#what?? a twin faking her own death??? sounds familiar...

[cookinguptales]

[GLASS ONION SPOILERS BELOW]

a story in three acts:

1.

2.

3.

[roscgcld]

GOJO SATORU || how annoying

request: What if Gojo twin went with geto and wants to help him achieve his dream since she didn’t want to let him go, and she feels bad that she couldn’t do anything to change his mind.

But if that was the case Gojo just got betrayed by his Best Friend and his own Twin sister almost makes me sad to request this but I’d really want to see Angst between them.

note: this one was a pain to write because i hate angst - like i literally avoid heartbreak stories like the plague because my little heart cannot take it. so this was a little bit out of my comfort zone, and had me pouting cause this is like, the worse case scenario for me lol. but i hope you enjoy!

pronouns: she/her

note: spoilers for volume 0, so read at your own risk!

gojotwins!au masterlist

“Gojo-sensei, who’s this?”

The white-haired shaman looked up from his phone where he was lounging on his chair since he was currently having a free hour in his schedule. Today he is around to teach his group of first years, and after a few hours of class, they have an hour break in between their lesson. Because of this, the first years had decided to chill in Gojo’s office with their teacher.

Gojo’s eyes, hidden behind his simple blacked-out sunglasses, glances over at his student who was holding up a framed picture on his desk. He had only 2 framed pictures - a picture of him and his classmates in their first year, and the other was a picture that he sometimes wondered why he still kept framed in his office.

It was a picture of him and his twin sister, Gojo Y/N. In that picture, they were standing in front of a cherry blossom tree that is on the grounds of the Gojo Clan home. The pictures were one of the last few pictures they took together, and you couldn’t tell that the day after that picture was taken, the smiling girl in the picture would have disappeared. Going into hiding with the man that she loved. “Oh....that.”

Yuji paused when he saw how his sensei’s mood dropped ever so slightly, causing both him and Nobara to share a look before they glanced over at Megumi. The same boy was staring at the picture with a faraway look on his face as well as if all the memories he had of the woman in the picture flashed before his eyes.

“...You should throw that out.” Megumi managed out after a few moments of silence, glancing over at Gojo who had his eyes trailing on the picture. Yuji had placed it down after a few seconds of awkward silence, yet Gojo’s eyes didn’t move away from the smiling faces reflecting back in the picture frame. “I know..”

Yuji, feeling bad that he clearly brought up a bad memory, was about to apologise when Gojo sighs and sat up from his reclined seat. “I can’t live my life avoiding the topic forever.” Gojo sighs as he runs a hand through his fluffy white hair, taking a deep breath before he faces Yuji once more. “The girl in the picture is my twin sister, Y/N. She and I were born with the Six Eyes, and had gone to school together.”

“You have a sister?!” Nobara and Yuji ask in usion, shocked that they had one, never seen this person before. And two had never even heard about this woman - someone who is probably as strong as their sensei. Why had no one mentioned her to them before? “Why didn’t you tell us?” Nobara asks curiously, to which Megumi stepped in to answer when it looked like Gojo is struggling to answer the question. Which that in itself is shocking to the other two in the room. “Y/N-san is...well...she had become a Curse User.”

Whilst Yuji gasped at how she had essentially turned her back on the college, Nobara had caught onto the past tensed that Megumi had used to describe the woman. “What do you mean had?” Nobara asks curiously, to which Megumi actually hesitates before he glances over at Gojo, who had kept silent through the entire exchange. “Is she...did something happen?”

Another moment of silence passed the room before Gojo looked up from the floor; his elbows resting on his knees after he had planted his feet on the ground. “Last year...around December...a huge attack was plotted on the college,” Gojo explained simply as he looks up at the two quiet students that stood before him, hanging onto his every word. “She had not attacked the college...but she was one of the organisers. So by law, if I didn’t do something, the higher-ups would have sent someone to deal with her.”

Immediately both Yuji and Nobara’s eyes widen in shock at what Gojo was insinuating behind his simple words, both of them glancing at each other with wide eyes. Now they knew they had hit a nerve. Yet Gojo seemed like he was going to continue to tell them everything right now since the bandage on the wound had already been ripped open - might as well deal with this all at once.

“I mean - it was better than way. She knew it too.” Gojo said with a sigh as he leans back into his recliner seat, giving his silent student a forced smile; one so fake that it even had Megumi cringing a little. Gojo was once more lost in his thoughts, mind wandering back to the day that he had done the unthinkable. He knew that sometimes being a sorcerer means that you had to make some sacrifices, but for once he wasn’t sure if he was so willing to believe in that saying.

Gojo walked up the flight of steps leading up to the shabby apartment room, following the Curse Energy residue that was left along the hallway, immediately recognising it. It was as if she chose not to even hide where she was; leaving invisible evidence all over the place as they stopped in front of the door where the Curse Energy was the strongest.

Quietly he turns the knob, not even shocked to find it unlocked as he pushed it opened quietly; looking up with a soft smile. “Pardon the intrusion.” He mumbles softly as he looks over at the woman who sat by the window. Her hair blowing softly along with the breeze as she turned her tired eyes over to her; her bright blue eyes glowing in the dark as she stared back at the white bandages that hid his. 

“You make it sound like I didn’t know you were going to come.” 

There was no bitterness in her tone - only sheer tiredness and the same warmth that she exudes every moment of the day. The same warmth that had Gojo’s heart clenching as he closed the door behind him slowly, making his way deeper into the apartment. “I thought the Gojo in you would have sneered at the sheer at the size of this place.”

His comment had the woman laughing softly, looking down at the mug of steaming tea clasped in her hands. The mood was lifted for a few fleeting moments, and Gojo just wants to pretend that everything was alright once more. That the both of them were just hiding it out in a room for a few days whilst they hunted down a Curse User. Like how things used to be. “How...how have you been?”

“...good,” Gojo mumbles as he walks towards his twin sister, the same one who had one day just upped and gone; disappeared with Geto with no more but a letter for her twin to wake up to. The letter was just a rambly letter of how sorry she was that she had to leave, that she chose to end things the way she is doing right now. But she knew that her choosing Geto over the life she has now is a death sentence, but she didn’t want to let go. 

‘When you finally find someone to live for, that makes you feel like you were floating with the clouds about - will you let them go for something as meaningless as status in a world we didn’t even choose to be born in?’

At first, neither of the Gojos spoke, just soaking in the comfort and familiarity that the both of them so sorely miss. In more normal times when they are younger, they will always do this - sitting in silence and just basking in it. Curse Energies just mingling with each other, not needing words as they just sat in the cramp apartment.

But this time it was different.

“Did they send you?” Y/N asks as she looks over at her brother, Gojo blinking when he heard her words and looked away from his clasped hands; his grip tightening when he realised just how relaxed and at peace she was. This was one of the most lovable yet infuriating part of his twin - no matter the situation she is faced with, she always faces it head-on with the most relaxed looks on her face - accepting whatever fate that awaits her on the other side. She doesn’t see the need to fear something as minuscule as death - something that everyone must face once their time comes. 

It was such an infuriating trait of hers that Gojo both loves and hates. “No...I chose to come myself. I don’t trust any of their goons to do it properly.” Gojo admitted in a tight voice, feeling his will waver when he heard the soft laugh that Y/N lets out - a laugh that he had missed hearing for the last few years now. “You never change, huh ‘Toru?”

Gojo just gave her an actual look of annoyance, the same look he’d always give her whenever he realises that she was going to start to lecture him about something he has no interest in. His look had Y/N letting out a soft laugh as she shakes her head in amusement, taking another sip from the teacup that was in her hands. “How annoying.”

Gojo continues to stare at his clasped hands before he sighs softly, his shoulders slumping a little as reality slowly started to box in around him. “I hate that you just accept that this is your reality,” Gojo mumbles softly, not even trying to hide the shakiness in his voice as he tries his hardest to blink past the tears that were gathering in his eyes. “You can’t just...accept something as serious as this so simply...”

Soft footsteps came from where Y/N was seated before a pair of warm hands rested on his cheeks, fingers gently brushing along the moisture that had collected at the bottom of the bandages. Wordlessly Y/N started to undo the bandages that covered his eyes; Gojo not moving to stop her from doing so. Soon the bandages fell in his lap, both of them staring at each other properly.

A warm smile was resting on Y/N’s face, a smile that irked Gojo even more as he viciously wiped at the corners of his eyes. “You are so annoying, you know that?” Gojo grumbles childishly, his arms reaching to wrap around his sister; burying his face into her shirt to hide the tears that seemed never-ending. “A-Always leaving me behind like this..”

Soft fingers carded through his white hair, the woman before him not making further comments as he continues to cry silently into her shirt. “I’m sorry, ‘Toru..” She had whispered out quietly, her voice sounding just as tired and sad as he does as she held him closer. 

Gojo hates this - not only had he just lost his best friend, but he is also going to lose his sister as well. Even when they are apart, knowing deep down that she was at least alive and safe with Geto still brought a sense of peace for him. Even if they couldn't be together, it was just knowing that the other was safe that allowed him to sleep at night.

But now he was the one that is expected to take her life away? He can’t help but hate just how cruel the jujutsu world is that it forces people like Geto and his sister to feel like they had to do the unthinkable in order to feel like they were living life the way they think is right for them. 

He hates it all with a burning passion. 

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[auroracalisto]

in life and death

summary: in the events of dark phoenix, the reader is reunited with her twin brother charles, even though she tried her hardest to stay away from him after their mother sent her away and explained to charles that she had died, all the while trying to not let erik freak out when he realizes that he is, indeed, in love with someone else related to charles.  

pairing: erik lehnsherr x female reader, twin! charles x twin! reader

word count: 2k words

warnings: canon divergence, reader is charles twin (i said she vaguely looks like him, but i don’t describe any physical appearance other than that), cussing, typical jean grey shit, not any actual violence, sibling banter towards the end, lots of death mentions, usage of mutation abilities (reader is able to manipulate anatomy, and in a way, place “blocks” in people’s minds for certain things, therefore manipulating their anatomy to block off certain parts of their memories), abusive relationship with reader’s mother in this for sure, talks of funeral and gravestone.  

a/n: i still haven’t watched dark phoenix so i took some creative liberty and loosely read the wikipedia page.  also, this was written as a request for @nuclearpizza84​.  i hope you enjoy :) if it’s not to your liking, please be sure to let me know and i’ll see what i can do!

The red haired woman had just appeared, introducing herself as Jean Grey.  Erik immediately welcomed her into your home, without batting an eye your way.  An uneasy feeling washed throughout your body, but you thought nothing of it until Jean started asking Erik for his help—that she had once again done something bad, and she didn’t know how to fix it. 

Your fingers tapped repeatedly on your leg as you watched Erik from where you sat.  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” you mumbled, watching him.  Erik always tended to help any of those who came to his door.  While not necessarily a bad thing, sometimes it was.  With times like this, you knew that there was something wrong. 

Jean knew what you were thinking—your discomfort with her was practically radiating off of your body.  But she didn’t care.  She didn’t come here for your help.  She didn’t even know who you were, other than the fact that you looked strangely similar to Professor Xavier.  She had come for Erik, knowing that in the past, he had been rogue himself and had dealt with Charles.  She had nowhere else to go, other than Genosha.  The only place where mutants could go for refuge, if they were running from even the school. 

Erik sighed softly at you.  He reached over and gently took your hand.  “I know Jean.  I’m going to help her,” he said.  “I’ve no reason to turn her away.”

You just nodded, casting a glance towards the woman.  Nothing more was said between you and your fiancée.  You just watched, listening to them talk.  Jean kept looking in your direction, and you didn’t quite understand why.  Perhaps it was best that Charles did not know where you were—then, people like Jean wouldn’t come knocking on your door, asking for your brother’s help when you hadn’t been around him in years.  You stayed in your mind for some time, eventually standing up to go and sit your glass of water back in the kitchen. 

That was, until the sound of helicopters came from outside of your home.  You tensed.  That didn’t happen often, unless something was wrong.  You looked straight at Jean. 

“What are they here for?” you asked the woman. 

She didn’t answer, going to the door.  She opened it up, looking at what was going on.  Your heart pounded in your chest. 

“Erik,” you spoke, walking over to your lover. 

The speaker attached to one of the helicopters, proclaiming that Jean needed to peacefully surrender—or else, of course, they would use force. 

When Jean attacked, you knew it was over.  Erik wouldn’t help—something that you were hoping would happen, but you never knew how soon it would have happened.  Fate just seemed to be on your side at that moment, but you knew that it was only a matter of time before Erik decided to uproot you and return to America, helping your brother out with yet another deadly endeavor—even if Erik had no idea that the two of you were actually related.  With your ability, you had made it to where Charles would not recognize you, and you made sure that Erik would never be able to make out the similarities that you and your twin shared.  It was only right—after years of your brother believing you were dead; you did not want to bring that raining down on his shoulders.

—

The news reached the mutant refuge, and Erik did not talk to you for some time.  Raven was dead, and she had been killed by Jean herself.  Erik was angry.  He had once loved Raven—you knew of this.  It wasn’t hard to see how he still cared for his friend, especially in a moment like this.  Who wouldn’t still care for someone they spent so long with?  You understood where his anger came from, and you stayed there, waiting for him to say something to you—anything. 

In his fit of rage, Erik looked you dead in the eye.  “I’ll kill her.”

You parted your lips to talk, but you didn’t know what to say that would calm him.  You reached out and took his hand.  “We can’t go alone.  You saw how powerful she was…”

There was no point in trying to stop him.  Once Erik had something in his mind, it took him a long time to detach himself from it. 

“That’s fine by me,” he snarled, taking in a deep breath.  “Pack a bag.  We’re leaving, tonight.”

—

Being surrounded by other mutants, you never once thought that you would have to look out for familiar faces.  But Charles stood there, trying to stop people from fighting. 

“There is no point in it,” you heard him say from a distance.  “You’re only hurting yourselves by fighting each other.”

You scoffed.  He was always like that—even when you were children.

That being said, it had been years since you last saw him.  The mental block you applied to him made it to where he would never be able to recognize you as his sister.

At a young age, your mother had split the two of you apart, recognizing that two children exactly alike had not been something she wanted.  So, she kept the boy, and got rid of the girl, quickly explaining to Charles that his sister was dead.  But now, standing there, you wondered why he never came to find you.  You were obviously alive, and you knew you weren’t making it easy on him—but why in the world had he never even tried? 

Charles never once came to Erik, asking for help to find you.  You were alive and well, that much was given.  A part of you also remembered how your mother was.  It was likely that she decided to make things easier on Charles and instead of saying she just gave you away, you had died.  In a moment of self-pity, you wondered if your mother had made you a fake grave.  Maybe you should visit it one day, see if Charles visited it often. 

Erik had long run inside the building that Jean had ran into earlier.  Charles had tried to talk some sense into him, but to no avail. 

And for a moment, you felt your block on Charles slipping.  You were tired.  And the fact that you were so close to him did not help.  Your block was breaking.  His eyes locked with yours and immediately, he recognized you.  Of course, he did. 

“Oh shit,” you breathed out. 

“[Your name]?” Charles blinked slowly, staring at you in disbelief.  “How are you here?  What—”

“Don’t.”

“What—what do you mean, don’t?  How are you here?  I’ve—you’re dead,” he squeezed his eyes shut.

You sighed softly.  “I’m very much alive, Charles.”

“But mother said—”

“—mother said a lot of things.”

Charles pursed his lips.  You were right. 

“Alright.  We can talk about this later.  But please.  We need to help Jean, not hurt her.  She’s scared.  She doesn’t understand how to control what’s going on.  She hasn’t meant to hurt anyone—”

“—she killed your sister,” you said.  You knew all about how Raven was his adopted sister.  Nothing against her, of course.  It was all your mother’s doing.  Who knew that Erik always had a thing for people related to Charles?

He took in a deep breath.  “Yes.  She killed who I grew up with as a sister. But she did not mean to.  We did not know how to handle her.”

“Oh, and what changed?”

“Being this way is not going to help anyone.  She is going to kill Erik, unless we all agree to stop—”

“—sorry, Charles, no can do.”

—

Time seemed to speed up, and hours promptly passed by.  The alien, Vuk tried her hardest to get everything from Jean.  In the process, disaster struck. 

You had just reunited with Erik when you were struck in the shoulder with a stun weapon.  As you fell to the ground, you heard Erik shout.  Then, everything went black.

Waking up, you slowly took in your surroundings.  You were on a train.  Without a clue where you were heading, you took the time to breathe deep.  Erik was to your right.  You could feel him moving around—he must have already been awake, and now, he was struggling to get out of the restraints. 

Charles sat straight across from you, his eyes dead set in a glare pointed at the ground. 

You cleared your throat, resting your head on the wall behind you.  “Charles.”

He said nothing.  

You looked over at Erik, who shrugged.  “He’s been silent ever since we were captured.”

“Were you not shot—”

“—no.  Collar.  You’ve got one now, too.”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“They put it on me while I aided you,” he chuckled softly.  “I suppose it is my own fault…”

“None of this would have happened had you allowed me to talk some sense into her,” Charles spoke, looking up at his old friend.  “Had you not attacked her; she would have been calm.  She was scared, Erik.  I’m sure she still is.  I can feel her.  She is at war with herself, and you have only aided in making her feel worse.”

“Could you feel me?” you asked.

“Quite impossible when you make it difficult for me to recognize you,” Charles immediately recounted.  “How did you manage that?  You’ve the ability to just manipulate minds?  Nothing more, nothing less?  I only felt you when your block dissolved.  What does it take for it to do that?”

Charles was angry.

You stared him down.  He returned your gaze.

For a set of twins that had been apart for decades at this point, you acted as if you had never once been split up. 

“I can alter anatomy.”

“Can you now?” he scoffed.  “You know.  I would have thought that perhaps you would understand that not everyone is inherently evil.  She is still good, [Your name].”

“Why would I understand that?”

Charles sighed.  “Despite not being able to recognize you while you still had that going on, had I just focused, I could read your mind.  You’ve been engaged for how long, Erik?  To my sister?”

Erik blinked rapidly.  “What?”

This, was of course, news to him.  You never said anything about it.  Charles was about to open a new can of worms that would blow up in your face after all of this was said and done. 

“Nothing,” you shot at Erik.  “It’s nothing.  Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re siblings?” Erik asked. 

“Stop it,” you groaned. 

Charles clenched his jaw and he looked away from you. 

“Look,” you began, frowning.  “I’m sorry.  I should have reached out to you sooner.  More specifically, when I heard that mother died.  But I didn’t.  I didn’t know where to start looking—”

“—I never left the house.”

You looked towards the floor.  “Now I know that.  I should have come sooner.  I should have told Erik and allowed him to tell you.  But I thought that it would hurt more, knowing that mom just lied to us.  To you, really.”

“She told me that you died.  She set up an actual funeral, fit with a coffin and a headstone.  She really played the part,” Charles said.

“I wondered that earlier, but now that you tell me that, it hurts a lot more,” you tried to laugh, as the realization that your mother probably hated you with every fiber in her ran through your head.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry it took… whatever the hell this is for you to realize that I’m still very much alive.”

“Perhaps we can speak about this later,” Charles began.  “We should focus on getting out of here, before something worse happens.”

And of course, Charles had to speak it into existence.  A loud, deafening bang nearly made you scream. 

The aliens were back—and this time, they weren’t about to go easy on anyone. 

[stargaze-issei]

— 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝 + 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫-𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧 !

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭; karasuno and fukurodani react to their manager doing the body count/bodyody audio tik tok ! [insp by this tik tok]

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞; crack(?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; suggestive themes, maybe a little swearing i can't remember ajaksjq.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; the trend it's to put pictures of all the people you've slept with, in case anyone doesn't know!!

karasuno !

-> it was a joke, it wasn’t supossed to get out of the thrid year managers gc.

-> the girls found it hilarious and was a good conversation topic for hours, discussing who you put or didn’t put.

-> they knew, of course, it was fake. you hadn’t slept with oikawa, KYOUTANI, BOKUTO, tendou, atsumu, TERUSHIMA and OSAMU.

-> it was SO obvious it was a joke for them that nobody felt the need to point it out.

-> they just said things like “the most quiet are the worst ones” “OMG DETAILS ABOUT THE TWINS!!” “did terushima yk,, made a good use of his percing” because they KNEW nothing was real.

-> until tanaka and sugawara asked kiyoko for her phone to watch some videos of the new play they were trying.

-> and misaki, from johzenji, sent a “forget about teru— 🤢 can’t even say it,, Y/N I WANNA HEAR ABOUT BOKUTO!!! ik man’s  p a c k i n g”

-> tanaka looks at suga and suga looks at tanaka and they’re like .......tf

-> suga’s finger “slips” and they see the other messages until finally they reach your video.

-> you’re there looking pretty as usual and above your head reads “seems like were showing our body counts with this sound? here it’s mine 🤪”

-> tanaka is about to say “it can be what we’re thinking” but when OIKAWA’S picture appears both their jaws hit the floor.

-> nishinoya sees them and ofc he wants to know what’s so shocking, so he gets closer.

-> he drags hinata too, and shoyo’s like “that’s the great king!! play it again!! play it again!!”

-> fyi: suga paused the video because wOW and they don’t know who’s left in your video.

-> sugawara looks straight in the eye at nishinoya, going “keep hinata, kageyama and yamaguchi away and bring the team” with the MOST SERIOUS EXPRESSION

-> noya is lowkey scared??? like wtf??? but does as he’s told bc suga seems super intense.

-> kiyoko and yachi left to fill the bottles and pick some needed implements from the club room, you had classes for a few more minutes, therefore, there was nobody to stop them.

-> once the rest of the team, including tsukishima because everyone seemed to have forgotten he was a first year too, is together, suga plays again the video, while the littlest ones watch from afar in curiosity.

-> the silence, you will never hear them in a more tense silence.

-> they read what’s your tiktok about, daichi’s eyes go O.O, asahi goes RED, nishinoya seemed to be ready to FIGHT THEM ALL, ennoshita awkwardly laughs, even tsukishima blushes a little.

-> then oikawa appears. EVEYRONE’S EYES ARE FULLY OPEN AND NOYA LET’S OUT A GROAN???

-> but when kyoutani shows up they’re in SO much shock they kinda forget oikawa before, and daichi whispers an “oh god”

-> then it’s BOKUTO’S TURN and tsukishima just stops functioning. asahi is static on his place contemplating, withouth being able to form a coherent thought.

-> suga highkey wants the tea.

-> tendou feels like a betray to asahi, tanaka and tsukishima. noya, just for a second, wonder what was that like.

-> ATSUMU AND OSAMU FUCKING MIYA AND THEY EXPLOTE.

-> THE EXPLOTE LIKE WHAT????? WAS IT AT THE SAME TIME???? Y/N?¡¡¡¿¿1

-> they aren’t ready for the cherry on the top at the end, a picture of terushima sticking his tongue out, sweaty after a match, SMOKING HOT, and it’s not a picture he posted to his social medias or anything.

-> it’s only suga, and daichi a little bit, who realize that if that picture isn’t public, then either he send it to you or YOU TOOK  IT.

-> that’s when you walk in the gym, just to say hi before going to change.

-> the first year are playing among each other and you are like ????

-> they don’t even notice you’re there so you go nearer to see what they’re watching. and you see the picture of tersuhima yukie, from fukurodani, once sent asking misaki WHY her kouhais where that hot. it was also the only picture you had of him and the one you used in you video the day before.

-> the phone in suga’s hands seems familiar and... that’s kiyoko’s

-> “Y/N” screams asahi when he sees  you and the rest looks like they saw a ghost.

-> a second of silence goes before everyone blows in questions and you just hear names between bambling, “OIKAWA MNASNANPGDF” “MANASKL BODY COUNT ASLKLAS” “MAD DOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

-> and daichi makes himself heard despite the screams.

-> “y/n, i know you’re 18 and capable of making your own decisions, but we have to talk about... physical relationships, with our rival teams”

-> kiyoko arrives and quickly puts two and two together and asks yachi to go check on the first years.

-> she looks at you and sees you like WHAT TF DO I DO and nods and say “you shouldn’t have gone through my phone, no matter how curious you are, sugawara-san” COLD AS ICE ISTG.

-> AND SHE CONTINUES “what who y/n does or doesn’t do on her free time is none of your business, all of you, if she decides to get together with anyone it’s just up to her. you should be ashamed of yourself, specially the third years. you weren’t just violating y/n’s privacy, but mine, kaori’s, yukie’s and misaki’s. it may have been a joke, or not, but it doesn’t give you the right. if you ever do something like this again, we will be talking with coach ukai and takeda sensei” SHE GRABS YOUR ARM, TURNS AROUND, CALLS YACHI AND YOU THREE LEAVE LIKE QUEENS????

-> once you’re in the club room, both you and kiyoko start laughing because the team was FROZE in place. not even daichi was so scary.

-> the team then apologizes to both and send an audio to the groupchat too, and never bring the subject uo again.

-> still, they all wonder everyday if you really did or not.

-> and of course, they get so defensive when they see any of the boys in the video it’s hilarious to you and the other managers.

— fukurodani !

-> damn yukie making up dares that always ended up bad for either you or kaori.

-> mostly you doe.

-> at a sleepover, she was like let’s make fake body count vids and who falls asleep first has to show them tomorrow at practice!!! it will be fun!!!

-> you accepted because you usually fell asleep after one of them did but that time it was like they gave you a sleeping pill because you fell like a rock after a few hours.

-> as to why you were there, the day after, about to go ask the team if you should post it.

-> you list consisted on kenma, kita, sakusa, daichi, and just for the fun of it, konoha.

-> the girls call konoha aside so he doesn't ruin the prank, and you proceed.

-> "hey guys, should i post this?? i’m not sure if i look good enough to be seen by the world” bokuto practically yells at you that you always look pretty before taking your phone from your hands.

-> “why don’t you ask yukie or kaori?” asks akaashi, that was a question you hand’t thought about and by pure luck, you were saved by bokuto yelling at the team to come and see what you’ve done.

-> konoha is about to head their way and yukie just grabs his arm like “no ❤️"

-> and nobody can contradict yukie’s no so he has no choice but to stay.

-> anyways

-> the team gather around bokuto, who is about to press play. at first it’s just your face, and everyone agree you look pretty.

