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badger-writes · 3 years

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Star Wars OC Ship Week 2021 - “for light and love”

3 - Angst/Drama

When Jedi found themselves troubled, they visited the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

Throughout its history, this chamber of the Jedi Temple ziggurat had always been set aside as a meditative refuge, a sanctuary of verdant greenery and trickling waters. Assembled herein one could find a collection of flora both native and foreign, from blartree blossoms and chrysanthis shrubs to a bahnsgresk bush grove to trebala and assari trees, shading the walkways with their trunks and branches - a garden of a thousand worlds.

Though the caretakers of this special corner of the Temple had always strived to enforce a kind of olamic traditionalism to its furnishings, the spirit of the times sometimes encroached upon this timeless space; and so the High Republic crept into the Room of a Thousand Fountains by way of its masonry, which now favored heavy geometric influences, stylized decorative reliefs, and smooth, streamlined lines which swept their way around the room in a sheen of gold and marble. These elements existed alongside their landscaped counterpoints in a carefully cultivated balance; a chamber with one foot in the ageless past, and the next in the bold, brilliant future that the Republic promised to all.

Here, one could pause for a moment, immersed in the energy of the Living Force, and reflect upon themselves and their place in the universe.

It was not a place Sskeer visited often.

Though the paths were lined with benches to encourage thoughtful rest, he preferred to keep moving, pacing through the gardens at a stride just above his typical walking speed; his feet seemed to slap the stone walkways no matter how he tried to control himself, trying to beat out his frustrations through their soles. Not for the first time, he considered that the best place for him to ruminate on his disquiet was not the Room of a Thousand Fountains. In the sparring chambers, at least, he would be less… disruptive.

He rounded a corner, emerging from a grove of hedges, and stopped. At the end of the short path rolling out before him lay a plaza surrounding one of the chamber’s great sculpted fountain fixtures; a great bowl-shaped basin spread out from its center, and rising into the air within its circumference were several other, smaller basins, overflowing with hanging moss and vines and pakiphanto ear plants, each of them carrying a tiny stream of clear water which trickled from their highest point to their lowest and back again. A tiny column-shaped islet rose out of the center of the basin, only large enough to hold the holoprojector installed in its capital; out of the projector’s eye shimmered an image of one of the era’s eventual Great Works, the Starlight Beacon. The huge space station, when it was finished, would be an outpost of progress and charity to all the worlds of the Outer Rim, a promise of the prosperity of the Republic and the justice of the Jedi. It hovered above the surface of the waters, framed by the hanging gardens, spinning slowly on its axis. Even on this much, much smaller scale, Sskeer couldn’t help but be impressed.

Someone else was standing at the edge of the basin - a Rodian with pale skin and a rather distinctive topknot. Sskeer crossed the way over to his side.

“Healer Lem,” he rumbled, crossing his arms. “It’s good to see you.”

“Oh,” Kelto mumbled, glancing. “Hello, Sskeer.”

“You appear troubled.”

“Am I so obvious?”

“It is no sin. I find myself frustrated tonight as well.”

Kelto hummed. The sound of it was hollow - less inquisitive, more melancholy. “I don’t know if I can help with that, but, you know… let me know.”

Sskeer cocked his head. “Why would you think that?”

“I just - I’m not a Consular, that’s all. Cuts and bruises, I can handle. The talking thing, it’s… I don’t do that so well.”

“Perhaps. But even so, as long as you’re here... I would appreciate your company. And I sense you would benefit from mine.”

“I… maybe. I guess.”

The Trandosham crossed his arms and raised an brow. “Perhaps you would like to discuss what’s been troubling you?”, he suggested.

Kelto opened his mouth… and closed it. “No, no. That’s okay. Thank you, but... I’ll manage.”

“Are you sure?”

“I mean, it’s pretty late already. The last thing you must want is to stand here and listen to my problems.”

“Try me.”

A shrug.

Sskeer exhaled slowly through his nose. His gaze flicked back to the pool before them, where waterlilies floated tranquilly upon the rippling face of the waters.

“I think I should insist,” he said quietly. “As a friend.”

“... I don’t want to burden you.”

“It wouldn’t be a burden.” A pause. “Not from you.”

Sighing, Kelto fell silent. He, too, kept his eyes fixed on the pond’s mirrorlike surface. Then, slowly, his gaze turned upwards, towards the hologram suspended above them.

“That’s really something,” he said wonderingly. “Isn’t it? The Beacon, I mean. It’s just... incredible. That the Republic and the Jedi can build something like that? Imagine what it can do for people living on the frontier.”

Nodding, Sskeer studied the diagram as well. “A space station on the galactic fringe can do little by itself,” he commented. “It needs people, too. Diplomats, explorers…”

“Guardians,” Kelto said wryly.

“Yes. And healers.” Sskeer gave him a sympathetic glance. “It would be an honor to be stationed there, would it not?”

The Rodian pursed his lips. They flattened into a noncommittal line as he shrugged. “Not really my thing,” he mumbled.

“I find it hard to believe you’d refuse an assignment where you could do so much good so easily.”

“Yeah, well.” And then Kelto went silent, leaning against the rim of the fountain.

Sskeer let his arms fall to his sides, brow furrowing. “You’re serious.”

A sad little shrug.

“You’d really waste your talents hiding in the Temple, rather than using them for the good of others? Without even an explanation? Are you so callous?”

In truth, he almost regretted saying it. But it did, at least, provoke a reaction from Kelto, who turned away from the fountain at last. “I’m not callous.”

“Selfish, then. Hoarding your knowledge and abilities for one one’s benefit but your own. Or perhaps just cowardly?”

“W-what is this, Sskeer? An inquisition? I thought you were trying to help me!”

“I am,” he said firmly. “But I don’t know what’s wrong. Blast it, Lem, it’s as if you’ve just… given up!”

Irritation launched his voice an octave higher than he meant, transforming a sentence into a bark. The lilies bobbed on the water. For a moment, Starlight Beacon flickered.

For a moment, Kelto stared at him agape, and Sskeer noticed his eyes (the first thing he’d noticed about him had been his eyes, long months ago, and the shiny white spots lying just under their aqueous outer membrane, that peculiar Rodian quality of seeming to hold a sky’s worth of stars in their surface) seemed brittle, now, and dull. Where there had once been light there was now not dark, but … an absence. An open pit in the soul.

Sskeer’s heart panged with sorrow. What frustration still lingered on his face passed like a fleeting shadow. Silently, he waited.

At last, Kelto sighed, clasping his hands back behind his waist; his fingers continued to fidget and twiddle as he turned back to the pond. For a moment, Sskeer feared he had broken their friendship, perhaps irrepairably.

Then Kelto said, “So the thing is… I’m kind of a bad Jedi.”

“No,” the Trandoshan insisted in a whisper.

“I am, Sskeer. What you said is true. And what’s more, you’re right to call me out. I’m cowardly, and selfish, and I hide myself in the healing wards instead of really doing anything with the talent and opportunities that I’ve been given. I…” He snorted, shaking his head. “I’m at the point where I fear being in public more than I fear the dark side. How stupid is that?”

Sskeer swallowed, mouth dry. He wondered what he could possibly say.

“I just… I don’t know how it happened. I was fine in the creche, I think. I- I had friends, I got along with people. I could… Star’s End, I could hold one conversation with somebody else without falling all to pieces, like I do with you.”

“That’s not your fault,” Sskeer said quickly. “I - that is, we - there’s... extenuating circumstances. Passion is just - ”

“Yeah, HoloNet news flash: feelings are hard,” Kelto murmured darkly. “Believe me, big guy, I know.”

“I only wanted to--” Sskeer grunted, biting his tongue. If only Jora Malli were here to help him talk some sense into Kelto.

“But then I grew up,” Kelto continued. “And I was still, you know, okay! I could… work with my Master, and with others, and I helped people… and then I was knighted, and I just… there was all this shyness and anxiety inside of me, and it just kept growing and growing and growing until… until I just couldn’t take other people anymore, except when I had the energy for it.

“I think that’s the real reason I transferred back to the Temple. I just… couldn’t take it anymore, putting myself out there. At least in the medical bay, it’s just a job. You can find a niche and serve and go back to your quarters. You don’t have to… to be seen all the time.

“But who did I serve, huh? Younglings with scraped knees and bloody noses. Nobody who really needed it. Nobody who would’ve died if I hadn’t been there. Meanwhile, how many people on the frontier do you think need a healer right now? How many won’t last the night? Because right now, Sskeer, I’m letting down all of them. And believe me, I know it.”

Kelto paused, taking a gulp of air, and looked up at the brilliant blue hologram again. “And then I heard about Starlight Beacon. And I felt… I felt something, deep down. Like the Force was trying to give me a second chance. Like I could - like I could make up for all of it, if I could only just get over myself.

“And I tried to,” he said thickly, snout quivering. “Please, Sskeer - believe whatever you want about me, but please, please believe I tried to fix whatever’s wrong with me. But-- b-but I just--”

Sskeer took him by the elbow and turned him back towards himself, grasping his much smaller arms in his clawed fingers. “Don’t talk this way,” he murmured. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not true.”

“W-well, maybe it is,” Kelto hiccupped, eyes wet. His face crumpled more and more the longer he spoke. “After everything with me, and then you, and the Code -- maybe I just can’t hack it as a Jedi. Maybe I was never supposed to, a-and I just got lucky, and now - and now I - ”

“What, Kelto?”

“And now I’m dragging you down with me.”

For a long moment, they stood there, staring at each other. Kelto sniffled horribly, scrubbing at his eyes with the heel of one hand. Sskeer’s mouth hung slightly agape, but his mind seemed to be lost somewhere, thrown far away.

“Just let me go,” he whispered, blinking hard. “Please. I- I’ll go, okay? I can just… leave. The Jedi - they’ll all be better off, and - a-and so will you.”

“No,” Sskeer said suddenly. His grip tightened around Kelto’s arms like a vise.

“I-I’m serious, big guy. I think… I think I’m done. I tried, and-- and I failed.”

“You listen to me, little healer. You will not leave, and you will not give up on yourself, do you understand? I won’t allow it. I refuse to.”

“Sskeer - Sskeer, please, come on. I’m not worth it--”

“Yes you are,” the Trandoshan hissed. “Even if you won’t see it.”

“Look here,” he continued, seizing one of the Rodian’s wrists. He pushed the palm of Kelto’s hand into his chest, letting his fingers splay out against his robes, over his heart. “Remember what you did here, for someone you barely knew. Remember how you used your gift for nothing else than to help a creature in need. Does that seem like failure to you?”

Kelto shrugged weakly, trembling.

“And then you confronted that fear and anxiety inside, that same day, and every day after that. All for the sake of me. Would a coward do that, Kelto?”

“I… I don’t know. Maybe?” He swallowed. “I-it was hard, sometimes.”

“I know this now, Kelto. I wish I had before. Perhaps I could have… helped, somehow. Or found some way to help you reach out.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” the Rodian muttered, hanging his head. “This - this isn’t something you could have fixed, Sskeer. It was always my problem alone.”

Sskeer growled, deep in his throat. When he turned back to face the pond, he kept his arm around Kelto’s back, still clasping his arm - holding him gently against his side.

“You remind me of myself,” he said finally.

“Now that’s a joke,” Kelto said, sniffing. “I’m - I’m a hot mess, Sskeer. You, you’re just… you’re everything a Jedi Knight should be. You’re magnificent. How could you possibly compare yourself to somebody like me?”

“Did you think you were the only one who doubted his place in the Order?”

Kelto looked up at Sskeer, stunned. The Trandoshan, in turn, stared into the fountain. Starlight Beacon’s reflection glimmered in his eyes; slowly, as he let a sigh out through his nostrils, they fell shut.

“I have… often found myself uncertain about my place in the Jedi,” he said at length. “There are times when our teachings and precepts seem to be... fundamentally incompatible with - who I am. Or, what I am.”

He raised one three-fingered hand out before him, looking down at it, turning it this way and that. He examined the thick scales which lined his skin, the blunt claws that tipped each finger. Shame crept into the lines of his face.

“I am Trandoshan. I know this is no surprise to you - and I, myself, have had many years to acquaint myself with this truth. But for many in the galaxy, when they meet a Jedi Knight for the first time, it is a… surprising thing. For some, it’s even… repulsive. And for that, I cannot judge them.

“The T’doshok may be my race, but I could never call them my people. Not for their instincts for slaughter and cruelty, not for their hunters who trap animals and slaves for their sport, not their ‘Scorekeeper’ who tallies points to the scale of their butchery - the very thought of It is anathema to life itself. A… disgusting perversion of the natural order of the universe. I can be party to none of it.

“And yet-- if not for the Seekers, I might have been. Had the course of my life taken one turn and not another, it would be I hunting the innocent and the weak, soaking my claws in the blood and the filth of that detestable culture. And I’m reminded of that whenever I meet those I’m oathsworn to protect - and the world I’ve left behind is all of myself that they can see.”

“W-well - well, that’s just - that’s just other people, Sskeer, they don’t know any better. And besides, you’ve - you’ve overcome that through your training, right? And your discipline. So.. so it’s not even a problem.”

“Were it so easy to believe,” Sskeer exhaled, clenching his fist.

“What do you mean?”

“There are… moments. When I speak, when I act. When I swing my lightsaber. There’s a - it’s like a beast, Kelto. Like a dragon, inside of me, coiled around my heart. My intensity, ferocity… my frustration… I think this is where they come from. For a long time I believed I was battling the Dark Side, the little bit of it within us all, as a Jedi should. But… perhaps it is deeper than that. Perhaps it is an instinct, a genetic memory. Something in the blood.

Perhaps, as you said, it’s something about myself that can’t be fixed.”

He didn’t know what he’d expected would happen - perhaps a weight would lift from his shoulders. Perhaps the shadow which clung to his heart and his mind would finally pass when he was able to find the words, and speak them. But something would happen, surely, when he finally let this secret shame pass his lips.

Instead, he felt exactly the same. Life was proceeding exactly as it had before. Nothing had changed.

He was still a Jedi. He was still a Trandoshan.

Kelto was still looking at him. He still seemed stricken, but no longer as badly rattled. Sskeer let his hand fall back to his side and turned his face back towards the hologram of Starlight Beacon.

“But perhaps that’s not the point,” he continued. “If we could all banish the flaws within ourselves for all time with only a little effort, we would all be totally perfect creations. Perhaps the point is not whether our feet will always keep to the path of the righteous, but that we walk it as best we can, because the promise of something better lies at its end. Perhaps how far we can walk it does not matter, so long as we remain willing to take another step.

“That is what I think, anyway. And that is why I stay. And as long as I believe that, I can beat back the darkness inside of me a little longer.”

Kelto stared up at him wonderingly. He turned to watch the hologram as well, and for a moment’s pause they watched it slowly turning on the surface of the water, surrounded by verdant, flowering life.

“Every life saved, every battle won, every choice made - every time we turn towards the light, is its own victory. All of it, so that we might bring a light as brilliant as this into the universe,” Sskeer observed. “But we must confront our fears and doubts, and conquer them, before they extinguish our own. How else can we make such things be?”

Kelto tried to swallow, and choked. He brought his fingers up to clasp the Trandoshan’s where they curled around his arm. They didn’t feel monstrous at all. They felt like a friend’s.

“You… you really think I can do it?”

“I know it.”

“I-- gods,” he whispered. “I just-- I’ve tried to go it alone for so long.”

“You shall do so no longer.” Gently, Sskeer turned the Rodian to face him, clasping his hands in his own. “On my oath as a Guardian, Kelto Lem, I vow to do all I can to help you conquer these inner demons. If I must, I will protect you from yourself, as I have tonight. From this moment forward, your pain shall be mine, too - until we banish it forever, no matter how long that takes.

“In turn, I must ask that you swear to join me in this effort with equal vigor and equal determination, until - by virtue of our own will and discipline - you are once more the Jedi that I believe you can be.

“For light and for life.”

“...For light and for life,” Kelto echoed.

Sskeer hummed, nodding. He touched his knuckle against the bottom of Kelto’s chin. “You’re on your oath, now,” he rumbled. “No more talk of leaving.”

“R-right.” The healer took a shaky breath, swallowing, then forced it out slowly through his lips. “I-- thank you, Sskeer. This - this was a dark night for me. The darkest in a while.”

“I shall ward them away,” he replied, a hand to his chest. “That they may torment you no longer. And,” he added, smiling, “you in turn, I think, shall do the same for me.”

Kelto smiled too, brittlely, lips trembling at their corners. Finally, when he could bear it no longer, he threw himself into Sskeer’s arms, burying his face in his chest.

“Thank you,” he mumbled through happy sobs. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…!”

Slowly, Sskeer returned the hug, wrapping his arms as securely around Kelto as he could without crushing him. The Rodian was stood on his toes, swaying, trying to make himself as tall as himself; he shushed into his ear softly, stroking the back of his head with the pads of his fingers.

“I love you so much, Sskeer,” Kelto confessed.

Sskeer shushed him again. The healer was already emotionally compromised enough for one night. There would be time enough to untangle those feelings later - time enough for them both.

Instead, Sskeer held Kelto against his chest and gazed up at the dream of Starlight Beacon, and hoped that one day, both of them would be worthy enough to reach it.

