

The Prince was standing in the middle of the carnival, long red cape barely touching the ground, hood down, hair a mess, clothes dirty with- was that blood? And the sword, a longer and definitely way heavier one than the one Patton had on his back, in his hand, the tip resting on the ground.

"Roman what-"

"You've got thirty seconds to explain to me what you're doing here."

"I-I came to get you..." Patton said slowly, eyes not leaving Roman his face, staring openly as the Prince frowned as if the cheer idea of 'coming to get him' was ridiculous.

"You've been away for so long and we were getting worried. And then Deceit came and said some things that gave me the heeby-jeebies about how you haven't been feeling well and we wouldn't want Thomas to be upset so I thought I would come and get you to-"

"Times up." Roman cut him off with those simple words and turned around, marching past Patton, shoulders brushing and cape twisting around the moral sides arm before it was gone and Roman walked on.

It took Patton all of five seconds to compose himself and to start in a quick jog to catch up with the Prince who was stubbornly continuing on his path, a quick move of his hand and the people that he'd has made stuck frozen in time started moving again.

The Ball Patton had thrown, had knocked all of the cans over. Though he barely noticed the man in the stand shouting after him to pick his prize.

-

The pub was dark and quite stuffy. The fact that everybody in there was frozen in place didn't help to lift the tension even the slightest.

"Roman what-" "I need you to leave."

Patton reeled back as if he had been slapped, feeling the urge to grab for his sword almost. He'd never felt this unsafe in the Prince his presence. But then... He had never seen him like this before.

The conversation he'd had before leaving to go find Roman flooded back to him and now he actually grabbed for his sword, just for reassurance, he told himself. Just for reassurance.

It wasn't an odd thing for Roman to go on a quest into the imagination. It was liberating, he'd said.

'to escape from reality is the best feeling you can imagine' he'd said. Shushing Logan when he tried to explain that they, in fact, weren't and never will be in reality as they themselves are imaginary.

This quest had been the same as any other to them all, though if Patton would've paid more attention he might've noticed the few things that made this one so very different.

There was the fact that, while he could conjure up any weapon at any given time in there, he always took his own sword with him.

Said sword was laying on the couch that time, the fatherly trait mindlessly picking it up. He had nearly reached the door that leads to Roman his room when he realised that it might be a bit odd for him not to bring it along.

Though he hadn't thought of it then. Simply shrugged and put it on his bed for him to clean up when he was back in a days time.

Then there was the fact that he hadn't told them goodbye.

There had been a fight. Or well, Roman had expressed his unease with the fact that Remus was now simply living in the same space as they were while the Prince was so obviously uncomfortable with it.

And while Virgil had stayed out of it, obviously agreeing with Roman but not wanting to be hypocritical, Patton and Logan had both scowled him for being overdramatic.

The whole ordeal had resulted in Roman agreeing with them, though the twitch in his right eye told Patton that he definitely was not fine with it and made for the fatherly trait worriedly watching Roman as he stomped off to his room.

A note on the fridge he'd found the next morning explained that the Prince had gone on one of his adventures. And Patton had sighed and put it on the counter thinking that he needed some time off. Childish, he thought. But acceptable.

It had been four days before they actively started worrying.

"Aren't you guys worried for him? He's never been out this long!"

"Oh pat, please. He's an adult. Surely he can take care of himself."

"Yes, I totally agree. Roman is so responsible." Deceit chimed in. Rolling his eyes as if annoyed by the whole situation.

Patton could tell that he was worried though. They all were.

"He's probably still mad at us for telling him to man up a little. While he did have a feud with his brother, it's barely an excuse to start acting like a child."

"Logan come on. I know you two don't see eye to eye sometimes but that's hardly-"

"You all know he's not coming back right?"

Patton his head snapped to where Remus had just entered. The creative trait now leaning against the doorframe in a would-be seductive way if it were not for his overall persona and the fact that he was wearing bright green duck slippers.

"Why wouldn't he come back?"

Now Logan sounded worried too, and even Deceit was frowning, still trying to act unbothered and failing miserably.

"That place changes you if you're there for too long. We've tried it out before, nearly went insane from being there. Time is different and some things that might be normal here aren't in there. 4 days is like 4 months in that hell hole. He must've completely lost his knickers by now."

"I'm-I'm sure it's not-" "He tries to constantly be a hero Padre-" Patton tried hard to not flinch at Remus using the nickname, remembering how it had become a go-to for Roman to use when addressing him. A pet name almost. "-which means he'll try to save anything and everything. He's either bleeding out somewhere due to injuries or gone completely mad because of how messed up it is there."

"H-how about I go and take a peek in the imagination. Just see if I can find him. I'm - I'm sure he's alright..."

Patton sounded anything but sure. But none of them was sure at that point, so they all agreed.

He'd assured himself that it wasn't that bad and Remus had shrugged and told him that it was his funeral. A note slid under Virgil's door informing him that Logan would make dinner that day and off he went.

-

"I'm not leaving you here Ro. You need to come with me. You're- we miss you."

"Do you now?"

He sounded so bitter. So... Not himself, that it physically hurt Patton to keep eye-contact. To not focus on-... That.

"Roman. Buddy. Come on. Come home with me okay? We'll talk it out with Logan. I'm sure he's seen his wrongdoing now and will gladly apologise."

Roman scoffed as if he has said something crazy and took a jug out of the hand of a laughing man, the frozen expression giving the probably happy moment a sinister vibe.

"Do you really think this is about that fight we had? You think I'm so spiteful that I'd leave for months just because of some stupid fight?"

"I mean. I didn't think you'd-"

"Do you really think that little of me?"

Patton reeled back again. That one hurt.

"I don't, Ro," He continued, voice soft, expression soft, everything about him soft.

"I think you got hurt and wanted a break for a bit and I think you lost your way in here. But that's alright, we all have a bit of a breakdown from time to time. That doesn't mean that your friends won't try to pull you out of it."

Roman looked as if Patton his words had physically hurt him, expression pained. "Why can't you understand? It's too late. You failed to keep me from drowning and are talking to a corpse. You failed to notice Pat. For months, you failed to notice. And I'm not mad at you I promise. But don't come in here acting like a white knight when you've already failed me."

Patton stared at him. Racking his brain to try and figure out what his friend meant. Months in here were mere days, Remus had said. So did he mean outside? But he had seemed fine when he was with them. He'd seemed happy... Right?

"Roman, you coming down for dinner?"

"I'll skip this one Pat. I've got work to do. And besides, It couldn't hurt to lose a few pounds, could it?"

Loud crashing noise and a frustrated scream. Patton rushing into the prince his room to find him on the floor, cradling his heavily bleeding hand, smashed mirror pieces around him.

"Roman!"

"I'm fine. Leave me be I'm fine."

"How could you be so clumsy! Look at the mess you've made of yourself! And the mirror! Now really Roman."

"Sorry." He'd said, and looked away. Mumbling something under his breath that Patton couldn't quite catch while fuzzing over the shattered mirror and the bloodied hand.

"Princey, may I say that you look absolutely wonderful today."

"Thank you Deceit."

"What he means, Roman is that you look like a hot mess. Did you even get any sleep?"

"Had to finish a project. And you know how I can not rest until all of the work is done!." He had sounded proud. Though Patton had not found it something to be proud of.

"Roman. The work is never done. You know that."

"Exactly." had been his response. And suddenly he seemed a lot less proud and a lot more tired.

-Read part 2 here-

-

Tags: @purp-man @brokencrown-au @sapphire-knight @ragingdumpsterfiremess @crazycookie13o