-> but then they read “did anyone say body count? ;)” and they look at each other like ......what

-> washio leans to stop the video because he genuinely doesn’t know what body count is, sarukui explains it a little too loud, grinning, and washio goes "oh–"

-> thanks to sarukui’s explanation bokuto confirms his idea because one part of him did think it was how many people you’ve killed.

-> they press play again and kenma appears and bokuto just stares, doesn’t react.

-> akaashi’s eyes widened and he GASPS, washio can’t hide his disappointment mostly because why would you make this video and then show it to them.

-> when kita shows up bokuto lets out a surprised squeak, along with washio that’s just question your and his whole existences-

-> sarukui is smirking, his complete expression yells “way to go y/n!!!”

-> sakusa comes as a shock to every one of them, even sarukui loses the grin for a bit.

-> “how did you manage to...?” whispers akaashi, half amazed, half grossed.

-> bokuto then has to pause it for a little to keep his composure, he looks at your like WHY WOULD YOU MAKE ME GO THROUGH THIS

-> but when they resume it and daichi welcomes him he thinks it just can get any worse.

-> washio is like “isn’t that karasuno’s–?”

-> “HELL YEAH IT IS” SHOUTS SARUKUI AND THE GIRLS BEHIND YOU LAUGH SO HARD BECAUSE HE IS SO PROUD OF YOU.

-> the rest is like 🧍‍♂️ while sarukui is SO happy for you LMAO.

-> it’s at the end when no one smiles. konoha’s picture smiles at them and bokuto just stops the video to look at him, only a few meters away.

-> he looks at the picture and then at konoha and so on.

-> can’t get his mind around it????? lowkey no one can.

-> akaashi isn’t even blinking and his eyes are concerningly open, washio is regretting all his past choices that led to this moment.

-> sarukui death stares at konoha. no more fun sarukui, he crossed the line.

-> kaori and yukie are wheezing WHEEZING I SAY and konoha is so confused.

-> his teammates look like dogs about to attack but he hasn’t done anything to upset them?? has he??

-> like robots, akaashi and bokuto get up and walk towards konoha. a part of you tells you to protect him but... what are they going to do tho...

-> “you’re out of the team” THEY SAY AT THE SAME TIME AND ALL AND KONOHA GOES WHAT

-> your co-managers can’t even breath istg NO HELP

-> you then intervine trying to keep konoha in the team lmao “IT’S FAKE GUYS!! A PRANK!! KAORI!!!! YUKIE!!!! BACK ME UP!!! I’M KIDDING DON’T KICK KONOHA OUT”

-> akaashi partially believes you, but bokuto?? nope.

-> you planted the seed on his mind.

-> the whole team acts weird when they see guys from your vid and are looking for chances to bark at konoha.

-> “AKAASHI HAS TO STAND BETWEEN YOU TWO ALL THE TIME” that’s the new rule he set.

-> just to see them freak out, konoha sometimes flirts with you at practice ;)

[headinthestaticsky]

The Dusk Calls for me: Jasper Hale x My OC Fleur Swan, Chapter 5

AUTHORS NOTES: None of the characters in Twilight belong to me. All rights go to Stephenie Meyer.

I recall your soul had a taste like Gardens, flowers, Warm Winds, Warm Winds By SZA FT. Isaiah Rashad

The ride to the hospital was a little hazy and disorientating but I had made it just fine. I was sitting in the hospital room while a nurse was checking my vitals. The double doors had burst open and I see my dad and Bella rushing over to me.

“Fleur, are you okay?” Dad asked.  He then saw Tyler sitting on another bed next to me. 

“You and I are gonna talk!” 

“I’m fine dad calm down.”

“I’m sorry Fleur I really tried to stop.”

“I know it’s okay, I know you didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“No it sure as hell is not okay!”

“Dad, it wasn’t his fault really. Go easy on him.”

“I will not, you could’ve been killed, do you realize that?”

“I do dad but I wasn’t, I am fine. I just got a bump on the back of my head.”

“You boy can kiss your licenses goodbye.”

“Dad...”

The double doors opened again and I was met with a familiar face, Carlisle Cullen had entered the room.

“I heard one of the chiefs daughters was here. I got this one Jackie” He said smiling as he approached me. 

“Oh doctor Cullen hello.” Dad said.

“Let’s see here Fleur, it seems you took quite a spill. How are you feeling?”

“Uh, my head is a little sore from when I hit the concrete but other than that I feel fine.”

“Look here for me, your vitals look good and you luckily enough don’t have a concussion but you might experience some disorientation from the adrenaline  you had. I’m going to prescribe some pain pills please wait here for me to write that up for you. After that you’re good to go.”

“I’m so sorry Fleur I really am...” Tyler was soon interrupted by the curtains being pulled in front of his face. 

“Great, thanks Dr.Cullen.”

“No problem.”

“You, this would’ve been a whole lot worse if Jasper didn’t get to her.” Bella said.

“Uh oh.” I thought to myself I knew someone would’ve seen him.

“Jasper? I like that boyfriend of yours more and more everyday. He’s your son right?” Dad said.

Carlisle looked up before looking back down quickly at my chart.

“Yeah he is his son dad, I mean he got to her so quickly is was amazing.” Bella continued.

“Oh, umm Bella... Could you tell Jasper I’m okay I’m sure he’s freaking out too.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Bella turned and left, Carlisle must’ve been wrong, I had to be concussed. Bella being civil with me? What alternate universe did I enter just now?

POV Change: Bella’s POV

I went to go find Jasper not just for Fleur but, I was also curious how could he of gotten to her so quickly. He was across the lot from us something was going on with this family and I was going to find out what. I was just about to turn the corner when I heard Edward, Rosalie, and Jasper talking.

“This is really bad, 15 students saw what happened Jasper I understand why you did it of course but still.” Rosalie said

“You should’ve thought this through a bit better Jasper.” Edward added.

“Look I wasn’t going to let her get crushed to death by a van. I know you would’ve done the same thing for Bella.”

Edward just looked at him angrily. Carlisle ended the stare down quickly as he noticed I was listening from the corner.

“I think we should continue this in the my office.”

“Jasper, Edward, can I talk to you two?”

They both approached me, looking apprehensive as if they didn’t know what I was going to ask.

“Jasper first off, Fleur wanted to say that she was alright, she didn’t want you worrying about everything. Second h-how did you get over to her so fast?”

Before Jasper could answer, Edward had interjected.

“He was standing right next to her Bella.”

“No he was not, he was standing across the lot with you.”

Edward let out a soft laugh before continuing. 

“You hit your head when Fleur pushed you out of the way, you must be confused.” Edward said.

“I know what I saw. Stop trying to make me out to be a liar!” I said getting angry

“And what exactly was that?” Edward asked. 

Jasper just stood there, he wasn’t getting much of a chance to talk. It was hard to be around Bella. He was getting more thirsty at the minute but, he continued to stand there not knowing what to do.

“He stopped the van, he pushed it with his hand! Did you not see the dent he left in it?”

“Well no one’s going to believe so...”

“I wasn’t going to tell anybody. I just need to know the truth.”

 “Can’t you just thank Jasper for saving your sister and get over it?” Edward said curtly.

I looked at Jasper and quickly said a “Thank you.” I then looked back at Edward.

“You aren’t going to let this go are you?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then I hope you enjoy disappointment.” Edward said before walking away, dragging Jasper along with him.

I scoffed before turning around going back to the hospital room. I would have to tell Fleur about this later... if she’d let me.

POV Change: Jasper

Once Bella was out of ear shot I smacked Edward on the back of the head.

“What the hell was that?” I asked

“What do you mean.”

“You wouldn’t even let me get a sentence in.”

“I was trying to save you... I could hear your thoughts. You weren’t coming up with something fast enough.”

“You didn’t exactly do a very good job on it! I mean c’mon Edward you said “no one’s going to believe you.” How much more suspicious can you get than that!”

“I’m sorry Jasper.”

“Sure you are.” I then stormed out of the hospital wanting to go back home.

POV Change: Fleur

“Here you are Fleur, there is your write up. I already notified your Pharmacy. They should be done in an hour.” Carlisle said

“Thank you Doctor, I appreciate it.”

“No problem, call me if you experience any bad side effects with the medication.”

“I will, have a good evening.”

Carlisle left soon after. Dad helped me up and carried my book bag and purse for me.

“Dad you don’t have to do that, I can carry my own stuff.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Who’s going to get my car, I left it at school.”

Bella had come back after talking to Jasper, she seemed confused about something.

“Oh uh, I’ll take you to school tomorrow, you can pick it up that way.” Bella suggested.

“Sure that sounds fine... are you okay with taking me tomorrow?”

“It’s not a problem.” She said... she had a slight smile on her face.

“Thanks.”

“I’m gonna drop you girls off at the house. I’ll get your medicine and then get something for dinner okay?”

“Yeah sounds good.” I said.

“Sure.” Bella said.

The drive was nice, quiet but, it wasn’t filled with tension. It was the most comfortable I had ever been around Bella. It felt strange the last time there relationship was like this was when the were 4. It seems like such a distant memory, but a fond one to her. As much as I tried to fight it, it hurt to always fight with her sister. Deep down, she loved her, and hoped Bella felt that way too. When we got back to the house I had started to head toward the door when Bella walked next to me.

“Hey, uh... do you mind talking to me tonight in your room?”

“I don’t mind at all.”

“Thanks, and uh... thanks for pushing me out of the way.”

“No problem.” I said.

It was 6 by the time dad had left again, I was up in my room wanting to finish that essay for English when a heard a soft knock on the door.

“Come in! It should be unlocked.” I said

Bella had come in, she looked nervous as if she didn’t know what to do. 

“Umm, I have a lot to say, do you mind if I sit down?”

“Go ahead, I won’t stop you. Is something wrong?”

“How can you be so nice to me? After all the things I’ve done to you?” She asked.

“Hey I haven’t been completely innocent... I’ve said some pretty hurtful things to you too. It’d be insane to say I haven’t hurt you as much as you hurt me.” I said.

“I think I deserved them... I didn’t exactly stick up much for you when mom was... well you know.”

“I think we both need to let this 13 year grudge go... you have to admit, it’s exhausting.”

“Yeah, I agree.”

“Let’s start over shall we? I think it’s sad, we’re twin sisters and usually can’t stand being in the same room as each other.” I said 

“Yeah, let’s start over...Geez it’s crazy... It feels like a weight has just fallen off my shoulders.” Bella replied.

“Me too.”

She then surprised me by pulling me in for a hug. Was it awkward? Of course it was but, it’s Bella she’s always been awkward.

“Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

“Yeah, uhh... do you remember much of what happened at the accident?”

“Uh oh.” I thought to myself for the second time today.

“I honestly don’t remember much after hitting my head. I blacked out for a bit. Why?” I lied easily.

“Uh... nothing it’s just Jasper seemed to have stopped the van with his bare hands.”

“Really?” I asked in fake shock.

“Yeah... he hasn’t done anything else like that before has it?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“Oh...”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it.”

“What’s going on with you and Edward... Seems like there’s some tension there.”

“I honestly don’t know... one minute he’s nice to me and the next he’s snapping at me.”

“I think he likes you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean when I first started dating Jasper, he was the same way around me.”

“So what do I do?”

“Just let him get to know you, warm up to him a bit. You never know what can happen.”

“Thanks I will... I’ll leave you alone now.”

“Okay, come back up if you need anything else.”

“I will... and Fleur?”

“Yes?”

“Love you.”

I was shocked, I hadn’t heard her mutter those words to me in so long.

“Love you too.”

[wandsandwheezes]

Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH5

one // two // three // four

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff, cheating, mentions of the war, desc. of torture, pain, drinking, aftercare.

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London’s best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

A/N // flashbacks in italics - Hopefully this chapter gives an insight into why George is so protective over his girl, but also why Y/N is the way she is around him. 

There were two times you'd reserved yourself the ability to let loose and have a break, The first was after a big Game, where being absolutely hungover wasn't a problem the next day, or after a big product launch. Fred and George were two men who liked to party hard. Fred loved getting smashed among friends, participating in drinking games and nearly causing a full on riot - a drink to get drunk kind of man. George on the other hand, took a lot to get drunk, he would be waved most of the night and then sober by the time he was home, The one thing however about your boyfriend was that he got handsy and possessive, something that drove you absolutely crazy for him. 

You'd been clubbing in muggle London with George multiple times, using the night as a distraction from the wizarding word, taking a cab home to either his place or yours - more often than not passing out cuddling each other in impossible positions. It was the best rest George got, he was always confused when he woke up to the sunrise or birds chirping, finding relief in him sleeping through the night. 

George's poor sleeping habits were there before the war, however the looming death and the horrible events he suffered seemed to replay in his mind whenever he neared a state of rest. 

// 

The blast in front of him was unlike anything George had seen before with his own two eyes. Through the rubble and dust he saw you hunched over on the ground, coughing up the debris from your lungs. He was silently thanking whatever god that was out there, if there even was one, that he was here in this moment. He knelt down next to you, hand rubbing circles on your back soothingly.

“Baby, it’s ok, I’m here.” When you heard his voice you flung yourself into his arms, not caring about the state of your lungs as you held him. He was safe. 

“Let’s get you to the great hall, you can’t be running around out here like this.” You shook your head, cupping his cheeks with your hands and pressing a firm kiss to his lips, like it could be the last time you’d ever kiss him. You both ignored the metallic taste of blood and dust coating one another as you committed this moment to memory, If people caught you here, in each other’s arms, why would It matter? Secrecy was the last thought on your mind as you pressed your forehead against his. 

“I need to fight, we need to fight, George.” You were standing up, still holding onto him, you were vulnerable like this, you kissed him once more, he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “Forever, I promise.” you smiled, pulling him in for another hug. “I love you.” he squeezed you tighter as a response. Before you knew it you were bending down to collect your fallen wand,  running off in opposite directions. 

You were being backed into a corner, slowly but surely. You’d resolved that this was the end. You weren’t sure who you were fighting until they were too close for comfort. Maria Bishop. When her hand touched your arm you were whisked away to another location. Once there you were violently shoved to your knees, winded still by the apparition.

“I always valued the Y/L/N family, you know,” She started, wand pointed at your head, Maria was known by others as ‘The Bishop’ you assumed because she was one of the Dark Lord’s prominent agents, finding and killing muggle-borns and blood-traitors alike, much like the bishop in chess eliminates their enemy. 

“Such a shame you’re not like your mother and father, you would have made a beautiful pureblood wife.” she was laughing as she squatted down in front of you. 

“Where Is Harry Potter?” she asked bitterly. Every inch of your skin was shaking with fear, you had no information, but it’s not like that mattered. “I- I don’t know, none of us have seen him in months.”

She didn’t like that, you didn’t even have time to think or apologise before you heard the word ‘crucio’ fall from her lips with ease. 

The excruciating pain ran through your body, you fell to the ground, writhing as a blood-curdling scream was ripped through your vocal chords. You couldn’t do anything but scream over and over, it felt like your skin was being torn from its muscle and like scraping across all of your bones. She kept demanding, over and over for you to give her information but there was nothing to let out. You couldn’t even picture what Harry looked like, the only thing that ran through your mind was relentless agony. 

You knew you wanted this to be over the minute it started, the pain crept up from your toes to your hips, over your chest and arms until finally it was at your throat. You felt like you were choking, you wanted all of the air to escape your lungs in the hope that the pain would end, but it never did. With every scream she laughed at you, watching as you writhed in pain like it was a comedy, she tried to overpower your shrieks with laughter.  

You suddenly felt all weight lift off of you as the curse faded. Every limb was weak, time was no longer a concept to you, it felt like a lifetime of agony only repressed by a moment of solace, your hand was on your wand and before you could think, you were raising it and muttering the incantation of what you knew you shouldn’t. Her eyes widened, a flash of blinding green light filling her eyes, accompanied by a rushing sound, as if an invisible something was whipping through the air - within an instant she rolled over onto her back, unmistakably dead. The Bishop was down.

//

By 11:30 you were already half gone, If anyone asked, you were most definitely sober, but if the way you were swaying as you stood or your slightly misplaced steps weren’t telling enough, your tipsy giggles sure were. You’d been drinking down gigglewater like there was no tomorrow, making sure that you were well and truly off your face drunk. It felt like most, If not all of Diagon alleys’ daytime bustle had moved into the underground club below Olivanders. The walls were a dark, dusky brown, a perfect backdrop for the flashing lights and strobes. Music was pumping through your veins with every step as you pushed through the sea of people with a drink in hand, you found the corridor, taking a moment to breathe as you sipped on the bitter liquid. 

Moments later you found yourself trapped between a pair of strong arms and the thick cushioned wall, you hadn’t even second guessed the man whose lips were on yours. Your hands were in his hair, pulling him in for a desperate, needy kiss. He was humming against you as his thigh found its way between your legs, letting you grind down against it. The man’s tongue was grazing against your lip, begging for entry - you didn’t even think of rejecting it because the touch felt so familiar. For four, maybe five minutes you were standing making out. You had to admit it felt good, of course it felt good, it was George. You pulled away, gasping for air but also getting a minute to look into his eyes, almost immediately you feel a loss of contact, as the body pressed against yours was stripped from by your side, causing a gentle whine to fall from your lips.

It was only when you blinked a few times that the fogginess of your vision truly got to you as you thought you were seeing double. You continued blinking, hoping the two would form to one, but instead you had stumbled backwards, now leaning on the wall for support. 

George had Fred by the back of his shirt, pulling him away from you, his eyes like daggers as he scowled at his brother. “You can’t use her like that when she’s drunk.” Fred scoffs, the back of his hand coming up to wipe away the saliva that coated his lips, the smirk however was undeterred by the action. “You better wipe that fucking smirk off your face, Fred.” 

The older twin was rolling his eyes, attempting to push past George to finish what he started, however, George’s hand pushed against his brother’s chest pinning him to the wall. “What the fuck?” he exclaimed, shoving George away from him by both shoulders, “Fred, take one look at her, and tell me you're comfortable doing that to her… Merlin, she can hardly stand, don’t be that guy.” 

George was pleading his brother at this point, Fred sighed as he eyed you, taking in every characteristic of your demeanour - you were half asleep, leaning against the wall. He watched you try to wake yourself up and push your body away from the wall only to come crashing right back against it.

“I don’t know why you’re acting so protective all of a sudden… I’ll take her home.” Fred sighed, his hands rubbing over his face in an attempt to sober himself up. 

“Fred, wait- I’ll do it.” his twin cocked an eyebrow at him, “I’m sober, it’s fine, you can’t apperate her she’ll be throwing up everywhere.” Fred nodded, giving George a pat on the shoulder as he walked away, “Thanks, Georgie.” 

Your boyfriend's once angry eyes were softening as he looked at you, full of sadness as he watched you struggle. All he wanted to do was wrap you in his arms, and protect you, muttering under his breath, as he walked over to you, ‘let’s get you home then, angel.’ 

“Y/N, my love, it’s George, I’m gonna take you home, alright?” George was speaking so softly that you immediately felt at home. You nodded quickly, falling into the familiar pair of arms that were now holding you, giving you the anchor to finally walk again.

George led you out of the club and walked slowly with you as you stumbled step by step all the way down the quiet diagon alley. He got you into a cab as you both stumbled out of the leaky cauldron, the horns and chatter of London beaming around, it truly was a city that never slept. He had his arm wrapped around you protectively as you cuddled into his side, the sound of his beating heart slowly brought your racing thoughts down to earth. The way you were curled up against him reminded him of a moment from the war he’d never forget.

//

Your fingers trembled and shook so much that you could no longer control the grip of your wand. It truly sunk in that what you had done was unforgivable. You’d taken someone’s life. You rationalised with yourself that you had done it for your own good, to protect others, the ones you loved and cared for, but more importantly to protect yourself. You quickly pushed away from the body, crawling backwards until your back hit the wall, it had finally sunk in exactly what you'd done and you couldn't even bear to be with yourself as you buried your head between your knees, as silent sobs choked from your lips. 

George found you like this, he had been searching worriedly for hours. It was pure vulnerability, he saw the body of the Bishop lying on her back, your wand discarded and you huddled into a ball. He didn’t know what to do or how to protect you, he reached out to touch your arm but you recoiled at his touch, pulling your knees tighter to your chest.

“Baby, It’s me.” he murmured softly, his voice cracking as he pushed out a whisper, outstretching his hand for you to take when you were ready. “We need to move you, It’s not safe here.” You took his hand, letting him whisk you away to a safer place, but you knew in your heart there was nowhere safer but his arms. 

//

George carried you up the stairs to the bedroom, sitting you down on the bed, kneeling on the floor as he unlaced your boots, pulling each one off gently as his hand massaged your foot. When he looked up at you, you were no longer sat upright, instead having fallen back against the sheets as you began to try and remove your own clothes, doing so in a piss poor way. 

He shook his head, smiling to himself as you grumbled at your own misfortune, his hands gripped your arms, pulling your wrists to his lips, pressing a gentle and loving kiss to the inside of each one. He slowly and cautiously helped you in removing your clothing, making sure to grab an old tee of his to cover you with when you sat naked on his bed. 

He left to go and grab you a glass of water, as well as some painkillers for the morning. Finding you curled up on top of the sheets while shivering from the cold chill of the room. He chuckled once again, popping the items on the bedside table so that he could sit you up. 

"Can we drink some water please, Princess?" you furrowed your brows, looking up at him as he stood in front of you. His large, warm hand was cupping your cheek softly, as he used his other to retrieve the glass of water, "I'll help you, now open up for me, that's a good girl."

His thumb coaxed your lips open, pressing the cold glass against your bottom lip as he gently fed you the clear liquid, you were gulping it down like you were wholeheartedly parched, he smiled at you when you'd finished, placing the glass on the bedside table again. 

"Well done, beautiful, now let's get you under these covers, that ought to stop those shivers, hm?" Your hands wrapped around his neck as he lifted you up off of the bed, you stood, holding onto him as he flipped the duvet corners open, lifting you up so he could lay you down against the mattress. 

He tried to pull your arms from his neck, but you only held on tighter, keeping him pulled close to you as a pout hung on your lips, whining as he tried to pull away from you. "Cuddle me."

He leaned down pressing a kiss to your forehead, he tucked you in gently, the covers wrapping you up nice and warm. "I'll be joining you soon darling but I can't cuddle you like this, I'll crush you if i lay on top of you now," he laughed, the low hum reverberating in your chest as you smiled at him with a doe eyed expression plastered to your face. 

He stripped his jacked off, changing into some more comfortable clothing so that he could join you in bed. As soon as he sat on the mattress, your head was in his lap, he smiled at the sight, his heart warming as your arms wrapped around his thigh, cuddling into him. 

He felt your shoulders begin to shake, looking down at you he saw the salty tears running down your cheeks as you tried to hold back your sobs. The reality of what happened in the hall of the club was hitting you, suddenly feeling sick to your stomach at the prospect that you had been making out with his twin, all the while believing it was George. "I'm so sorry, Georgie, I don't deserve you, I fucked up and I'm sorry, I just- I thought he was you and I was kissing him back and-" 

George had cut you off by pressing a finger to your lips with a gentle shushing sound, his fingertips massaging your scalp as he played with your hair ."You don't need to apologise for a thing, Princess."

The feeling of his hand as he gently dragged his fingers through your hair was lulling you to sleep, you sighed contently, your heart beating faster as you began to hear the gentle soothing sounds of his humming, a sweet and soothing melody that made you feel like you were in heaven. 

To him you looked like an angel when you slept, his heart resting easy at the sight of you painless, careless and content in the arms and presence of the man she loved so dear. She was like his own little slice of heaven, for him to enjoy on earth, always feeling like the damned luckiest man in the world to wake up to the sight of you. 

You awoke the next morning to the smell of bacon and eggs hitting your senses, groaning you reached over and took the two pain relief, washing it down with some water from the night before. You were dragging your feet along the floor as you sought the arms of your boyfriend, you found him in the kitchen plating up some food. You immediately fell to his side, arms wrapping around him as you groaned, the power of your headache hitting you. 

"Eat up, my Love, You'll feel so much better after." George had prepared you a delicious greasy fry up, knowing it was one of your favourite things to wake up to, he pressed a kiss to your cheek as his hand found the small of your back, "Thank you George, smells amazing as always." 

He smiled, taking the two plates to the dining table, where cutlery and orange juice already lay. You felt spoilt by the man you loved as you wolfed down the food. George made the best breakfasts around, aside from Molly, of course, each component cooked with the special ingredient of never-ending love, making it that much more tasty. 

You were the luckiest girl alive, looking into his eyes, he smiled at you, making you melt, even after all these years. George was everything you needed and more, you were sick of hiding him and he was just as sick of hiding you. Your Protector, Your Lover, His angel.

>>>>> Chapter Six

taglist //  @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @weasleysflowr @vogueweasley @minty-malfoy @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @rip-us @witch-and-a-half @sarcasticallywitty15 @pandaxnienke @loony-loopy-lupinn @pigwidgexn@mrmoonyy @mackaywhore @softlyqoos @colorfulprofessornickelangel @fandomscombine @satellitespidey @txtdreamss @aaannabbanana  @starkidpotty @mollydarling-hphm @amwithers2001

[elvish-sky]

A Light From the Shadows Chapter 1- Well, That Went Wrong Quickly

Aragorn x Original Character (Aeri)

A.N: Holy crap, I can't believe this is actually happening and I'm actually posting it! This has been my pet project for the past few weeks, and I'm so excited to see where this story takes me. I'm equally excited to hear your thoughts on it- please tell me anything and everything! I hope you love it as much as I do!

Series Masterlist | Wattpad | Ao3

****

“Ouch!”

Calenglîn, lost in thoughts of the abundance of food waiting for her at home, had walked right into something, hitting her nose. She ricocheted backward, sprawling on the ground at the feet of what she now saw was a… human?

He offered her a hand to stand. “So much for the gracefulness of elves.”

She blushed, giggling, as his hand drew her close so that she was gazing up into his eyes.

“Who are you?”

He flashed his most charming smile. “Eddard of Rohan. May I ask your name?”

“Calenglîn. Of Lothlorien, obviously.”

Eddard laughed, and with the sound of his laughter, Calenglîn swore she could hear her future with him calling to her.