#StarWarsOCShipWeek2021 #star wars #high republic #sskeer #original character #oc x canon #fanfic

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lilikags · 4 years

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Oh, To Communicate With People Who Don’t Like You

ೃ‧₊› a b o u t t h i s p o s t° ➮ Pairing: Kenma Kozume x fem! reader ➮ Series: Back to Me ➮ Tags: fluff, royal au, reincarnation au ➮ Part: 7 ➮ Word Count: 1649

You woke up just a couple hours before you would arrive home. The ride home was rather peaceful; nothing noteworthy happened as you were sleeping, as much as you were aware. The only thing you were concerned about was that your butt ached, from sitting in the carriage. It didn't have the best seats, you had to admit. While it was very good compared to some other ones, car chairs were definitely 1000% better, really.

When you arrived home, you were still kind of tired. Well, it was only natural, as you slept in the carriage for only a few hours. So, you went back to your room and took a nap, and you awoke in the evening. It was just about time for dinner, and the chef had prepared (favorite food) for you, which you thoroughly enjoyed. It was a pretty calm day, and it was nice to have.

You spent the rest of the days studying and enjoying your time, doing some of both. There was definitely stuff you could touch up on better, but you didn't want to spend your time cramming again. Ya gotta live while you're young, y'know? Work hard, play hard, that kind of thing. It's important to do both, your parents would always say.

A few days after you arrived back home, you received a letter telling you that the results will be announced in a few days at the palace. So, a few days later, you went to the palace to receive your results.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

When you arrived at the palace, you were led to a small room with exactly enough chairs for all the candidates. You were told to sit at whichever chair you wished, so you sat in the back as to not gather attention. Most of them were already there, though by all means you weren't late at all. People always liked being early, but everyone really had to be so early, huh. Many of them had small talk between themselves while waiting, but you stared out the window, watching the workers below.

Lots of interesting things happened within the workers. That was probably why gossip was so common among them. Or perhaps that was just a general hobby, you didn't know. You saw a garden worker cut his fingers on a shear, a young boy who probably was just hired. You wondered why such people were hired; wouldn't the royal family have only the best workers to maintain their property? Around the same time, a maid rushed through the diameter of the garden, seemingly in a big rush. You had no idea what that was for; she wasn't holding anything to hint at it. That would be a topic of gossip among them, for sure.

"I apologize for my lateness. Please excuse me," someone said as they entered the room. You looked towards the door, and you found Langelica there. It was very unlike her to be late; she was usually quite early to any sort of meeting or party. "Langelica, may I inquire as to why you are late?" her highness asked. "Your majesty, a fight had broken out between two of the guards by the gate; I could not stand there and watch. I had them both disciplined and they would not cause such a ruckus again. They are both in the infirmary for the day and are being taken care of. The incident has been closed," she answered. She literally had to make that more dramatic, huh.

"You are excused," her majesty said, as she turned to face all the girls gathered in the room. "You have been called here today to discuss the results of the first stage. The top three scores have been given to: Langelica-" There was a round of applause for her, very expected. "Daphne," there was another round of applause, and she curtsied for the crowd. "and Amalia." There was a last round of applause for Amalia, and the excitement died down within seconds- or perhaps the "excitement" was all fake.

Her majesty continued, "The people I am about to list are those who have passed." All the girls listened intently, hoping to hear their names. "Asimina, Ismene, Melissa, Faye, and..." All the remaining girls looked at each other, as if saying, "It better not be your name that she calls next."

"(y/n)."

Everyone but her highness was surprised. You could practically read their minds; it was so obvious. Some had the (y/n)?! I thought she was planning to flunk the test on purpose. I thought she didn't care for the throne? What's the change of heart? face, others had the The rumors... they must've been true. But why would (y/n) ever just start trying now? Isn't that strange? look.

Her highness looked pleasantly surprised at the girls' reactions, then moved on to the next point that all the girls who passed needed to hear, "In the next test, you will be assigned a date at which you will meet with diplomats from different countries. I have chosen them carefully, and I will send you all of those who passed a letter which describes the topic and date for the meeting. You will also be assigned partners for this stage, and you will be informed of them in the letter as well. You are dismissed."

She nodded and scanned the room for any questions, then left to attend to other things. Everyone soon started leaving too, either their dreams crushed or thinking about the next stage of the competition.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The day after the meeting, you received the letter. It described that your day would be in exactly one week, and the topic was the disputable western border. Your partner: Langelica. You wondered why she paired you with Langelica. Did she take pity on you? Or was she being harsh and having you compete with Langelica in the same meeting?

You didn't know, and that didn't matter. All you needed to do was pass. You sent a letter to Langelica, asking to meet, so that you both would be on the same page when you went to the meeting. She agreed, and you met at a café in town for a lighter mood. The two of you discussed the details and some arguments you could make in favor of the kingdom.

Langelica was like the perfect student; she had basically flawless ideas on paper, and she was known for being good at public speaking. You definitely didn't have a reputation for any of those, sadly. You would probably be ignored while she debated with the delegates. Well, if it's a free carry, it's good right? If it was not, then, well, you didn't know what you would do.

After a couple of meets, the two of you decided you were alright with what you had worked out and waited for your day to come.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Langelica was there first, probably a couple minutes earlier. You were pretty early, and it would probably be a waste of time to be any earlier. You sat there with her and went over the details a little bit, then sat in a silence other than the sounds of tea being sipped. You looked at the clock in the corner of the room maybe a little too often, which showed your nervousness. "Lady (L/n), don't be nervous," Langelica said, and you nodded.

They were supposed to arrive at 2:30; it was 2:28 and there was no sign of the diplomats. You waited another 5 minutes; no one arrived. Then another 5 minutes, and two old men in suits came through the door.

"Welcome, diplomats of Riles," Langelica greeted. "I am Langelica of Barswald, and this is lady (f/n) of (l/n)." The two diplomats greeted the two of you as well, then the negotiation began. It was a bit more intense that you imagined. Arguing wasn't exactly your forte, but you managed. Langelica seemed to carry most of it, presenting many of her ideas she had written down earlier. They all seemed very good compromises in favor of the kingdom, while still letting Riles benefit from it a little. Still, the two old men continued to argue. They wanted it more in their favor; that was only natural. The one to back down first forfeits the upper hand in the deal.

With these strangely stubborn customers, you felt you had to help out a little. They told Langelica that she was all paper and no experience, which caught right on. Langelica froze, knowing that this hit very hard to heart. She knew everything by textbook, everything on paper, how everything should go to plan- but she didn't know how to adapt. Sure, she had several options to go with, but she still figured things had to go her way since they worked out on paper. That's where you stepped in. You started talking a bit more sense, than some fancy terms you hadn't really studied that much.

You boiled it down to the simplest thing: they wanted to extend the border to land that was "rightfully theirs", while the kingdom currently holds it. You presented the history over that land, which you had discussed with Langelica, in the most common sense possible. Instead of using strategies used by famous figures in history that you didn't understand, you thought cause and effect; if you did this, what would happen?, and you explained it. You told stories of how you thought what would happen to the people living there if they extended the borders, how they would react, etc.- you put them in the people's shoes. Human emotions are a powerful thing, and people respond to them accordingly.

With that, you and Langelica gained the upper hand in the deal and you went home after dinner. Since the palace was a bit far from both of your estates, you decided to get dinner in town, nearby the palace. You called over a carriage and the two of you found a nice restaurant and ate there. The two of you felt a bit closer now; you had seen Langelica's weaker side, and she saw a side of you no one else had seen. Langelica seemed a bit more human; you seemed more up-to-standard than others thought. There's always a side hidden from everyone else.

『••✎••』 Extra Info * ˚ ✦ ⇢ If you haven’t read the other parts, find them here!

A/N: Hey guys! It's Lili here haha. I put this off for like, what, 2? 3 days? Then I wrote it all today hAhA whoops. Anyways, I hoped you liked this! I would really like to hear your opinions/comments; it really warms my heart when I see someone comment <3 Of course, if you don't feel like it you don't have to of course. I love ya all!

#kenma kozume #lili kags #back to me #kenma x reader #kenma kozume x reader #part 7

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undermounts · 4 years

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Bound―Chapter 4: Hunters

Summary: Diana and Gaius go hunting in Rome for monsters and answers.

AO3 | Masterlist

Pairing: Gaius Augustine/Diana Leigh (BB MC)

Rome, Italy, 2042

Several nights later, Diana sat alone, hunched over a desk in a grand hotel suite, her bedroom lit only by a small desk lamp and the glow of her computer screen. She rubbed her eyes, her screen coming in and out of focus as she read the same paragraph for the fifth time.

The city of Rome is home to many ancient artifacts, many dating as far back as the Period of Kings. A number of relics had been discovered during the construction of the underground Subway in 1955. Some architects claim that there is still more history to be found beneath the city’s foundations, although excavation projects would uproot many homes and businesses, as well as test the limits of existing infrastructure. It is evident that whatever secrets lay beneath the earth will have to stay hidden.

Diana glanced at her notebook, spread open to the pages on which she had written everything she could remember about the newest artifact that had appeared in her dreams. It was a double-handled, lidded amphora, made of red ceramic and decorated with black paint that had flaked and cracked with age. Depicted on the side was a scene that appeared to be a sort of burial ritual. Five men dressed in finery and crowned in wreaths of woven laurel surrounded some sort of raised structure; upon it lay another man whose face was covered by a mask of gold foil, not unlike the one Gaius wore after being freed of the Onyx Sarcophagus.

Dozens of tabs were open in numerous windows from her attempts to cross-reference the amphora in Diana’s dreams with all of the known recovered artifacts, of both public and private ownership, but so far, none of them had matched or even held any clue as to where it was hidden. Although she had dreamed of this object several times before, it appeared now with increasing frequency ever since the morning they arrived in Rome a little over a week ago, so Diana took that as a sign it was located somewhere in the city. It certainly looked Roman and when she showed her sketch of it to Gaius, he agreed. She figured who better to trust than the man who actually lived while amphoras were in style?

Diana groaned, combing her hands in her hair and leaning back in her chair as she tried not to think about how if Lily were here, they already would have figured it out.

God, she missed Lily. She missed home.

Diana pushed away from the table, shaking her head. Best not to go down that path right now. She had come to Europe to get some space, to think things through on her own, and to find these damn artifacts. She was going to see this through, and the best way to do it was to focus. She stood, snatching her long coat and sword as she left her bedroom and crossed the main living space to where Gaius lingered, preparing to head out for the night in search of trouble.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Diana said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “If I stare at that screen any longer, my brain will melt.”

Gaius huffed, glancing over his shoulder at her as he clipped his scabbard to his belt. Now that it was dark and fewer people were roaming about, he didn’t need the sports bag to conceal it. “I highly doubt that.”

“I’m coming with you tonight,” Diana stated, strapping her katana across her back and shoving her feet into her shoes.

“No.” He didn’t even bother to turn around, retrieving his jacket from the closet by the door.

Diana lowered her brows, gripping the door frame as she struggled to get her heel in her boot. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t need any help,” Gaius answered into the closet. “And someone might recognize you.”

“You’re just as recognizable as I am,” she countered with a scowl. “Besides,” Diana added, pulling her hood up over her head. “You can’t even tell who I am like this.”

Gaius spared a glance in her direction and rolled his eyes, tugging on his coat and closing the door with his elbow. “Yes, you can. You’re not coming with me.”

“Okay, well I’m not asking.” Diana brushed past him, blocking the front door and resting her hand on the handle. “I’m not learning anything by staying in here researching. And waiting for visions that clearly aren’t coming. If I go out, maybe I’ll pick up on something. A feeling, a clue.”

Gaius strode up to her, arms folded. “No.”

“Then I’ll go out on my own and search by myself,” Diana decided, tilting her chin up defiantly as she tugged the door open.

Gaius scoffed. “Go ahead. I don’t care. But if you get into trouble, that’s your problem.”

Really.

“Alright,” Diana shrugged, slipping out of the room and into the hallway. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

She walked off down the ornately furnished hall towards the elevator, her feet near silent on the plush carpet. Diana had just pressed the call button when she heard a soft swear and the door to her suite swing shut. The elevator doors opened with a ding! and Diana fought to hide her smirk as she strode inside and turned, leaning against the back wall with her arms casually folded.

As the doors began to slide shut, a hand slammed against them and Gaius stepped through, scowling at her. “Fine.”

Diana blinked innocently up at him, then reached around his waist to press the button for the first floor. “What?”

“You can come with me,” Gaius huffed, exasperated as he looked down at her. “But no blasts of psychic energy and no touching random things. No touching random things to emit blasts of psychic energy, either.”

“I can do that,” Diana nodded, clasping her hands together and resting them on her thighs, the perfect picture of obedience, a soldier listening to commands.

Gaius eyed her for a long moment before sighing deeply. He closed his eyes, leaning his back against the elevator wall. “You are so tiresome, do you realize that? How Kamilah managed to put up with you for twenty years, I do not know.”

“It took a while for her to warm up to me,” Diana supplied, fiddling with the strap of her sword as she watched the numbers on the elevator’s digital display go down as they descended towards the ground floor of the hotel. “But I will always be grateful that she did.”

“Mm.” Gaius merely nodded, eyes distant but thoughtful, staring absently at some point on the chrome surface of the elevator door. Diana could just make out their muddled forms in the reflective surface, a blur of dark colors, barely an impression of the people it sought to represent.

“Do you miss her?” Diana asked delicately, carefully studying his face for any hint as to what he was thinking. “Kamilah, I mean.”

Gaius’s brows pulled together as he glanced over at her, opening his mouth to speak but pausing in hesitation. The look that passed between them only lasted for a split second, but for a moment, Diana thought he looked sad. Unfathomably, irrevocably sad.

Then the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open with an automated ding! Gaius blinked, composing his face into a mask of neutrality once more as he shook his head and left the elevator. Diana followed him out of the hotel lobby, glancing over at the front desk which sat unoccupied, a single silver bell gleaming on the counter.

“Yes and no,” Gaius said at last once they emerged outside onto a dimly lit street. Beautiful buildings rose all around them, adorned with ornate statues and vaulted windows. Diana tore her gaze from the wonders around her, fixing her gaze on Gaius’s profile.

“What do you mean?”

Gaius glanced at her sidelong for a moment, then upon seeing she was watching him, stiffly looked ahead. “I mean that of course, I miss Kamilah. I was with her for two-thousand years.” The corners of his lips turned down ever so slightly, his eyes troubled. “Despite everything Rheya did to me, that was real at least. My love for her was real. Is real.”

“But?” Diana prompted, sensing there was more that he still wanted to say.

“But,” he continued, rolling his eyes at her prodding. “Do I miss the old days, when we were together?” Gaius sighed, pausing as they came to a crossroads. He glanced up and down the street before them, searching for any signs of distress. Finding none, he continued straight and picked up the conversation before Diana could urge him further. “No. I don’t miss that. How can I, knowing how much pain I have caused her? Knowing how much she regrets those years? How much she despises the woman she had been when she was with me?”

“But not all of it was bad, right?” Diana’s brows drew together as she recalled some of the memories she had seen with her Bloodkeeper abilities. “There were happy times, without anyone manipulating the other. There were parts of you―good parts of you―that she truly loved.”

“Do not patronize me, Diana,” Gaius snapped, though there was no malice behind his words. “Regardless of its nature, our relationship is in the past. And it will stay there. I do no not want it back, for both of our sakes.”

Diana frowned but nodded. That was fair. Kamilah was one of her dearest friends and she would hate to see her get hurt, regardless of how much Gaius had changed.

“Thank you,” she said after long moment had passed. Gaius lifted an eyebrow at her, the corners of his mouth tight. Diana added, “For being honest with me.”

Gaius looked away, expression unreadable. “I figure there’s no use hiding anything from you. You can take what you want anyways.”

“I―” Diana halted, brows furrowed. “Gaius, I…” She pursed her lips, shaking her head. She felt cold all over, as if she had been plunged into a frozen lake. Did he really think so lowly of her? “I wouldn’t do that to you. I don’t… do that. I’m not Rheya.”

Gaius paused and turned to face her. Upon seeing her face, his expression softened slightly, regret and shame flickering in his eyes, just for a second. “No. You aren’t.”

He took a step towards her, arm raised as if to reach out for her before thinking better of it. Gaius’s hand fell uselessly to his side as he shook his head. His voice was the gentlest she’d ever heard it. “You’re the farthest thing from her, Diana. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Diana swallowed the lump in her throat and glanced away. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

She could feel Gaius’s gaze on her as she continued walking, her eyes pointedly fixed on some point in the distance. Once she had reached him he continued on, leading them through the city of Rome in silence.

She couldn’t explain why his opinion of her had suddenly mattered to her so much. Why the notion of her being someone Gaius could fear made her so, incredibly sad.

It was a little past midnight when Diana felt something.

She and Gaius were fighting off two Ferals in some dingy alleyway not far from the River Tiber, although Diana wasn’t really sure she could consider this encounter a fight. It was an execution. She knew Gaius would never admit it, but the two of them made a formidable pair. Twin whirlwinds of death and steel, they made quick work of any trouble they encountered, from rogue werewolves, to Ferals, to European imps that Diana considered to be more a nuisance than a threat.

Diana had just staked her Feral through the heart, blood singing with adrenaline and the thrill of the fight when she felt a tingling at the base of her scalp that quickly spread, overriding her senses. She drew in a sharp breath, “Gaius.”

Then she was engulfed in another vision. She was no longer aware of the comforting weight of her sword in her hand or the gentle breeze that stirred the falling ash around her as she glimpsed a familiar landmark, a circular arena, a shadowy tunnel, and then a decrepit corridor leading to a long-forgotten chamber. Within was a rectangular-shaped stone platform, and on it―

“The amphora!” Diana gasped as she was thrown from the vision. She was back in the alley, breathing hard as if she had been underwater for too long. She had never experienced a vision so strong and visceral without a needing physical trigger or sleeping.

“Diana.”

She came to her senses, finally seeing the concern in the pale blue eyes before her, registering the hand gripping her shoulder and the gentler one cradling her cheek. Gaius.

Seeing the clarity in her eyes again, Gaius drew back, hastily releasing her arm and dropping his hand from her face as if touching her had scalded him. “What was that? A vision?”

“Yes, I…” she blinked, trying to clear her head. That was more disorienting than usual. “I saw the amphora. It’s here.”

“That’s vague,” Gaius rolled his eyes. “Here where? This cursed alley?”

But Diana was already moving, letting her instincts guide her. Despite the hazy nature of her vision, she had this indescribable feeling in her gut, like she knew exactly where to go. She left the alley, making an immediate right, chasing the feeling she had before it could slip away.

“Diana!” Behind her, Gaius hissed, “Damn it.”

She kept going, reassured by the sound of his footsteps not far behind. She made several turns, quickening her pace as the feeling in her gut grew stronger until she was running, Gaius right behind her, scowling and muttering under his breath along the way.

When she finally came to a stop, her blood singing, here, it’s here, she gaped in disbelief. No way.

“Damn it, Diana,” Gaius snarled as he stopped beside her, lips pulled into an irritated scowl. “I’m not some sort of dog, here to chase you around―”

He cut himself off abruptly as he followed her line of sight, eyes widening as if he had just realized where she had been taking them. Gaius turned from the Roman Colosseum and back to her, his mouth a harsh line. “No.”

Diana tore her gaze away from the historical arena, her chest rising and falling not from exertion but exhilaration. Finally, she had a lead. She blinked at him. “No? What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean, no, it’s not in there,” he snapped, clearly still irritated at being led around Rome without an explanation just to wind up at some tourist attraction. “That’s the Roman Colosseum, Diana. If there was some sort of artifact hidden inside, historians already would have found it. And if your artifact is in there, it’s on display in the museum. And we are not breaking into the Colosseum museum.”

“Since when did you become a stickler for the rules,” she retorted, shooting him a withering glare. She took a deep breath, centering herself. She was not about to fight with him here. “Besides, I don’t think it’s literally in the Colosseum. I think… I think it’s beneath it. I saw a tunnel, but it hadn’t looked like it had been touched in centuries. I don’t think anyone knows about it.”

Gaius huffed through his nose, still discontent, but folded his arms and turned to face the Colosseum again, his brows furrowed in thought. “In the early years after I was Turned, there were rumors about passageways beneath the Colosseum. Even further underground than the tunnels gladiators used. Emperors and high ranking officials supposedly used them to travel in secret. Some said it was for their safety and to keep their affairs secret, although to be fair, there wasn’t a single man in the Senate who didn’t have at least one other mistress, and everyone knew that. But I also heard that there were secret chambers connected to the tunnels for who knows what.”

“Yes!” Diana blurted, her excitement getting the better of her. Then seeing the reproach in Gaius’s eyes, she lowered her voice, careful not to draw any attention. Although there seemed to be no one around and they had encountered very few humans in the last couple of hours, it was best to be cautious. “That’s what I saw in my vision. The passageway led to this chamber, with this slab of marble at the center, like a table, or a bench. But it didn’t have legs, so it was more like a big pedestal, I guess.”

“Big enough for a body?”

“Um, yes,” Diana said slowly, brows knitting. “I suppose so.”

“That sounds like a ritual room,” Gaius frowned, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. “For private funerals hosted by the family and confidantes of important people before the public cremation ceremony.”

Diana’s heart stopped. “The painting on the side of the amphora,” she whispered, the realization dawning on her. “That’s what it was showing. Some sort of secret burial rite.”

Gaius’s frown deepened, his shoulders tense beneath his coat. “The more I learn about this artifact of yours, the less certain I am that we should find it.”

“Scared?” Diana challenged with a smirk, although if she was being honest, there was some small part of her that agreed with him.

Gaius leveled her with a cool gaze, immune to her attempts to rustle his feathers. “No. But maybe we should be.”

That sent a shiver down her spine. She turned away from him, studying the area around them. “You’re right about one thing. If there was a tunnel leading directly from the Colosseum, people would have found it by now.”

“It’s possible that the entrance from the Colosseum to your passageway has collapsed,” Gaius pondered, drawing her attention once again. “But that still leaves the question of how we find it.”

Diana chewed her lip, trying to recall her vision. The Colosseum, the passageway, the chamber, and… and another tunnel. Before the passageway, there was an underground tunnel, barely lit by lights in the distance. She focused, willing the image to become clear… Cement. The tunnel was formed of smooth, poured cement, which meant it was somewhat modern.

“There’s another underground tunnel,” she said, brows furrowed in concentration as kept the mental image in focus. “It was built more recently. At least within the last century.”

A number of relics had been discovered during the construction of the underground subway in 1955.

Diana whipped her head up, seizing Gaius’s wrist. He startled as if burned, flinching away from her touch but she held fast. “The Metro. It was constructed in 1955. Does it run beneath the Colosseum?”

“I don’t know if it runs beneath it, but it certainly comes close enough,” he said, making a point to pry her fingers from his wrist with his free hand, lip curled. He nodded into the distance. “There’s a station just across the street.”

“Perfect,” Diana grinned, gripping his hand just after he freed his wrist and tugging him along in the direction he indicated. “Do you know if it’s still running?”

“You don’t need to hold my hand for this,” Gaius grumbled, although he gave up on trying to extract himself from her grip. “And no, the last train should have stopped running around 11:30. Trains will be operational again around 5:30.”

“Good. We should leave before dawn anyway.” Diana led him to the subway station, its entrance blocked by a large metal gate. With her free hand, she gripped the padlock that was chained to the bars and closed her eyes, channeling some of her power through her fingertips, willing the inner mechanisms to move accordingly. The lock came undone in her hand and she unlooped the chain from the gate, letting it swing open before them.

The station’s interior lights were off. Diana crept forward, pausing at the top of the stairs where the moonlight gave way to a gaping maw of darkness. She pulled her phone out, using its flashlight to see more of the station. Even with her enhanced vampire senses, the darkness here was smothering. Despite the tingling sensation at the back of her skull that reassured her they were on the right path, she couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. Who knew what lurked in these tunnels at night?

She thought about all that she had learned tonight regarding the amphora and its connection to some mysterious burial rite. Perhaps Gaius was right. Maybe the artifact was better left unfound.

But then again, if she didn’t retrieve it, there was always the chance that someone else could. And who knew what could happen then?

Diana looked up at Gaius, surprised to note that she found strength in his presence, calm and steady beside her. “Ready?”

Gaius turned his gaze upon her and Diana sensed his resolution. She straightened ever so slightly. Whatever lay inside these tunnels, they could handle it. Gaius squeezed her hand once, then released it as he unsheathed his sword and nodded. “Yes.”

And then they descended into the shadows.

“I know one of the perks of being a vampire is having enhanced senses,” Diana muttered as she and Gaius wandered through the underground tunnels of the metro system. “But maybe we should have brought a flashlight. Or another phone.”

She turned to Gaius, swinging her phone’s flashlight in a wide arc as she did. “We should get you a phone.”

Gaius huffed, eyes trained ahead as he continued on, one hand wreathed in blue flame while the other held his sword at the ready. “And why would we do that?”

“Well, for one thing, if you had a phone, we’d have another light.” Diana rolled her eyes. Even with Gaius’s fire and her phone flashlight, the darkness felt smothering. “For another, it would help you communicate. Stay in touch with the modern world. You could use it to look things up. Do some research. You know about Google, right?”

“Why are you so talkative.” Gaius grumbled at her. It wasn’t really a question. “And I don’t need it to ‘stay in touch.’ The only person I talk to is you.”

“It doesn’t have to be just me,” Diana shrugged, sweeping her light back and forth. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was looking for. A gaping hole in the side of the tunnel leading to the passageway seemed unlikely. Perhaps a door to a service room.

Gaius scoffed. “Who else? Adrian?”

She shot him an irritated look. “I don’t know. It was just a suggestion. No need to shoot the gift horse in the mouth.”

“That is not how the saying goes,” he huffed, stepping over a random puddle of water.

“But it works,” Diana shrugged. “I was offering to get you a phone, so I’m the gift horse. And not only are you questioning the value of my gift, but you are being particularly rude about it. Thus shooting me in the mouth. Just like you would a messenger.”

“I don’t want a phone,” Gaius grumbled, gritting his teeth.

“Well good, because I’m retracting my offer anyway!” Diana snapped and he rolled his eyes.

They continued on in silence, their footsteps echoing in the empty tunnel. Diana sighed to herself, wondering if perhaps the passageway wasn’t down here at all and they weren’t any closer to finding the amphora than they were a week ago. But then she felt a sudden chill, the hair on the back of her neck standing up.

She paused, reaching for her sword. “Gaius. Did you feel that?”

He nodded, lips pressed into a grim line. “I felt it.

There was a scuttling sound and Diana stiffened, fingers wrapping around the hilt of her sword. Silently, she moved closer to Gaius and turned off her flashlight at the same time Gaius extinguished his fire, plunging them into total darkness. She felt Gaius’s hand, warm and comforting against her back. Subconsciously, she leaned into his touch.

After a moment, she heard the sound again. This time, it was much closer, much clearer, and drawn out for a longer amount of time. As Diana listened, her blood turned to ice. That wasn’t the sound of something scuttling around. Those were voices. Snickering. Chattering.

They couldn’t be Ferals. Ferals couldn’t speak like that. They could only hiss, snarl, and scream. And even though Diana couldn’t make out what the voices were saying, she could tell by the rise and fall of their voices that they were conversing with one another.

Diana opened her mouth, about to whisper to Gaius when she heard him, loud and clear.

Quiet.

Diana startled, clamping her hand over her mouth as she jerked her head in his direction even though she could barely make out his outline. She had heard him, but not aloud. In her mind.

She sensed his own shock, shock at somehow wordlessly conveying his thoughts to her without the psychic ability to do so.

Tentatively, she reached out to him with her mind and found some sort of connection. This wasn’t the product of psychic power. She had spoken into minds before, had bridged her consciousness to someone else’s for a few moments to communicate, but this was different. This had formed on its own.

Hesitantly, she called down the bond. Gaius?

She heard the hitch in his voice, so slight that it was only audible because it was absolutely silent.

It was silent. The voices...

Diana’s whole body went cold. This wasn’t the silence of solitude. This was the silence that came from listening.

Diana’s body kicked into action, driven by primal instinct, and she unsheathed her sword at the same time a hundred red eyes opened around them.

Tagging: @bigmemesplz, @somin-yin, @bachelorettebound14, @mkamra2355

#gaius augustine #gaius x mc #My writing #bloodbound #kamilah sayeed #adrian raines #lily spencer #jax matsuo #choices #rheya apostolous #serafine dupont #my fic

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pnwdoodlesreads · 4 years

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TO PLANT their flower and vegetable gardens, African American women used their hands—darkly creviced or smoothly freckled; their arms—some wiry, others muscled; and their shoulders and backs—one broad and another thin. They dropped small seeds into the soil with their veined hands. They wrapped their arms around freshly cut flowers to decorate tables in their homes. They bent their shoulders and backs to compost hay, manure, and field stubble, and transplanted plants from the woods into their own yards. These women developed a unique set of perspectives on the environment by way of the gardens they grew as slaves and then as freedwomen.

They continued these practices and exercised these perspectives into the early twentieth century. Rural African American women then joined these traditional ways of gardening with horticultural practices they learned from Home Demonstration Service agents and from the special programs developed in African American schools in the South.

An examination of these traditions and practices of gardening changes the reading scholars have had of African American participation in Progressive-era agricultural reform and also reveals the outlines of a rural African American environmental perspective at the time. Progressives envisioned national agricultural reforms that subjugated the discrete and nuanced expertise of local actors to models of bureaucratic efficiency and skill. Yet African American women developed an expertise from community knowledge, from their own interpretations of agricultural reforms, and from the training they received in horticulture in the Cooperative Extension Service, African American schools and other places. Progressive era scholars have missed the critical role of African American women gardeners in Progressive reform efforts, or at least have not viewed the participation of African Americans in these efforts through the critical lens of gender.2

These women cultivated with simple tools, a hoe, trowel, or shovel in one hand and seeds or fertilizer in the other hand. But they gardened within a gendered and racial milieu that gave the application of these simple instruments of skill a complex social potency. Rural African American women and men often supported one another in complementary roles and with strategies that were designed to support the family unit. Some women met their own and sometimes their family’s needs by harvesting vegetables for meals, and by planting shrubs and cultivating flowers to create more appealing homes.

The value of the women’s contributions to household productivity was often invisible to Progressive reformers, who practiced enormous condescension in their efforts to uplift the poor. African American reformers shared this condescension, making women special objects of disdain. Thomas Monroe Campbell, an agent for the Negro Cooperative Service, was haughtily dismissive of rural women, characterizing them as “too careless as to the loud manner in which they act in the streets and in public places ... and unduly familiar with men.”

But ultimately, African American women in the rural South controlled how and where they gardened, and by implication, why they gardened. They drew upon rich traditions of gardening knowledge and took what they would from Home Demonstration Work and the education programs of African American schools.This article explores this relationship between African American gardening and Progressive reform, but also asks how African American women cultivated their own gardens. Were African American women’s gardens expressions of self-interest or community experience and values, or both? Did the women blend community and Progressive influences in the gardens they made and used? How did the gardening practices of African American women in the early twentieth century rural South add up to an environmental ethic?3

[...]

THE AFRICAN AMERICAN GARDEN

AFRICAN AMERICAN and Euro-American gardens also possessed distinctive characteristics much like the roles of African American men and women. Though Vera Norwood argues that women of both groups were “responsible for designing and maintaining the yard and its ornamental garden” according to gender, ethnicity was as important as gender in shaping the unique gardens of African Americans. These featured flowers, shrubs, trees, and plants that were purchased individually, accepted as gifts, or cultivated from cuttings. African Americans created colorful motifs from gifts and cast-offs. Euro-Americans could more readily buy several plants and group and organize them.

African Americans relied on an oral tradition, unlike Euro-Americans whose expertise came from magazines and books. African American traditions were so ingrained that plants presented as gifts were associated with the giver.7African American women manipulated and controlled their yards for multiple functions in slavery and then in freedom. Free range in which livestock could roam, or a pen, an extended kitchen from the house, cleaning and leisure spaces, swept areas, and pathways to the fields, woods, the slaveholder’s house, and fenced flower and vegetable gardens comprised overlapping spaces in the yard. Each function, each space was often fluid with little or no boundaries.

Unlike most slaves, renters and owner-operators had some income and could purchase livestock, including chickens and hogs that were given free range of the yard.The women sought the shade and protection of trees from the sun and heat to prepare meals, feed and entertain family and friends, scrape pots, scrub dishes, wipe tables, beat rugs, and launder clothing. Children played and adults sought recreation throughout the yard, particularly in the shade. Outside the green spaces, women carefully swept clean any foliage, including weeds, creating a bare and austere yard.

The pathways took the women beyond their homes and yards to the environs of the woods, fields, the big house, neighbors, and town.8 In these gardens, African American women planted vegetables, fruit, flowers, shrubs, trees, and plants in red clay, sandy, and dark loamy soils. They generally cultivated vegetable gardens on a side or to the back of the cabin for easy access. To keep out livestock, their partners probably built enclosures of tied stakes for gardens—less expensive than free range. Most women grew vegetable gardens primarily to sustain their families.

[...]

They planted okra, milo, eggplant, collards, watermelon, white yam, peas, tomatoes, beans, squash, red peppers, onions, cabbage, potatoes and sweet potatoes. Others planted truck gardens and sold corn, cotton, peanuts, sweet potatoes, tobacco, indigo, watermelons, and gourds at the market for profit. African Americans also displayed flowers for everyone’s viewing and pleasure, beckoning neighbors to take a closer look or visitors to chat in the yard’s fragrance and color.

The women looked out upon exquisite flowers including petunias, buttercups, verbenas, day lilies, cannas, chrysanthemums, iris, and phlox planted in the ground, old tires, bottles, planters, and tubs. They placed shrubs—roses, azaleas, altheas, forsythia, crepe myrtle, spirea, camellias, nandina, and wild honeysuckle—throughout the yard. Azaleas and roses were most commonly planted. The dogwood, oak, chestnut, pine, red maple, black locust, sassafras, hickory, willow, cottonwood, and redbud dotted the landscape. They chose ornamental plants that were self-propagating, along with annuals that were generally self-seeding.

Colorful combinations of blues, reds, pinks, oranges, whites, and yellow often clashed with little or no sequencing. Placement was generally informal, where the gardeners could find space. A mix of color and placement resulted in a lack of symmetry and formal design. African Americans, including the women, simply could not afford to buy several shrubs, plants or flowers at the same time to create such symmetry.9 Women’s roles were transformed from slavery to sharecropping. Jacqueline Jones observes that African American men reinforced gender roles by hunting and fishing during slavery. Men were primarily responsible for cultivating the tiny household garden plots allotted to families by the slaveholder.

They practiced conservation, tilling their own vegetable plots when time off from the slaveholder’s tasks allowed. Dating back to the antebellum period, slaves used organic farm methods such as composting, when they took or were given the opportunity to grow their own gardens. A Louisiana slave gardener also built birdhouses from hollowed gourds to attract nesting birds that protected vegetables from insects and other pests.The birdhouses, a modern fixture in suburban backyards, provided shelter for the birds that served as a natural pest control.