Aeri leaned back, the wooden legs of her chair creaking as she shifted, stretching.

In the next room, her mother and father were speaking in low whispers, the kind that adults use when they know something is wrong, but they don’t want you to realize.

Eddard leaned closer to his wife. “There’s something out there. Something evil.”

“It’s Rhugar. I can feel it.” Calenglîn whispered.

Eddard nodded. “We have to leave now. We have to protect Aeri.”

And as the human’s brain whirred with plans to protect his daughter, it also took him back to a day, many years earlier.

The elf grabbed her daggers and bustled into the next room. “Aeri! We’re leaving. Grab all your weapons.”

Aeri leaned back too far in surprise and crashed to the floor.

“What? Why?!”

“No time,” Eddard brushed past her, sheathing his sword and donning his shoes, “we have to go.”

Aeri stood and rushed to her room, grabbing her pack and stuffing mementos inside- the carved oliphaunt that her uncle had brought her decades ago, the lucky rock she’d found in a stream one day, her journal, and of course her twin daggers, given to her by her mother. She strapped them on as she cinched the bag closed, grabbing her cloak from its hook on the wall on her way out.

Aeri emerged into the hallway to see Eddard frantically waving her out the door, eyes wide. Calenglîn was shouldering her pack as Aeri burst outside, hands coming to rest on her daughter’s shoulders.

“What’s going on?”

“Something bad is coming, Aeri, can you sense it?”

Aeri nodded.

Calenglîn continued, “it’s a lieutenant of Mordor.”

Aeri’s fists tightened. “Is he coming for us?”

Eddard’s eyes were sad as he gazed at his wife, as her silence grew and his daughter turned to him.

“Dad? Is he coming for us?”

Eddard nodded.

“So what do we do?”

“We run,” said Calenglîn.

Rhugar knelt, looking at the footprint pressed into the dirt below him.

“It’s fresh. We’re closing in.”

The orcs around him grunted in acknowledgment.

Rhugar stood and unsheathed his sword, gesturing for the orcs to follow him. The elf was so close, he could sense her. The traitorous elf Calenglîn who had eloped with a filthy human, and bore him a daughter.

The daughter and husband that were with her, now.

The husband that he was going to kill, while she watched.

The daughter that he was going to bring back to his master, for his master had not seen the offspring of an elf and a human in a very long time, and wanted to know how she was different.

Wanted to know what she could do.

Wanted to know if she was different enough for them to use.

Aeri crouched behind a bush, chest heaving, a parent on either side. She listened to the rustling of the bushes and the enemies closing in on them, getting closer and closer with every step.

Calenglîn shared a look of despair with her husband over their daughter’s head. She knew their family would not be able to survive this. Someone wasn’t going to make it. She knew that she and Eddard would not, could not survive this. But they could buy Aeri time.

“Aeri,” she whispered, grabbing her daughter’s shoulders. “Listen to me. You go, run, and run far. Go to the cabin. Don’t let them find you.”

Calenglîn pressed a kiss to Aeri’s forehead.

Aeri looked up at her, tears brimming in her blue eyes.

“B-but what will you do?”

Eddard looked his daughter in the eye.

“We’ll be fine, love. Now go.”

Aeri hesitated.

“Now, Aerinithil!”

Eddard gave her a little push, and Aeri stumbled to her feet. She looked back down at her parents. Her mother was smiling at her. It was a sad smile, a smile of all the things left unsaid, a smile that conveyed the pride she had in her daughter. Her father had that same smile, full of laughter and love and hope. Hope that his daughter would survive.

Eddard and Calenglîn nodded at her, their Aeri.

Her father’s hand flicked out in the motion he always used when they were training, the one that meant ‘sprint.’

A drop of water fell on her cheek, and Aeri realized she was crying.

“We love you, Aerinithil,” Eddard told her.

“We always will,” added Calenglîn.

Eddard shaded his hand over his eyes as he waited, periodically lifting it to check the position of the sun. Calenglîn had wanted to meet here, in the spot where they’d met for the first time five years ago.

Eddard had been away for a month on business for his king but had faked his death after completing the mission. He didn’t want to risk his new life. It was one of the many plans he and Calenglîn had put into place over the years to protect themselves.

And there she was, stepping out from behind a towering tree, radiant as always.

“Eddard,” she breathed, and then ran to him and kissed him.

“I’ve missed you, my love,” he told her when she drew away.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Calenglîn took a deep breath. “Are you ready?”

Eddard nodded. “With you, I’m ready for anything.”

“Now go,” Eddard said.

So Aeri went.

Her legs moved faster and faster as she ran further and further, the words her parents had just spoken ringing in her ears as she tried and failed to not think about what she was leaving behind.

Her home.

Her life.

Her family.

The parents who had told her to run.

That’s what they told me.

That’s what they said.

That’s what they wanted.

They had wanted her to go, to save herself, to escape. She was doing what they’d wanted.

And then two screams ran out.

And she stopped.

And turned, running back as the screams of the two people she loved more than anything else, the two people who had each given up a world for her, who had now done that twice, rang through the forest.

She stumbled to a halt in the clearing, dropping to her knees at the sight before her.

There they lay.

Eddard and Calenglîn.

Hands entwined.

Not moving, not breathing, just there.

Aeri crawled over to them, prodding, poking, hoping that maybe the gruesome wounds covering their bodies weren’t fatal.

“Emmë?” she shook her mother’s hand.

Calenglîn didn’t move.

Aeri crawled to her father.

“Dad?” she whispered.

Eddard stayed still.

Aeri pressed two fingers to her father’s pulse. Then to her mother’s.

They were dead.

Hope lost, Aeri sat back onto her heels, looking up at the sky.

And she screamed.

It was a scream of pure pain, grief, and hurt and shame and despair all coming together. Because that’s what it was. Pure, unrelenting pain, deep in her heart.

Rhugar paused at the edge of the clearing, watching her scream and sob.

Metal against steel rang out around the clearing, and Aeri grew quiet. A sword was emerging from its sheath. She turned.

An elf stood over her. He was tall, with reddish-brown hair and eyes the color of a stormy sea, glaring down at her with his sword raised above her head. And he looked familiar.

“Uncle Rhugar?” Aeri whispered.

The day that Calenglîn found out she was pregnant was a joyous one. She had brought Eddard to Lothlorien, he’d been before but they hadn’t been wed then. She wanted him to meet her family.

Calenglîn burst into the room, eyes sparkling as she made a beeline for her husband, one of three other people in the room.

“Love,” she whispered, “I’m pregnant.”

Eddard’s eyes were positively glowing with joy. “Really?”

She nodded. “Really.”

Rhugar watched the couple celebrate, offering his own congratulations, the wheels in his brain turning. He was going to have a niece or nephew. A half-human niece or nephew. He wasn’t sure what he thought of that.

She saw him smirk, then nod, eyes glinting with something akin to malice.

And then his sword flashed down towards her head, and everything went black.

****

everything tag: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel @shethereadinghobbit @guardianofrivendell @hey-its-nonny

aeri tag: @grunid

[george-fabian-weasley]

Fred Weasley — Helplessly Part 3

Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Fred was rushed to he muggle hospital for better treatment of his injuries. While in a coma, his soul stayed with you for a couple of months. He watches as you went through the stages. And he watches when you start to write a song, just for him.

Words: 2, 681 words

Warnings ⚠ : I don’t think this fic will have anything BUT sadness and constant pain and heartbreaks sdhsjd im sORRY

Disclaimer: This one... hurts a lot

TAGLIST FOR HELPLESSLY: HERE

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 (COMING SOON!)

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CHAPTER 3: I'll Follow You

He woke up alone. 

Fred Weasley woke up with no idea where he was. ‘This… This isn’t Hogwarts?’ he thought. The fluorescent light above him was a bit bright, yet he didn’t feel like he needed to adjust his eyes. Fred blinked, wasn’t he in the middle of a war? The last thing he remembered was saying words to Percy before-

Before the walls.

He tried to move, and was surprised that he can, with complete ease. ‘Wow, and here I thought getting crashed by walls would hurt a lot.’ He thought, scoffing a smile. How the bloody hell did he feel no pain? Absolute brilliant! He sat up from the bed, looking around, looked like a hospital ward.  

Strange, he’s in a hospital but he didn’t feel any pain. Was he visiting someone? That’s not likely, innit?

And then Fred heard the constant beeping. He looked to his right, there’s a peculiar machine showing a line going up and down. Then his eyes darted to a wire connected to it, and then followed his eyes until the very end.

A hand.

Fred tilted his head, slightly confused. He blinked a few times. He just woke up in a hospital… And he saw a beeping muggle tech machine… and now there’s a hand…. Whose hand is it?

He looked to the hand, that hand looked awfully familiar, looking like George’s. But George’s hand is less calloused than this one. So naturally, Fred sees the owner of the hand when he turned around.

It’s… It’s him.

Fred felt the blood draining from his face, his heart felt like it did a somersault and a fucking split to the ground.  He instantly jumped out of the bed in shock, his eyes were the size of two golf balls. Even with bandages, he knew that was him.

It… It could be George, though. But that thought was quickly thrown out the window. He’s lived with the man all his life; he knew they were both very different physically. Fred was, rightfully to be frank, terrified.

Why was he there? In bandages? If that’s him, then what the hell is he doing standing here?! Fred walked closer to ‘himself’, thinking to himself that this might be some prank George pulled on him, Polyjuice potion and all. Upon thinking that, Fred relaxed; actually convinced his brother was pranking him.

“Ha, ha. Funny.” Fred muttered; a relieved smile painted upon his lips. For one second there, he really thought he had gone crazy. He looked around, “Oh, Georgie? Where are you, you little git?” He sang playfully, chuckling to himself. This prank was a great one though, he had to admit.

Fred’s eyes darted back to the man on the bed. He smirked to himself, wondering who did George had successfully coaxed to drink that nasty Polyjuice to turn into him. His mind instantly thought of you, and his smirk widened.

“Oh, goodness. Why is there another me here? I wonder?” Fred faked a shocked voice while simultaneously walking closer to the man, whom he had convinced himself was you under the Polyjuice potion. When ‘you’ didn’t react, he chuckled a little bit more, “I know it’s you, darling. C’mon now, trying to prank Fred Weasley? The prankster himself? Really, love?” 

He reached his hand to touch ‘yours’, only to realize his hand literally went through it. Fred frowned, he reached again. His hand went through the other hand, again. At first, Fred thought this was some sort of magic going on, a hologram at some sort, but the one who looked like a hologram was him.

“Bloody hell-“ Fred inched away fast; his feet stepped back a few steps in newfound fear. He looked around hastily, “This isn’t funny anymore, George. Knock it off!” He shouted across the room, yet nothing happened. He looked back to ‘you’, “Y/N, you can wake up now. This isn’t funny.” When ‘you’ didn’t react, Fred gulped. “Y/N!” He called again.

“Fred!!!”

Fred snapped his head upwards, his heart dropped at the sound of your wail. “Y/N…?” He whispered in horror, eyes darting back to the man on the bed, “Who the bloody hell are you…?”

Fred heard your scream again, and quickly without any thinking ran out of the ward, looking left and right at the unfamiliar surroundings. Suddenly, he saw Bill. He was with Fleur, looking distraught and anxious to the group of nurses at the counter, who instantly got to their feet, some calling the doctors while some followed Bill and Fleur.

He instantly followed them, “Bill!” He kept calling his older brother, but Bill didn’t seem to notice. Fred was far back, yet he kept calling for him. “William Arthur Weasley, you deaf git!” He muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth. He grew more anxious when he heard your screams getting louder, “Fred!!!! Let go of me!!!”

“Y/N?! Y/N!!!” He shouted back, he had lost Bill among the people, yet he kept following until he reached a ward. “Freddie!!!!” You were screaming, with tears non-stop scrolling down your cheeks, a strand of saliva was visible at your mouth, showing how many times you had called for him.  

A group of doctors had pinned you down, and quickly injected you with something, making Fred furrowed his eyes in anger, “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!” He shouted. He looked at the surroundings of the room, everyone was there. 

Why was Molly crying hugging Hermione? And why was George just standing there? 

“George! What are they doing to Y/N? Why aren’t you doing anything?!” He shouted, yet George seemed to ignore him. His heart tore apart every time you screamed his name, you were looking very distraught, and scared, and anxious.

He literally ran to be beside you, kneeling to the ground, “Y/N, love, I’m here.”

Yet you kept crying, until it slowed down, “Please, I need to see Freddie… He almost died in my arms, please…” was your last whimper before you passed out. Fred frowned, “Y/N, darling, I’m here! I’m not dead, I’m here-“

His hands that were to cup your face went through you.

Feeling fear right about now is the understatement of the century. Fred had never felt so horrified, in his life. Not even when he was fighting the Death Eaters a while ago, not even when the walls shattered him. This… This is terrifying.

He turned his head to the group of people who were now lifting unconscious you back to bed. He stood up slowly, gulping as he took in your state. You had heavy eye-bags, your skin was pale, and you looked exhausted. Yet you never failed to make his heart flutter at the very sight of you.  

As if adding oil to the fire, Harry who was beside him just stood up and bloody walked through him. Not walk past him, through him. As if he’s just a ghost.

Fred froze. Is that what he is now? A ghost? Like Peeves and Moaning Myrtle? He quickly looked down at his body, checking himself. No, he isn’t glowy blue, nor is he see-through. Fred was confused and terrified, and that two feelings together were never a good mix.

“I told you it’s a bad idea to tell Y/N so soon, George.” Fred turned to Ron who was looking to George who looked distressed. “Now’s not the right time for you to pick up a fight with me, Ron,” George growled; his eyes were dark. Fred realized George’s state was similar to yours. In fact, everyone looked exhausted. His heart broke at the sight of the quietly crying Molly who was still in Hermione’s arms.

“You could’ve told it later.” Ron, ignoring his brother’s warning earlier, continued with silent rage. “Ronald,” Hermione warned, glaring at him. “Then what am I supposed to do, you bastard? Is it your twin who’s in a bloody coma and your best friend hyperventilating, losing their mind? Am I supposed to carry this burden alone, huh you git? You’re fucking 18, Ron, use your bloody brain for once.” George snapped and walked out of the ward, seemingly wanted to cool off.

Hang on. What did he just say?

Fred gripped the bed railings to balance himself, his head suddenly went dizzy. “Coma? Me?” He whispered, not believing his ears. So the man earlier, that was really him? Not you under the Polyjuice potion? So, him standing in your ward right now, what was he? A ghost? A million thoughts swarmed Fred, he felt his chest tightened and he almost couldn’t breathe.   

“Why did you have to do that, Ron?” Hermione sighed out, Molly had just calmed down and excused herself to the bathroom. Ron didn’t answer her, and just walked out after looking solemnly in your direction.  

Harry sighed, “I’ll go get him.” He said, glancing at sleeping you, and left the ward. Slowly, the ward became empty, and the only ones there were Fred and you. His grip on the bed become tighter at the sight of you.

“F… Freddie…” Suddenly you mumbled out, and a tear rolled down to your sides. Fred was beyond devastated, heartbroken even. You looked so miserable, and Fred wanted nothing more than to hug you, caress your hair, and just whisper sweet nothings to you.

“I’m… I’m here, love.” His voice quivering, his hands trembled severely. He wanted to kiss your forehead, but the fear of his lips not touching your skin scared him more than ever. He wanted to wipe your tears away, so bad. Without warning, his own tears scrolled down his cheeks. But the tears never drop to the floor, they just vanished into thin air the moment they left his face.  

Fred felt a painful tug in his heart, he was beyond devastated. You were right there, and he could see you, but you couldn’t see him.

No one could.

The thought of being invisible made Fred’s crying worsened. He started to scream within his cries, begging anyone to just listen to him or actually notice he’s there. Fred wailed, screamed, shouted, with tears running profusely, the saliva in his mouth kept coming out as a result of his excessive breakdown.  

He was screaming his heart out, yet no one was listening.

Fred had to crouch down beside your bed as his knees turned weak, his head facing the ground, silently begging to see if one of his many tears would plop to the ground, and actually wet them. But the moment they jumped from the edge of his face; his tears vanished.

Fred calmed down a few minutes later, he was growing exhausted from the mental breakdown he just had.  He stood up trembling, his mind still distraught and disheveled, and his eyes softly darted to you.

He weakly smiled, “At least I got to see you, love.”

A week passed and Fred had accepted the fact that he was indeed in a coma, and his soul was out of his body, resulting in him to be like… this. 

But it wasn’t easy for him. 

He had to watch Molly and George take turns to look after him and Y/N, and they seemingly took turns crying for both of you. Fred was sobbing in the corner of his ward when Molly was crying while wiping his body, the view of his mother crying over him was absolutely heart-breaking. Molly was the first woman in his life, and he dreaded the fact that he couldn’t hug her, nor even touch her. 

He also discovered that his body would also cry whenever he’s crying, resulting in Molly crying even harder as she realized her unconscious son was also crying silently. His heartbeat would also match his body’s heartbeat. When he was having a breakdown at Y/N’s ward a while ago, his heartbeat was very fast, causing the beeping machine to enhance its pace. 

So Fred had jumped to the conclusion that somehow, he and his body are still connected. And with that being said, he’s not a ghost. Only a lost soul.

Fred would always visit your ward. He couldn’t sleep, but he would close his eyes at night so that his heartbeat won’t increase rapidly, in order not to worry his family. He would smile whenever you smile, just silently watching you communicating with Hermione. But as soon as he realized that you had nightmares at night, he couldn’t sleep after that.

So he would sit at the empty chair beside your bed whenever it’s empty, and just watch you sleep. When it’s time that you woke up crying, Fred was grateful that Hermione was there to calm you down, he couldn’t even describe the pain in his heart when he sees you so distraught.

And it broke his heart, even more, when he found out the nightmare involved him.

You were… suffering because of him, and Fred had never felt guiltier. He had also discovered that he could touch objects, he just couldn’t touch humans, which explained why he woke up laying on a bed, instead of sinking. He didn’t do anything to you though, he was afraid it would worsen your condition.  

That night came along. For the nth time, Fred felt his heart breaking at the sight of you sobbing on Hermione’s arm, once again attacked by the same reoccurring nightmare. When you begged Hermione to go see him, he had expected Hermione to say no, that’s what she’s been saying for the past week.

It’s a pleasant surprise when Hermione agreed.

You didn’t know, but Fred walked beside you and Hermione, watching your every step so you wouldn’t trip. He knew how weak your legs were, he was there when the doctors explained your condition to Molly. If it wasn’t for him being invisible, it would look like Fred was worrying for you at every step you took. He quietly smiled to himself, knowing it would annoy the hell out of you whenever he does that.

“Hello, Freddie.” Your quiet voice made a slight tug on his heart. You were holding his hand, and it was killing Fred that he couldn’t feel your touch. Or your warmth. He had to control his tears when you begin to sob on his body, his cold hand became the resting place for your forehead as you leaned forward. 

He had never wanted to touch you so badly, and it’s torturing him to control his tears because he knew the body would cry as well, and he didn’t want to sadden you any further. No words could describe the pain in his heart, and how fast his heartbeat is becoming. You didn’t notice, seemingly had filtered out the beeping sound from your mind to focus on your lover.

“I missed you, darling. I’ve missed you so much…” He heard you whisper while caressing his face. Fred was right in front of you, the only thing between you two was his static body on the bed. 

Fred forced out a chuckle, faking the laugh so his tears won’t come out instead, “You have no idea how much I missed you as well, my love. No idea…” When you left, after kissing his knuckles, that’s when Fred broke down. He had never cried loudly before, courtesy of sharing a house with several people for years, but when he does, it was refreshing.

But he had never felt so alone. 

So he understood your feeling when he saw you leaning against your bedroom door, crying in the dark at your apartment once you’ve been discharged. He decided to follow you home because he couldn’t bear staying at that cold, lonely hospital any longer.

 His home was you; you were his home and you still are.

And his heart bleeds; because he knew he was your home as well. And while he’s right there in front of you, sitting across you with tears in his eyes, begging you to see him so you won’t cry out of agony again, you didn’t know. 

You would never know.

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PART 4: READ

TAGLIST:

@paigeyisme @britishspidey @hargreevesgrace @jasminweasley @neutralgoodval @kaidenceweasley @igotabadfeelingabouteverything @123happyllama @nicole-prz @phuvioqhile @ionlycamehereforfanfics @martalol @mccloudchloe @hufflepuffzutara @weasleysangel

[silvereddaye]

👀👀👀

A Mrs. Doubtfire AU.

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

Vader’s heart beat loudly in his chest. The blasted suit displayed a warning on the inside of his helmet about it. He ignored it. The ride on the turbolift was too familiar. Brought back too many memories of another time and another life. Luckily, the lift soon stopped and the doors opened. His heart ached as he saw the painfully familiar apartment. It hadn’t changed much in the years since he had last been here. The Nubian art still hung on the walls. The same vase, but with fresh flowers, still sat in the same spot. The-- 

He noticed the first discrepancy. It caused his breathing to hitch. It was a toy. A spaceship painted in bright red and yellow. It sat discarded in the hall. He walked over to it and picked it up. It was clearly not based on any established ship design. It was too fat and rounded to be a proper flight-worthy vessel. Had it be designed only as a toy? 

His thoughts were soon interrupted as he heard shuffling steps approaching. He looked up to a gold protocol droid walking over. 

“Oh, excuse me,” the droid said. “I am See-Threepio, human-cyborg relations. Are you . . . the nanny from the services?” 

“Yes,” Vader said. His voice was deep, much deeper than his real voice, thanks to the vocoder in his mask. 

There was a pause. A hesitation. 

“There must have been some kind of mix-up. Mistress Padme requested no droids. I will--”

“I am not a droid,” Vader interrupted. 

“Oh. Do forgive me! You just look . . .”

Vader said nothing. He was tempted to raise his hand and curl his hand into a fist and crush this droid, his own droid, with the Force. 

“You may cross-reference my files with the agency,” Vader said instead. “I am highly qualified,” he lied. He had hacked into the nanny service’s databank and created his own profile. “I realize my appearance is unconventional, but considering the first twelve conventional nannies have not worked out for Senator Amidala, it was time to try something . . . new.” 

If a droid could show relief, Threepio would have shown it. 

“I shall give you files a look, Mr. Vader,” the droid said. “And I suppose we can consider today a trial for any long-term placement. We are in need of a nanny right now. Senator Amidala has already left for the Senate, called away on an emergency meeting.”

The droid turned and started to walk down the hallway. Vader followed behind. He was led into a sitting room he wasn’t too familiar with. It looked to be serving as a playroom now. Toys were scattered everywhere. There was a small low table with two small chairs. Flimsi papers were littered about it with colorful scribbles and drawings on it. And sitting on the floor in the center of the room were two children. 

The little boy had blond hair and played with two spaceships. The little girl with brown hair sat next to him brushing the hair of a toy doll. It was . . . It was the first time seeing his own children in person. He had seen holos. A few paparazzi shots the media, official shots published once a year, and a few he had received from hiring his own spies. But here they were right before him. 

They were beautiful. They looked Padme! They looked like him! They were so small and precious and wonderful. They were perfect. Tears stung at his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was finally meeting his children.

“Who is that?” 

Luke. It had been Luke who had looked up and asked. His little finger pointed at Vader. 

“Master Luke. Master Leia,” Threepio said. “This is your new nanny.” 

Both children had stopped playing. They stood up, walked over to Vader, and looked at him curiously. 

“Are you a droid?” Leia asked. There was a bit of a swagger in her voice. A hint of an attitude. 

“No,” he said. 

“You look like a droid,” she said. 

“You can hear his breathing!” Luke added. “Droids don’t breathe!” 

Leia tilted her head as the two listened to two rounds of his respirator. 

“What’s your name?” Luke asked.

“Vader,” he said.

It was true. It was his name. The name Sidious had granted him when he fell to his knees and pledged himself to the Sith. A name that now only he knew with Sidious’ death. He couldn’t use Anakin. That name no longer had any meaning to him, plus it was now tarnished. No longer was he Anakin Skywalker hailed as the hero of the Republic. He was marked as a traitor, a fugitive, a terrorist. A Sith.

“You sound funny,” Leia said. “You sound like a droid.” 

She walked over and pinched his leg. His lower leg. His lower prosthetic metal leg. She gasped. 

“You are a droid! That breathing is fake!” 

“My leg is fake. I am not, young one.” 

She pursed her lips and glared up at him. 

“Why do you have a metal leg?” Luke asked. 

Anger flared inside of Vader. What was he to say to his own children? That the man he considered his brother, the man who had raised him, who had stolen his wife and children away from him, had sliced them off? 

“It was cut off,” Vader said. 

“Does it hurt?” Luke asked. 

He walked up and hugged his leg, and Vader became completely still. His son . . . His son! Was hugging him! Luke gave his leg a quick kiss before hopping back with a huge smile on his face. 

“All better!” he said. 

“All better!” Leia repeated. 

“Th-- Thank you, little ones.” 

“Is that metal too?” Leia asked pointing to his hand. 

“They are all metal,” he said. 

“Why?” 

“They were also cut off,” he growled. 

“Why?” 

He clenched his teeth together and his hands curled into fists. He did not wish to discuss this as it only angered him. He was here to enjoy his children. Who knew how long this charade would last. 

“Because . . .” he said. The twins looked at him expectantly. He didn’t move his head, but his eyes looked wildly around. What could he say to appease their curiosity? What would someone use a metal hand for? “It’s so I can crush things.” 

Both of their eyes went wide. 

“Can I see?” Leia asked.

“Show us!” Luke pleaded. “Please!”

“Please! Pretty please!” 

“Show you what?” Vader asked.

“How you crush things!” both twins said together.

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 14 - In The Morning

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

Hermione arrives at Grimmauld Place 

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note:

I update every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST) (except that one time)!

Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<<Chapter 13

I can't stop myself from calling calling out your name I can't stop myself from falling falling back again

 July 17th came around sooner than Fred was truly ready for and before he knew it, his father and Ron were leaving Grimmauld Place to meet Hermione and her parents in Diagon Alley. They had extended the invitation to George and himself as well, but the two of them opted to stay behind to help Ginny get things ready for her arrival. Or at least that’s what George told their mum and dad. Instead, they planned to use that time to work on welcoming Hermione back the only way they knew how.