[...]

GARDENING IN AFRICAN AMERICAN SCHOOLS:

African American schools offered several options to their students including model yards and classes with practical and aesthetic applications. The school trained students on school grounds by cultivating model yards for teaching and profit. The model yards featured traditional elements found in a rural African American culture, including gardens, livestock, and laundering. Schools like Tuskegee and Hampton Institute also offered home economics classes, which included gardening training for women, and an agricultural curriculum for men. Most significantly, African American women teachers taught other women to cultivate aesthetically pleasing gardens.

Some applied their training to teach at secondary schools. In 1937, the African American Elizabeth City State Normal Summer School in North Carolina offered a class in housing titled, “The Rural Community Background and Rural School Organization and Management,” which emphasized home and yard aesthetics in the curriculum, and suggested “ways and means of making rural life more attractive and joyous to those who live in the open country.” Students sketched “attractive lawns and backyards and [gave]suggestions of what native shrubbery to use and when to transplant it” in this class.

They created images of nature in their art and searched the woods for plants to dig up, carry home, and replant.27 Progressive influences continued at Hampton which offered to African American women courses with aesthetics in mind, ranging from “Flower Arrangement” to “Landscape Design” in the “Curriculum for the Division of Agriculture.” These courses nurtured creativity through symmetry and beauty. Hampton also offered “Flower Arrangement” and “Flower Growing for Amateurs”— classes focusing on aesthetics and scientific housekeeping already practiced in the community and Home Demonstration.

In the flower arranging class, teachers taught “the fascinating art of flower arrangement [that] provides a medium of expression universal in appeal. Students in all divisions of the Institute will find value in learning to utilize plant materials in home, store, school, or office decoration.” Instructors demonstrated “the necessary methods involved in knowing and growing ornamental plants commonly used about the home can well be learned with study and practice” in “Flower Growing.” As teachers, Home Demonstration agents, or homemakers, women applied scientific housekeeping to gardening.28Hampton also offered classes in advanced gardening.

Teachers there taught “Ornamental Horticulture,” a course general enough in scope for the layperson and the horticulturist. Students, both men and women, learned to arrange and enhance “the homes and grounds and larger properties in order to make them more useful as well as attractive” while “growing and caring for trees, shrubs, and flowers as a commercial enterprise or as a hobby.” One of the courses, "Landscape Design of Small Properties,” was more advanced than basic flower planting and arranging, and taught vegetable gardening with an emphasis on aesthetics: “Landscaping one’s own home or school grounds is an economy and a pleasure as well as an art.

Teachers, community workers, and home owners alike will find it much to their advantage to be able to improve their surroundings in their respective communities.” In the “Landscape Gardening” class, students learned “the practical methods of beautifying grounds around the buildings, the construction of wind breaks, placing ornamental flower beds, laying out walks, planting trees and shrubs, arranging and planting window boxes.” Once again,African Americans had the opportunity to layer Progressive horticultural education upon community experiences.29

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lizzylunawizardessfanfics · 5 years

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Love War

Pairing: Nox/Lizzy

Summary: Nox and Rex had been fighting against each other to try to win the affections of Lizzy as it came in many forms in which commonly was through gifts of small things, flowers, and love notes. However will today be the day she puts it to an end?

It all started with just some flowers and or little gifts being left for her and the likes with cute notes on them; however until recently was when it seemed to be getting a little out of hand. “LIZZY GET THESE DAMN FLOWERS OUT OF THE OFFICE,” Zeus shouted out right when she stepped into the room to find two huge beautiful flower arrangements. Ignoring Zeus she walked over to them to see who they’re from though she already had a pretty good idea by now of two boys in particular that could be behind this. The first one was full of beautiful flowers like: lily of the valley, orange roses, and pink ranunculus. Of course like the past arrangements she’s received, there was a note with it which she picked it up and opened it to read.

“Lizzy you are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, and most beautiful person I have ever known - and even then that is still an understatement as for no amount of words can truly describe how phenomenal you are in my eyes -Rex”

Softly smiling Lizzy felt flattered by his words as the note was written beautifully. She thought Rex was an absolute sweet and talented guy who was enjoyable to be around. Setting the note down on her desk she looked at the other stunning arrangement of flowers as there were some decorative rhinestones among the snapping dragons, baby’s breath, and the mix of red and black roses… Wait black roses? Lizzy curiously raised an eyebrow as this was something very new for Nox unless… Lizzy looked for the note as she saw it, though it was in an envelope in which she slowly opened it confused. Her baby blue eyes widened when seeing the note was on one of Nightmare’s calling cards.

“Hey guys… Did any of you see who brought this one in,” she asked looking at her friends playing it off as the group looked at one another before looking back to her and shaking their heads in a no manner. “Nah, by the time we all got here they were already there,” Zeus answered in a huff. Looking back down to the note she flipped it over to read what it said.

“My love for you has grown far more than it has for all of the things I’ve taken. From your personality, your voice, your hair, your eyes, your humor, and even the way you look away and smile, you’ve managed to steal my heart from right under my nose. It is clear to me that you are exactly everything I’m looking for as I shall steal you away fairly soon -Nightmare”

Feeling her cheeks getting warm, her heart went aflutter as she knew it was truly Nox. A bigger smile finding its way on her lips as his words were sweet yet exciting. “Hey earth to Lizzy, you alright,” she heard Caesar’s voice asked as her head shot up to look over to where he was nodding. “Yeah sorry haha,” she said with a small laugh as she slipped the note back into its envelope as she sat down to start filling out paperwork.

The day went on as Lizzy had finished teaching the last class of the day. Collecting her things and making sure the chalkboard was clean she was spaced out some. She was suddenly brought back by the sudden feeling of a pair of arms wrapping around her waist pulling her back a bit which caused her to jump a bit until she heard a familiar voice whisper, “Seems like my lucky day to find you first beautiful.” glancing over her shoulder Nox’s face came into view as Lizzy smiled with a small giggle towards his words. “That you did, though next time give me a little warning; I’d hate to throw a glitter bomb at that handsome face of yours,” she said to him earning a chuckle out of him as he looked at her with soft eyes. “I shall try to remember that, we wouldn't want anything bad happening,” he said placing a kiss on her cheek before letting her go.

Helping get her things and carrying some of it for her the two walked out of the classroom together happily while chit chatting with each other. The two made it down the hallway until someone came running up to them which was none other than Rex himself who had a big smile on his face. “Ah there you are Lizzy, good afternoon,” he said happily looking at her while ignoring Nox who just kind of glared at the brown haired man. “Hey Rex good afternoon to you as well! Is there something you needed,” she greeted in returned with one of her beautiful smiles. “No no, I was just looking for you as I bought something for you,” he said holding out a medium sized box that had plastic on top so what was inside was visible. She raised an eyebrow when taking the box as it was from one of the bakeries in town as when she looked inside her eyes widened before she looked back up to Rex. “It’s one of the raindrop cakes! You didn’t have to do that, thank you so much,” she said excitedly as for a moment Rex had looked over to Nox giving him a smirk in triumph which Nox could only roll his eyes.

Not wanting to watch this carry on, Nox clearing his throat and stepped closer to Lizzy, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Sorry to cut in but you’ve caught us at a bad time. We were just about to head out to town to grab dinner together,” Nox said with a proud grin knowing how much it’d get under his skin though Rex wouldn’t show it. The air was tense between the two as Lizzy could let out a sigh looking between the two before slipping out from Nox’s arm so she could stand between them; this needed to put under wraps.

“Could you two please stop. I get that the two of you have a LONG history of competing with one another and think of each other as rivals or whatever you call it,” she said looking between the two as they watched her with big eyes. “But the hallway isn’t the place to be having one of your challenges to one up the other… I really appreciate all the sweet things you both do like leaving the notes or sending flowers, but this can’t keep going on as it’s not going to affect which one of you I pick cuz for all you know I could just easily pick neither of you,” she continued giving a soft yet stern look at the two. “You’re right as I apologize for acting out in such a manner in a public space. I just couldn’t allow myself to go easy as you’re someone I truly care for and want nothing more than your happiness,” Rex said before lowering his gaze slightly. Nox let out a small huff at Rex’s attempt to suck up to the girl of their affections.

“Hey I’ll apologize for acting as such at the wrong place, but I will not necessarily apologize for how I’ve acted,” Nox said standing tall and firm. Taking a deep breath in Lizzy slowly let it out to recollect herself as these two really were like two peas in a pod. “Look… The both of you are really great and I hate to be the one to pick between you two because I really don’t want to hurt either of you,” she started as being stared at by both of them made her feel a little jittery. Using magic to make two flowers appear in her hand while she looked at the two before explaining, “This really isn’t easy for me so this is how it’s going to work; you both will close your eyes as one will get the pink flower as the other will receive the yellow one which I believe you both understand what the colors mean.” The two nodded while carefully listening to her as occasionally they’d glance at each other as if they were instigating one another telepathically.

The two closed their eyes and waited anxiously to receive the flowers with their hands out. She looked at the two sadly as she stepped closer to them as she stared at the yellow flower for a moment before gently placing it in Rex’s hand before turning to Nox to place the pink one in his. Taking a step back she told them that they could open their eyes to which she lightly bit the bottom of her lip. The two opened their eyes once again to look to see which one they received as the two had different responses to what they got; Nox lips tugged into a happy grin seeing that it was him she picked him while Rex had a small frown form upon seeing he had received the yellow one but then he put on a gentle smile. “Though it’d make me happy to have been picked, as long as you’re happy Lizzy I shall be happy for you as well,” Rex said sweetly with one of his famous smiles. “And if he ever makes you sad or cry I’ll be there to steal you away,” he added shortly after causing her to laugh a little.

“Like that day would ever come,” Nox said before standing beside her once again wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I plan on making her smile and laugh everyday, because out of everything else in my life; she is one of the few things I’m very serious about,” he said with a straight face which caused her to blush but smile at the same time. After a few more exchange of words amongst the group Nox and Lizzy went on their way to drop her class things in the prefect’s office.

Now that it was just the two of them walking together Lizzy glanced up to Nox before asking, “So you want to tell me bout why you sent your flowers with one of your calling cards?” Letting out a chuckle he brought her closer to him as the gentle scent of the flower in her hair and perfume tingled his nose. “Well I thought I’d be a little daring today and besides,” he started to answer her in which he leaned closer to her ear so he could whisper, “Who said anything about you coming back to the academy after we go out to dinner.” Feeling her cheeks grow more flustered she glanced away embarrassed as how cheeky. “Hey look over here,” she heard his voice which listening she looked back up to him as they had momentarily stopped walking giving him her full attention. “Ti amo mio fiore,” he said catching her off guard completely before she started to laugh. “I’m impressed you said that correctly. Ti amo anch’io,” she replied with a smile before he placed a tender kiss upon her lips. After they separated from the kiss, the couple continued on their way as the evening was just the beginning of their budding romance.

#wizardess heart fanfics #wizardess heart #nox noir #rex blanc #wh oc #lizzy luna #love triangle #request

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emjenenla · 6 years

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Something in the air’s not right today Part Two [The Raven Cycle Fanfic]

Part One | Part Two

Gansey is not having a good day. Set somewhere in the vicinity of BLLB and TRK. Part two in Adam’s POV.

Trigger warnings for panic attacks and a brief mention of child abuse.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Raven Cycle. Title from “Papercut” by Linkin Park.

Here’s part two. This story is now set a little more firmly around the vicinity of Blue Lily, Lily Blue. This part is a bit shippier than part one, but I still wouldn’t describe it as shippy. I realized towards the end that you could probably read it as Adam/Gansey if you wanted too, so if that’s your thing, knock yourself out.

As school cafeteria food went, the food at Aglionby was pretty good. However, since there seemed to be rule that school food couldn’t actually be good, the food at Aglionby was just perpetually disappointing as opposed to inedible the way the food at Henrietta’s public schools was. Not that Adam was in the position to have an opinion, however, if left to his own devices he would never shell out the money for lunch at all, something that a certain someone had taken it upon themself to fix.

“Do you know where Gansey is?” Adam asked, sticking a spoon into a cup of yogurt he and Ronan were both pretending Ronan hadn’t bought specifically for him.

Ronan shrugged carefully unwrapping the greasy wax paper around one of the two panini he’d bought from the lunch line. He took a big bite out of the corner of one half of the just vaguely congealed sandwich and nudged the other half across the tray towards Adam without looking at him or the food. “I dunno,” he said with his mouth full. “Haven’t seen him since third hour.”

Adam took the offered half a sandwich and nibbled off the corner, being careful not to look at Ronan. This was the way that he and Ronan had been sharing lunch for months. Ronan would buy twice as much food as he actually needed and then Adam would eat the extra so it wouldn’t go to waste. It drove Gansey mad. Everytime it happened Adam could see him biting his tongue to keep from asking the big, dreaded question, “What is the difference between Ronan’s charity and mine?” He hadn’t actually asked yet, for which Adam was thankful because if he did Adam would be forced to start to fight to hide the fact that he had no good answer to that question. He and Gansey hadn’t been fighting recently, and Adam would do anything to make sure it stayed that way. The fact that they’d lasted this long told him that Gansey felt the same way.

“He has history fourth hour,” Adam said, swallowing before he spoke. He was always careful about stuff like not talking with his mouth full. Ronan could get away with it, but Adam would end up looking like trailer trash. “Maybe they talked about something interesting and got caught up in a discussion with the teacher.”

Ronan snorted. “Not likely,” he said. “That class he’s taking is specifically about modern history. Gansey hates anything that happened after the sixteenth century.”

“How do you know that?” Adam asked.

“How do you not?” Ronan snorted. “It’s one of his favorite topics when he’s not rambling about Glendower. You should have heard the night he spent an hour and a half discussing why it's much more important for people to know about Savonarola than Watergate.”

Adam’s heart leapt the way it always did when he realized one of the Aglionby boys knew something he didn’t. “Who’s Savonarola?”

Ronan shrugged. “You think I know?”

Adam forced himself to keep from running to the library right now and looking the information up. He reminded himself that he was a senior, if he hadn’t needed to know who that was before now, he would be fine. “Fine, but where’s Gansey?” he said.

Ronan shrugged. “Maybe he missed a meeting this morning and is catching up on it.”

“What do you mean, missed a meeting?” Adam asked. “I didn’t think he had any morning meetings.”

“He doesn’t usually, but he might have today, I don’t keep an eye on his schedule,” Ronan polished off his half of the first sandwich and moved on to the second, pushing half towards Adam again. “He overslept this morning. We got here just as the five minute bell was ringing.”

Adam had been wondering why Ronan and Gansey were almost late for first hour, but he’d assumed Gansey had been dragging Ronan out of bed not the other way around. “Is he sick?”

“Don’t think so,” Ronan said, his mouth full again. “I think he just overslept.”

Adam was just contemplating how likely Gansey oversleeping with no underlying cause was when Matthew bounced over, holding a cup of chocolate pudding and plopped down next to Ronan, chattering about some kind of news that had nothing to do with Adam. With Ronan firmly distracted, Adam had to reside himself to the end of the conversation at least for the time being.

~~~~

Gansey turned up again just before sixth hour chemistry which he and Adam had together. Adam and Ronan had parted ways at the door to the classroom which had left Adam alone waiting for Gansey and worrying.

Gansey ducked into the classroom just before the bell rang, his head ducked low and his books hugged tightly against his chest. He half fell into his desk without looking at Adam.

“Where were you during lunch?” Adam asked. “Ronan and I were looking for you.”

“Nowhere,” Gansey said, his head still down. He sounded like he was breathless and was trying to hide it. “I had something to take care of.”

“Okay,” Adam said, trying to decide whether or not to push. “Are you ready for this quiz?”

“Quiz?” Gansey repeated without lifting his head. “What-what are you talking about?”

“The quiz in this class,” Adam said. “Ms. Woods told us about it last week. Remember?”

“Oh, yes,” Gansey said after a moment. “Yes, I remember.”

“Please tell me you studied,” Adam said. Chemistry and Gansey didn’t mix very well, and while Gansey might have been able to dredge up a passing grade without studying, the chances of him managing to actually fail where high enough to make Adam nervous.

“Yes, I studied, I just-” Gansey dropped his pencil and it rolled across the floor to rest under the radiator. He dove after it, cursing in foul enough terms that Ronan might have been proud. When he returned to his desk his hands were shaking visibly and he still wouldn’t look at Adam.

“Gansey, is everything-” Adam began but then Ms. Woods began handing out the quiz sheets and there was no more time to talk.

Gansey didn’t so much as look at him for the rest of the class

~~~~

Ronan was waiting for Adam by his locker when school got out. “You don’t work until late tonight,” he said. “Come over to Monmouth. Blue’s free too. We’re going to watch a movie.”

“I have homework,” Adam said more because he felt like he had to raise some kind of objection than because he actually didn’t want to go.

“You can do it while the movie’s on,” Ronan said. “Come on; it will be fun.”

“Fine,” Adam gave in and followed Ronan out of the school. “Where’s Gansey?” he asked looking around for their friend.

“He said something about meetings,” Ronan said with a shrug. “He’ll be back at Monmouth probably in a half hour or so. If not Noah will probably be happy to use my phone to spam call him.”

Adam thought of Gansey’s shaking hands as he rescued his pencil from the floor and how crushed he’d looked when he’d handed his chemistry quiz in. He wasn’t sure how Gansey would react to being spam called today. He wondered if he should point that out, but Ronan was already talking about something else and the moment had passed.

~~~~

“No, let’s not watch that,” Noah moaned looking at the DVD Ronan was holding up. “Let’s watch something fun!”

“This is fun,” Ronan said looking a little offended.

“I’ve seen that movie,” Blue said. “It’s all fast cars and explosions. Let’s watch something that actually has a plot.”

Adam tried to ignore their minor argument by focusing on his calculus homework. The assignment would have been so much easier without all the background noise. He should have done the sensible thing and just gone back to St. Agnes. He was never going to get ahead if he continued running around doing things for fun when he was supposed to be working to better himself.

The argument broke off with the sound of an old Mustang pulling up in front of Monmouth. “Gansey’s back!” Noah chirped. “He’ll be able to settle this argument.”

Ronan grumbled, mostly because they all knew Gansey would never watch a plotless action movie voluntarily so Ronan’s choice was officially out of the running, but didn’t make any outright complaints.

It took a surprisingly long time for Gansey to get upstairs, though that was probably because they were all used to him racing up the stairs like he had fifty million infinitely more interesting things to be doing (which was usually true). Finally reached the top of the stairs and let himself in.

“Hi, Gansey!” Noah waved. “We’re going to have a movie night! Well, movie afternoon as the case may be, but whatever.”

The look he gave them was a sort of disappointed blankness, like he really wished none of them were there at all. Adam had to be imagining it; he had never known Gansey not to want them around, if only so he had someone to ramble on endlessly too.

“Gansey?” Adam ventured.

Gansey’s gaze focused on him. His face spasmed for a moment, like he was trying to put on a more positive expression and failing. “Why aren’t you at work?” he asked.

Adam jumped. He had never heard Gansey sound so cold before. “I don’t work until late tonight,” Adam said. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, no, there’s not,” Gansey said. His voice was sharp and horrible and wrong. He barely sounded like himself. “There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not like you could have told me you had plans, but I guess my life revolves around you people anyway, so what does it matter?” He threw his messenger bag onto his bed and the contents spilled across the bed, the beloved journal sliding off the comforter onto the floor. Gansey didn’t even seem to notice.

Vaguely, Adam was aware of Noah fading away into nothingness and Ronan beginning to protest, but mostly he was numb. Adam had expected to fight with Gansey again, but he hadn’t expected it to be like this. He’d expected a blow-out about bills or tuition of one too many meals slyly bought. He didn’t know how to deal with Gansey like this.

Blue stepped up to the plate before Adam could even begin to figure out what to say. “We didn’t mean it like that, Gansey,” she said. “But you seem kind of upset. Did something happen today?”

“No!” Gansey snapped. That was even more out of character. Gansey got annoyed at Adam all the time, but never at Blue. “Nothing happened today! Everything’s splendid, thank you very much!”

Adam did not think he’d ever heard a less convincing argument.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Gansey said, turning away from them. Adam heard him take a deep, noisy breath through his teeth. “You all can carry on with whatever you were doing.”

None of them so much as moved until the bathroom door slammed behind Gansey. None of them moved when the water started running. None of them moved as time dragged on and on. Even Ronan, who had been seconds from diving headfirst into a rage didn’t move as the true weight of what had just happened crashed down on him.

Eventually, however, without saying anything, Ronan got up and went into his room. He came back carrying another DVD case. He took the DVD out and put it into the player. As movie began Adam realized it was a Disney movie.

“What movie is this?” he asked.

“The Lion King,” Ronan said without looking over. He was staring at the screen with almost single-minded determination. “It was one of the only movies we had as kids which Dad had bought instead of just dreaming a copy. It was always Declan’s favorite.”

Adam wouldn’t have thought of Declan Lynch as the sort of person who had ever enjoyed Disney movies, but that and wondering what Niall Lynch’s dreamed copies of Disney movies were like helped distract him until the shower finally turned off. It was a long time after the water had turned on had started. Normally Adam would have been jealous of Gansey’s ability to just take a shower without calculating just how much each drop of water would cost him, but today that was the last thing on his mind.

Finally Gansey opened the bathroom door and came out. Adam almost wished he hadn’t, because Gansey’s eyes were red with tears.

Gansey looked at them for a minute, then his head dropped and he looked away. “I’m sorry about before,” he whispered. “I have no excuse.”

That was the worst part. Ronan would have had an excuse, Blue would have had an excuse, even Adam would have had an excuse, but Gansey didn’t even try to come up with one. He was just going to take whatever they threw at him without even trying to explain why.

They teased Gansey about his clothes and his car and his habits and his obsession with Glendower. Ronan poked and screamed at him when he was in a bad mood, Blue scolded him and he and Adam had fought on a hundred different occasions, but something like this had never happened before. The things they did never seemed to touch him. The real world couldn’t hurt Richard Campbell Gansey III. It had never occurred to Adam that Gansey could have a bad day, that he could resent their presence, that he could want or need time alone to put himself back together. In some ways he had not seen Gansey as human enough for any of that.

Adam slowly unfolded himself from the floor and walked over to Gansey’s closet. He gathered a pair of Gansey’s pajama pants and the yellow sweater he wore so often. It was hideous, but Adam was also pretty sure if was one of Gansey’s favorite articles of clothing. It didn’t matter how ugly the sweater was, if Gansey liked it he probably would find it comforting and that was what mattered right now.

He carried the clothes over to his friend and Gansey looked away more if that was possible. He was afraid Adam was going to be angry. The realization cut Adam to the core. It had never occurred to him that Gansey might think that they were going to get in a fight now when he was so obviously upset. He’d never thought that Gansey didn’t understand that.

Adam pushed the clothes into Gansey’s arms and Gansey glanced up, his eyes wide with surprise. There were pretty prominent dark circles under his eyes, and Adam remembered Ronan mentioning that Gansey had overslept this morning. Adam knew that Gansey had insomnia, but they didn’t discuss it very often. Ronan would mention in passing that he and Gansey had gone to the gas station to by orange juice at three am and gotten weird looks, but Adam didn’t know exactly how bad Gansey’s insomnia was. How often couldn’t he sleep? Did he take medication? How much sleep had he actually gotten last night?

“Take your contacts out and put these on,” Adam told Gansey, indicating the clothes. “You look really tired.”

Gansey finally met his eyes for the first time in the conversation. He looked confused, like he couldn’t quite figure out why Adam wasn’t screaming at him. “Okay,” he said after a moment, obviously deciding it was best not to comment.

Gansey retreated into the bathroom to change and Adam returned to his place on the floor next Ronan. His calculus homework was completely forgotten, and he didn’t think he’d be able to get back in the right frame of mind to complete it for a while yet. Blue snatched the remote from Ronan and moved to start to movie again. Ronan lunged for it and she stopped him by planting her foot against the side of his face.

The bathroom door opened. “Come sit down, Gansey,” Blue called. Gansey hesitated just long enough for Adam to wonder what was stopping him before he moved across the room and sat down on the couch next to Blue.

“I really am sorry for snapping at you,” Gansey said after a moment. He was staring down at his hands and not looking at any of them. “And for scaring Noah away. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“Gansey, it’s fine,” Blue soothed. She patted Gansey’s leg and Adam looked away feeling like he was intruding on something private. “You’re allowed to be frustrated every now and then; we’re not going to hate you forever because of it. And Noah will turn up again; he’s not going to vanish into the ether just because you had a bad day.”

Gansey didn’t reply and Adam wracked his brain trying to figure out what the right thing to say. It was obvious that Blue was doing the same thing. Thankfully, it was Ronan who saved them all by shoving aside Blue’s foot and snatching the remote back. “Alright,” he said with an air of finality. “Now that that’s all take care of, let’s get back to this movie.”

For a few minutes they watched the movie in silence, then Gansey’s collapsed against the armrest of the couch looking like he was going to fall asleep. Blue pulled his legs up onto the couch as well and after a minute’s consideration, Adam reached out and pulled Gansey’s glasses off. Ronan got up and stalked across the room. A moment later he returned and dumped Gansey’s comforter onto their nearly asleep friend in his characteristic type of caring.

“Go to sleep, Gansey,” Blue said. “We’re going to order pizza soon; we’ll wake you when it gets here.” She was rubbing Gansey’s foot and again Adam felt like he was seeing something he shouldn’t. Was there something going on there, or was he just reading too far into it?

“Wait,” he said, his mind catching up with Blue’s words. “We’re ordering pizza?”

“Of course you’re ordering pizza,” Noah said. “You can’t have a movie night without pizza!” He was sitting on the arm of the couch just above Gansey’s head.

“When did you come back?” Blue asked.

Noah just grinned and didn’t reply.

“Yes,” Ronan said when it became obvious Noah wasn’t going to relent and say something. “We’re getting pizza.”

Ronan actually got up and went to get Gansey’s phone which seemed like a weird workaround of the whole cellphone thing. Adam certainly hoped that Declan didn’t check the phone bill to see if Ronan was using his phone for things like ordering pizza while still ignoring calls, but after a moment Adam had to admit that wouldn’t actually surprise him knowing the Lynch brothers.

“Okay,” Ronan said, coming back. “What do we want?”

~~~~

When the pizza guy pulled up Ronan paused the movie and Blue and Adam handed over their parts of the bill. Ronan gathered the money and retrieved his wallet from Chainsaw’s beak. He made no move to wake Gansey or find the other boy’s wallet. Ronan and Gansey were less diligent about paying for their own portions of food than Adam and Blue were. This was partially because Ronan and Gansey were both so rich that an order of pizza was no object and also because they lived together and were always buying each other food and groceries. This would not be the first time Ronan paid for Gansey’s food and it wouldn’t be the last; Gansey would do the same.

Ronan went downstairs and returned a minute later with his arms full of pizza boxes. Adam got to his feet and went into the bathroom to find napkins, paper plates and cups. When he got back, Blue was trying to wake Gansey. Adam looked away to give them some privacy and crossed over to where Ronan was laying out the pizza.

“Is that garlic bread?” Adam asked noticing the smaller box. “I didn’t know we were ordering garlic bread.”

Ronan gave him a look. “I paid for it myself. If that bothers you, you don’t need to eat it.” Then he took a plate from Adam and began loading it up with pizza and garlic bread. Adam sighed then filled his own plate, avoiding the garlic bread.

When he returned to the couch, Gansey was sitting up and leaning sort of heavily against Blue. The comforter was wrapped around his shoulders and he looked like he was seconds from falling back to sleep.

Ronan came over and handed Gansey a plate of pizza. Gansey blinked at it like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. “Eat,” Ronan said, not unkindly. “I know you didn’t eat breakfast and who knows where you were for lunch. You need something in your stomach.” Gansey nodded blankly and after a moment he picked up a piece of pizza and began to eat.

Adam moved to sit on the couch next to Gansey and tried not to make it awkward as Ronan plopped down on the floor and started the movie again. Gansey took a bite of pizza, chewed and swallowed then said quietly, “I really am sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t mean to-”

“Gansey,” Adam said as gently as possible. “It’s fine. I’m not mad. I can tell when something else is going on.”

He hoped his words would serve as an invitation to talk about what Gansey was so upset about, but Gansey didn’t rise to the bait. “What I said was still uncalled for,” Gansey said. “I didn’t mean it.”

“No one thought you did,” Ronan said, banging his head back against the couch. “No one hates you, Dick.”

Gansey didn’t look much happier but he went back to eating without complaint so Adam figured the crisis had mostly been diverted. He took a bite of pizza and tried not to think about how good the garlic bread on Gansey’s plate looked. He turned away to see Noah watching them with a strange, sad expression on his face.

“Is something wrong?” Adam asked.

Noah grinned, but his eyes were still sad. “Nothing new,” he said and turned his attention back to the movie.

So there’s some Noah angst randomly at the end. No idea where that came from but we’ll go with it.

Hopefully everyone’s in character. I’ve only ever written Adam and Ronan through Gansey and Declan’s undeniably distorted POVs and I have next to no experience writing Blue and Noah. I also hope that the ending doesn’t drag. I was originally planning to write the last scene in part one then decided not to write it. Hopefully I shouldn’t have ditched it in this part as well.

#the raven cycle #adam parrish #richard gansey iii #gansey #ronan lynch #blue sargent #noah czerny #adam x ronan #gansey x blue #fanfiction #Emjen writes #belated part two #I couldn't help but give Declan a shout out in this one #emjenenla

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orbemnews · 3 years

Link

Zwirner May Disrupt Art Gallery Model With Click-to-Buy Business The art world is only just beginning to address the questions raised by the pandemic, such as: Are in-person art fairs a thing of the past and virtual viewing rooms the future? Will museums maintain no-touch ticketing and auction houses continue global online salesrooms? One mega-gallerist, David Zwirner, has decided to double down on what he took away from the last year: the need for a click-to-buy marketplace to sell original works of art. As a result, Zwirner has created Platform, a website that debuts Thursday and which each month will offer 100 works presented by about 12 independent galleries around the world with prices ranging from $2,500 to $50,000. “We learned there is a real place in the art world for e-commerce,” Zwirner said in a recent telephone interview. “There is an audience out there we did not know existed. They don’t go to galleries necessarily and they don’t really go to art fairs. They look at things online.” He noted that the audience was “almost all millennials,” who discover art through Instagram and word of mouth. “The art world has never catered to them,” Zwirner added. “They can graduate into a much broader participant.” Zwirner presented an earlier pilot of Platform last year, and several of the participating galleries are returning for the new iteration, including Bridget Donahue and Night Gallery. Among the new partners are Bortolami, Charles Moffett, and Jessica Silverman. The artists that Platform is presenting initially include Kenny Rivero, Jane Dickson and Jibade-Khalil Huffman. To be sure, websites like Artsy and Artnet have been selling art online for some time. And last year, Sotheby’s started Gallery Network, an online, buy-now marketplace for works valued up to $150,000. But for a blue-chip behemoth like Zwirner, the Platform venture represents a significant departure from the traditional in-person gallery model. The additional information provided about the works of art is more extensive, and in many cases artists are making work for the site. “Everybody is trying to figure out this new landscape, which relies so much on digital content and selling material without actually seeing it in person,” Moffett said. “We’ve tried a number of different platforms and have been less than satisfied with the results. Obviously the David Zwirner brand is one that is very well respected and my artists liked the idea that they would be presenting on the Zwirner platform, so we figured, why not give this a shot?” Skeptics will say that Zwirner is just trying to garner publicity and generate good will with a paternalistic, Robin Hood move that ultimately gives his own gallery 20 percent of every sale on Platform. And some in the art world worry that Platform is merely a farm team for Zwirner — a way to develop emerging artists, woo them from smaller galleries, and harvest information about those galleries’ clientele. “I wouldn’t be interested in doing something like that — it’s a little bit of a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” said the dealer Larry Gagosian. “My advice to smaller galleries would be preserve your own identity and brand — even if you can’t do it at the level of a large gallery, work within your means and don’t hand over your artists and client lists to somebody who might take advantage of it at some point.” Zwirner said he is looking to collaborate with smaller galleries, not supplant or exploit them, pointing, for example to the gallery’s recent addition of the Romanian-born sculptor Andra Ursuta, who will continue to show with Ramiken Crucible, and to Harold Ancart, who continues to work with a smaller gallery, Clearing. Lucas Zwirner, the son of the dealer, who led the creation of Platform, pointed out that the mega-gallery is investing in material on the site that gives the artists greater visibility, including interviews and videos. “We’re not just taking art and selling it,” he said. “We’re helping grow careers and promote artists.” Moffett said the click-to-buy aspect was a little unsettling, replacing the “inquire” button, which initiates a conversation with the gallery. “I take a lot of pride in placing all of my artists’ work carefully, and the idea that we’re putting these artists’ work out there in the world for anybody to buy is a little bit stressful,” he said. “If I had a preference, it would be the ‘inquire’ button, but I think taking a leap of faith is worth it.” Indeed, where dealers typically take great pains to place works of art with prominent museums or reputable collectors, Platform allows anyone but felons to purchase. But that democratization, David Zwirner said — as well as the transparency of posted prices, compared to the usual gallery opacity around what things cost — is integral to the new business. “We’re not sitting there and saying, ‘You get to buy it and you don’t,’” Zwirner said. “It’s first come, first served.” David Kusin, an economist in Dallas who tracks the art market, commended Platform’s “use of 21st-century technology” for buying and selling art, and suggested Zwirner could use the venture to collect valuable art price data. Mike Steib, the chief executive of Artsy, said he welcomed Platform into the arena: “Anything we can do that makes buying art as accessible as buying cars, jewelry or luxury goods is great.” Platform is staffed by a team of 10 young gallerists — in addition to his son, it includes Zwirner’s daughter, Marlene — who bring different backgrounds to the venture. Bettina Huang, for example, Platform’s general manager, has held leadership roles at e-commerce companies like Fab.com and the Amazon subsidiary Quidsi. Silverman, who just opened a new space in San Francisco, said the two artists she will feature are Clare Rojas and Catherine Wagner. “I’m interested in experiments,” the dealer said of Platform — “who might come to the work who we don’t know.” James Fuentes, a Manhattan gallerist who participated in a pilot of Platform during the pandemic, said that the experience proved to be “a huge boost for us in a very difficult time,” and that the online space is “less hierarchical.” Several artists on Platform said they were excited about the possibility of greater exposure. “Even a year ago it would have been unimaginable for a dealer like Zwirner to invite an artist like me to participate in this,” said Lily Stockman, who shows with Moffett. Tunji Adeniyi-Jones, who shows with the Nicelle Beauchene Gallery, said Platform enabled someone like himself, recently out of art school, to have access to Zwirner’s network “without having to meet any of the rigorous intense expectations of a gallery of that caliber.” While 72 percent of Platform’s first round of artworks are $10,000 and under, Zwirner said he expected the price point to increase. His gallery last June sold Jeff Koons’s “Balloon Venus Lespugue (Red) (2013-19)” for $8 million, and in the last 12 months has sold over $100 million worth of art online. What particularly fueled the dealer’s interest in the venture, he said, was his experience with the gallery’s fund-raiser, “Artists for Biden,” in which more than $2.5 million worth of art by Koons, Kehinde Wiley and Carmen Herrera, among others, sold through a “buy now” option. He added that 40 Koons prints of an inflatable American flag, priced at $10,000 each, sold out in seven minutes. “Those are new kinds of numbers for a gallery,” said Lucas Zwirner, who added that “over 90 percent of buyers were new to the gallery.” The venture is meant to cultivate a new breed of art buyer, one who may feel more comfortable making a decision for themselves, with less interest in the hand holding that dealers often provide. “I don’t have time to go to every young emerging gallery,” said Dorian Grinspan, a New York City collector. “It’s exciting to have a place where you have a more curated showing of what’s around the market.” (While the smaller galleries propose the artworks for Platform, the Zwirner specialists may weigh in.) The mechanics of the site have been their own challenge. Zwirner Gallery is partnering with the fine-art shipping company Dietl International, using a custom-built system that provides shipping quotes at checkout. The customer covers shipping costs and galleries get paid when the work ships, avoiding the invoices, packing and transport bills that can be a burden. David Zwirner said he has spent “hundreds of thousands of dollars” making sure the website is high quality, efficacious and handsome. His commitment to the new online venture inevitably raises questions about his plan for a new $50 million gallery in Chelsea, which has been delayed by the pandemic. “It creates a golden opportunity for me to think about what I really want,” he said. “I’m no longer as sure as I was four years ago.” Zwirner said he also likes the idea of a business like Platform saving his gallery — and the smaller ones collaborating with him — the steep costs of multiple art fairs every year. “We will never go back to the old way of working,” the dealer said. “We’ve encountered a much larger art world than we thought existed. If it proves to be a robust primary market, the sky’s the limit.” Source link Orbem News #Art #Business #ClicktoBuy #Disrupt #gallery #Model #Zwirner