“Okay, we’ve got – fake wand, spitting teapot, nose-biting tea cup, Ton-Tongue Toffee, Canary Creams, those Nosebleed Nougats we’ve been working on, aaaaand then of course we can always just turn her scarf into a snake or something,” listed George, looking down critically at the products in his trunk.

“You’re overthinking it, mate,” said Fred, chewing on the side of his thumb as he shuffled through his work notes on the desk.

“Well then, please enlighten me Freddie,” George huffed, placing his hands on his hips and turning to his twin.

“We can just apparate downstairs as soon as she gets here and scare her. She’ll never see it coming.” It was true. While Fred and George had passed their apparition tests first try the previous spring, Hermione had not been around enough to see them practice.

“What? A jump scare? That seems a bit cheap, don’t you think?”

“Since when have you cared how we pull pranks?” laughed Fred. “You’ve never been particularly choosy before.” With satisfaction, Fred finally found the piece of parchment he’d been searching for and pulled it to the top of his pile of notes. It was his ingredient list for Fever Fudge. He and George had spent the entirety of their free time so far that summer developing a themed line for their business and Fred felt like they finally had it. Now they just needed to make the products. And they needed Hermione’s help. Hermione. The familiar twisting and churning in his stomach returned every time he thought of her. What was it about the little witch that made him so bloody nervous? His palms sweat, his neck got hot, and his stomach ached whenever her soon to be visit was brought to the forefront of his mind that week. It was ridiculous. It was only Hermione after all. Even if he did fancy her at one point, that was off the table now. He was with Angelina and she still fancied his brother. The only thing to do was to get back to normal, go back to the way things were before he found himself lusting after his baby brother’s friend, go back to when they were simply just friends.

“I suppose we could do it when she’s standing next to Walburga. That’ll certainly give her a fright,” mused George, closing his trunk with a heavy thump of the lid.

“Now you’re getting it, Georgie boy!” Fred stacked the parchment and moved around quills and ink bottles, doing his best to tidy up the small workspace. Hermione was sure to make a comment on their messiness the minute she saw it. She always did.

“You seem in better spirits—” George leaned casually against the wall near the open window and looked at Fred with an annoyingly knowing smirk “—Hermione’s visit wouldn’t have anything to do with that. Would it?”

Fred scoffed. “It has everything to do with her visit, Georgie. We need a pair of fresh eyes to go over these product designs and it’ll be someone else to talk to in this depressing place besides you.”

George opened his mouth, clearly ready to refute Fred’s statement when a large tawny owl soared through the open window and landed on the bottom left-hand corner of the desk. The owl had a stately, professional manner, akin to the owls used at Hogwarts. Taking the letter from its claws, Fred gave the owl a small treat and watched as it spread its wings and soared back out through the open window. He turned the envelope over in his hands and saw that it was addressed to him. The words were in a neat scrawl he recognized immediately, and so he tore into the envelope with enthusiasm.

Dear Fred,

I’m so sorry I haven’t written to you. Quidditch camp has kept me really busy. They have us running so many drills, I barely have the energy to eat at the end of the day. But, as I’m the new Gryffindor quidditch team captain (remember don’t tell anyone, it’s still a secret), it’s important that I know everything there is to know. I hope your summer is going well, though!

I will try to write more later, but I wanted to send you a quick note to let you know I’ve gotten your letters.

Yours,

Angelina

P.S. – You won’t believe who’s an instructor here. Oliver Wood! Can you believe it?

Fred threw the letter down onto the desk with a sigh. She clearly hadn’t read his letters. If she had, then she would have known that his summer was not going well. Feeling close enough with Angelina and taking the fact that she was his girlfriend into consideration, he’d shared with her his lamentings of his overbearing mother and the general stodginess of the home they were currently staying in. He hoped to get a tad bit of sympathy or maybe even acknowledgement. But instead, he got a few short lines and news on Oliver Wood. He smirked at the last bit. At least he could be certain that Oliver Wood was there to torture her with his insane quidditch practices and long-winded speeches on hard work and diligence.

“Who’s it from?” asked George.

“Angelina,” answered Fred, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of his head as he stared at the discarded letter on the desk in front of him.

“What’s it say?”

The sound of the front door opening downstairs caught the pair’s attention and Fred stood, grabbing the letter, and tucking it into his pocket. “Don’t worry about it. Hermione’s here. Let’s go,” he said pointing to the door with a tilt of his head.

Sneaking down the hallway, they leaned over the banister and spied the top of Hermione’s frizzy head. They watched as she walked slowly down the entry hall, looking side to side as she took in the ominous visage of the ancient Black home. She was almost to the end of the hallway where it split into three separate directions when Fred looked to his brother and with a nod, and apparated. Fred felt the familiar pull at his navel and the thrilling sensation of the air being sucked from the space around him before he landed effortlessly beside Hermione. Half of a second later George appeared at her other side.

“Wotcher Granger!” they exclaimed in unison, immediately dissolving into laughter when Hermione jumped with fright. The poor little witch let out a startled yelp, falling back into the covered portrait of Sirius Black’s mother Walburga.

Upon being woken up the nasty woman began to spit her usual vitriol, “Filth! Mudbloods! Blood traitors! In my home! The disgrace! Out! Out!”

“Fred! George! How many times have I told you to leave that portrait be?!” screamed their mother, appearing in the kitchen doorway to their right.

“Wasn’t us mum!” yelled Fred in their defense, still trying to stifle his laughter.

“Yeah mum, Hermione’s the one that screamed and pulled the sheet down!” agreed George, slinging an arm over the shoulders of Hermione who currently looked incredibly displeased.

“Right, well I wonder why that was—” their mother scowled “—get! All of you, out of here while I fix this. Ron, help me, will you dear?”

Ron, who’d been leading Hermione down the hallway stepped forward and grabbed the sheet with their mum. Meanwhile, Fred and George followed their mother’s instructions and led Hermione into the kitchen.

“You two are biggest prats!” scolded Hermione, setting her bag down on the kitchen table.

“Maybe, but you still love us,” said George cheekily before pulling her into a tight hug. Hermione smiled, her irritation visibly melting away as she hugged George back. Once his twin brother had released her, Hermione turned to Fred, both of them fully intending to hug as well. But then they stopped, both jerking forward awkwardly before settling on a very stiff and uncomfortable handshake.

“Frederick,” she greeted him politely.

Fred cleared his throat before answer, “Granger.” They continued to shake hands, their arms sticking out in front of them for much too long as they stared at each other, unsure of what to say. “You’ve gotten taller,” Fred finally remarked, noticing the way she no longer came to his shoulder, but instead reached just past his chin. He released her hand lamely and brought it up to scratch the back of his head.

“Yes, well, it appears I’ve been through a bit of a growth spurt the last month or so,” she answered, before reaching for the clasp at her neck and divesting herself of her light travel robes. Growth spurt was right, thought Fred as he stared unabashedly at Hermione. Not only had she gotten taller, but her once lanky body had given way to a very womanly form. He exchanged a quick look with George, whose flabbergasted expression clearly stated that he too was witnessing the same phenomenon. Hermione Granger had gotten hot. Very hot. Swallowing thickly, Fred wanted nothing more than to burst into flames literally and figuratively. Being dead, he reasoned, would be better than dealing with the hot fresh hell of Hermione Granger surely coming into her own body the moment he had decided his attraction to her was off the table. Almost mockingly, the corner of the envelope that held Angelina’s letter poked into his thigh.

“Is that a new sweater, ‘Mione?” asked George. Fred shot a glare in George’s direction. While his question appeared to be innocent, Fred knew it was an obvious jab at the fact that not only was Hermione not wearing something three times her size, but the sweater in question outlined her new curves so perfectly that Fred had to consciously keep his eyes trained on her face.

“Oh—” Hermione looked down at her outfit “—yes. My mum insisted we go shopping before I left. Got me a whole new wardrobe and everything. Something about putting me in better spirits or something.”

“Why would you need to be in better—”

“My, my, my, well if it isn’t Hermione Granger,” the voice of Sirius Black cut Fred’s question off. He watched as Hermione turned excitedly and spotted the older wizard leaning against the doorframe that led into the dining room. The witch crossed the room enthusiastically, allowing Sirius to envelope her in a tight hug.

“Sirius! It’s so good to see you!” exclaimed Hermione, letting out a small squeak when Sirius lifted her into the air.

“Same to you,” he said with an exaggerated groan before setting her back on her feet and holding her at arm’s length. “Look at you! Is this really the same mousy little girl that saved my life two years ago?” asked Sirius teasingly before leading her to the kitchen table.

“Hold on a minute. We haven’t heard that story,” said George. The comment caught Fred’s attention as well. While the two had been informed by both Ron after his third year and their mum and dad that summer that Sirius Black was not the man they thought him to be, they had never heard exactly how he officially escaped his capture.

“Really? She only traveled back in time and road on the back of a hippogriff to break me out of my cell,” said Sirius, looking down proudly at a flushing Hermione. “Would you like some tea dear?” he asked Hermione.

“We’ll get it,” said George, pulling a stunned Fred around and towards the counter. “Well that’s interesting.”

“Which part?” asked Fred, reeling from the combination of Hermione’s figure, and finding out that she traveled through time?

George chuckled at his comment and the pair began to make a nice afternoon tea. Merlin, being able to use magic whenever he wanted was so convenient, thought Fred as with just a few flicks of their wands, the tea was prepared, and a nice plate of biscuits was ready. Levitating the cups, teapot, sugar, milk, and biscuits to the table, they took their seats at the table as well.

“Now, tell us all the sordid details of this breakout and don’t hold anything back,” said George firmly, reaching across the table and grabbing a biscuit.

Fred listened intently as Sirius began his story, grabbing a cup and preparing Hermione’s tea. She seemed surprised when he set the cup in front of her and even more surprised when she took a sip. The younger witch shot him a curious glance before taking another sip and grabbing a biscuit as well. What? Did she not think he remembered how she took her tea? wondered Fred before making his own.

By the end of his story, Sirius was smiling widely, Hermione was blushing furiously, and Fred and George were staring blankly. Ron, who had joined them halfway through, looked bored having already heard the story before from Harry and Hermione.

“Blimey,” said Fred, unsure of what else even to say. “Do you ever stop getting cooler, Hermione?” Fred’s ears grew hot in embarrassment, but the small smile Hermione gave him cooled the heat slightly.

“I’ve always been cool, Fred. Maybe you’ve just been too thick to notice.”

Fred gave a small chuckle, joined by the rest of the table. Just like that, the heavy weight of tension that had been present between him and Hermione since the moment she arrived lifted slightly.

“So, is anyone going to explain to me where I am exactly and what’s going on, or am I supposed to guess it at some point?” asked Hermione, looking around her with an exasperated look.

“I’m sorry kitten, I thought Arthur told you,” said Sirius.

Fred prickled. He didn’t quite like the way Sirius called her ‘kitten’.

“This—” Sirius motioned to the space around them “—is my childhood home. Left to me as the last living heir to the Black fortune. I volunteered it to Dumbledore for the Order.”

“The Order?” Hermione scrunched her brow in confusion.

“The Order of the Phoenix,” Ron chimed in, as if the name alone would be explanation enough.

“We’re like Death Eaters, but for the good side,” added George with a grin.

“Not yet you aren’t!” exclaimed their mum, striding into the kitchen with a scowl on her face.

Fred huffed in annoyance. He and George had been keen to join the Order ever since they learned about it, but their mum was adamantly against it. “Come on mum, we’re seventeen! It’s not your choice anymore.”

“Like hell it isn’t. You watch your tone with me Frederick Weasley. As long as you live under my roof, you do as I say. Is that clear?”

Fred and George rolled their eyes, turning back towards the table.

“There’s an Order meeting tonight Hermione,” said George. 

“You can learn all about it after. Most of the members usually stay for dinner,” added Fred. 

“In the meantime, don’t you want to check out your room?” George stressed the question, widening his eyes and tilting his head towards the door leading to the entry hall.

“Do I?—” Hermione gave them a confused look before her eyebrows lifted in realization “—I mean, yes, of course.” She stood from the table, moving to follow Fred and George out of the kitchen before stopping at the door and turning back to the table. “It was so lovely to see you again Sirius. Shall we catch up more later?”

“Absolutely kitten. Have fun…checking out your room.”

Fred grabbed Hermione around the upper arm, pulling her from the kitchen and back into the now silent entry hall. The portrait of Walburga Black was once again covered by the old sheet, but he watched as Hermione still gave it a wide birth. “Hold tight,” he said to the witch in his grasp before apparating them both up to his and George’s bedroom.

Hermione landed next to him, gripping the front of Fred’s shirt tightly in her fist as she doubled over, breathing heavily.

“Alright ‘Mione?” asked Fred, trying not to focus on the way she held onto him.

“You absolute BERK!” She released his shirt, reeling back to slap him across the chest. It stung a bit, but Fred laughed all the same, figuring he deserved it. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to apparate someone without telling them first?! It’s incredibly—oh god, I think I may be sick.”

“Come now, Hermione. That doesn’t sound like someone who time traveled and helped a convicted felon escape from authorities,” said George, walking past the two of them to open their trunks and begin pulling out products.

“Where did you even get a time-turner in the first place? Aren’t they regulated by the ministry?” asked Fred, walking over to gather his notes for Hermione.

“Professor McGonagall got it for me. She had to write a lot of letters to the ministry about how I was an exemplary student and wouldn’t use it irresponsibly. I signed up for every class, you see, and so the only way to take all of them was to use the time-turner.” Hermione had now straightened up. She looked a little less green as she walked towards them and peered down at products spread out across the bed.

Fred laughed. “If that isn’t the swottiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Watch it,” Hermione warned casually as she picked up a pair of extendable ears with equal fascination and revulsion. To be fair, the accurate imitation of flesh was a bit much, but that’s what Fred and George loved most about them.

“Speaking of swottiness—” George gave Fred an impish smirk before leaping forward and grabbing the large stack of parchment from Fred “—Fred made you this. It’s all our product designs, some of them old, some of them new, some of them not yet tested.”

“No notebook?” Hermione asked, exchanging for Extendable Ears for the stack of parchment, and looking at Fred with a teasing smile.

“Now, why would I give you my notebook? No, these are your copies,” admitted Fred, looking intently at Hermione’s face as she sorted through the pile.

“You made me copies. I’ve never known you to be so…fastidious Fred. Wow, you two really have been busy,” said Hermione in amazement as she continued to sift through the large pile of parchment.

“Yes, well, that’s about seven months of missed inventing time, Miss Granger. A lot happens when you’re not going about snogging professional quidditch players,” stated George.

“I was not going about snogging Viktor!” cried Hermione in indignation, turning the color of a ripe tomato.

“You weren’t?” Fred found himself asking, before he could stop himself.

Hermione looked back to him shyly, running her hands over her hair to flatten it down. Fred kept his eyes trained on the girl’s face, fighting very hard to not let them drift down to view the magnificent way her sweater stretched when she lifted her arms. “I mean…” Hermione drifted off, earning a wolf whistle from George who she promptly sent a scathing glare at.

Fred felt the all too familiar sinking feeling in his stomach return, but this time mixed with the overwhelming urge to take Hermione in his arms and kiss her till all thoughts of Viktor Krum were gone from her memory. He looked away from her, distracting himself with the products on the bed as he tried to process his reaction. It wasn’t his place to be jealous. Hermione was a free and single girl – she was more than welcome to snog whoever she wanted – and he had a girlfriend. He shouldn’t be jealous. He really shouldn’t be jealous. But he was.

A knock on their door pulled the three’s attention. The door opened to reveal Ron looking mildly annoyed.

“This isn’t your room ‘Mione. Yours is down the hall,” he said, crossing his arms and looking suspiciously at Fred and George.

“Hermione—” Ginny’s voice sounded from behind Ron “—come on! We’re sharing a room. I’ve got your bed all made up and everything.”

“Oh right. Fred and George were just showing me their summer homework,” Hermione replied, holding up the stack of notes in her hands.

Ron gave an obnoxious snort. “Sure. Come on, then. Before Ginny has a conniption.”

“Coming—” Hermione turned back to Fred and George “—I’ll have a look at these tonight.”

She turned, following Ron out of the room, and shutting the door behind her. It was silent in their room for a few moments as Fred stood staring at the place Hermione had just been.

“Merlin, did you see the baps on her!” George cried, sounding relieved to finally be alone just the two of them.

Fred couldn’t help but laugh against his better judgement, body shaking with chuckles as he turned to his twin who stared back at him with wide eyes.

“Come on now mate. It’s Hermione. Have some respect,” said Fred, flopping onto his bed and propping himself up against the headboard.

“Believe me, I have nothing but respect for them—” George followed his lead, lying down on his bed as well “—and in case you’ve forgotten, I’m a single bloke. I’m allowed to look. Couldn’t help but notice you paying your respects earlier. What’s your excuse?”

“I suppose I was rather surprised is all. She was fit before—”

“Was she?” George questioned, giving Fred a cheeky grin.

“I mean—” Fred stuttered over his words “—yeah, a bit.”

“But now she’s more your type?”

“I’m not answering that.” Fred rolled over on his side, facing away from his twin.

“Oh, come on Freddie. I’m a simple question.”

“No, it isn’t. Not when you’re leading me on – trying to weasel a specific answer out of me,” accused Fred. The whole conversation was like watching two trains headed towards each other on the same track. He could see the inevitable ending from a mile away but could still do nothing to stop it.

“Me? Weasel? Never. I’m just curious as to whether Hermione’s new shapely form has you wishing you’d asked her to the ball, instead of Angelina. That’s—”

“George, stop it.”

“—all. I’m sure now that she’s all filled out, she’d make a more than suitable girlfriend. The tits and ass would surely make up for her annoying bookish—”

“Oi! You’re my brother but say shit like that again and I’ll give the thrashing you deserve. You hear me?—” Fred turned over, glaring daggers at his brother in the bed beside him “—‘Mione’s got more to offer than just her body and in case you haven’t noticed, you benefit quite a lot from her annoying bookish personality. So just shut it.” He marked his words with a final sneer before turning back over and facing the door.

“Hmm, you’re right brother. My apologies.”

Fred didn’t need to see the smug expression on George’s face to know that he’d played right into his twin’s hands. He shouldn’t have let George’s goading get to him. He should have known that George was only saying those things to get him to slip up and admit something. George liked to play on Fred’s short temper. Always did. Staring hard at the dull dark wood grain of the bedroom door and the ornate trim that surrounded it, he wished more than anything he was in the comfort of their brightly colored bedroom back at the Burrow. At least there he could storm out, take his broom, and fly until he cooled down. But here, in the dingy, dark, confines of Grimmauld Place, he was trapped with his annoyingly perceptive twin one side of the door, and Hermione Granger on the other.

    Hermione took in the sight of her shared bedroom in Grimmauld Place with perplexed curiosity. The ancestral Black home was unlike any other wizarding home she’d ever seen. Albeit she’d only ever been in one wizarding home before – the Burrow – and that, she was told, wasn’t necessarily “normal” as far as wizarding homes went. But still, the rich, dark atmosphere of Grimmauld Place and the things that inhabited it spoke depths on the history, ideals, and opulence of the Black family. She ran her fingers along the intricate carvings on the sleigh that was now temporarily hers.

“So, this is yours and my room! I made sure to get a bedspread you’d like and did my best to clean up. You wouldn’t believe the amount we spend cleaning these days, and the place still looks dirty all the time!” Ginny threw her hands up into the air in exasperation, walking over to her side of the room and kicking a dirty jumper into the corner.

“How long have you been here?” asked Hermione, sitting down on her trunk, which had already been placed at the foot of her bed.

“Pretty much since the day summer started. It’s been a real drag. I hoped to do a bit of flying this summer, you know, play a bit of quidditch. But this place only has a small garden and because we’re in the middle of muggle England, we can’t go too far in case we’re seen. I’m so glad you’re here now though, it’s nice to have another girl around besides mum, and Tonks on the occasion,” said Ginny, collapsing onto her bed and pulling a licorice wand out of her pocket. She took a large bite off the end of it and chewed it aggressively.

“Who’s Tonks?”

Ginny gasped dramatically, sitting up and turning over to face Hermione on her stomach. “She’s an Order member – auror for the ministry. She’s so cool. She’s a metamorphmagus so she can change her appearance to whatever she wants and she’s young so she’s always turning her hair purple or blue. Plus, she listens to the coolest music and wears the coolest clothes.”

“Sounds…cool,” said Hermione, flatly, brain still hazy from her interactions with Fred earlier. She certainly never expected to spend so much time with him from the moment she walked through the front door. Seeing and speaking with Sirius had been a nice distraction, but there was still how Fred made her tea perfectly and the way he quite literally pulled her from the room. To top it all off, he presented her with an itemized list of his invention notes. Was he purposefully trying to drive her crazy? He must be, she thought in exasperation, considering he looked even more handsome now than the last time she’d seen him. While his long hair was gone, she found the new professional cut to be even more handsome, despite her preferences. Then of course, there was the ridiculously sexy way in which his t-shirt hung on his biceps. Merlin help her, maybe she should have just gone to France with her parents.

“Hermione!” Ginny’s voice brought Hermione out of her mental fog. Looking up, she found Ginny giving her a curious look.

“What’s got you all lost in thought?” Ginny asked mischievously. “Is it a boy?”

“Why would you possibly think it’s a boy, Ginevra?” scoffed Hermione in indignation.

“Because you had this big dopey look on your face like you were fantasizing about Professor Lockhart in second year.”

“I did not!” Hermione picked up a pillow and threw it at Ginny who artfully dodged it.

“Yes, you did! Now, who could it be…not Viktor surely, since you dumped him royally at the end of the year.” She tapped the end of her chin in thought.

“I did not dump him. We parted ways amicably.”

“Okay, okay, whatever you say. Do I know the person?”

Hermione nodded weakly, unsure as to why she was playing along.

“Neville?”

Hermione shook her head no.

“Harry? It’s alright if you do, seeing as I’m going with Corner now.”

Hermione shook her head again, this time more aggressively.

Ginny gasped, “It’s not one of my brothers, is it?”

Hermione hesitated for a second too long, resulting in a gleeful exclamation from Ginny.

“Well let’s see. It’s not Bill or Charlie since you’ve only met them once, it can’t be Percy because you do have some taste, Fred’s currently halfway up Angelina’s arse, so that just leaves George and Ron!” Ginny smiled widely, clearly pleased with herself.

“I—” Hermione began but was cut off swiftly by Ginny.

“It’s Ron, isn’t it? I knew it! You know, I’m pretty sure he’s keen on you as well. Wouldn’t shut up about how you should be here while we were clearing the pixies out of the parlor.”

“He wouldn’t?” asked Hermione, caught off guard by Ginny’s offhand comment.

“Oh yeah. I think that’s why mum finally sent you the letter – to shut him up,” said Ginny, taking another bite from her licorice wand.

Hermione bit the inside of her lips and tried to come to terms with the fact that Ron might actually like her now. When had that happened and why hadn’t it been before she’d developed the biggest crush on one of his older brothers instead?

“I could help get you guys together, if you want.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione looked up at Ginny is surprise.

“You and Ron, while you’re here I could be like your wingman or something,” Ginny explained further.

“No, I understood what you said. Absolutely not Ginevra. You will not be doing that.”

Ginny held her hands up in surrender. “Alright, suit yourself. No need to pop your top,” said Ginny, tossing the last of the licorice wand in her mouth and standing from her bed. “I’m going to see if there are any leftover biscuits from tea. I’m assuming you’ll want some too?”

Hermione smiled widely at the ginger haired girl, answering enthusiastically, “Yes please. You’re super cool.”

Ginny exited the room, holding up a middle finger at Hermione’s teasing.

Hermione chuckled lightly to herself, standing and opening her trunk. She began to unpack, realizing it was best to get a clear and organized environment if she were to be there for the remainder of the summer. She started with her clothes – taking each piece out carefully and placing them either in the free drawers of the room’s dresser or in the wardrobe next to Ginny’s few blouses and dresses. Her new clothes, while very pretty, were definitely out of her comfort zone. Her usual clothes were so large and relaxed that she practically swam in them and she liked it that way. They were comfortable. But her mother insisted that she was becoming an adult now and so she needed clothes that actually fit her. She was able to save a few of the pieces from her old wardrobe, like her favorite sweatpants, favorite striped sweater, and of course, Fred’s cardigan. But the rest had been sacrificed and replaced by the fitted, tailored pieces her mother picked out for her.

Picking up Fred’s cardigan from the bottom of her neatly packed clothes, she brought it to her face and marveled in the fact that it had somehow kept his scent. It shouldn’t still, after all those months, but it did. Feeling a chill run down her spine, Hermione glanced out the window and noticed the sky had turned a dark grey and the trees on the street leaned heavily in the wind. Great – a summer cold front followed by a storm. England sure did have fantastic weather, thought Hermione sarcastically. Without even thinking, she slipped her arms into the cardigan and wrapped it tightly around herself before returning to her unpacking. Ginny reappeared a short while later, bringing a plate piled high with an assortment of biscuits, and what looked to be two pumpkin pasties. Hermione grabbed a pasty, nibbling on it as she organized her books on the spare table in the corner. She finished her unpacking and was chatting idly with Ginny about Michael Corner when Ron knocked and entered.

“Well, it must be serious, Gin, if Dumbledore is getting the Order back together,” said Ron, shoving a biscuit into his mouth.

“Of course, it’s serious, Ron, You-Know-Who is back. Harry said so himself and he’d have no reason to lie about it,” said Ginny.

“I wish the rest of the ministry agreed with you on that. Have you seen the vile things they’ve been saying about Harry and Dumbledore in the Prophet, Hermione?” asked Ron.

Hermione sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, yes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say You-Know-Who already had his fingers buried deep in the ministry and the prophet, but I don’t know how true that is,” she said, crumbling a biscuit in her hand.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Ginny curiously.

“Well, it’s quite clever what they’re doing. Isn’t it? Instead of coming right out and saying that Harry and Dumbledore are lying, they’re giving the readers subtle reasons as to why they should believe them to not be credible. A small jab here, a snide remark there. Throw in a few jokes and next thing you know, everyone’s laughing at dramatic, fame-seeking Harry Potter and his crazy aging mental mentor Albus Dumbledore.” The cookie was officially powder in her hands as she finished her theory. It had been circulating in her brain since the first time she’d seen signs of turning in the Prophet. It was another reason she felt so on edge these days.