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marlmckitten · 7 years

Note

Can you do a smutty fic where Marlène and Sirius are drunk at a Gryffindor party and they have sex but they are like used to it so they have like a routine

Gryffindor had won the final Quidditch game of the year. And for the seventh years, it was an excuse to go out with a bang. It was one of the largest parties the Mauraders had ever thrown in their seven years at Hogwarts. Complete with lots of booze and even McGonagall decided to turn a blind eye. They only had a few months left, what was the point now? Marlene had been watching James and Sirius celebrate in the centre of all the attention, while Lily scolded them for drinking to much. Of course her boyfriend obliged, but for Sirius there was no stopping him. Him and Marlene had been casually dating for a while now, but usually weren’t super affectionate in public. So it wasn’t a surprise to her that he was busy with his friends, she just kept an eye on all the girls who tried throwing their hair in his face and batting their eyelashes his way. He didn’t look at any of them. Occasionally he would toss a smile towards Marlene and that was enough to keep her appeased. When Lily finally dragged James away, probably to snog him in one of their hiding places, Sirius drunkenly made his way over to Marlene. “Well there you are, McKitten, why don’t you want to party with the rest of us?” He asked loudly, leaning on the table beside her to steady his balance.Raising her own bottle, she swished it around to show that it was almost empty. “I can party without keeping the whole dorm up, Black,” she replied flirtatiously.

He clearly had enough alcohol coursing through his veins that he forgot about his usual reluctance for any type of public affection. Running his fingers through her blonde hair he leaned down to kiss her forehead in what was an attempt at a cute, gentle kiss, but he ended up misjudging and ramming his chin painfully against her forehead. “Oh, shit, sorry McKinney,” he rubbed her forehead as if to prevent her from being in any sort of pain.

But Marlene only laughed, pulling him down onto her lap, “You’re drunk.”

“So are you!” He declared loudly, slurring all three words together.

“Not as drunk as you are, I think,” she giggled, bringing her bottle to her lips and letting the last of the alcohol slide down her throat. “I am, however, out of alcohol, what do you say we get some more?” She winked at him.

But he stayed seated, cupped her face in his hands and this time managed to properly kiss her. Taken off guard by all the passion, she let his lips engulf hers in a heated kiss that had the rest of the Gryffindor girls, and some of the boys, pouting angrily. Clearly none of them thought that drunk Sirius would still remain loyal to Marlene. He deepened their kiss, by pushing his tongue past her lips, which she gratefully allowed. Before long their whole bodies were intertwined, his hands pushed under her skirt and hers tangled with his hair.

It was Remus who broke them up by smacking Sirius over the head with a book. “Get a room guys,” he advised, to which the pureblood wizard replied with a goofy grin.

“I love this girl, I will snog her wherever I like!” He announced loud enough for most of the room to hear.

This time it was Marlene’s chance to slap him lightly, “Don’t talk, you’re ruining it,” she laughed. They were far from I love you’s, but also drunk enough not to care. And so she pushed him off of her and straightened her skirt. “To alcohol,” she pointed out the portrait and Sirius nodded in agreement.

“Bye-bye Moony, we will be back later with more firewhiskey!”

A squeaky voice chased after him, “Wait, Padfoot! We have more, right here!” But Sirius pretended not to hear Peter’s voice as he chased Marlene out of the Gryffindor common room.

“When is he going to catch on that when I say we need more of something we literally never come back with anything?” Marlene giggled, taking her boyfriends hand in hers and walking quickly down the corridor. Much like James and Lily, Marlene and Sirius had a few regular places they disappeared to. Neither of them had to think much about where they were headed until they found the staircase that so few students used since it was a very long flight up to a small spot that overlooked the grounds. It really wasn’t much use for anything to most of the school. But it was perfect for the young couple.

“He can think whatever he wants,” Sirius chortled as they started up the stairs. “As long as he’s not following us, I’m fine.” The two of them stumbled multiple times and always laughed it off, eventually they got to the landing before the next part of the passageway and Sirius stopped her there, “I don’t know about you, darling, but I really don’t like waiting to have you,” he grinned and wrapped his arms tight around her, pushing her up against the cool wall.

The blonde smirked in response and resumed their kiss from earlier, eager for the feeling of Sirius’ hands all over her again. He gladly picked up where he had let off. His hands found warmth under her skirt again, running up and down her legs, before resting on her buttocks. In return, she pulled at his robes, demanding to feel his shoulders and arms around her. It didn’t take long, it never did, for him to remove his shirt and for her to quickly throw hers aside as well. He watched her chest heave up and down with her breaths, trapped in their fabric confinement. He loved her breasts, they were perfect, always soft milky, he moved his hands away from her backside so he could unclasp her bra and release her bosom for him. Leaning down he captures one of her perky nipples inside his mouth and she mewled in content at the feeling. “That’s a sound I could listen to all day,” he purred as his mouth switched to torment the other for a few minutes.

She moaned his name, as she knew he loved and felt her whole body heating up, despite the coolness of the dark walls surrounding them. She arched into him as his teeth clamped down just gently enough for the hair on her neck to stand on end, pleasure already rippling through her. Marlene felt her pink panties go wet as he finished off with her nipples and took her lips again. His hand continued to massage her breasts as she shook under him and his right hand made its way up to her neck. “What do you want, Marls?” He breathed into her ear between a few light nibbles.

Fuck, she never understood how he could always turn her on so fast before even touching her down there. “I want you.” She replied needy.

“Is that all?”

“Always only you,” she promised him. The blonde knew how possessive he could get and how much hearing that he was all she ever wanted would please him.

“Very good, my dear,” he let go of her neck and roughly threw her skirt from her body, leaving her in nothing but her light pink knickers. “This is some nice lace, you’ve got town here, Mar, were you expecting something tonight?”

She moaned into his touch as he felt how wet she already was for him. “I was hoping,” she responded, “I haven’t had you in a week.”

“And is that why you’re already dripping?” He commented, grey eyes lighting up as he slipped a finger through the side of her panties and slid it between her folds.

Marlene was finding it hard to continue talking. “You should realize by now, you always get me like this,” she admitted truthfully, in hopes that it would appease him enough to touch her more. She could instead comment on how hard he surely already was, but he made that apparent enough when he shoved his hips against her leg and she felt his member jabbing into her.

He was done with talking as well, he removed the last garment from her and his fingers once again trailed through her lips, causing her spine to arch into him once again, shivers running over it. She knew that he would grow inpatient soon, she just had to wait but fuck why did he always do this to her? Always wait until she was quivering under him to give her what she wanted. “Come on,” she moaned as he did it a few times, carefully skipping her throbbing clit.

“Whatever you like,” he grinned and stuck his forefinger inside of her, his thumb hitting her pink nub and causing her to shriek out in a flash of gratification. He only pushed his finger into her a few times, before he wanted her too badly to continue teasing. She helped him quickly throw away the rest of his clothing, taking a moment to admire his cock, dripping with precum, ready for her. He had one hand on her hip and the other on the wall behind her when she guided him into her entrance. A moment later with a soft grunt, he forced his way inside, her wetness welcoming him in.

Marlene threw her head back in pleasure, his name escaping her once again. His initial few thrusts were slow but he very quickly picked up the pace. Marlene liked him rough and he never complained. Their hips grinded together as he slammed in and out of her, by now he had memorized the exact pace and angels that would have her moans echoing down the deserted staircase. “Fuck Sirius,” her voice was shakey and desperate with need for him.

He moved his hand away from her hip as she had mimicked his movements without any help, and took his finger to press against her clit for extra stimulation, he needed to ensure that his lover would come before he would. With a sharp gasp as he did so Marlene could feel the warmth between her thighs about to explode. She tightened around Sirius, lifting one of her legs to wrap around his waist, pulling him in even deeper, if that were even possible. He continued pumping into her, “Fuck,” he groaned as her leg shifted and her walls became so tight he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on. He pushed harder with his thumb and moved his lips to bite down on her ear. The combination of sensations threw Marlene over the edge and she screamed out his name in orgasm.

Sirius didn’t stop thrusting into her as he rode out her orgasm, making it last for as long as he could before he finally spilled out into her. The pair stayed against the wall, letting the coolness wash over them and help them catch their breath again. Both damp with sweat from their sex. Eventually Sirius removed himself from her and Marlene felt the wetness between her legs making a mess down her legs and couldn’t help a light laugh. “Shower, then back to the common room?” She asked him as he passed her bra to her.

“Of course, darling,” he grinned, stumbling slightly when he leaned down to grab his own clothes next. He knew that shower meant, she had what she wanted, but now that she had her first orgasm out of the way she would want a slower, more passionate one next. Half the school may have been waiting for them to break up, but they could already perfectly read each others wants and needs and had absolutely no intention of wandering to anyone new

#Sirius Black #Marlene McKinnon #Blackinnon #smut #request #Blackinnon smut #marlmckitten #ch: Sirius Black #ch: Marlene McKinnon #ship: blackinnon

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halothenthehorns · 5 years

Text

THE LETTER’S FROM NO ONE

James quickly began reading, dying to know about his son realizing his true heritage.

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest-ever punishment.

Then he froze after only one sentence, feeling bile rising thick and fast in his throat.

"Longest ever punishment?" Sirius hissed, "and how long would that be?"

All eyes swiveled to the adult Harry, who remained quiet and was hoping this would quickly pass. Then his mum surprised him by placing her hand gently on his shoulder and whispering, "It's alright dear, no one is blaming you. We just want to know."

Once again relaxing at her touch, he finally admitted, "A month, give or take a bit."

Lily pursed her lips, determined not to start screaming again after she had just reassured her son.

Remus managed to ask through clenched teeth, "When it said, locked up, what exactly did that entail?" At first he had thought of it like grounding a child, in a more medieval fashion but still. The no meals thing had pushed him to question this further.

Harry didn't really want to answer, as his Aunt and Uncle had always threatened far worse punishment if he ever told the school about his sleeping arrangements, but his Aunt and Uncle weren't here. These people had shown nothing but loving kindness to him, who was by all accounts a stranger. They deserved the truth. "I was let out once a day to use the loo; otherwise I was literally locked up." He said quietly.

"Did they ever hit you?" James snapped almost before Harry had finished, after all if they could imprison a child, what else had they done? He didn't like the way his boy kept edging around this.

"Never left a bruise," Harry answered honestly, "knocked me around a bit, spanked me sure, but they never left a bruise." Harry felt like he was reassuring them while carefully wording his answer.

Lily dearly wanted to ask what the school must have thought, but she didn't think she could stand listening to whatever lie they would have told to keep Harry in there. Still none of the four were happy, James decided they had pressed enough for now. Harry was looking more and more likely to bolt from the room if they kept up this line of questioning.

By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had broken the majority of his birthday presents and run over the neighbor.

"Why do we have to keep hearing about this?" Sirius sighed. "I really don't want to keep hearing about that stupid little boy."

Harry was glad school was over because that meant he had a chance to wander around the neighborhood and avoid Dudley's gang, whose favorite game was Harry Hunting.

"Do I even need to ask?" Remus frowned.

Harry shook his head and said, "Nah, they liked to chase me down, but they couldn't often catch me. I've always been pretty fast."

Lily sniffed and glanced about the room, finding irony in the fact that these boys were upset that Harry had been bullied, yet didn't even seem to realize they themselves were bullies. Now seeing the damage it could do to the victim, maybe the next time she brought it up they might actually understand.

Harry thought to himself that he was almost looking forward to next year, when he'll be going to the local public school, while Dudley would be going to a private school.

"While that would have been nice," James smiled, "being away from your horrid cousin and all, I am quite pleased that you will be going to Hogwarts instead."

"How do you know?" Harry couldn't help but ask. After all, would a wizarding school take someone who didn't even know they were a wizard?

"Did you not pay attention to all that accidental magic before?" Sirius demanded. "Of course we know you're going."

Harry instantly felt reassured and motioned for his father to go on.

Dudley thought this was funny.

"Why would going to public school be funny?" Lily asked, genuinely confused.

Remus shook his head in pained remembrance as he told her, "Because some people were raised to believe that anything lesser than them was meant to be laughed at."

He told Harry that the school initiation was to stuff people's heads down toilets, and offered to do it to Harry now.

All three boys tensed up at this, not wanting to start in on another round of bullying already.

Harry's response is to tell him no, because the toilets never had anything as bad as Dudley's head down it, the toilet might get sick, then Harry ran.

While everyone laughed at the boy's wit Harry beamed with pride at remembering how long it had taken Dudley to figure it out and come after him. He hadn't even been punished for it.

One day during the holiday Petunia took Dudley to get his school uniform and left Harry at Mrs. Figg's.

"Ouch," Sirius winced. "Looks like you didn't get out of seeing her after all. Cabbages, bletch!"

She wasn't as bad as Harry remembered her anymore; she had recently tripped over one of her cats and didn't seem as fond of them.

"Oh," Sirius cried, perking up at once. "Well then for once the little pup ought to have a good time."

She let Harry watch television and gave him some chocolate cake.

The rest of the adults hadn't looked ready to believe Sirius until they read it for themselves, now they were all smiling and hoping for some inexplicable reason that Harry would spend the rest of his time there until school started. Sadly this idea was ruined the moment James continued reading.

When the Dursley's got back, Dudley spent the night in his new uniform, which was

maroon in color with orange knickerbockers and straw hats.

Remus made exaggerated gagging noises with his throat while Lily grumbled under her breath, "Remind me to never complain about the school uniforms again."

They also carried knobby sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking.

James spluttered in disbelief but Lily sighed and stated, "Don't even start James. You know very well you cursed anyone you could get your wand on without being caught. It's the same basic principle."

James looked slightly hurt but had no way to really deny this so let it go and moved on.

While Petunia crooned about her little Dudders, Harry was trying his hardest not to laugh at the whole spectacle.

"Glad to know he looked as ridiculous as we thought," James chuckled. Sirius was fighting the impulse to comment on the baby name that had been used.

The next morning, when Harry entered the kitchen, he saw his aunt bent over a tub that was full of what looked like dirty rags in grey water.

"What's that?" Remus asked. Without looking up James kept reading.

When Harry asked what it was, his aunt at first clenched up, always hateful whenever Harry dared to ask a question.

Lily huffed and grumbled under her breath, but again James didn't bother pausing.

She did decide to answer him though, by telling him it was his school uniform.

"What!" Everyone in the room yelped.

"Why are you so surprised?" Harry asked, genuinely confused. "The book already told you that they gave me Dudley's old clothes."

"It's just-" James started, then looked to the others who were all just as appalled that Harry wasn't more upset by this, "Just last night your cousin paraded around in a brand new uniform and now you're watching your Aunt tell you that they can't be bothered to get you clothes."

Harry merely shrugged, that's how it had always been, why would he be concerned with it now? It had already happened to him several years ago, and he was wearing clothes that fit him just fine now. The four exchanged looks and determined that they would have to have a serious talk with him about this later.

Harry's first response is to tell her he hadn't realized the uniform was supposed to be wet.

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. "Brilliant, glad to see you don't take it all lying down."

Petunia snaps back that he was being stupid, that she was just dyeing some of Dudley's old clothes so they would look like everyone else's.

"I can't decide if she's delusional enough to believe that, or just trying to stop Harry from saying anything else," Remus grumbled.

"The first one," James and Lily said at the same time.

Harry had every reason to doubt this, thinking that by the time she was done he'd probably look more like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin.

"Lovely visual description," Sirius smiled.

When the other two Dursleys came in, their noses were wrinkled up from the smell.

"That could only improve their appearances I'm sure," James muttered.

Vernon went to look at his newspaper while Dudley put his Smelting stick on the table, which he carried everywhere.

"Do I even want to know why he carries that around with him everywhere?" Lily sighed. No one answered her, they all knew the answer.

The mail arrived and Vernon tells Dudley to go get the mail.

Sirius pretended to faint in shock while the others did look genuinely surprised at this, until Remus spoke up, "More of that pretending he doesn't exist thing, I'm sure."

"Really Remus," James sighed. "Can't you turn your brain off for five minutes and just be happy about something?"

"Not in my nature really," he said with a benign smile.

Dudley demands Harry should get it and Vernon indeed tells Harry to get it. Harry retaliates by saying Dudley should get it and Vernon tells Dudley to poke Harry with his Smelting Stick.

"Are you kidding me?" Lily yelped, snatching the book away from James to read that one for herself.

James let it go out of his slack grip, "You mean he actually encourages him to beat on you?" he asked his son.

Harry simply shrugged, but chose not to answer that. So what if Uncle Vernon had, even if Dudley did it without his father's permission, he still wouldn't have gotten in trouble for it.

Gingerly taking the book back from his wife, James vowed to move that talk up to after this chapter was over, maybe even sooner if this didn't stop soon.

Harry gives in and goes to get the mail, and finds a letter written for him. It is addressed so accurately, even labeling where he slept in the cupboard, there couldn't be a mistake. He feels instant confusion, since no one in his life had ever written to him.

Remus and Sirius again winced at such a reminder that they were dead, and Lily and James felt their hearts break once again that something so common to a normal person would mean something so big to their child. How lonely a life and James still felt responsible for it all. He would have wanted to quit reading these books after the last chapter if not for one thing keeping him going. He hoped his son would find out what he had done to set Voldemort after his family, and right that wrong. Hopefully it wasn't too late.

He was so lost in thought that he hadn't realized how long the silence had drug on until Harry had

nudged him gently in the side, a questioning look in his eyes. James threw him a quick smile before pressing on.

Harry reflected back on the fact that he had no friends, family or anyone else who would write to him.

Remus and Sirius had continued to sink lower into themselves at this, but Lily looked like she was thinking something over. Since no one spoke up this time though, James kept going without interruption.

The envelope was a thick yellowish parchment and there was no stamp.

"Hey it's his Hogwarts letter!" James brightened up at once. "Please, please, tell me he goes waving that in front of his Aunt and Uncle and we get to read about them tripping over themselves to explain." The malice in his voice was obvious, as was the eagerness coloring his tone as he continued. He didn't even care in that moment he didn't know what a stamp was, just having recognized the standard paper of a wizard's letter.

In the kitchen Vernon yells at Harry to hurry up, sarcastically asking if he was checking for letter bombs, then laughing at his own joke.

"I don't get it," Sirius said, "and I've heard some pretty lame, dumb jokes in my life."

Lily had a pained look on her face, "It's a reference to something in the muggle world that should not be made fun of. Just trust me on that one," she explained. Sirius shrugged and decided not to push it.

When Harry got back to the kitchen, Dudley exclaimed that Harry's got something.

"Why would he shout it like that?" James asked. "Is it really that odd for Harry to have something?"

"I suppose it's the way Harry reacted to it," Remus speculated.

Harry was just unfolding the letter when it was taken from him by Vernon.

All of the adults huffed in agitation at this, but remained silent, wanting to hear the explosion they knew was coming. Lily in particular felt a vindictive pleasure, as Vernon might not understand right away what it was, but Petunia sure would.

Harry shouts back that it is his, but Vernon sneers back who would even be writing to you?

Sirius grimaced in disgust, "I knew they bullied you, but did they always speak to you like that?" he demanded. Harry just shrugged, which was occurring far too often for their liking. Was he always so quiet because of the way he had been treated in his younger years?

Vernon then glances down at the letter and his large face begins reflecting a rainbow of colors at his surprise.

"Well, he certainly knows what it is," Remus said. "Though I wonder why? Do you think Petunia would have told him the name of the school you went to, in preparation for this moment?"

"I suppose so," Lily said absentmindedly, thinking more of the satisfaction that was about to come. They would have to explain to Harry about his parents now.

When he shows it to Petunia her reaction is the same . Dudley demands to see it was well. His parents ignore him, and Dudley then pokes his own father in the head with his stick.

"Really!" the other two marauders cried in shock.

"His violence extends to hitting his own parents?" Lily gasped; her disbelief evident on her face.

Sirius shook his head, "I would have thought he'd just whine some more."

Dudley then shouts that he wants to read that letter.

"What gives him the right?" James muttered.

Harry shouts even louder that he wanted to read it, as it was his!

"While he has every right," Lily sighed, "and he'll probably be the last one to get to."

Vernon shouts at both of them to get out of the kitchen, stuffing the letter away.

All four of the adults frowned at that, this was not the reaction they had been expecting at all. Could they really continue hiding this from Harry?

When Remus voiced this question aloud, Lily said slowly, "No, I should think not. I know for a fact that when a muggle-born receives a Hogwarts letter a representative wizard will show up that day to explain and answer the Muggle's questions. However this is an interesting phenomenon. Harry is a wizard by blood but raised by Muggles who know about the magical world, so it was up to the family to discuss his magic." She paused for a moment, stomaching the bile that rose in her throat as she remembered all of the lies her sister had piled up. "The school knows if the child's letter doesn't reach its intended person, and the letters will continue coming in until they do. What the extent of that is, I have no idea."

After a pregnant pause James finally asked, "How on earth do you know all of that?"

Lily snorted and finally came back to the present, having been lost in a few memories. "It's in Hogwarts a History, establishing how and why the students are selected and introduced into the school."

"Never bothered to read that one," Remus said with fond remembrance. "I preferred preparing for my classes rather than leisure reading. If I did want to read for fun it would always be fiction."

"Guys," Sirius whined when it became obvious this was going to become a full and lively discussion about reading of all things. "I am freely reading and listening to this book, but please don't make me sit here and listen to what you two did in your free time."

"You could do with a bit of extra reading Sirius," Lily snapped, rounding on him at once. "Maybe if you had cracked your school books open to use for more than a pillow-"

The following squabble was familiar enough that James and Remus began laughing, while Harry nudged his father again and asked, "Is this common around here?"

"What?" James asked, genuinely confused.

"They're arguing, but they don't seem to be mad about anything?" Harry asked, watching the two with keen interest, and a vague familiarity about two other people arguing a lot...

James felt a pang of sadness once again when he realized his little baby would never see these

kinds of interaction for himself. "Yes Harry, those two often have lively debates with each other, but there's no real heat to them. They just enjoy provoking each other."

Harry nodded as he continued watching, but after a few more moments James cleared his throat loudly and waved the book in his hand around. "Do you suppose we could get back on topic?"

"You just completely ruined what I was saying James," Sirius grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall beside the fireplace, but did not stop James as he finally continued.

Harry stands his ground, shouting at the top of his lungs that he wants his letter!

"Now there's a temper we haven't seen," Sirius chuckled lightly.

Vernon lost his temper, grabbed the back of both boys' shirts, and tossed them into the hall.

"What!?" Lily, Remus, and Sirius all squawked, getting to their feet and looking as murderous as they had when they found out about the cupboard.

"I thought you said he never hurt you?" James growled, the book in his fist clenched so tightly it was in danger of ripping.

"I-er-he didn't," Harry said, looking at all of them genuinely confused, "it's not like it hurt," he explained gingerly.

"If he put his hands so easily on his own boy-" Lily began.

"You think I'm lying!" Harry interrupted, feelings of hurt and anger beginning to boil. "I would have told you if he'd done anything worse." His anger managed to keep the shot of shame out of his voice that even though he had told the truth...there was still technically a lie by omission. None of them seemed that happy, but they all backed down, and sat back in their seats.

Harry was still feeling a touch hurt, so James told him gently, "We believe you Harry, we're just beginning to wonder how loosely you use the wording 'knocked around'." Harry just sighed, and waved his father to go on, feeling this didn't need to be discussed further. James disagreed, but was still eager to continue on.

Then he slammed the kitchen door closed. Harry and Dudley had a brief wrestling match of who would watch at the keyhole, which Dudley won, so Harry dropped to his stomach and watched through the crack at the bottom of the door.

"Inventive," Remus beamed.

In the kitchen, Petunia is fretting about how the letter knew where he slept.

"Lily, if they knew where he slept, wouldn't you think there would be an inquiry?" Remus asked, attempting to force a friendly tone into his voice instead of the growl he felt.

Lily pursed her lips in thought before shaking her head and saying, "No, 'fraid not. No one looks at where the letters are addressed, simply if they're muggle-born or not." The others all huffed at that, and now dearly hoped this was a situation where someone magical would come, see this travesty, and have Harry removed that day.

Petunia suggests writing them back, saying they don't want- Vernon cuts her off by saying they won't react at all, but simply ignore the letter's existence.

"Could they though?" James asked, a feeling of fear beginning to twist in his gut. "Could they tell them that I mean. Could they really stop Harry from going to school?"

Lily nearly broke skin over her lip as she worried it before finally answered in a quavering voice, "I suppose, yes they could. After all Hogwarts is not compulsory or mandatory in any way. It is optional for the family to send their student there."

The boys' mouths fell open in shock and horror at what this could mean. Sirius and James getting paler by the second as they looked on at the books in worry. If Harry didn't go to school, he wouldn't be able to get out of that house, wouldn't be able to properly learn magic. Could they really deal with seven books full of these horrible Dursleys?

After a brief bout of shock however, Remus shook himself and said sternly, "No, if they choose to do that, then the ministry will still make an appearance, find out why they choose otherwise, and someone will still find out about the way they treat Harry."

Everyone just turned to Harry, as if expecting an answer, but he simply shrugged and reminded them, "Hey, I'm as clueless as you guys, remember?" Only slightly reassured by Remus, James decided the easiest way to get his answer was to keep reading, rather than let his mind continue such dreadful thoughts.

Petunia tries to protest, but Vernon shouts he's not having one in the house, because they were dangerous!

"Dangerous!" Lily exclaimed. "Honestly Petunia, what have you told him?"

"Nothing good," Sirius grumbled, picking restlessly at the carpet.

That evening Vernon went to visit Harry in his cupboard.

General snorts of crude amusement arose as James demanded. "He fit?"

"Just his head," Harry laughed slightly, happy that he remembered this detail as they continued.

Harry asks for his letter at once, but Vernon tells Harry that the letter wasn't for him.

"Does he really think he's that stupid?" Remus demanded.

"Bet his own son would have fallen for that," Sirius snickered.

Vernon had burned it.

"Harsh," James winced before going on.

Harry snaps back that it wasn't a mistake, but Vernon yelled at him to be silent, and a spider fell from the ceiling onto his head.

"Hope he enjoyed that," Lily said viciously.

He took a few breaths and then tried to force his face into a smile, which looked painful.

"Hope it was," someone muttered.

Vernon tries to go on in a more pleasant tone and tells Harry he thinks he's getting a bit too big for the cupboard.

"A bit big for it?" Lily said, looking faint. "When did you come to that conclusion? Before or after you realized it was illegal?" Harry put a reassuring hand on his mother's shoulder before asking his dad to go on, James conceded that there was nothing more to be said and continued.

Then offered that Harry could move into Dudley's second bedroom.

Harry winced and Hickory tore out of the room in a fright at this uproar. Yeah, maybe Harry should have mentioned that he remembered that bit. As before, he moved to each of them and tried his best to comfort them, but his attempts were getting weaker every time. There are only so many things he could have said before they all lost it and went out to commit homicide.

Finally, with a sense of regret he said, "Okay, promise me this, you won't go and leave this house because of anything in the books until after they're all done?" None of them were happy, but finally agreed they should learn all of the transgressions before the deserved murder. With a heavy heart James continued.

Harry asks why.

"Why are you questioning it?" Sirius demanded, fire still roaring through him.

"Oh I don't blame him for that," Remus snarled, "They've never done a single decent thing for him, why start now?" Sucking in air, as if slowly dying on the inside, James pressed on.

Vernon snaps at Harry not to ask questions and do as he's told and go up there. The narrative returns, stating that the Dursley's house had four bedrooms.

"Four!" was hissed mutinously around the room, but at the promise they had just made to their boy, no one did or said anything, though they were all thinking it.

One for Vernon and Petunia, a guest room, one for Dudley, and one for Dudley's stuff that wouldn't fit in his own room.

They hadn't thought it could get worse, and were growing quite tired of being proved wrong, at this Sirius even resorted to begging. "Come on Harry, a second room for his crap, while you slept with the shoes! That is bad enough for whatever punishment." Harry pursed his lips but shook his head, instinctively knowing he didn't want anyone in this house to leave it any time soon.

It only took Harry one trip to get his stuff upstairs, and he spent a moment looking around at everything in his new space. A lot of junk mostly, like Dudley's broken birthday presents, some dusty old books that looked as if they'd never been touched, and a television Dudley had once put his foot through.

"Hope it hurt," Remus huffed.

Downstairs Dudley was having a fit, wailing that he didn't want Harry in there, that he needed that room.

After their previous outburst none of them even had the energy to comment on Dudley's spoiled brat behavior this time.

Harry simply sighed, wishing he was in his cupboard with that letter, then up here without it.

That was the final straw for Lily, hearing that her own son would rather be in a cupboard with a

piece of mail had finally pushed Lily Potter into tears. All four boys freaked out initially, most of them never having seen such a woman cry, but at her tears, her baby became distressed as well and began putting up quite a fuss.

Lily made herself busy by going about and comforting him, then she got up and excused herself into the kitchen to fetch him a bottle, leaving him with Remus. She took far longer than was normal, but when she came back she was much more composed. Remus gave the boy back to his mother and Lily then told her husband to continue on.

The next day Dudley was in shock. He'd thrown a right fit, including being sick on purpose, and kicking his mother, but he still didn't have his second room back.

Sirius let out a low throaty whistle, "and here I thought Regulus was spoiled. I can't imagine any child getting away with that."

"And I don't even need to ask if he was punished," Remus said with contempt.

When the mail came again, Vernon seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry

"A first I'm sure," James muttered darkly.

This time he made Dudley go get the mail and after much protest he stormed down the hall, and when he got there he screams that Harry's got another letter.

"Why would he shout that?" Sirius laughed, "After the reaction it got yesterday, you'd think he would have the sense to hide it and read it himself."

"Ah but you said the magic word Sirius," Remus reminded him, "sense, which he has none of."

Everybody laughed at this, and with a bit of a better mood, James read on.

Vernon got to his feet at once, going out into the hallway to try and get the letter. Harry grabs hold of Vernon's neck.

"Now that took guts," Sirius said with pride, "You'll be a Gryffindor for sure." Harry just blinked in confusion, having no idea what that could mean, but kept the question to himself. Lily frowned at him, feeling that brawling like that took more stupidity than guts.

After a brief fight where all three of them got hit with the Smelting Stick, Vernon comes up victorious with the letter.

"Rats!" James sighed, not surprised, just disappointed. He looked around expectantly again, and then frowned, still not used to his third friend not being present. He'd have to bring that up again if Peter wasn't back soon.

Harry goes up to his new room, and comes up with an idea. If the person knew he hadn't received the first letter, then surely they were going to try again. Harry had a plan.

"Oh this can't be good," Sirius sighed, placing his face in his hands.

"I'm going to have to agree with Sirius on this one," Remus chuckled. "Remember our first prank? We had a lot to learn about plan making."

"Oh yeah," James laughed boyishly, "still a riot though." Now feeling quite eager to hear this he continued.

He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first.

"Not a bad idea actually," Remus said with appreciation, "much more subtle than I would have given you credit for."

"Thanks, I think," Harry said, deciding to take that as a compliment.

After repairing Dudley's old broken alarm clock,

"How did you manage that?" Lily asked in surprise, thinking he'd hardly be let around tools, or even having the knowledge at that age.

"I just filched some batteries from a working one of Dudley's," Harry shrugged, "He'd been too lazy to do it and just told his parents it was broken."

In the morning Harry crept down the stairs, but when he got to the bottom he stepped on something alive.

"Do they own a pet that hasn't been mentioned?" Sirius asked, wincing at such bad luck.

The thing he'd stepped on was Vernon's face.

While Lily groaned at indeed, such bad luck as this, the other three laughed. Feeling quite pleased that Harry had this small victory.

Vernon had been sleeping at the front door all night to make sure Harry didn't do exactly what he was planning.

"Pity he's not stupid as well as an arse," James sighed.

Harry shrunk off to the kitchen, and by the time he came back the mail had arrived again along with a few more letters for Harry. Vernon ripped them to shreds at once. He also stayed home from work that day and nailed the mail slot shut.

"What good would that do?" Lily asked frowning, "And how would they get their other post?"

"Is that even how muggle post works?" James asked.

"Not at all," Remus shook his head at this absurdity.

According to Vernon, if they couldn't deliver the letters, they'd just give up.