“Dad says it’s Fudge. Says he doesn’t want to accept that You-Know-Who is back,” sneered Ron. He rolled his eyes and rubbed at the freckles on the side of his nose. Hermione stared at the spattering of brown for a moment, trying to find the same thrill in them as she did Fred’s, but only came back with disappointment.

“Fudge is an idiot. Everyone knows that,” spat Ginny, rolling her eyes as well.

“Who’s an idiot?” a voice popped in, the door opening slightly. George’s head came into view, peaking into the room from the neck up.

“Surely not us,” said Fred, his head popping up now too, just below George’s.

“Don’t rule yourself out so quickly,” said Hermione, sharing an impish smile with Ginny.

“Can you believe the cheek on this one?” asked George, striding fully into the room, followed closely by Fred.

“We just came to say order members started arriving five minutes ago,” said Fred, eyes flick back and forth from the hallway through the door and Hermione’s torso. Glancing down, Hermione saw his cardigan and wondered if he might finally want it back now. Was it inappropriate to wear another girl’s boyfriend’s cardigan?

“What?!” Ginny leapt to her feet, nearly knocking the plate of biscuits onto the ground. Luckily, Ron caught them before they could slip off the bed.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” asked Ron, standing as well, and placing the plate of biscuits onto the table before darting out of the room behind Ginny.

“I feel like I’m missing something here,” said Hermione, looking between Fred and George.

“We’re not allowed to attend the meetings, you see—” explained Fred.

“—so, we have to take what we can get from watching members arrive and listening to their conversations as they walk into the kitchen,” continued George.

“We usually watch from the top of the stairs and sometimes mum forgets to cast a silencing spell and we can use the Extendable Ears to listen in on what they’re saying.” Fred pulled a bundle of fleshy string connected to two life-like ears from his pocket and waved it in her face.

Hermione scrunched her nose, remembering the disgusting items from earlier that afternoon. Exiting her bedroom, she took a seat on the ground near the railing at the end of the hall. The spot looked perfectly over the stairs and the entry hall that she had walked through earlier. Silently they watched as a string of wizards and witches entered Grimmauld Place – some Hermione recognized and some she did not.

“Blimey, it’s Dumbledore,” said Ron.

Hermione turned her attention away from a vibrantly pink-haired woman, who she assumed was Tonks, to the door where, sure enough, Dumbledore stood. “Why is that a surprise? Isn’t he the founder of the Order?” she asked.

“Well he doesn’t show up to a lot of these meetings. He’s a busy man, Dumbledore. Only pops in when he has something really important to share,” said George, looking down at the silver-haired headmaster in contemplation.

“Albus, we weren’t expected you—” Mrs. Weasley greeted the elder wizard in surprise “—will you be staying for dinner?”

“Not tonight, I’m afraid Molly. No, I heard you’ve invited Miss Granger here for the rest of the summer. Is that correct?”

Ron, Ginny, and the twins turned their heads to stare at Hermione curiously. Hermione shrugged, just as surprised as they were to hear their headmaster speak of her.

“Yes, yes. She arrived this afternoon. I hope that was alright. I know Ron really wanted a friend here with him and Harry might—”

“It’s okay Molly. You’ve done nothing wrong. I was actually just hoping to speak with her and Ronald before the meeting began. If that’s alright?”

Hermione and Ron looked at each other for a moment. She wasn’t sure if Ron had come to same conclusion as her, but Hermione was almost one hundred percent positive that if Professor Dumbledore wanted to speak to them both, then it was probably about Harry.

“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Weasley answered sweetly, before titled her head up and calling out to Ron and Hermione.

“What do they want with you two?” asked Fred, frowning slightly.

“Can’t be too certain, but it’s most likely about Harry,” said Ron with a shrug of his shoulders.

“It always is,” replied Fred and George in unison.

Ron and Hermione made their way down the stairs slowly, until finally they were standing in front of their headmaster. No matter how many times she spoke with the man, Hermione always found him incredibly intimidating. It never lessened.

“Ah! Miss Granger. Mr. Weasley,” Professor Dumbledore greeted them politely.

“Professor,” Hermione greeted him with a small nod.

“I was hoping I could have a quick word with the two of you. Perhaps, in the parlor?” Professor Dumbledore turned to Mrs. Weasley with questioning eyes.

“Yes, yes. It’s all cleared out now,” said Mrs. Weasley, ushering them to the parlor on the second floor before leaving them alone with their ever-intimidating headmaster.

They watched as the man circled the small space, inspecting the tapestries and portraits on the walls as his vibrantly purple robes dragged on the stained, emerald carpet. Hermione was beginning to feel as though she were responsible for starting the conversation, when Professor Dumbledore finally seated himself on a settee, so moth-eaten and threadbare, the springs were starting to peak through. He motioned for the two of them to take seats as well in the two parlor chairs opposite him.

“Now, I’m sure both of you are wondering why I wanted to meet with you.”

They nodded.

“Yes, well, as both of you are here now and will no doubt soon know most of the Order’s business, I thought it important to have a chat with you,” explained Professor Dumbledore with a small smile. He always smiled liked that, thought Hermione, like he was laughing at some small joke only he knew.

“We won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about. I mean, besides Harry, we’re the only people we talk to during the summer,” promised Ron.

“Ah – well that’s exactly who you cannot speak to about this,” said Professor Dumbledore, adjusting his half-moon spectacles.

“I’m not sure I quite understand, Professor,” said Hermione, pursing her lips.

“I’d be impressed if you did, Miss Granger. Even with your intellect, it is hard to understand something that has not been explained fully. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the ministry and the Prophet are not acknowledging Voldemort’s return—” Ron flinched at their headmaster’s use of You-Know-Who’s name, but Professor Dumbledore continued unfazed “—Fudge is growing increasingly paranoid as the days go by, I’m afraid. I would like to ask that neither of you tell Harry about where you are, and what you’re doing this summer until you can speak to him in person. It’s exceedingly important that you do not write to him about any of this. Harry has been through a lot in the last few months; best to give him less to think about for a while.”

“You’re not worried about the ministry intercepting our letters, are you Professor?” asked Hermione, realizing the severity of the situation if it were true.

“Ah, you see Miss Granger, that is exactly what I’m worried about. So, for now I ask that you keep your correspondence with Harry brief and to a minimum. Can you do that for me?”

“Absolutely Professor,” said Hermione.

“Yeah, of course Professor,” agreed Ron.

Professor Dumbledore released them after that, disappearing into the kitchen to the dining room where she was told the meetings were held. The rest of the evening was a blur, Hermione’s mind a clouded, foggy mess as she processed what Dumbledore had told them. For as little as he said, the implications behind his words spoke volumes. Fudge wasn’t just denying You-Know-Who’s return, he was growing paranoid. A paranoid, denial-ridden minister in a time such as this was a dangerous thing, thought Hermione.

“You look knackered ‘Mione. Perhaps you should go to bed?” a voice whispered lightly from beside her as she sat in the nearly empty dining room, staring into the roaring fire. Hermione looked up, vision slightly blurred and dotted with floating white orbs from staring too long into the flames. She blinked a few times, seeing Fred’s vision come into view. A small yawn escaped her lips and she nodded, looking around her to see what remained of the Order. Ginny and Ron laughed heartily as Tonks morphed her appearance into all kinds of silly things – she’d been doing it all night and yet the novelty of it had not worn off. Professor Lupin and Sirius were telling some story from their younger years to an entranced George, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were in the kitchen cleaning up.

“Come on, I’ll walk you,” said Fred, standing and offering his hand to Hermione. Hermione hesitated for a second, looking at the lines of Fred’s long fingers, before nodding and taking his hand. She supposed she was tired. More tired than she’d been in a while. Perhaps she might be able to get some actual sleep. The nightmares had been getting worse. Unsurprisingly, they’d picked back up the moment she’d started spending less time with the twins and more time worrying about Harry’s ability to survive during the tournament. Then, after the final task, after seeing Cedric’s lifeless body sprawled out on the grass as his father cried, they’d only gotten worse. The time spent at home only amplified it as well. It had been almost a month since she’d gotten a good night’s sleep. But, with the amount of time spent with the twins that day, she was almost positive that sleep would come easily and peacefully once again.

Hermione and Fred walked up the stairs to the third floor where their rooms resided. She was grateful that he did not apparate them straight up like last time and almost voiced as much. But instead, she opted to stay silent, allowing the soft, comfortable silence between them to last a little longer. This was nice. It almost felt like old times – when things weren’t so complicated and her and Fred were simply friends. When they reached her bedroom door, Hermione faltered, unsure as to why her feet kept her in place. She turned, looking up at Fred in the dimly, candle-lit hallway. The warm light of the candles turned his red hair to flames itself, igniting it in fiery reds and yellows. Harsh shadows streaked across his face, as the flicker of the flames passed his hazel eyes periodically. The goodnight she’d meant to give him, stuck in her throat and instead all she could do was stare up at him and marvel in how handsome he was.

“Thank you, Fred,” she finally managed to force the words from her drying throat.

Fred smiled down at her, reaching up and tucking one of her curls behind her ear. His touch lingered, the rough pads of his fingertips grazing the side of her cheek and sending shivers down Hermione’s body. She swallowed thickly.

“You know—” Fred began, pausing as if he was reconsidering his words “—you never told me how you can always tell me and George apart. Mum and dad almost never get it right and even our friends can’t do it. Merlin, even Angelina sometime—” He stopped, a pained expression on his face that gave Hermione’s heart a little jolt. How horrible it must be for everyone to always be confusing you for someone else. She wondered, for a moment, if he felt much like Ron did – forgotten, living in a shadow. Reaching up without thinking, she placed a hand to his cheek. Fred stiffened at her touch momentarily, but then relaxed into it, leaning his face ever so slightly into the palm of her hand.

“Well, it’s quite obvious really. Your eyes sit straight across, while George’s left one tilts down ever so slightly—” her fingers traced under his eyes lightly “—then of course there’s the line of your nose. Yours is straighter and you have a freckle, here, on the tip that George does not. And one here as well, above your top lip that George doesn’t have either.” Her fingers brushed across each of the freckles, her breath hitching when she got close to his mouth. Fred caught her wrist in his hand, holding it as he stared down at her with an inscrutable expression. Memories of his kiss all those months ago, flashed into the forefront of her mind and how she’d used that kiss to measure every kiss with Viktor. Nothing compared. Often times she’d lie awake at night and wonder if she’d be comparing every kiss for the rest of her life to the one she shared with Fred.

“You noticed all of that?”

“Of course,” breathed Hermione, pulse quickening.

“Why?”

This was all too much. She was getting too worked up over something she couldn’t have. She needed to get ahold of herself. Pulling from Fred’s grasp, she cleared her throat and looked down at Fred’s cardigan she still wore.

“I suppose, I really should give this back to you,” she said, hoping to break the spell between them.

And it did. Fred took a step back, creating space and looking down at the cardigan as well. He shook his head with a small smile before answering, “You’ve had it long enough now. I’d say it’s as good as yours.”

“Are you sure?” asked Hermione.

“Of course. I have loads. Looks better on your anyways—” Fred smirked, taking another step back “—Goodnight Hermione.”

“Goodnight,” Hermione mumbled, watching as Fred disappeared down the hallways and into his own room.

Hermione slipped into her bedroom and quickly changed into her pajamas, before sliding into the soft sheets of her bed. While they held a slightly musty smell from disuse, she could tell they were expensive. Sleep took her quickly. Visions of snow, lights, smart dress robes, and elegant dresses floating through her head as she dreamed. Good dreams.

But it was only a mere few hours later, in the early moments of the morning, before the sun even rose, that she sat up straight – heart beating wildly and brow sweat-slicked. With labored movements, she quietly slid out of bed, careful not to wake Ginny. She grabbed Fred’s cardigan and the pile of notes he’d made her before tiptoeing out of the room in search for a place to work. Surely in a house this size, they were bound to have a library.

Chapter 15>>>

Taglist: 

@theworldisugly-22

@aoonai

@sjh-07-10

@is-it-madness

@i-d-e-g-a-f

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Growing Old(er)

Alternate Title: Growing Older

Summary: Everyone has a sinking realization that life is temporary and that we’re all gonna die, and unfortunately sweet Mabel has her’s.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on, Stanley, be serious!”

“I am serious! Dipper can have my boxing gloves and Mabel can have my old collection of photos.”

“This is an important document that goes above and beyond a few keepsakes!” Ford tried to explain this, yet again, to his brother. “We need to discuss more important arrangements…”

“Look, Wise Guy, the Shack already belongs to Soos…”

“But what about the car? What about the Stan O’ War?”

“The boat’s gonna be burned down with us in it.” Stan held up his hands in front of him and moved them apart as he elaborated. “Picture this: two old sailors lying in their boat, their friends and family shooting flaming arrows at it across the sea as some farewell-bar song plays. We’d go down like kings!”

“Yeah, no.” Ford said firmly. “We’re not doing that.”

Mabel skipped into the living room and found her grunkles at the card table. They had a bunch of stupid-looking documents covering the table, but Ford seemed like the only one really interested in it, a pen in his hand and he was leaning forward to work while Stan was sipping a can of soda and sat back in the chair. “Whatcha doin’?” She asked.

“Constructing our will and testimony.”

“WHAT?!” Mabel shrieked and covered her mouth with her hands. Her uncles stared at their niece as her eyes filled with tears and she struggled to ask with a choked whisper, “Are… are you guys…”

“Oh no, pumpkin.” Stan scooped her up into his lap and hugged her. Mabel clung onto his undershirt tightly and bit her lip as she tried not to cry. “Sixer and I are fine, I promise. He just thought it’d be a bright idea to get this outta the way for when we do kick the bucket.”

Ford leaned forward and rubbed her back. “I’m sorry, my dear, I never meant to scare you like this. I swear, we’re both perfectly healthy and going to be around for awhile.”

Mabel wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her sweater and sniffed. “O-Okay. So… why are you making a will?”

“Well, unfortunately someone bypassed the downsides of faking your death and stealing another man’s name.” Ford said lightly as he gave Stan a crooked smile. His twin just stuck his tongue out at him. “So there are some things we need to discuss to simplify complicated actions and it would be a good idea to make certain arrangements.”

“Like what?”

“Well, since in a way we both share the name ‘Stanford Pines’, it would be wise to make such legal documents together. This will ensure that the right people receive the right gifts and inheritance, and that our bodies are properly taken care of in an orderly manner that best helps the living grieve and keeps the government off our backs.”

Mabel still didn’t like the sound of all of this. “But why do you guys need to talk about it? You said you’re fine.”

“We are, sweetie,” Stan said warmly and ruffled her hair. “But we’re not gonna be around forever. Eventually these old farts are gonna be sleeping with the fishes, and when that happens we just wanna make sure everything’s taken care of. At least that’s what Sixer wants. I don’t care what happens as long as my tombstone is bigger than his.”

“That is not going to happen.” Ford said firmly with a smile.

“Too bad, I called it.”

“Since when?!”

“Since the election last summer. The niblings can back me up, right Mabel?”

The brunette grinned and shrugged. “Sorry, but since you two aren’t fighting anymore it doesn’t count. Clean slate!”

“What?!” Stan gasped with a smile. “Betrayed by my own pumpkin! Fine! Someone’s not getting my old stop-motion movies!”

“Good!” Mabel laughed with her uncles for a little bit while Ford wrote some stuff down, still trying to complete the task. The teenage girl looked up at her hero and she remembered the reason why she came in here in the first place. “Hey, do you guys wanna go make some cupcakes with me? I’ve got extra sprinkles!”

“Sure,” Stan let Mabel slide off his lap and he stood, but his brother stopped him.

“Not so fast, Stan, we have to finish this at some point. Why don’t we make cupcakes after dinner?”

Mabel’s concerns were coming back. She looked at Ford carefully to try to pick up a lie. “I thought you said you two were okay.”

“We are, Mabel, I promise.” Ford even paused his work and crossed his heart for his niece, making her smile. “But no one lives forever. One day we won’t be here. It’s like Stanley said; we just want to make sure everything will be okay.”

“It’s the way it works.” Stan said with a shrug and plopped down in his chair. “We’re born, we live a little, and then we die. S’long as you don’t just survive but live too, it ain’t so bad.”

Mabel stared at her uncles. “Aren’t you scared?” Her voice was meek and lacked her usual confidence.

“Of death? Not really.” Ford admitted. “Death is nothing but the next great adventure. An unseen destiny awaiting all mortals at the end of their lifespans.”

“And hey, that doesn’t mean I’m ready to go just yet.” Stan added in. “I wanna see my kids graduate and get married and have their own little gremlins to terrorize them.”

“Oh, absolutely!” Ford quickly agreed with. “I didn’t mean we’re done with life, but the more familiar we become with death, the less frightening it is.”

“Besides, we’ve both faced the hooded dude so many times, leaving with him will be like seeing an old friend.” Stan barked a quick laugh and added, “Maybe I’ll grab drinks with him!”

Mabel giggled, but then slowly wandered onto a dark train of thought. The idea of death was not new to her; she and her brother had nearly died at the hands of an evil triangle (she still sometimes had nightmares about it). But even though she had come to terms with growing up, she hadn’t put two and two together and realized that growing up also means growing older and then dying. It was new territory Mabel had not yet ventured into, and suddenly she didn’t feel like making cupcakes anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next day the subject was still on Mabel’s mind. One day, her favorite people in the whole world were going to die. Stan was going to die, Ford was going to die, Dipper was going to die. Then she would be all alone until she died. But then what? The end? Lights out? There were such things as ghosts, so maybe they could come back and haunt Gravity Falls as a family, but the ghosts didn’t seem quite like themselves on Earth; they were vengeful and angry and hurt. Mabel’s grunkles had enough of that in life, so maybe it was for the best that they don’t come back.

Mabel was so distracted that she tripped on a rock while walking in the woods and scraped her knee. She held it and winced with tears in her eyes, a little bit of blood trickling down from her small wound. “Ow, ow, ow! What the…”

She looked at the rock that had caused it and saw something odd by it. A necklace with a silver chain and a red ruby in a circle sparkled by the rock. Mabel picked it up and looked at it. Scratches of some kind were around the ruby and it sparkled and looked pretty. The ruby was a darker red than most normal rubies, but there was no denying the sparkling gem. “Wow, cool! I bet Grunkle Ford would love to look at this.” For safekeeping, Mabel put it around her neck and tucked it under her sweater as she stood.

She continued on her way to town and she smiled at the arcade. As she approached, she was oblivious to her changing body. She grew a few inches taller, now maybe slightly shorter than Wendy, and her hair was shorter, now only to her shoulders. A few zits littered her maturing skin and her curves were growing in. Mabel was so distracted by her thoughts and the need to think of something else that she didn’t even notice. Her clothes magically changed with her so she didn’t feel tight or uncomfortable.

Mabel entered the arcade and happily played that new battle video game she had her eye on. Shooting aliens made her feel a little bit better, but it also made her hungry. She left the arcade a little while later and talked to herself as she wandered around Gravity Falls for something to eat. “I mean, I get it. There’s nothing wrong with change. I know there’s nothing I can do about it, but I guess I never really thought about everything changing like that.”

As Mabel walked, her hair grew back to it’s normal length and her zits went away. Her vision was a little blurry, but Mabel just shrugged it off and dismissed it as a sign that she was tired. She did feel emotionally drained as she purchased a jelly-filled doughnut and munch on it, her mind now in a rut. She had no idea what to do or where to go to feel better, so maybe a walk in the woods would help.

Mabel strolled through the forest and continued to think about life and death. “Poor guys… what will happen to them if they’re not together? What if Grunkle Stan dies first? Grunkle Ford will be all alone, but what if Grunkle Ford dies first? Then Grunkle Stan will be all alone again. None of that’s fair.” Mabel then gasped in horror and her eyes became more blurry due to tears. “What if Dipper dies first and I end up all alone? Or what if I die first and then he’ll be all alone? Ugh, why can’t every twin die of duel heart attack?!”

Mabel was very tired. Her back ached and her legs ached and her knees ached and she had a headache… everything hurt. She realized she was at the lake and she decided to sit by the shoreline and rest. She held her knees by her chest and peered down at the water. “I guess I just gotta… WHAT?!” Mabel yelled in horror and jumped away from her reflection, but then forced herself to make sure she wasn’t crazy.

An old version of Mabel stared back at the thirteen-year-old. Her gray hair was the same shade as Grunkle Stan’s except for a stripe of darker gray down her long hair, kinda like Grunkle Ford. She had wrinkles from all of her past smiles and her hands were ached with arthritis. In fact, everything hurt, but if Mabel had to guess, her reflection was only in her fifties.

“Wow… I look so cool!” Mabel cheered as she peered down at the lake. “Look at me! I look like a silver fox! This is great! I can buy all the drinks and magazines I want! On weekdays I get half-priced dinners! I get free money from the government! And now I don’t have to go to high-school!” She laughed at her own joke, but then her back popped painfully and she yelped. “Ouch! Is this how the guys feel all the time?” Mabel asked as she looked at her curly gray hair and her wrinkling skin. A scary realization started to sink in. “Oh no. This… This is bad… What if I… Ford!” She gasped and quickly stood up. “Grunkle Ford will know what to do! He can fix me!”

Against better judgment, Mabel ran as fast as she could for home. Her hair became grayer and curlier as it began to lose it’s life. Mabel suddenly felt an overwhelming pain in her chest, making it hard to breathe, and she tripped over her own feet and fell, unable to get back up. The old lady moaned on the grass, helpless. She looked up and with her horrible vision she could have sworn she could see a brown triangle up ahead, indicating the Mystery Shack.

“Help… help…” She breathed weakly, but no one was coming. She sighed with exhaustion and laid back down on her front to try to regain some rest so she could move forward.

Dipper, meanwhile, had been looking for his sister. He guessed she was hanging out with Candy and Grenda, but in case she was somewhere in the house he wanted to ask her if she had borrowed his BABBA CD. “Mabel? Mabel?” He called on the porch. He shrugged and was about to head inside, forced to be patient, but then he heard and saw Waddles scamblering out of the woods alone; immediately Dipper suspected something was off; Mabel never lets her beloved pig explore alone, but maybe he had been adventurous and sneaky and now regretted it.

“Waddles?” Dipper scratched the top of his head to calm him down. “What’s up, buddy? You okay?”

Waddles suddenly bit his vest, tugged, and then let go and ran back to the edge of the woods. He oinked and squealed, begging Dipper to follow him. Taking his chances, Dipper followed, wondering if something - or someone - was out there. Only a few steps into the woods and Dipper saw a woman on the ground face-first. He saw the long gray hair and gasped with shock when he realized it was an old lady. “Whoa, hey, are you okay, miss?” He asked and was on his knees by her side, unsure how to help.

“Dipper…” The old lady sighed and looked up at the boy.

“Mabel?!” Dipper gasped; she may be old, but he could recognise her own twin. “What the heck happened?! Did you time travel? Are you from the future?!”

“N-No…” Mabel sighed. “Ford… Grunkle Ford… get…”

“Come on, I’ll take you to him.” Dipper said firmly to mask his fear. He draped one of his sister’s frail arms over his neck and helped her up to her feet. Slowly but surely they were heading back towards home.

Meanwhile, Ford was at the kitchen table, pleasantly munching on his lunch. Stan, on the other hand, shivered, put down his fork, and gulped down some soda.

“What, you don’t like my tuna salad?” The scientist asked.

“No. Who puts raisins in tuna salad?”

“The French.”

“Well, it’s not right.” Stan grumbled as he started on a new task: picking the raisins out of his meal.

Ford rolled his eyes and got up to refill his glass with water. The door opened and they heard Dipper’s voice before they saw him. “Grunkle Ford!”

He smiled kindly and turned, “What is it, m-” He dropped his glass, letting it shatter by his boots.

Mabel hung loosely by his shoulder, her hair gray and her skin in wrinkles. The elder twins rushed to her and Stan got to her first, holding her gently by the chin to look at her face. “Mabel, sweetie! Can you hear me? What happened?!”

“I don’t know, I just found her like this!” Dipper answered.

“Set her in the armchair.” Ford instructed. “We can fix this…”

“What if we can’t?!” Stan dared to ask. “I’m not just saying this cuz of her age, but she doesn’t look good.”

“No, you’re right.” Ford elaborated. “She’s not that much older than us, but the sudden change must have taken a toll on her body; we’ve had time to adjust and keep our bodies in good shape… or at least prevent aches, but she hasn’t had that kind of time. But she’ll be fine, we can reverse this, I’m sure of it.”

Dipper had Mabel sit on the armchair, her eyes closed, and now sitting back the amount of effort she had to put into breathing was more apparent. She groaned slightly and the boys were shocked to find her aging again more rapidly in front of them. Her wrinkles were deeper and her hair slowly turned white.

“Dipper, get the first aid kit, now!” Ford commanded and the teenager was off like a rocket.

Stan sat on the dino-skull and held her thin hand. “Just hang on, pumpkin, we’ve got this.” He soothed, his voice trembling slightly due to his tightening throat.

Mabel moaned slightly and tried to open her eyes. “Gr-Grunkle Stan…”

“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart.” Stan smiled and squeezed her hand. “You’ll be fine, you’re a Pines for crying out loud, so just hang in there, okay?”

Mabel cracked a small smile and nodded.

Dipper was back. “Here!”

“Good,” Ford opened it and took her opposite hand, pulling out a stethoscope and listening to her heartbeat through her wrist. “Let’s see…”

Mabel was aging again; her hair was thinning and some of it was falling out of her scalp. Her hand in Stan’s grasp was now nothing more than skin on bones, her veins sensitive. She moaned and had to put more effort into her breathing; now she looked almost a hundred.

“No, no, no!” Stan called. “Mabel?”

“Hold on, sweetie, it’ll be okay.” Ford gently coached Mabel as he listened to her heartbeat, praying it would never stop.

“What the…” Dipper began to notice faint glowing behind Mabel’s sweater. He pulled down to see her neck and upper-chest and he gasped at a red ruby necklace with a silver chain. The gem was glowing and vibrating, almost looking like it was hot, and when Dipper went to touch it, it almost burned his skin and it was stuck to Mabel’s skin like it had been super-glued onto her.

“That’s not any gem!” Ford gasped. “That’s a Youth-Sucker! It drains the wearer’s youth until the host dies and then the necklace will feed off of the body.”

“What do we do, what do we do?!” Stan asked.

“We have to remove it, carefully.” Ford said and turned to Dipper. “Get the tool kit.” And the teenager was gone, again.

Too soon Mabel was aging again. More hair was falling out, now half of it was gone and the rest remaining was thin. Mabel tried to swallow a moan but it was very apparent on her face that she was in a lot of pain. The pain would definitely explain the sou-sucking leech. Ford eyed the anomaly on his niece’s chest as it began to pur happily over the approaching meal.

“Dipper, hurry!” Ford barked harshly.

Mabel struggled to open her eyes, but she was tired of looking at the darkness. “I… I love you…” Her voice was so quiet and so weak it was a miracle it could be heard.

Stan squeezed her hand as tightly as he could risk without hurting her. “We love you too, pumpkin, but don’t gimme any of that mushy stuff like it’s goodbye, okay?” He blinked to try to ease the stinging in his eyes.

“M’scared…”

“Here!” Dipper was back and practically threw the tool box at Ford so he could get to work.

The scientist pulled out one of his electronic gloves and a pair of tweezers and instructed,” Dipper, hold down the sweater’s neck so I can work.” Dipper helped the gem being showcased and it continued to vibrate and burn and pur. Mabel would probably have a very nasty burn on her chest for a while, but that didn’t matter nearly as much as saving her life.

“Easy, easy,” Ford said mostly to himself as he carefully pinched the gem by the hook where the string was, reading to pull when the anomaly was at its weakest. He would have to do it quickly to not worsen Mabel’s burn with his glove, and so in classic Stanford Pines action, with one swift movement he shocked the gem and pulled it off of Mabel’s chest the second it screeched with pain and anger.

The moment the Youth-Sucker was off Mabel her youth returned her to and soon she was a tired thirteen-year-old, rosy cheeked and with a full head of beautiful brown hair. She blinked her eyes open and rubbed them with her fists, like waking from a dream, and was surprised to find still electrocuting the Youth-Sucker in his fist as punishment for trying to kill his Mabel. “Whoa.”

“Mabel!” Stan cried out and swallowed her into his lap for a tight hug. “Don’t scare me like that, pumpkin, I thought I was gonna lose you!”

“I’m sorry, I just thought it looked cool.” Mabel tried to explain but her face was buried in his chest and she happily hugged him back.

“Well, all’s well that ends well.” Ford breathed, his anxiety finally going down as he stood normally and pocketed the Youth-Sucker to dissect for science. “I’m sure there’s a valuable lesson to take from all of this.”

“Meh, too tired to figure that out.” Mabel moaned as she nuzzled her face against her grunkle.

“Alright, then bed sweetie.” And Dipper and Ford knew better than to point out that he was taking her to his bedroom instead of the attic; Stan needed a nap, too, and there was no way he was going to let his little girl out of his arms for a while after that traumatizing scare.

[littlemessyjessi]

“Little Wife”: Part 2: Bjorn Ironside: Vikings Imagine

Bjorn Ironside Imagine Bjorn Ironside x Reader: Plus Size Reader, PS Reader , Non Viking Reader

Freezing cold sea spray hit me right in the face as I braced myself against the side of the ship.

Much to Bjorn's annoyance...seeing as he had told me to come away from it numerous times.

I ignored him...of course.

"You'll catch death before we arrive home." he said coming up behind me and wrapping another fur around me. "I wasn't planning on bringing a dead wife back, you little demon."

Some of the men chuckled at his exasperation.

They quickly labeled me as the thorn in their leader's side...much to their enjoyment and his displeasure.

Bjorn sighed as he stood behind me.

His firm chest pressed into the soft curves of my back.

I tolerated the furs and his bulky arms wrapping around me .... because it was actually cold...but I had never been so fascinated in my life.

I'd never left my village before and all I ever saw of the sea was from the shore.

This was a different and entirely mindblowing experience.

"You're mother seemed pleased that you're marrying into royalty." he commented and I whipped around to glare up at him.

"You just had to go and ruin my moment of happiness, didn't you?" I accused him with a withering look.

A few of his men chuckled and the smirk that coated his face made me want to attack him.  

He was substantially bigger than me though and I was vastly outnumbered.

"You'll be a princess." one of them commented...though I felt it was more of a tease.

"Who said I wanted to be a princess?" I grumbled and savagely clutched the furs around me as I angrily stared out at the choppy waters.

"Don't all little girls want to be princesses at some point?" the same man asked teasingly.

I glared at him venomously, "No. Do all little Viking boys want to be filthy heathens?"

The men roared in laughter.

I shrugged as I turned back to the sea, "I'd rather be a heathen than a princess."

The men cheered at me and I laughed lightly.

"I thought I'd managed to marry a filthy heathen but turns out all I got is a useless prince. What rotten luck." I said teasing Bjorn who honestly took it in good stride.

He took my teasing fairly well....even if I was a hateful little badger at times.

"Well, this useless prince has no intentions of laying with a frozen corpse so.... good night lads." he said and with that he unceremoniously swung me over his shoulder and headed towards the back of the boat.

He placed me on my feet before settling down and pulling me down into him and basically hiding me completely with the furs.

"If you'll just stay there you'll be warm." he said.

"But I can't see." I whined. "And that was the whole point of coming along.  I want to see."

He blew out an irritated breath at me.

"Alright, on your left there is water and ice.   And on your right, more water and ice.  Behind you, oh look more water and ice and up ahead.... wait a moment- oh no- more water and ice.  You're not going to see anything for a while so just still before you fall in the water."

I was beyond irritated with this attitude he had.  

Who the hell did he think he was telling me what to do and honestly did he expect me to listen to him?

To his credit, I had almost fell over on more than one occasion.

I felt that hulking chest of his deflate a bit underneath me as he sighed.

In reality I knew I was probably stomping on his last nerve and I'd deserve every bit of hostility but I was just excited.

The prospect of getting away from a place I never thought I'd leave was exciting for me.

I had mixed feelings on the whole situation, of course.

Leaving friends and family but at least it stopped the pillaging and I got to see the world.... or at the very least the sea.

I looked up at Bjorn, taking in his features.

He was a very rough man sort of man and in that there was such a beauty to him.

Not that I'd ever tell him such a thing.

I had no intentions of inflating his already enormous head on the situation.

"Hey." I said and he glanced down at me to acknowledge that he'd heard me.

"Tell me about your gods." I said and he lifted an eyebrow at me.

"What?" he asked, a tiny glint flickered in his eye.

"Your gods." I said. "I don't know anything about them and while I've honestly not been very interested in the customs of my village...I guess I should know if I'm supposed to marry a ..." I stopped to fake a gag. "prince."

He chuckled at me and swatted my bottom in jest.

"What is your distaste with the idea of being a princess?" he asked.

"You answer me first." I challenged.

"Honestly, it'll take much longer to explain the gods to you." he said. "And I'm not even sure that I should be the one to do such a thing."

"Is it only gods?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" he said.

"Is it only men?  Are there women as well?" I asked laying my cheek upon his chest, relaxing a little into the warmth of him.

His arm pulled me closer so that his hands might lock around me.

"There are many goddesses." he said.

"It's not like that where I'm from." I remarked. "Women... women aren't looked at for much of anything in my village.  To breed and bare children and if you don't...."

I didn't want to finish the tale to be honest because while I did have some fond memories of my village there were many that were not.

Bjorn seemed to notice my sudden drop in mood but I didn't really feel like elaborating on it.

He was silent for a moment.

"There is Freyja. She is a goddess of love and war." he said. "And her twin brother Freyr is a god of farming.  They are both gods of fertility.  We usually offer some form of swine to the twins."

"Offer?" I questioned.

"Slay it." he confirmed.  "We slaughter the hog and have it in the form of feast in honor of them.   Cats are sacred to Freyja as well."

"I like cats." I said. "Never had one.  Tried to keep one once but it scratched me and ran off."

"That sounds like another hateful little creature I know." he teased and I lightly punched his side making him chuckle.

"Frigg is the wife of Odin.  She is the goddess of wisdom and destiny.  She can tug at the threads of fate.  So if you stay in her favor she'll help you and if not she'll hinder you.   Sound familiar?" he teased and I glared up at him.

"She's also linked with the sky, fertility, mothers and home." he said.  

"Tell me more." I said sleepily snuggling into him.

His deep voice rumbled in his chest and lulled me right off to sleep.  

I awoke a few hours later to the sound of laughter and the bright sun shining right in my face.

Bjorn had long since moved from beneath me and was standing near the front of the boat.

The men were merry as food and drink were passed around.

Apparently, the day was good and accordign to the talk amongst them....the gods had showed the voyage favor.

They'd pulled in many fish from the nets and there was a piece of land in the distance.

"Good morning, Princess to Be." said the same man from the night before with a glint in his eye and a smirk on his lips.  

"Morning." I mumbled and narrowed my eyes but a smile on my lips none the less.

"Sten." he said and produced his hand to which I accepted and responded with my own.

"Eh, we might just call ye, Wee Demon." he teased and I shook my head at him.  "Bjorn Ironside and his Wee Demon Bride."

"I'm not anyone's anything!" I snapped and he laughed.

I moved past the chuckling men and found Bjorn's hulking figure.

"Are there no women present here at all?" I asked him.

"Good morning to you too." he laughed looking out at the morning sun.

I blew a breath of frustration out through my nose.

"Good morning, dear husband to be.  If it pleases you could you be so kind as to inform if any other creatures other than men inhabit this voyage?" I asked sarcastically.

He laughed at me, "Yes, there are many shieldmaidens with us.  Most of which are on that boat there."

I squinted in the distance where I did in fact see many women inhabiting a particular boat.

Upon further inspection I discovered the were peppered amongst all the boats.  

I guess I just didn't realize due to my excitement and exhaustion.

In fairness, they did bare many of the same hairstyles and armor.

At a glance, it wasn't that obvious.

"What's a shieldmaiden?" I asked.

"A warrior who happens to be a woman." he said.

"Can I meet them?" I asked.

"Are you interested in women?" he asked and I furrowed my brows at him.

"Excuse me?" I said. "How is that any of your business?"

"It's my business because I know those women and they'd love to get their hands on a soft, plump thing like you." he said.

"You don't own me, Bjorn." I said.

"So you keep reminding me." he said. "Even though you literally have no place to-"

"I will jump off this damn boat right now." I said staring up at him.

"Jump then." he countered.

"I would rather die than live wedded to a husband who thinks he can control me." I said.  "So you let me know.  Are you gonna be a tyrant or not?  Because I'd rather die."

We stared each other down for the longest time.

The few moments of sweetness we had were fine but in reality.... this was not a fairy tale romance.

We'd struck a bargain but we hadn't fallen in love.

He stared at me for a moment longer before turning to the closest board and signaling them.

"Revna!" he called out and a tall woman with long black hair looked up.

In honestly, she was the most breathtaking woman I'd ever seen in my life.

The sheer power of her.

You just didn't see women like that were I came from.

The two boats came a bit closer together and he looked down at me.

"Go on then." he said.  "If you're so determined to jump it shouldn't be a problem for you to swim the rest of the way."

"We can let the wee boat down for her." piped up a man from the back of the boat.

"No, let her go ahead." he said challenging me.

Mistake.

I glared at him momentarily before climbing over the side and diving into the water.

Yes, it was freezing.

Yes, it felt like a thousand knives were stabbing into me.

Yes, it felt like my lungs were about to explode as I broke the surface.

However, I'd drown before I'd let him see that.

I didn't even bother to look at him as I turned and swam towards the other boat.

The women there pulled me up and wrapped me in a fur.

I was enveloped into a ruckus of laughter, welcomes and congratulations.

I stared Bjorn down from across the water.

Truthfully, I was just as spiteful as he was but I'd be damned before I admitted that.

The woman known as Revna embraced me with a grin.

In person, she was much larger than I originally thought and quite intimidating.  

"Welcome!" she said.  "That was quite a move.  We could've came and got you but I like a ballsy woman."

"Back off, Revna." one of the women laughed. "Apparently, she's supposed to be Bjorn's new wife."

"We'll see." I shrugged sassily and they roared in laughter.

"Fiery." Revna laughed.  "I do like you."

I smiled, "He's not really so bad. He just likes to tell me what to do and I've never really reacted all that well to it."  

She chuckled, "Bjorn is a decent man.   He's had many a wife before but he's a decent man.  He just falls in love too quick and likes to travel a lot.   Sometimes this is hard on a relationship."

"I didn't know he'd been married before." I commented.

"Yeah." she chuckled passing me a bit of butter and bread.  "Fair few times.  A few have gotten themselves killed.  Some just divorced."

"I told him I had no intentions of playing his little wife." I said before savagely cramming the bread in my mouth.

"We heard!" another woman said. "Everyone has been talking about how you might actually be the one to deal with him."

"Oh I'll deal with him alright." I grumbled.

"And so the honeymoon phase is over." Revna chuckled.

I glared at the side of his face.

If he wanted to be pissy then so did I.

Hello, darlings.  Just a wee bit of a lover's quarrel, lol.  They're both such tempermental brats.

I hope you enjoyed the next installment and that you have a lovely day.

Love, Kenny

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Love, Kenny

[thelittlesttimelord]

The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 44

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 44 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 44/? SUMMARY: Elise Smith is now a teenaged Timelord. In addition to losing the Ponds, the fields of Trenzalore are calling. But first they have to figure out exactly who Clara Oswald is.

[A/N - I am having so much fun with this! We find out some more about Elise’s backstory and our little Timelord is starting to bond with the Tenth Doctor.]

They were shoved into the cell.

The Doctor and Ten started fussing over Elise and she pushed them away. “I’m fine!”

“Ow,” the older Doctor muttered.

Elise looked over at him.

“I’m okay, my dear.”

“Three of us in one cell? That's going to cause some nasty anomalies if we don't get out soon,” Ten said.

The Doctor picked up a piece of metal off the floor and started scratching at a stone pillar.

“What are you doing?” Ten asked him.

“Getting us out.”

The older Doctor tried sonicing the door.

“The sonic won't work on that, it's too primitive,” Ten said.

“Doesn’t do wood,” Elise explained.

“Shall we ask for a better quality of door so we can escape?” the Doctor asked.

“Okay, so the Queen of England is now a Zygon. But never mind that. Why are we all together? Why are we all here? Well, me and Chinny, we were surprised. Elle has no idea who you are, but you came looking for us. You knew it was going to happen. Who told you?” Ten asked the older Doctor.

“Oi, Chinny?” the Doctor snapped.

“Yeah, you do have a chin.”

Elle? The Doctor had never called her that, so why was his younger incarnation calling her that?

“In theory, I can trigger an isolated sonic shift among the molecules, and the door should disintegrate,” the older Doctor said.

“We'd have to calculate the exact harmonic resonance of the entire structure down to a sub-atomic level. Even the sonic would take years,” Ten explained.

“No, no, the sonic would take centuries. Oh, we might as well get started. Help to pass the timey-wimey. Do you have to talk like children? What is it that makes you so ashamed of being a grown up? Oh, the way you both look at me. What is that? I'm trying to think of a better word than dread.”

“It must be really recent for you.”

“Recent?”

“The Time War. The last day. The day you killed them all,” the Doctor said.

“The day we killed them all,” Ten corrected him.

“Same thing.”

“I don't talk about it,” the older Doctor told them.

“You never talk about it. I have been with you for hundreds of years and you’ve never once sat me down and explained what you did that day,” Elise said.

“Because you don’t need to know,” the Doctor said.

She rounded on him. “Who says I don’t need to know! I am an adult! I’m not a child anymore! Quit treating me like one!”

Ten couldn’t help but smile. He’d missed her sassy personality (even when it was directed at him). It reminded him of Donna.

“I killed you. I killed the one thing that means more to me than anything in the universe. And then you died again while you were under my watch,” the Doctor whispered.

“You didn’t know who I was,” Elise told him.

“Doesn’t change the fact that I did it.”

Ten turned to her. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“How did you escape the Timelock?”

Elise’s hearts froze in her chest. “How do you know about that?”

“It’s kinda obvious.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Ellie,” her father said softly.

If there was a time to come clean, now was it.

Elise looked at the three Doctors and sighed. “My father was on the High Council, so I knew what they were planning. I heard all the discussions and the arguments about what to do. I listened to them read off the number of causalities. Civilians and soldiers alike. They didn’t care. All they cared about was winning the war against the Daleks. They didn’t care who lived or died. Imagine being four years old and in all that time all you knew was death, destruction, and war? My father worked long hours. When he came home, all my mother and him did was fight. So what did I do? I quit talking. Why talk when no one will listen to you anyway?”

“But how did you get out of the Timelock?” Ten asked.

Elise knew it hadn’t happened for him yet, so she had to be careful what she said. “What my father didn’t know was that I was clever.”

“You ran?”

“I wanted off Gallifrey. I didn’t care how.”

“Sound familiar?” her father asked.

“Hey, if I knew what a TARDIS was, I would’ve stolen one of them. I was just working with what I had.”

“Did you ever count?” the older Doctor asked.

“Count what?” the Doctor asked.

“How many children were on Gallifrey that day?”

“I have absolutely no idea.”

“How old are you now?”

“Ah, I don't know. I lose track. Twelve hundred and something, I think, unless I'm lying. I can't remember if I'm lying about my age, that's how old I am.”

“Four hundred years older than me, and in all that time you've never even wondered how many there were? You never once counted?”

“Tell me, what would be the point?”

“2.47 billion,” Ten answered for him.

“You did count!” the older Doctor said, surprised.

Ten turned to his older incarnation with disgust. “You forgot? Four hundred years, is that all it takes?”

“I moved on.”

“Where? Where can you be now that you can forget something like that?”

The Doctor grabbed Elise and put her between them. “Because of this girl right here. She is the reason you move on. Because she’s the one you saved. After that, nothing else will ever matter again. Except her.”

Ten looked down at her wide emerald eyes and stalked away.

“I don't know who you are, either of you. I haven't got the faintest idea,” the older Doctor said, “No.”

“No?” Ten asked.

“Just, no.”

The Doctor started laughing.

“Is something funny? Did I miss a funny thing?” Ten asked him.

“Sorry. It just occurred to me. This is what I'm like when I'm alone.”

Ten started tossing his screwdriver in the air and the older Doctor pulled his out.

“Four hundred years,” the older Doctor muttered.

“I'm sorry?” Ten asked.

“At a software level, they're all the same device, aren't they? Same software, different case.”

“Yeah.”

“So….” The Doctor said, pulling out his own.

“So, it would take centuries for the screwdriver to calculate how to disintegrate the door. Scanning the door, implanting the calculation as a permanent subroutine in the software architecture and, if you really are me, with your sandshoes and your dickie bow, and that screwdriver is still mine, that calculation is still going on.”

The Doctor and Ten checked their screwdrivers.

“Yeah, still going,” Ten said.

“Calculation complete. Hey, four hundred years in four seconds. We may have had our differences, which is frankly odd in the circumstances, but, I tell you what, boys. We are incredibly clever,” the Doctor said, smiling.

The door suddenly swung open and Clara was standing there.

Elise had never been so happy to see Clara in her life.

“How did you do that?” the Doctor asked her.

“It wasn't locked.”

“Right.”

“So they're both you, then, yeah?”

“Yes. You've met them before. Don't you remember?”

“A bit.” Clara looked at Ten. “Nice suit.”

“Thanks.”

“Hang on. Three of you in one cell, and none of you thought to try the door?”

“It should have been locked,” the older Doctor said.

“Yes. Exactly. Why wasn't it locked?” the Doctor asked.

The door swung open a bit more and Elizabeth stood there. “Because I was fascinated to see what you would do upon escaping. I understand you're rather fond of this world. It's time I think you saw what's going to happen to it.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elizabeth led them deeper into the Tower dungeons.

The walls were covered in red pods.

“The Zygons lost their own world. It burnt in the first days of the Time War. A new home is required.”

“So they want this one,” Clara asked.

“Not yet. It's far too primitive. Zygons are used to a certain level of comfort.”

A Zygon walked up to them and Elise jumped back into her father and Ten. They both put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She’d never seen one before, so it was quite off-putting.

“Commander, why are these creatures here?” the Zygon asked.

“Because I say they should be. It is time you too were translated. Observe this. I believe you will find it fascinating.”

The Zygon placed it’s hand on a glass cube and disappeared into the painting they saw earlier in the Under Gallery.

“That's him! That's the Zygon in the picture now,” Clara said.

“It's not a picture, it's a stasis cube. Time Lord art. Frozen instants in time, bigger on the inside, but could be deployed as…” the older Doctor started.

“Suspended animation. Oh, that's very good. The Zygons all pop inside the pictures, wait a few centuries till the planet's a bit more interesting, and then out they come,” Ten finished.

“You see, Clara, they're stored in the paintings in the Under Gallery, like cup-a-soups. Except you add time, if you can picture that. Nobody could picture that. Forget I said cup-a-soups,” the Doctor said.

“And now the world is worth conquering. So the Zygons are invading the future from the past,” Clara surmised.

“Exactly.”

“And do you know why I know that you're a fake? Because you're such a bad copy. It's not just the smell, or the unconvincing hair, or the atrocious teeth, or the eyes just a bit too close together, or the breath that could stun a horse. It's because my Elizabeth, the real Elizabeth, would never be stupid enough to reveal her own plan. Honestly, why would you do that?” Ten asked as Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him.

“Because it's not my plan. And I am the real Elizabeth,” Elizabeth said.

“Smooth, Casanova,” Elise muttered.

“Yeah, shut-up. Okay. So, backtracking a moment just to lend context to my earlier remarks,” Ten said.

“My twin is dead in the forest. I am accustomed to taking precautions,” Elizabeth told him. She pulled out a dagger from underneath her skirts.

“That’s familiar,” Ten said, looking at Elise.

“These Zygon creatures never even considered that it was me who survived rather than their own commander. The arrogance that typifies their kind,” Elizabeth explained.

“Zygons?” Clara asked.

“Men.”

Elise snorted in amusement and then turned to her father. “You just love strong women don’t you?”

“Oh, shut-up.”

“And you actually killed one of them?” Clara asked.

“I may have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but at the time, so did the Zygon. The future of my kingdom is imperiled,” Elizabeth said, “Doctor, can I rely on your service?”

“Well, I'm going to need my TARDIS,” Ten told her.

“It has been procured already.”

“Ah.”

“But first, my love, you have a promise to keep.”

[yugirl-with-dragons]

Side Stories: Promises and Nightmares

….

He wasn’t sure what hour it was, but all he could hear was faint crying and screaming. Falling face first into the floor, it was the jolt he needed to wake up. 

Wha?..

Busting out from his room he booked it down the stairs in the dark, tripping and stumbling over the wooden stairs. Screaming getting louder, his eyes widened in fear full well knowing who’s voice is producing that sound. 

Aki!!

Giving a gentle tap before opening her door with a bit too much force, stumbling in. The poor girl flailing about, trying to fight whatever specter was trying to choke her to death. He was a bit relieved that no one was stabbing his meister, but refocused back. He needed to wake her up before she hurt herself. Running to her side trying to figure out what to do, her screams contain chokes of cries. Tears of sadness, pain, running down her face while thrashing about; attempting to call her back into the real world as her partner. 

I need to wake her up before she hurts herself.

…

Strapped down in an unfamiliar room, against what seemed to be a table. It had a familiar sensation of terror, but where it was coming from  is a mystery. Pristine minimalism of science haunted her eyes, with ranges of medical instruments scattered about next to her. All she knew  in that moment was that she was in danger, and Yusei… Where was Yusei? 

Panic setting in, searching with her limited range with her restraints would let her. Shouting to be let go and evenly take on whoever put her in this position in between for her weapon.  Her partner had been separated from her, feeling utterly helpless to the mercy of whoever is around. 

Other humans towering over her, all dressed in white jackets, with their faces indistinguishable almost blurring together in the shadows. 

“My, my little mouse. You’ve changed, I’m glad you’re back.”

I was here before? When was I here? I was never here before! 

 Looking around, she couldn’t pinpoint the location of the voice, causing her to struggle against her restraints even more in order to break free and find her partner. 

“Quit squirming so much!.. He can’t save you. Really, he left you to me.  ” 

Choking on her own words, she couldn’t hide the tears of betrayal running down her cheeks, venom piercing out from her mouth. 

“He wouldn’t! You’re lying!” 

His eyes, the color of dying grass pierced in through her. Clearly holding something resembling a syringe, filled with.. not even she knew what it was. Though the details of his face still remained fairly fuzzy. 

“Little mouse.. How would you know?” 

Freezing, she considered his words, before shaking them out. He wouldn’t leave her to die here! That’s not who Yusei is! 

“ He’s my partner! He wouldn’t betray his partner!” 

The voice boomed out a laugh, queuing the others in the room to laugh as well. Washing out any of her concentration on trying to escape. 

“Tell me then.. Where do you think he is?” 

She didn’t have an answer to the voice, she didn’t know, fueling her panic even further. 

Where is he? Yusei where are you?!

For a moment she didn’t know where he was, until a familiar voice of laughter rang into her ears. She couldn’t see him immediately, but she knew that it was her partner. 

“God I can’t believe that you fell for it. You’re such a sucker, Aki.  ” 

Yusei’s own hands were holding her shoulders down, staring up to meet his bright blue irises. Breaking into her soul, with a smile of malice; shaking his head with pity. 

“ You are such a stupid, stupid little girl.” 

As the needle pierced her skin, she couldn’t help but scream and convulse against her restraints. 

Her brain stopped working, burning that image of him into her mind; her tears of betrayal were vocally known. Starting to feel lightheaded and her body began to shake, maybe as a side effect of whatever it was perhaps? She wasn’t sure, her resistance was put to waste as the last few words were her name being called out to her as everything blurred to shades of dark red. 

Her eyes fluttered open, her magenta hair drenched with sweat heaving to a rapid heartbeat. Vaguely looking around that she was in her room.. with Yusei next to her side, paled with concern actively holding her down, pinning her to the bed with his hands. 

“Aki! Aki, are you okay?” 

Regaining focus she gazed into his eyes. Distracted by how the night reflected against his ocean colored irises, as her grogginess slapped back into her body from whatever realm she came back from. 

“Ngh?” 

She could feel the wetness on her cheeks fade as his slender hands started to wipe away her tears. Looking worried, she absolutely did not know how to react with someone right by her side. She wanted to fling herself to him, thanking the gods that he was right there. He wasn’t aiding whomever it was turning her into an experiment. It just felt too real. 

“You were screaming.. and I.. I wanted to make sure that you were okay.” 

Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to open up. Doing what she did best, she put on a mask and faked her way through another night of terrors. 

Saying nothing, all she could do was stare into his tired eyes. The bags under his eyes, reflected guilt into her. Just how long was he awake trying to wake her? A few minutes? Hours? She should’ve just stayed at home with her father where her screams just pass through the wind. Not burdening anyone else with her own issues.  

She’d been having these nightmares ever since well, she couldn’t quite remember. It was certainly after she was discharged from the hospital from a head injury. Psychologists would just brush off these dreams as just that, dreams. Though with the night terrors being this intense, she felt otherwise. 

Glancing at the digital clock illuminating the room, 3:35am.

She couldn’t speak, her throat hoarse. As she sat up her skull throbbed, probably from the lack of sleep. Already feeling guilty for waking him up at the very least.. who knew if the twins heard her, even if she was on a different floor of the house. 

All she could muster in a tiny voice, so feeble a mouse wouldn’t be deterred by her sound. 

“Go back to sleep Yusei, it.. it was just a bad dream. Nothing more.” 

He couldn’t just leave her like this and go back to sleep. It left a pit of concern in his stomach, if he followed her order, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not with that look of fear hidden in her eyes. 

What did she see? 

Something wasn’t right. Even if he hit the floor of his own room in the morning to her screaming there had to be something more to this. They may not be bound to each other but he had the right to know what the hell happened to get her to scream bloody murder in the middle of the night. His irritation was made known despite trying to hold himself back, made even harder from his own lack of sleep. 

“It must’ve been one hell of a dream if you’re screaming bloody murder, to tell me that it’s ‘nothing’, Aki!” 

Her lip quivering, quietly flinching from a memory that doesn’t feel familiar to her, yet it still felt up in her soul.  Any irritation he inflicted in the air vanished in his realization that she wasn’t being stubborn this time around. Normally her stubbornness would get in the way of organizing a plan. Insisting that her plan was the best plan, usually her plans did work; but there’s a few times he’s called her out on her stubbornness while in battle. She acknowledged would help calculate a plan on the fly with the resources they had available. 

This wasn’t a battle however. 

Fully realizing that this wasn’t her normal behavior either. 

He gave out an apology, from being riled up, before sitting down on the covers of her bed right beside her. 

Holding her hand in comfort, squeezing them gently. He let right right hand brush her messily falling out bangs behind her ear, intending to remove any barriers to her hesitancy. 

“Aki, I’m your weapon. I.. It’s my .. I want to make sure that my meister is healthy. Just how you check in on me when I’m not feeling great, it goes both ways.. just please tell me what happened..“ 

Steadily she turned away from him, bordering on the verge of tears at his touch. She understood that it was late and the two of them were tired, alas giving a weak attempt at assurance for her partner. 

“… please, go back to bed.” 

She couldn’t look at him, how could she? He on the other hand, felt restless, a guilty restlessness within him. Wanting to help, but a clear barrier was still between them.  Whether he had noticed it before or not, he couldn’t absolutely say. Worried,  he was about to add more justification before he could hear footsteps. 

“Aki..” 

The twins’ footsteps could echoed through the halls minutes later before barging into Aki’s room. 

“Big sis!! Are you alright??” 

The two were clearly more tired than Yusei. Yet their spirits didn’t falter. Yusei gave a nod and an assurance to Rua, as they probably aren’t accustomed to screaming on a daily or nightly basis. 

“Oh thank goodness that it was just a dream! I thought that someone was getting stab—OW RUKA!”

Ruka, knowing that Rua doesn’t remotely understand the gravity of the immediate situation, gave her brother a hard shoulder check as a means of discipline in front of the two of them. Gently raising her voice to get her point across.  

“That’s not appropriate Rua!”

Ruka immediately turned back to Aki, giving a tiny smile. Holding back the means to discipline her brother via her fist to the top of his head. 

“Forgive him.. he.. doesn’t always know when to make jokes.. properly… are you alright Aki?” 

She still holding Yusei’s hand, nodded slowly. Ruka, assured that they aren’t needed, started to walk out; yanking her twin along out the door. 

“Alright, rua, come with me. We’re getting some water for Aki.”

“Hey! Ruka–”

Ruka, giving her confused twin a glare and a nudge, got enough of a gist to understand somewhat,  got the picture. 

“–Right, water!.. For Aki.” 

The twins left Aki’s room to leave them some privacy, and at least one of them proceeded to run up the stairs. Aki sighed, holding back her tears of being tormented. 

“Yusei.. please.. I don’t want to talk about it right now. Not now. One day but not now.” 

Helplessness tied his hands behind him, frustrated that he couldn’t give her aid that she deserved. So he did what he knew could as he immediately hugged her, Squeezing her tight for an assurance her soul needed. 

“I’ll always be here for you Aki. When you feel ready to talk about it with me.. I’m ready to listen.”  

She lightly returned his embrace, letting her barrier down from her easy going personality into a more intimate level. A mask she let chip away piece by piece.

…

In the kitchen, Ruka started to make tea for herself. As a means to get herself to relax to go back to sleep. Yusei closed the door to Aki’s room, still not understanding what happened. He knew that she had a nightmare, but not understanding why she’s hiding this from him. It propelled him into a loop of concern, worrying about the health of his meister. Wondering how frequently these terrors were to her and how long she had been dealing with them.

He let his forehead touch the cold maple door as he closed it behind him, with his hand briefly squeezing the handle. Not understanding her rejection, but respecting her boundaries. Saddened by the barrier she had put between them. 

“ Would you like any chamomile tea, Yusei?”

He gave out a sigh, still trying to figure out what she’d seen that would change a stubborn girl to an injured animal cornered by a hunter in a span of hours.  

Ruka, very tired, could even see that there was something a bit off with Yusei. Yes, him and aki are partners, from her understanding they haven’t known each other for very long. Really, his body reacted with more concern and sadness than the average person. Acting more of a concerned “very good friend”, bordering on boyfriend. 

“.. No thanks.” 

For some unknown reason to him, he couldn’t look Ruka in the eyes. Not from guilt, likely bordering on his lack of energy starting to catch up with him. However, he needed an answer, he’s known Ruka since their family had moved to Tops despite the two of them having a range in age difference. 

“Yusei..” 

Giving out a sigh he started to pace a bit. Sifting his fingers through his messy hair, he couldn’t understand her behavior. It didn’t make sense for his meister to shut him out. 

Why is she shutting me out? Aren’t we supposed to understand each other to make this partnership work?  

Ruka leaned against the kitchen island, looking through the open layout created in the house. Remembering that the common factor between him and his meister were the twins.  Rua traversed back upstairs a bit ago, though Ruka was still awake. 

She might have an idea about why Aki’s shutting me out. 

“Ruka.. You’ve known her longer than me..Why won’t she talk to me?” 

Inter slotting her fingers between her hands, she knew the answer. Still trying to adapt to receiving help, as she’s been pulling herself up by her own straps at her own expense. Only a matter of time before it’s going to take a massive toll on her. And when it does, it’s going to be massively impairing on her. Though, she needed to water it down, to the point where she would give a bit of push to him to ask Aki. She may have known her for a while, but this was something he needed to approach Aki on. 

I have a strong bond with her. What more do I need to do so she’ll open up? 

Ruka gave a sigh, shaking her head. 

“Yusei.. give her time. She has a large gap in her memory and is used to taking care of herself on her own. I’m not sure what happened to her during that time– .” 

Yusei, perked at this piece of information, as many questions now popping up in his mind, forcing him to stop his pacing; concerned that something else is going on.  

“What do you mean a gap in her memory? She didn’t tell me anything about that when we met!” 

Ruka sighed, mainly at Aki. As that is one major detail she needed to lay out in order to make a partnership work. Though she couldn’t quite blame her on that, as memories can be falsely manipulated within the human psyche and be taken advantage of. Still nonetheless she was going to have to fulfill an exposition for him so their bond won’t slip. 

“She left Neo Domino at one point. When she came back to Neo Domino, I don’t know when or why she left in the first place. All I know is that  when she did come back, paramedics found her body in an alleyway, unconscious from an anonymous tip. Towards the eastern Entrance of the city.  Her father made attempts to visit her while she was in a coma for roughly a month or so.”

Narrowing his eyes he kept his gaze on Ruka, slowly nodding to acknowledge what she was saying not liking anything that he was hearing.  

Her body in an alleyway?… What happened to her?

One thing he knew for certain, the words he could remember his father stating to him, solidified their meanings in gold. Reaffirming his acceptance that he was going to uphold those meanings at any cost. Ruka’s kettle whistled a loud tune as the steam leaked from the spout as she turned off the stove. 

“She’s been telling me about these dreams she’s been having ever since she woke up. I knew her dreams were bad.. Even, she wasn’t even telling me the severity of them. That’s just.. how she deals with things, I suppose. Downplaying and doing it all herself. ” 

He just wants her to confide in him. He’s supposed to protect her from harm! What about that is that so hard to understand? Supporting his head as he leaned against the partial table connecting to the open kitchen, the gears in his head started to turn thinking about why she’d shut him out over a dream of all things.

Something in his head clicked, eyes widening making a connection he should’ve made earlier; realizing his mistake. 

That’s right.. she’s always having to take care of herself, on her own. It’s no wonder that she insists on rejecting.. help. 

Making an executive decision he landed back on the couch with the furniture suddenly shudder from his sudden weight. It wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world, but he was damned if he was going to let her scream again in the middle of the night, focused on the sound for any level of disturbance before sleep took over his body. 

As the morning sun rose, neither of them brought up the night’s events. He was keeping his word to her, letting her come to him on her own terms. Though that still didn’t mean that he needed caffeine in his system to function. With classes starting soon he needed to get up earlier, though that wasn’t as hard as getting Aki up. As most of the time, she slept in until noon or later assuming from whatever night terrors she’d suffer from the previous night. 

…

As the nights strode out, she’d still wake up to him. Just as concerned and with just as much tired relief every single time. 

Though she hasn’t confided in him about her dreams. With similar ones reappearing and new ones materializing every so often, fearing if he would leave her one day for a better partner from an emotional scale. She couldn’t help but still keep to herself, expecting him to immediately leave when she wakes up. Expecting him to vanish into another world. 

Yet he’s still there. 

He always goes into a trained sentence from something about being ready to listen to her or something. Half of the time she’s really groggy, but always remember seeing him as she wakes up. Usually tired, but a relieved expression that she’s back from hell; with water and sometimes a small snack ready for her if she needed it. She had little faith in herself, that she can rely on someone in her life. Just wanting comfort, but expecting it to be a justification of poor behavior.

Still couldn’t figure out why he was doing this for her, after all she can take care of herself. 

Why was he doing this for her?

…

“ I’m always here for you.”

Papa and momma have said that to me before.. He’s.. Promising me too much. 

Fake promises were easy to make, put up a mask until the purpose has been fulfilled. Something kept bugging her, his legitimacy. How long would it be until he gave up on her and marked as a lost cause? How long would it take for him to walk out “for groceries” to not return? 

Those thoughts were softly interrupted by the gentle weight of blanket landing on her soft shoulders as the weight on her left had shifted a bit on the couch. As lo and behold, it was her weapon with a couple snacks in hand with that smile.  

That damned smile, the same one he gave back when she accepted his invitation to live with him as a discombobulated family. Emanating the same warmth from the evening sun escaping the moon.

Though his clothing today was fairly more relaxed with a black tank top matching his jacket and grey sweatpants. He took lazy saturdays and sundays just more than face value, rather fully invested in it at times though, she was just as guilty. 

“ You looked cold, and the twins wanted to marathon some cartoons tonight. Wanna join?” 

She couldn’t feel it, though her heart started to speak for her. Returning the same energy that he’s given to her, giving a smile that could speak from the reflection. Though eyeing the box of pocky he was holding captive in his hands, gently pointing out the box to her desires. 

“ Why not?.. Though, you better save me some chocolate pocky this time!” 

He gave her a soft nudge back in playful banter, before eyeing the blanket as his eyes made its way back to meet her own. 

“ Only if you share the blanket.” 

Glancing  into his cheerful eyes, she gave  an exaggerated pout of thought as if she were trying to make a deal on at a pawn shop.

“… Deal.” 

 Giving him an affirming smile, she flung the soft material over yusei’s lap. Sounds of munching and laughter echoed through the house, as life for today, was good. There’ll be more bright days ahead of her darkest nights. Maybe, just maybe, one day she’ll have the faith in herself to tear down the wall built up blocking out her heart. After all, there seemed to be sounds of chipping away the hardened shale on the other side. 

At least for today, that promise’s legitimacy is real as her tired head made its way onto his shoulder; trying her best to stay awake under a warm schenel blanket, watching cartoons far into the night. 

…

—submitted by  @taytay4674788—

Sorry if it took me so long to reply!!! And- ASDFGHJK thank you for this magical piece. Honestly, I love them both so much ;-; Poor Aki, the fact that she saw Yusei in her nightmare telling her those ugly things shattered my heart

He’s so loyal and lovely but he has to break through her defenses (canon easter egg?) and she’s got so much trauma she will have to digest, eventually… sdfghj my poor girl, you’ve got the right people around you this time

I also love that there are the twins too!! Ruka is such a nice younger sister, I really love their whole dynamic ;; 

Tbh the soul eater AU is absolutely fantastic and the fact that you added in so much background makes everything even better sdfghj 

He doesn’t insist. He gives her so much space. It’s hard for her but he’s doing everything in his power to help her, know her more, let her feel safe…. sdfghj there goes my heart

Thank you again for this submission <3 <3 <3

[dafukdidiwatch]

Chapter 9 and 10 End

Got to go, running late on things. Will do recap later

TL;DR: I’m screaming, parent issues are are abundant as abusive and manipulation, and I have a new ship going on.

Edit: Ok I am back and I have new theories on everything going on because Fuck I’m down the rabbit hole here. Where or where do I fucking begin.

Really this session just hammers down the different type of abuse that poor Lucy is going through. It’s even color coded and everything. Blue being cold, isolation, physical and emotional neglect from Thierry. Vs the Red of warm, attentiive, possessive and emotional manipulation that is Fidelia.

I don’t doubt that Fidelia cares for Lucy. But it obviously is really twisted if like only one day in Fidelia is already trying to run Lucy’s life how she thinks it should be. Honestly Seiji nailed it when he pointed out the outfit change was more for Fidelia’s taste instead of Lucys’s.

And this chapter is nothing more than family secrets revealed to Sylas isn’t it? Like, how far do you have to break the boy he’s already hurt enough. His dad literally hating his eldest and lawful child, hates his mother, 100% willing to have an affair and have more children and being told flat to his face he is nothing but a tool. It hurt to learn he was there just as a ploy for Fidelia to keep Lucy to herself, but I loved how he still cared for his half siblings. He wasn’t angry at Emilia’s existence, but how Fidelia had seemed to cast her to the wolves that is their father. He wanted to learn more about Lucy as a person, as his sibling, and was happy that it sounded like they wanted to connect too. But of course he couldn’t because Fidelia made sure to try and nuke that chance before it could bloom. Leaving them both just as lonely as ever.

Ugh it sucks so much because Lucy left from one form of isolation abuse to another!

And a minor note, Peony is probably another bastard child of Fidelia and Dubois. Her and Emilia are probably twins than Dubois didn’t want to take care of both of them so he found a way to ditch one into the streets. I mean, it’s the fucking nose people! The timeline merges and fit to one complicated mess that wouldn’t have happened if two people didn’t decide to bone down.

God I want to know what January will think of this, hearing that the anomaly they were supposed to hunt down is now Fidelia’s pet favorite. Actually, now that Lucy is here, will Fidelia even care for January as much? Or will she still try since this is her way of manipulating the council.

Rin is apparently living her best life as a wolf monster of not giving a fuck and about to do some dirty backdoor dealings with Fidelia. That is Not going to bode well.

And finally, Seiji. Wow did that Bastard Man manage to change my perception of him. You bastard, how dare you make me like you. Fucking Twerp. But god, he is trying to get it through to Sylas that he should go after someone who Likes Him. Which, puts Sylas first as part of his feelings, but also can be flipped on to himself because if Sylas is straight, then Seiji should go after someone who likes him. And that hurts.

And then when he talked to Lucy, like first time ever talked to Lucy, it was cute. It was dramatic. It felt like a normal conversation where they aren’t putting on airs with each other and just trying to figure shit out. And it was, really cute. He has this fucking “devil-may-care” rogue persona that he defaults to when he feels cornered, hence the kiss to piss people off. But, having that be your first form of romantic interest after being in isolation for 5 years, I can see why Lucy may be smitten.

Of Course....it sucks that Seiji only managed to put 2 and 2 together on Lucy and Cylas AFTER he dipped. But he got there eventually. The disaster bastard man.

I think I have a thing where I can only approve of ships if I see some in-canon connection/plausibility first. And it wasn’t a pair I would see dating. But I honestly hope there could be some feelings that sprout between the two. Some emotional development that doesn’t center around emotional abuse since Seiji knows what’s up with Fidelia and calls her out on that.

And since this post couldn’t possibly get any longer: underneath are my theories and just what is up with Morgan and Thierry.

This is what happens when I get caught up on comics, I have IDEAS.

Let’s start off somewhere simple here: Timeline.

Fidelia and Dubois have affair. Multiple times. And it resulted in Morgan. Something Something happened and they pushed Morgan into hiding so it has no connection to them. I’m also thinking that because of how Morgan has no connection to them, since Fidelia lost touch with her kid, she made sure/blackmail the Dubois to raise their next kid as his own to make sure they are taken care of. Hence Emilia’s life.

Anyway Morgan was sick, went to the care of Joe Rothart and Dr. Malliet, where a sudden Husk attack killed Morgan and Dr. Malliet 5 years ago. Where Thierry took them to be raised as “Lucien” under his care.

Thierry “gave up everything” for the kid, meaning he thought it was in his best interest to take Morgan.

The reason Joe has a soft spot for Husks is probably because Dr. Malliet was his significant other/partner. Tobi asked if they “broke up” so it implies they were dating. See here I was thinking that Morgan was like, Joe’s brother or something, way older at the very least. But Morgan was the sickly kid, the patient, and Malliet was the other Husk Expert trying to help.

Basically what I’m saying is that Thierry and Joe were lovers. Thierry Rothart is really Dr. Thierry Malliet. While trying to help Morgan, he used his own magic to maybe siphoned the illness away or something and ended up turning into a Husk himself. So when he squirreled away with Morgan (Lucy) he took the last name of Rothart as a momento of their past relationship/ what could have been and as a way of hiding himself.

Also, Ivy isn’t his cat.

We fucking saw what happened with Captain Yiff of the Wolf Brigard. She turned into wolf mode like Jade did. However!!! Thierry became the bird man of Alcatraz and sprouted feathers. AND! Husks are people who literally reabsorb their magic familiars back into themselves. Meaning that Thierry can’t have absorbed his Peacock Bird familiar AND have Ivy the CAT be his active familiar.

The only way I can think this was any way possible to have a “have your cake and eat it too” moment is because of Su. Su never had magic to begin with, and how she’s a Goat Husk, implying if she did have access to magic her familiar would be a goat. The same could have happened to Lucy.

It was stated that for a Husk the magic comes from the eyes, and eyes are the windows of the soul. Trying to heal Morgan resulted in draining the magic from their eye and that magic latched itself into Thierry, turning him into a peacock man.

....why he wants to have his house be a shrine of peacocks of what he did instead of his own fucking cat, I will never know.

Regardless, I’m thinking that after Thierry did manage to cure Morgan, since he took their eye (again, part of the soul) it probably resulted in memory loss too. I’m thinking that the eyepatch is just covering a hole or dark powers because if Lucy has like one-eye in husk mode that would be really stupid.

It also better explains Ivy helping out Thierry’s Husk mode. Familiars are conduits of magic that allows the Mages/Magicians to safely use their magic without overloading. That’s why when the magic is reabsorbed into the person the magic is out of control and fluctuates on emotion. The animals are safeguards. So Ivy, as Thierry’s familiar, is able to drain away the magic in his emotional states. But that also backfires because draining away magic that wasn’t necessarily his means it was also draining away his memory, hence his behavior issues with Lucy.

Which can also explain Lucy’s own “magic draining powers” is because they is out of balance. They aren’t like  non-magic people where they aren’t able to access their magic. They aren’t like regular magicians where an animal familiar is there to help manage magic. And they aren’t like Husks where all the magic is fully absorbed into their body. Because they don’t have access to their original magic source (Thanks Thierry) their body is trying to balance itself out by siphoning the magic of others. Fill in the gap as it were. Which only works if they are in close physical contact with a magic source. But because it isn’t their original magic, it doesn’t last long. That’s why even though Ana was drained completely of magic, Lucy is unable to use it anymore, or at the very least can’t access it as easily.

The only other thing I could think of is how the hell does Fidelia connect with Thierry. Because Ivy was scared shitless of her or the thought of her. She probably threatened them both as Dr. Malliet to do “whatever it takes” to cure Morgan, and we all know how possessive she is with her children.

Long story short, Dr. Thierry Malliet did some experimental treatment which resulted in his husk form and Morgan’s cure/memory loss/magic issues. To protect themselves from being hunted, he fake their deaths and hid away as a recluse and raising Morgan as Lucy so the city’s magic leaders won’t hunt them down.

[teacupfulofstarshine]

the crossroad of our destinies book one: earth

summary: virgil isn't sure how he got roped into this crazy adventure. somehow, he's traveling around with the avatar, his blind earth bending younger brother, a chipper air bender, and a banished fire bender prince, and they're supposed to save the world? virgil can't even tell them he's a water bender. he's not cut out to save anyone. little did he know, they're cut out to save each other - and maybe the whole world in the process. 

(OR: an avatar the last airbender!au, centering around a water bender virgil)

a/n: i . . . wrote the entire first chapter in one day . . . how i still do not know . . . the confusion is real. huge, huge, HUGE amounts of thanks goes to @lovelylogans for cheerleading me through this and also beta reading the first chapter. this wouldn't exist without her, and i love her, and i am so eternally grateful 

CW: atla-typical fantasy violence, brief nonspecific allusions to child abuse, angst, background death of minor unnamed OCs, family angst, mentions of burns

wordcount: 5882

read it on ao3! 

“This is gonna be so interesting!” Patton says, draping himself on his belly over the ball of air beneath him. “I’ve never seen real earth bending before!”

“That would imply that there’s such a thing as fake earth bending, which there decidedly is not,” Logan says, adjusting his shirt with a huff. Virgil glances up from where he’s sharpening his knife next to the fire, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’ve done all kinds of reading about earth bending!” Patton says, seemingly oblivious to Logan’s indignation. “There are scrolls about it all over the Air Nation temples, but I’ve obviously never seen one! Earth benders went extinct so long ago that -”

“What?” Thomas says, lifting his head to stare up at Patton. 

“The Fire Nation desecration reaches beyond our home?” Logan asks, one hand curling into a fist at his side. “They have burned more villages to the ground than ours?” 

Roman pokes at the campfire with a stick, keeping his eyes cast to the ground. “The Fire Nation is trying to wipe out all other benders. They don’t want anyone left but us. Why do you think I ran away from home? My father told me that the other nations attacked us first, but . . .” 

“Falsehood,” Logan snaps. The earth begins to shake beneath him. “We would never do something so horrendous! The Earth Kingdom is a peaceful settlement, we - we would never -”

“Calm down, Rocky, I’m not accusing you,” Roman says. The campfire flares up, and Virgil’s eyes flicker to the waterskin at his side. His hands won’t move fast enough if Roman’s temper causes him to lose control. Something else might, but he refuses. “I’m just saying, there’s a lot of propaganda in the Fire Nation. We’re not all heartless evil bastards. Some of us are just trying to protect our homes. I abandoned a lot when I saved you and your brother from my father’s army.”

“Oh, yes, like what?” Logan snaps. “Like a cushy life in the palace? Like your status as the next in line for overlord of us all and destroyer of my people? Like -”

“Like my twin brother,” Roman says coolly, tone betraying the way the fire surges and sinks in time with his heavy breathing. “Like my best friend, the boy I was to marry. I loved him so much, and he helped me escape, and - and my father probably killed him for his insubordination. I’ll never see him again, and whose fault is that? Mine!” 

The fire surges up in a pillar. Before anyone can react in a meaningful way, a vortex spirals to life around the flames. In a flash, all the oxygen is sucked out of the fire. It dies instantly, leaving a pile of half-charred twigs. Patton lets his bending stance drop, and the vortex falls away. 

“Everyone,” he says quietly, “needs to take some deep breaths. It’s going to be okay. Everyone here has suffered at the hands of the Fire Nation. Everyone here has lost something. It’s okay to acknowledge that pain, and hurt, but it’s not okay to blame each other or ourselves. Roman, you can’t control what your father did to you any more than Thomas and Logan can control the fact that they’re earth benders.” 

“I am an earth bender,” Logan says quietly. “Thomas is -”

“The Avatar,” Thomas says. He studies his hands in silence, and Virgil slides his knife into his boot. 

“Yeah, well, Avatar or not, you were born an earth bender,” he says. Everyone looks at him in a surprise that he mirrors internally; he’s not really one for speaking up during moments like this. There have been plenty since they all started traveling together, but Virgil typically keeps his mouth shut. 

“What?” Thomas asks. Logan turns his head towards Virgil’s voice. His unseeing eyes bore right through Virgil, as though they’re peering into his soul. 

“You were born an earth bender,” Virgil repeats. “That’s the whole damn point of the Avatar cycle, isn’t it? The Avatar spirit gets cycled through all the nations so that each Avatar gets a new and different experience to the one before. No matter what anyone says, you’re an earth bender. Just ‘cause you’re the Avatar too, that doesn’t change your birthright.”

His voice slips away from him, falling into the familiar cadence of his grandmother telling him stories as a young child. “You are an earth bender. You were born with the pull of Mother Earth in your bones. The Lion-Turtles have gifted you with an awareness of what is beneath us, always, a firm and unyielding constant in a world too fluid to appreciate it. You must hold steadfast to what is right and true, because no one else will do it for you. Air, flighty and fluid; fire, scorching and shifting; water, rapid and raging; all these will move from one form to the next as it suits their needs. You must anchor them, or no one will.” 

He blinks, snapping himself out of the strange trance he lulled himself into, and becomes aware of the other three staring at him. “What?” he snaps defensively. 

“That was . . . something,” Thomas says. “Where’d you get a story like that?”

“My grandmother,” Virgil says, pulling a knife from inside his robe. He makes sure that everyone catches the sharpness of its edge glinting under the half-full moon before he goes back to sharpening it. “She would tell me stories of the other benders all the time, how every element has its strengths and drawbacks. She told me that every element plays a role in keeping the world balanced, and that someone would have to repair what the Fire Nation was breaking without destroying the Fire Nation in the process.”

“And why not?” Logan asks - not accusing, genuinely curious. He shifts one foot a couple of inches and a rock springs from the ground next to Thomas, allowing Logan to sit down. 

“Because if we lose fire benders completely, we lose everything we worked to rebuild. We need harmony between all four elements. That includes Princey and his fire bending.” 

Roman thrusts a fist forward, and the campfire reignites itself as a small fireball bursts from his fist. “Thanks, Waterboy.” Virgil flinches a little. “What? You’re from the Southern Water Tribe, aren’t you?”

“What? Yeah. What about it?” 

Roman just shrugs and goes back to the campfire. 

*~*~*~*~*

Logan is amazing at earth bending. 

Granted, Virgil knows next to nothing about the techniques, other than the fact that they involve a lot of foot movements and heavy grounding. It seems to be the complete antithesis of Patton’s air bending and Roman’s fire bending, both of which appear to center heavily on movement. Still, it’s plain to see that Logan is something of a prodigy. He moves as though the earth he bends is an extension of his own body, controlling it with an easy, fluid grace that belies his solid stances. 

It’s hard to believe, watching him, that he’s the younger brother. It’s hard to believe that he can’t see anything. Roman comments as much, and Logan sends him flying with a blunted earth spike without so much as turning to face him. 

“Ow!” Roman shrieks. He’s unharmed, of course; Patton had swiftly leapt into the air to catch him and return him to the ground. “What was that for?” 

“I can so see,” Logan retorts. He barely comes up to Roman’s shoulder, but he’s solidly built, despite his young age. 

“I thought you were blind!” 

“I am. My eyes have never seen a day of my life. That does not mean I cannot see, you moron. I simply do not see with my eyes. I use my feet to see. The ground tells me everything I need to know. You, for example, are currently clinging to Patton like a terrified lemur, and he is hovering approximately as far above the ground as my forearm is long.” 

“How do you do that?!” Roman says, dropping from Patton’s arms to land on the ground. “Also, there’s no way that you’re strong enough to take me down.” 

“And why not?” Logan asks. “I could so take you down.” 

“This is a bad idea,” Virgil says. 

“You could not!” Roman boasts. 

“This is a bad idea,” Virgil repeats. 

“That sounds like a challenge,” Logan says, turning in Roman’s direction and tilting his head in a clear act of dismissal. “Unless you are afraid to face a young, blind earth bender, Prince Roman?”

Roman’s face changes from pride to ice in a split-second. He’ll tolerate Virgil’s “Princey” jabs, but he hates being called by his proper title. “You’re on.”

“Not here!” Thomas yelps. “We are standing in a very flammable forest, and none of us can water bend!” 

“Aren’t you the Avatar, master of all elements?” Roman says testily.

“Only in the Avatar state, at the moment, which I cannot trigger on my own! If you guys set the whole forest on fire, people will come and investigate! We can’t risk being found - I can’t risk being found!” 

The sound of his older brother’s voice seems to snap Logan out of it, at the very least. He shifts his left foot, and Virgil shivers as a small earthquake rumbles through the ground. It’s low-scale enough that anyone else who notices it will pass it off as normal seismic activity. For their little group, however, it’s much more than that; it’s Logan checking the nearby terrain. 

If that isn’t enough to terrify Roman into surrender, Virgil seriously worries about the state of his brain. 

“There is an isolated rocky plain not far from here,” Logan says. “I suggest that we have our battle there. Will tomorrow suffice?”

“Fine by me,” Roman spits, stalking away. Patton drops to the ground and begins to croon to his giant sky bison Remy, stroking his nose. Remy huffs out a breath that rustles the trees around them. Virgil is inclined to agree. 

*~*~*~*~*

“I have said it before, and I will say it again. This is a BAD idea.” 

Virgil tugs his thick jacket on over his loose tunic and pants. Logan sits next to him, controlling a small mound of earth like it’s wet clay. With every shift of his perpetually-bare feet, he changes its shape. 

“I will not be injured,” Logan says. “Roman will not intentionally injure me. He considers me an opponent beneath him, and he is too gallant to harm a child.” 

“How old are you, anyway? Not judging or anything, I’m just . . . curious.” 

Logan’s earth mound trembles. “I am . . . twelve years and six months old.” 

Virgil just blinks at him. He’d thought that Patton, newly fourteen, was the youngest member of their crew; he and Roman are both sixteen, and Thomas is seventeen. He’s assumed this whole time that Logan is around Patton’s age, maybe a few months older, despite his slight stature. “That’s . . . younger than I was expecting.” 

“Are you going to remove me from your expedition?” Logan challenges. He clenches his fist, and the earth mound shatters into dust. “I will not abandon Thomas. He is my brother, the only remnant I have of my family. Of my village, my people, my culture. He is everything to me. I will not return to an ashen husk of my home because you do not consider me mature enough for this journey.” 

“You’re the most mature person here, and anyone who says otherwise is an idiot,” Virgil says, holding up his hands in an “I-mean-no-harm” gesture. He says it because it’s true, because he believes it, but he also says it because he can see the way the earth trembles below Logan. It reminds him of the sea, in a way - calm and quiet, but constantly roiling beneath the glassy surface. 

Logan takes a deep breath, air in and out, and the earth calms to stillness on his exhale. 

“Thank you, Virgil.”

“You’re welcome. Now that the mushy shit’s out of the way - this is a terrible idea and you shouldn’t fight Roman. Not because you’re young or weak or anything like that, but because if one of you gets seriously injured, it’s not like we can waltz into the nearest village and ask for help.” 

Logan shakes his head, smiling. He looks much older than twelve and a half. 

“Trust me, Virgil. This will not be much of a fight.” 

*~*~*~*~*

“If I could talk him out of this, I would,” Thomas tells Virgil. They’re sitting on a tall mound of earth that Thomas had bended up from the plain. Patton hovers casually behind them, sitting cross-legged on a ball of air. Logan and Roman stand facing each other, arms at their sides. 

“The duel will end when one of the participants is unable to bend, or when one participant cedes to the other,” Virgil announces. He’s still not sure how he got roped into refereeing this crazy death match. Patton bends the wind so that his voice carries down to Logan and Roman, but he doesn’t have to. It’s so silent that Virgil could hear for miles. “No attacks shall be permitted which may result in death or grievous bodily harm. Are these rules understood by the participants?” 

“They are,” Roman says. They’re different than the rules to a Fire Nation duel, Virgil thinks, judging by the slight confusion that crosses Roman’s face before he settles back to cool indifference. 

“They are,” Logan says. He and Roman are an arm’s-length apart. 

“Bow!” Virgil calls. Logan and Roman each take a step backward and bow from the waist, a sign of respect between duel participants. Despite their bickering, they do respect each other. (Virgil thinks.) 

“Turn and walk! Ten or fifteen paces!” The traditional standard is ten paces, but Logan’s legs are much shorter than Roman’s, so he has to walk fifteen paces to cross the same amount of ground that Roman does in ten. They turn around and walk, and once they’ve made it the designated distance they turn back to each other. 

“Ready your bending stances!” Roman squares his shoulders and lifts his hands, curling them into fists. Logan spreads his feet apart, planting them shoulder-width apart. Virgil raises a hand up high, bringing it down sharply to connect with his palm like a knife slicing through a fresh kill. 

“Begin!” 

Roman immediately launches a huge fireball at Logan. It’s red, the lowest intensity Roman is capable of producing. Virgil laughs internally; Logan was right. Roman is holding back. Thomas makes a worried noise, but Logan is unaffected. He shifts one foot, thrusts his hands out and flicks them up, and suddenly a massive wall of earth rises in front of him. Roman’s fireball slams harmlessly into it, singing the upper layer of dust but otherwise having no effect. 

“I knew you would temper your attacks for me!” Logan shouts, dropping his wall. “If that had been your usual strength, my wall would have disintegrated!” 

“And you took that risk?!” Roman says. 

“Because I knew you would go easy on me! That is not the point of this duel, Roman! Fight me like you mean it!” Logan stamps his foot, and two massive pillars of earth rise up beside him, one on either side. Another stamp, and the pillars segment into disks. Logan begins to move, still between the pillars as he hurls the disks of earth at Roman. 

Roman dodges the first few disks easily, but Logan is relentless. For every few disks he throws, he stamps his food again, and the pillars rise up again. He draws more and more earth up from beneath him, and it’s all Roman can do to keep himself from being crushed. 

“Are you trying to kill me?!” 

“I thought you were a prince! You should be stronger than this!” 

Roman stands perfectly still, and Logan sends a disk hurtling towards him. Roman screams and throws his hands forwards, and a massive burst of golden-orange fire roars out. It engulfs the disk, pushing it backwards and melting it. Molten rock splashes to the ground, and Roman runs forward. He has twin flames clenched in his fists, like knives, and Logan grins wildly. 

“Finally!” 

The ground grows soft beneath his feet. Roman yells, thrusts a fire-knife forward like he’s going to stab Logan in the head, and Logan vanishes. He drops down, sinking below the earth, and Roman whirls around, confused. The pillars sink down into the ground, and Roman growls. 

“Get up here and fight like a man!” 

The ground rumbles beneath him, almost like Logan is laughing, and then a pillar of earth bursts up beneath Roman and sends him flying into the air. As he falls, another pillar flies up, smashing into him, and then another and another and another. Roman is knocked around like a ragdoll; he fire bends in the air, hurling jets of flame at the earth, but Logan is apparently so far underground that he is unaffected. 

Finally, he slams onto the earth, flat on his back. Logan pops up from underground, covered in a layer of dust, breathing heavily. He takes a single step towards Roman and collapses. 

“Logan!” Thomas shouts. Roman pushes himself to sit up, placing a hand along Logan’s neck. The earth bender doesn’t stir. Roman says something, but it’s inaudible. “Patton, please!” 

“On it,” Patton says, bending Roman’s words toward them. 

“He’s alive,” Roman rasps in their ears. Thomas stands, slamming his foot into the ground, and a curved chute carves itself into their observation mound. Another stamp, and a flat piece of earth appears at the mouth of the chute. Thomas leaps onto it and begins to surf down towards Roman and Logan. 

“A little help?” Virgil asks Patton dryly. Patton offers his hand, pulling Virgil up into his arms, and then they’re flying.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan sleeps for about six hours before sitting up, rubbing at his eyes. “What hit me?” he groans. “Did I lose the duel?”

“You both lost, morons,” Virgil says shortly. 

“You and I are the only ones here - no, wait, someone else is laying by the fire. Roman?” 

“Yeah. He’s sleeping off what you two did to each other. Patton and Thomas are off by the river getting water, because if I have to watch Thomas mother-hen over you two anymore I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.” He stabs angrily at the fire. “You over-exerted yourself with that crazy tunneling move.” 

“I . . . have never tried it on that large a scale before,” Logan admits, shakily sitting up. “Even now, my bending feels . . . exhausted. My vision is foggy. I - for the first time since I learned to bend, I feel truly blind.” He sounds like a scared kid, and it’s enough to evaporate what’s left of Virgil’s anger. 

“Hey, you’re alright,” he says gruffly. “No one’s dead, and you two hopefully have a better understanding of each other’s power now, right?” Logan nods, silent. “Good. Just know that if you ever scare your brother and Patton -” ( and me, he doesn’t say) “- again, I’ll drown you in the fucking river.” 

Logan cracks a smile at that, and it doesn’t fade, even when Thomas returns from the river and practically tackles him into a tearful hug.

*~*~*~*~*

Sometimes, Virgil has regrets. 

Remy coasts through the sky, Patton seated on his head with a loose grip on the reins. Logan, Thomas, and Roman all huddle together, Roman in the middle so that his warmth exudes out to encompass them like a bubble. Virgil is starfished on his back, staring up at the sky. It’s so different to the one that he’s used to seeing over the Southern Pole. 

He misses home. 

He misses the familiar sting of ice and snow against his skin. He misses the scent of seal jerky drying out next to the campfires. He misses packing down the firm snow to create walls for the igloo, misses hunting with his friends and family. 

He misses bending. 

The Fire Nation thinks that they have eradicated water benders from the Southern Pole. They believe that Virgil’s father, whom they cruelly killed on their last raid, was the final water bender. 

They think incorrectly. 

Virgil’s father sacrificed himself to save his son. The pendant Virgil wears around his neck, carved from the rib bone of an ancient and mighty Lion-Turtle, was the only thing he was allowed to keep when his father’s body was prepared for burial. His mother gave it to his father when they were married. She died bringing him into the world, and the Fire Nation made him an orphan. 

“Virgil?” Thomas asks, shifting on Roman’s chest. “Are you okay?” 

Virgil exhales, rolling over so that he’s facing his sleepy friends. “Yeah, Thomas, I’m okay. Just homesick, you know?” 

“I get that,” Thomas says. He reaches over and gently touches his sleeping brother. “At least I have Lo with me, to remind me of home. You don’t even have that. I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Virgil says easily. “It’s not like I have a family to go back to, anyway.”

A sad look crosses Thomas’s face, but he doesn’t push. Virgil can’t decide if he’s grateful or disappointed. 

*~*~*~*~*

It’s amusing to watch Logan drill Thomas in earth bending. Every time Thomas messes up, Logan throws a pebble at him, and not with his earth bending, either. He will literally pick up the nearest chunk of rock and throw it at Thomas. He hits him in the arm without fail. 

Virgil snickers from where he’s darning a tear in his pants. He has a bone needle in his pack, and it doesn’t take a lot of skill to find plants that he can twist into sturdy fiber thread. He’s already got a pretty sizable ball of thread rolled up beside him. 

“You can sew?” Roman asks. 

Virgil flinches at the sudden noise, nearly pricking his finger with the needle. “Don’t scare a guy like that, Princey!” 

An upset expression crosses Roman’s face, but he brushes it off. “Still!”

“Yeah, I can sew. In the Water Tribe, you have to learn to do stuff for yourself.” Especially when the Fire Nation kills your parents, he doesn’t say. 

Roman bounces eagerly. “Do you think you could teach me to do that?”

“Why the hell do you wanna know how to sew?”

“If something rips, I have to be able to fix it myself,” Roman says firmly. “Teach me, please?” 

Virgil sighs. “I only have one needle, so you have to wait until I’m done with this actual work before I start teaching you. You will prick your fingers a lot, and you are not allowed to bitch at me for this. You brought this upon yourself.” 

Roman just grins, sharp and wild. It’s the grin of a Fire Nation child, and it should strike terror into Virgil’s heart. He’s almost more terrified by the fact that it doesn’t.

*~*~*~*~*

Virgil quietly creeps away, after ensuring that everyone else is soundly asleep. They’re fortunate enough to have camped near a river this time, despite the fact that they’re still in the middle of the woods as they travel. What their endgame is, Virgil doesn’t know. For now, they’re just traveling so that the Fire Nation doesn’t catch them off guard, complacent in one place. 

He steps into the river, and the feeling of water around his ankles is soothing. “Hello,” he breathes. 

Virgil knows that his father wasn’t a water bender. He doesn’t think his mother was a water bender, either, although it’s impossible to say. The pendant that she gave his father was carved by water bending, tiny thin streams of water manipulated skillfully along the surface until they etched grooves. It doesn’t make sense that she would have trusted its creation to someone else, but if she had no choice . . .

Despite his insecurities, being in the water always makes him feel closer to both of them. 

He slowly lifts a hand, and a stream of water coils up to meet him. It wraps around his wrist, like a vine, like a friend, coiling up towards his neck. Virgil exhales, tips backwards, and lets himself fall into the water. He moves his hands as he falls, bending the river water so that it flows around his head. The water rushes through his ears, and Virgil is at peace. 

He stares up at the full moon, pretending he can see his father’s smile staring back at him in the craters on its surface.

*~*~*~*~*

“There are spirits in this place,” Thomas says. His eyes aren’t glowing the way they do when the Avatar State overtakes him, but there is an unnatural shine to his irises. “They are here, and they are angry.”

“Why?” the village leader asks. Thomas turns his head towards the village leader’s young daughter, sees the way she cowers away from her father. Virgil doesn’t have whatever supernatural perception Thomas does, but he doesn’t need Avatar State eyes (or whatever the fuck is going on) to see the bruises that litter her arms under her tight sleeves. 

Thomas takes a step forward. The earth shakes beneath him. Logan shifts to a bending stance in a single breath, but Thomas puts a hand out to stop him. Ice-blue wisps of fog coil up around him, and Virgil takes a step backwards as a massive spirit-dragon appears in the village square. 

“They are angry,” Thomas repeats, and his voice reverberates with a power well beyond his years.  

Yeah. Virgil’s pretty angry, too.

*~*~*~*~*

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Logan comments idly, as they fly away from the village. He’s holding tightly to his brother; without the ground to, well, ground him, he tends to cling to Thomas. “With the spirits.” 

“You could sense them?”

“Not with my earth bending. They’re not solid. But I could feel them. I knew they were there, and . . . and once you spoke, I knew they were angry.” 

“No child should be hurt,” Roman says darkly. He’s slumped over the side of the saddle, watching the ground pass by below him. “No - no child. No child should be hurt.” 

Patton is silent, clutching Remy’s reins with white knuckles. He’s been silent since they left, but Virgil is too attentive to miss the tears streaming down his face. They’d saved the day, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a pit in all their stomachs.

*~*~*~*~*

When the Fire Nation soldier bursts through the bushes, everyone moves in an instant. 

Patton and Logan spring in front of Thomas immediately; Logan is in an earth bending stance and Patton has wind spiraling around his fingertips. Virgil draws a knife from his sleeves and grips it tightly. The soldier looks to be in his mid-sixties or so, with gray-white hair pulled back in a topknot and a beard flowing down his front. He has a round potbelly, but there is something sharp and militant in his eyes. 

Roman is the only one who hasn’t moved. “U - uncle?!” 

Everyone stops and stares at him. “Uncle?” Patton echoes. The Fire Nation soldier blinks at Roman, and his entire face softens. 

“My beloved nephew.” 

Roman throws himself at the strange soldier, and the soldier catches him, hugging him and holding him close. “Uncle! Uncle, you - what happened?! After I left, Remus, Dee - what happened to them?!” 

“I will explain all in time,” the soldier (Uncle?) says. “But first, perhaps you should tell your new friends that I am not a threat before they kill me?” There’s a wry smile on his lips as he looks at them all, a bedraggled group of teenagers ready to fight and kill. 

Roman just hugs the strange man tighter, and Virgil sheaths the knife when he hears Roman’s muffled sobs. Despite their constant bickering, he knows that Roman really, truly does miss his home, and now he has a small piece of it back. Virgil imagines he’d react in a similar way if a member of his family showed up right now (even though he has no one to show up). He can’t begrudge Roman this little scrap of comfort.

*~*~*~*~*

The Fire Nation soldier is revealed to be Roman’s Uncle Emile, brother of the current Fire Lord. “My brother,” Emile says, stroking his beard slightly, “can only be described as . . . a little bitch.” 

“Remus,” Roman repeats, sitting next to his Uncle and gripping his hand. “My brother, Uncle, what happened to him? What happened to Dolos?” 

“Your father was furious at them for letting you and the young earth benders escape the capital,” Emile says. “He dared not wound Prince Remus, but Dolos is only a noble’s son. He was spared no such courtesy.” 

“Is he dead?” Roman whispers. He’s shaking; Virgil wonders if he should attempt to offer some sort of comfort. 

“He is not dead,” Emile says. “Your father challenged him to an Agni Kai - a traditional fire bending duel. Dolos barely fought back. He knelt, prostrated himself, begged for forgiveness. The Fire Lord did not grant it. The left side of his face and torso are badly burned. But he will survive.” 

Roman blinks, and tears pour down his face. 

“Your father banished him, and you as well,” Emile says. “Remus has been sent on a mission to capture the Avatar - to capture you.”

“Where is Dolos?” Roman rasps. 

“Remus insisted on taking him with him. He told your father that he would leave Dolos in an outlying colony somewhere, but he remains below deck on the ship. He is healing from his wounds. He will be scarred for life, but he will still have a life.” 

“I want to see them,” Roman says. 

Emile shakes his head. “Prince Roman, no. It is a bad idea.”

“Why?” 

“If you are spotted on board the Fire Nation ship, the crew will have no choice but to take you back to the Fire Nation as a prisoner. You are a fugitive. It cannot be risked.”

“I’ll risk my own safety if I damn well please!” Patton flinches at Roman’s shout, but Emile remains calm. 

“I will not risk your safety, Nephew. Will you risk the safety of your twin? Your betrothed? Your new friends?” 

Roman’s fire-angry glare shifts to them, to Virgil, who meets his eyes coolly even despite his terror. He won’t let Roman know that he’s afraid. He knows how much Roman hates it when they look at him as though he’s a fire bender to be afraid of. Roman exhales, and the campfire flares but he remains calm. 

“I . . . I won’t. But I miss them, Uncle.”

“I know you do,” Emile says. “My status as a disgraced general has finally come in handy, for I have been assigned as your brother’s advisor on this so-called fool’s errand. I will do my best to keep him safe and out of trouble.”

Roman fidgets with his hands. “Could . . . could I write them a letter?” 

Emile hums, considering. “I suppose that could be arranged.” 

Roman scribbles down two scrolls and passes them to his uncle. “Please take care of them for me, until - until I can come back and take care of them myself.” Emile nods, kissing his forehead. 

“I am proud of you, my nephew.” 

He disappears back through the bushes he came from, and Roman stares longingly after him. “Roman?” Patton asks. “Would - do you want a hug?” Roman stands stiff, back straight, shoulders pushed back. For a moment, he doesn’t look like their friend. He looks like a soldier. 

Then he turns around, and his eyes are wide and wet, and there’s snot dribbling down one corner of his face. “ Yeeeeeeeees,” he wails. Patton smiles, opens his arms, and lets Roman come crashing into them. 

*~*~*~*~*

Before they head out the next morning, a bird flutters down to land in front of Roman. He gasps when he realizes what it is, gathering the sharp-taloned bird into his arms and crooning over it. He showers its head in kisses. Virgil is lost. 

“This is Dragon! He was my pet back home, he’s a messenger hawk!” The bird chirps, nibbles on Roman’s ear lobe, and presents him with the parchment tied to his leg. Roman snatches the scroll, unrolling it eagerly, and Virgil peers over his shoulder. 

The upper half of the scroll is a near-illegible scrawl, with a splotched signature that Virgil can barely make out as “Prince Remus” accompanying some doodles and a splatter that looks almost like blood. The lower half is in shaky but beautiful calligraphy. The opening address is “My darling flower,” and the ending signature reads “Yours forever, Dolos.” 

“My love,” Roman whispers, tracing his fingers over Dolos’s signature. “And my brother . . . I love them . . . so much.”

“You gave up a lot to be with us,” Thomas says. “I appreciate everything that you’ve sacrificed. Logan and I would be dead without you.” 

“I’m glad no one is dead,” Roman says softly, voice wavering. “I just . . .”

“You love them,” Patton says. “We understand.” 

Roman strokes the parchment. His fingers come away slightly black with ink from the upper portion that his brother scrawled, and he exhales. “I am going to write them back. I’ll send Dragon to them. I’m not losing touch with my family, not again. Not this time. Remus and Dolos aren’t going to leave my life, not this time. They’ve got just as big a bone to pick with my father as we do. They can give us usable information.” 

“Will that endanger them?” Logan asks. 

“Uncle Emile is there, too. He can help them be discreet. I’m not abandoning my old family for this one, but - but I won’t betray you to my father, either. That’s not what a prince does.” Roman squares his shoulders again, and Virgil blinks in surprise. Roman doesn’t look ridiculous, like a child-soldier, or militant, like an enemy. He looks proud and strong and regal.

He looks like a real prince.

“I support you,” Logan says, startling all of them. “You are a prince, even if you are not our prince. I trust your judgement.” Roman seems the most shocked of all of them by Logan’s bold proclamation, especially considering the heated duel they’d had just three weeks ago, but Logan’s milky grey eyes look like they’re staring into Roman’s soul. 

Virgil is familiar with that look. 

“If Lo trusts you, I trust you,” Thomas says, and he smiles widely. Patton nods, smile bright and bubbly, and Roman looks to Virgil. He offers a thumbs-up and ruffles Roman’s hair. Roman squawks and bats at him, pushing him away. Virgil laughs and falls over easily into a back-bend. 

“Once you’re sure Thomas is solid on his earth-bending, we’re going to a sacred Fire Nation site on the fringes of the empire,” Roman tells Logan. “Fire comes next in the Avatar cycle, right? After earth?” 

“I think so?” Thomas says. 

“I know so,” Logan confirms. “And I think he’s ready.”

Roman nods, and the fire blazing in his eyes is the most reassuring thing Virgil’s seen in quite a while. (It’s strange to say, considering Roman is a Fire Nation prince, but Virgil’s used to people judging him by appearances. He’s learning to reconsider his assumptions.) 

“Alright then,” Roman says. “I’ll write back to my brother, try and find out what sites might be relatively empty so that we can camp ourselves out there. Fire Nation, here we come.”