Lily opened her mouth again but Sirius cut her off, "We know Lily, you just told us." She huffed and laid baby Harry's bottle down, beginning to put him on her shoulder and encouraging him to burp.

Petunia tried to convince him that wouldn't work,

"You know it won't," Lily huffed under her breath.

But Vernon tells her 'their' minds work differently than their own

"Thank Merlin for that," James snapped at the book.

while trying to knock a nail in place with a piece of fruit cake.

"Is that how muggles use fruitcake?" Sirius asked with genuine confusion.

"No," Lily and Remus answered together. When neither elaborated, James continued.

The narrative continues by saying that things continued to get out of hand because the mail started arriving randomly through every slot in the house. Vernon spent another day humming a strange tune and nailing up all the small cracks in the house while jumping at small noises.

"I think this poor bloke lost whatever sense he once had," Remus laughed and Sirius quickly joined in while Lily and James smiled vindictively.

The next day, they started finding the letters inside of eggs. Vernon began making furious calls to the post office and the dairy, trying to find someone to yell at.

"Those poor people," Lily said sympathetically as baby Harry finally burped. "I'd just hang up on him."

Petunia shredded the letters in the food processor.

"Points for originality," Remus chuckled, still rather disgusted these two would go to such lengths to keep this from his cub.

On Sunday Vernon finally seemed in a cheerful mood again, announcing there was no post on Sunday's while spreading marmalade on his newspaper.

"Why don't muggles get post on Sundays?" James asked curiously.

"That's what you're caught on?" Sirius demanded while holding his sides laughing. "Wonder if he puts jam on his bills?" Remus gave James a quick answer on Muggle post, enough to satisfy James to move on.

Even as he said it, a letter came whizzing out of the fireplace and bounced off the back of Vernon's head. Soon the kitchen was nearly flooded with them and the Dursley's ducked to avoid the swamp while Harry got to his feet and tried to grab one.

"Love the excess," Sirius snickered while James turned to Harry and demanded, "Why didn't you just pick one up from the ground?"

"They were mostly being aimed at Uncle Vernon and landing at his feet," Harry answered, smiling slightly as he remembered something a bit funny next, "and I'd rather not be within arm's reach of him. I was trying to catch the ones that were ricocheting away."

Vernon roared in outrage and seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall to get him out of the kitchen.

Good mood gone in an instance, Harry quickly reminded them that it didn't hurt, and then practically pushed the book back into his father's face, wanting them to read about his funny memory.

In pure frustration, Vernon began pulling violently at his moustache, and came away with great clumps of hair.

Harry couldn't hold it in anymore and burst out laughing, after a few moments the others joined in. "He was very vain about his moustache, and he looked quite deranged with half of it missing. Looking back, it just seems funny."

Then he screams at them to go and pack, that they were going away.

"Going away where?" James asked. "Did they have a second house?"

"Doesn't matter where," Lily snickered, "they still can't outrun them!"

When the others were all packed, Vernon slapped Dudley upside the head for trying to pack away his VCR, along with a few more electronic devices.

The four adults exchanged dark looks again at such a reminder that he was violent with his precious son, so it could possibly be worse with a boy he didn't even like.

In no time at all they were in the car driving to who knew where. Occasionally he would spin around and drive in the opposite direction for a while, muttering 'shake 'em off...'

"What exactly is he basing this on?" Remus asked, trying to work this out from his point of view.

"Don't do that Moony," James sighed without looking up.

"Do what?" he asked distantly.

"Try and think it through," Sirius told him with a straight face. "I don't want to see you going as bonkers as this fool." Remus sighed and decided to let it go for now.

Dudley was miserable, he'd never gone so long without being able to play on his computer.

"That is an inkling of what my boy's been through you prat," Lily huffed, not having any sympathy for this boy.

"What's a computer?" James couldn't stop himself from asking.

"Kind of like an interactive TV," Sirius offered, the idea fairly complicated for him to explain. James seemed satisfied enough, though still intrigued to see one of these in person.

They stopped for the night to rest, but Harry stayed awake through the night looking out the window, wondering...

"He's never going to figure it out," Sirius said primly.

"I didn't," Harry agreed. "Never in my wildest dreams would I have dreamed up something like this."

Next morning, the manager came looking for them, saying that she had a hundred letters for a Harry Potter. Harry gets to his feet to claim them, but Vernon forcefully pushes him aside and claims them instead.

"That would be an odd sight," James grimaced. "Wish she'd reported it."

"Not odd enough I'm afraid," Remus sighed.

The narrative goes on to say some of the odd places Vernon stopped at over the rest of the

day, including halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multi-level parking garage.

"What was he looking for?" Sirius wondered at such seemingly random places.

"I have no idea," Harry answered honestly, "He never told us. As deserted a place as possible I suppose."

During the late afternoon, Vernon exited the car and locked them all inside while he went somewhere.

"How do you lock someone inside a car?" Lily snorted. "Dudley fine, but I suspect Harry knew you could simply get out."

"And go where?" Harry asked. "No, it was better I stayed." All of them looked rather heartbroken at this but James pressed on.

Dudley sniffles that his father had gone mad, hadn't he?

"Can't go where you're already at," Sirius snarled.

Dudley makes the comment that it was now Monday, and he wanted to stay somewhere with a television. Harry has no interest in this, and instead reflects that this would make tomorrow his eleventh birthday.

"Oh dear," Lily moaned, rocking her baby from side to side fitfully.

"Something wrong Lily flower?" James asked hesitantly at such a tone, not that he was looking forward to hearing about this either, after all if they treated his boy like this on normal days, why would it change on his birthday?

When Lily said something similar and James had no way of comforting her he instead turned to Harry and practically pleaded, "How did your birthdays go?"

Harry grimaced; not really wanting to admit that they basically ignored the occasion, or gave him such awful gifts he'd rather they'd ignored it. He felt lucky he even knew when his birthday was. When the silence dragged on, James simply sighed and decided he'd have to get his answers from the book.

Harry reflected back on his past birthdays, the most memorable of which was the one where Vernon gave him an old pair of socks.

"Jeez, I'd have rather Harry lied to us," Remus snapped, not realizing his feelings could actually sink lower until they had.

Vernon was back and was beaming and carrying an odd shaped package, claiming to have found the perfect place.

"This can't be good," Sirius sighed pushing his hair out of his face, just for it to fall back again when he shook his head in trepidation.

They were now headed towards a large rock out in the middle of the sea. Perched on top was a miserable little shack.

Lily couldn't help but wonder if Vernon was perhaps going off of the old, and untrue, legend that

wizards couldn't go across water?

"Sounds like Azkaban," James frowned, hating to think of his son in there. None of the others had ever been there, but they all shook slightly at the mention. Harry frowned and chalked this up as a question he'd like to ask later.

They climbed into a tiny little boat and began rowing out there, it was freezing. Icy spray ran all over them and the chilly wind wasn't helping.

Lily pursed her lips at thinking of her Hare-Bear out in that, without any warming spells, possibly even without a jacket. She wouldn't put anything past Dursley's at this point.

The shack was dismal at best, with only two rooms.

"Why was that place even built?" Remus demanded. "The shrieking shack sounds better!"

"I suppose it might have been more hospitable at some point," Lily mused, trying to think of a possibility.

"I would just love the irony if that used to be a wizarding house," Sirius smiled grimly.

"What makes you say that?" James asked curiously.

"Perfect place isn't it?" He explained, "Middle of nowhere, perfectly accessible to wizards, ratty on the outside, but a wizard could fix that up in a jiffy on the inside. I was hoping an old wizard couple used to live there, no family so it was left to shambles. I just like the irony." After mulling that over for a moment they all burst into laughter, though they would never know the answer to this, but they had to agree with him that this would indeed be lovely irony.

The only food Vernon provided was a bag of crisps and four bananas.

Everyone in the room was disgusted that a snack could be referred to as rations. None of them even wanted to think how long Vernon intended to stay there.

When he tried to light a fire and it didn't work, he cheerfully said that he wished he had some of those letters now.

"Oh sure, just rub it in you-" James broke himself off and cursed under his breath a few moments before pressing on.

He was clearly in a good mood; content in thinking no one could deliver mail out there. Harry agreed, but it didn't make him feel better.

"Don't worry Harry; weather doesn't have much of an effect on us." Remus told him bracingly as he noticed how crestfallen Harry seemed to be getting. "It's been long enough that someone should have filed an inquiry by now as to why you haven't gotten your letters. I'm sure they'll be around soon."

He put special emphasis on this last word, for the rest of the rooms benefit.

As the night wore on Vernon and Petunia went to the bed, and Dudley settled down on the couch, Harry was left with the thinnest blanket to curl up on the softest bit of floor he could find.

"Very, very soon," Sirius hissed in disgust.

James entertained the notion for a moment of a wizard, wishfully him, storming through the door with a reasonable explanation of where he'd been, cursing all of those excuse for humans, and then taking his son far, far away from there. Lily and Remus had come to the conclusion that there wasn't much more they could do, due to Harry's promise, so after a pause they both told James to hurry up and get past this part.

The storm was in full swing outside, and Harry lay awake with hunger and cold.

When it looked like someone was about to pause this again, Harry simply spoke over them all that he was fine, and that he had a very good sense of Déjà vu over him. Something good was about to happen on this birthday. Feeling a mite more hopeful James hurried on.

Harry laid awake watching Dudley's watch, counting down the time until it reached midnight on his birthday. At the five minute marker, he heard something creaking outside, and wondered if the roof was going to cave in. He decided he'd at least be warmer if it did.

"I can't decide if that was supposed to be funny, sad, or suicidal?" Sirius asked.

"Go with the first one," Remus sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in agitation at such a description. Even he had never had it this bad and Remus had slept in some pretty bad places.

At four minutes Harry was thinking about the house at Privet Drive, hoping when they got back it would be so full of letters he could take one without someone noticing.

"I should hope so," James smiled happily at the thought.

At the one minute marker, he was considering waking up Dudley, just to annoy him.

"I wouldn't do it," Lily grumbled. "The less of his company the better." In truth, she was projecting a lot of her hatred from the younger Marauders onto this boy, though even she had to admit they never got this bad.

When the clock struck midnight, there was a large BOOM.

"Boom?" The others asked in concern as James puzzled for a moment.

"Did the house actually cave in?!" Sirius yelped, going slightly bug eyed, picturing his pup under all of that horrid rubble. He was sure to survive, but it wasn't a pleasant thought.

"James, keep going," Remus pleaded, feeling concern mounting, what a thing to happen on Harry's eleventh birthday!

Lily on the other hand was eyeing her adult son, and the pleased smile on his face. He didn't look remotely concerned, the opposite in fact. Now she simply wanted James to keep going out of morbid curiosity. After shaking himself for a moment James read the last line of the chapter.

Someone was knocking to come in.

Sirius and Remus relaxed a bit, though James still looked concerned. "Who knocks and makes a 'boom' noise?"

"Well, keep going and we'll find out," Lily snapped.

"The chapters over," James said.

"Guess it's my turn then," Sirius groaned, dragging himself to his feet, but eagerly taking the book.

"Never thought I'd see the day Padfoot would take up a book willingly!" James laughed.

"If it's about my little pup you bet your wand I will," he stated primly, turning the page.

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noxilicious-ish · 7 years

Text

RECALIBRATION (CH. 5)

Haven’t updated this in longer than I could admit and come out of it with my pride intact.

Btw, if anyone’s interested: I’ll put up an ask or something for doodle/ headcanon requests or questions related to my Harry Holmes project. Check it out later!

Previous chapter: http://noxilicious-ish.tumblr.com/post/154338266696/recalibration-ch-4

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Past Sherlock/Lily, canon pairings

Word count: 2,879

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my pitiful, depraved mind. Please don’t sue me.

CHAPTER FIVE – IN WHICH PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL SAVES THE DAY

Scrutinising turquoise eyes locked unblinkingly onto ever-changing blue-green-gray? ones. All the while, larger and far more inexperienced emerald eyes than either of the other pairs were watching each in part alternatingly, worriedly, much like following a tennis match. Harry was witness to a Mexican standoff the conclusion of which he was uncertain of – and indeed, one he dreaded.

“It’s Professor, actually,” Minerva broke the ice, sipping her tea calmly.

“Professor McGonagall, then,” Sherlock acknowledged with a nod. “Professor of… Transfiguration, I believe? The art of changing the form and appearance of an animate or inanimate object.”

It was all Minerva could do to keep her rather beautifully-shaped teacup safely within her fingers’ clutch. Her eyes widened minutely, although she managed to recompose herself. Her lips remained in a tight, unnerved line.

“You are correct, Mr Holmes, however much that may seem like an impossibility. May I ask how you came upon such knowledge, seeing as you are most obviously not Magic, nor are you a Squib?” she inquired slowly. Mr Potter could have told the strange man about his… special boarding school, but the Ministry was supervising what was imparted by witches and wizards upon Muggles very carefully. And the man’s custody of the child was unofficial and dubious at best.

Sherlock smiled distantly. “During our… acquaintance, Lily bestowed me with her absolute trust, and revealed much of her education and overall childhood, as well as the fundamentals of Wizarding society. She was exceedingly impressive in her skill of avoiding certain trigger terms that might alert the Ministry.”

Harry perked up at the mention of his famous mother, while Minerva paled. Lily had broken the Statute of Secrecy… for a Muggle? She had been a very intelligent girl for all the years the old teacher had known her, so she was undoubtedly aware of all the consequences of such a felony. To have nonetheless committed it for someone’s sake…

The detective scanned her for a few seconds, his smile falling to reveal serious determination. He placed his cup in its saucer, then on the table near his armchair. “Professor McGonagall,” he started, interlacing his pale, bony digits. “You have obviously come here out of concern for you pupil’s safety and wellbeing. You may rest assured that he is in good hands, or at least much better than he used to be.”

The last he muttered angrily and Minerva found herself agreeing. However…

“That is not all you wish to inform me of,” she stated rather than asked.

“No,” Sherlock acquiesced. “Being a Muggle, there is little influence I can manage in the Wizarding society at the moment. I am in need of your help in a particular matter, seeing as you are the most equipped to handle it.”

She raised both eyebrows at this. What a strange fellow. “Indeed? And what is this matter you speak of?”

“I am afraid Albus Dumbledore has committed a grave mistake. You are the only one who can convince him of this, being one of his most trusted allies.”

“And why would I believe you, if that is the case? You seem aware of the fact that Albus’ word holds considerable weight with me.”

At this, he looked her dead in the eye. “Because I am Harry’s biological father.”

Then he stood statue-still, his posture expressing no-nonsense as he awaited her reply. Truly, Sherlock was more than a little nervous about this whole affair. Harry’s happiness and health was at stake whether this stern aging lady chose to aid him or not, and he was definitely not playing around with those. He loved games, but not when they involved his prodigal son.

What a laugh John would have to hear him even think that there could ever be a time he would not simply adore a little game of wills.

Harry shifted almost imperceptibly, trying his best not to break the thick silence that had fallen over the three of them. This was an adults’ exchange, and he was both glad and overwhelmed that he was allowed to spectate. He was also – though he’d never, ever say it within the Professor’s hearing range – a little amused to see said woman for the first time in his life shocked into speechlessness. She was more humane than most authoritarian teachers, but still strict enough to intimidate.

Meanwhile, Minerva was gaping. If the previous unexpected comment had startled her, this was more than enough to stun even her. And yet, she could not entirely deny the fact that what her conscious was desperate to object to, her subconscious was increasingly resigned about.

“How…” she managed to stutter out eventually. “When…”

The other adult mercifully waited for her to regain her bearings. “Are you certain of this?” she finally asked firmly.

She was met with a sardonic smile. “I have valid reasons to believe it is more than possible.”

Minerva conceded with an odd grimace. Harry blushed scarlet and fought valiantly not to fidget. No sane teenager, regardless of the tangled history of their parents and not-parents and any curiosity relating to it, could ever be comfortable with a discussion of their own conception.

“But James…” the Professor muttered, frowning in turmoil. “Why would Lily ever do such a thing? How could she?”

The detective was quiet for a few long moments, staring into the distance. “It was before she married him. I do not know…” he abruptly trailed off, greatly troubled by some long-past memory.

The old Scotswoman studied his absent expression, then she sighed and looked at Harry. “I suppose the resemblance is uncanny,” she joked softly.

Sobering, she continued, “If what you say is true, Mr Holmes, and it does seem so, then you have yet to tell me what the Headmaster’s fault is in this.”

The moment Sherlock’s eyes flicked back to hers, a horrible feeling had already settled in Minerva’s heart. “Though Lily did return to James, in the event of both their deaths, do you not wonder whether she would have rather wrote down the name of the actual father of her child, instead of that of her dreaded sister’s as said child’s caretaker?”

The Transfiguration Professor shook. “Albus… claimed that all of Harry’s potential guardians were either deceased or imprisoned. There was simply no one but… them.”

Sherlock’s fingers clenched tightly over the armrests and he leaned over slightly. “And if that were true, would there not still be his birth certificate to prove the existence of another potential guardian?” he argued tightly, spitting out the last words with unmistakable biterness. “I am not exactly parent material, but anyone would have sufficed, ANYONE but that biped swine and his equally primitive wife.”

He sat back slowly, reigning in his fury after that slight slip-up. As he watched the teacher raise a shaking hand to her mouth, he knew she was remembering Harry’s living conditions for the past twelve years. Given her ability to shapeshift, she was most likely the one tasked with keeping an eye on the child now and then, and must have borne witness to what was taking place in that abominable household.

“Lily’s Last Will and Testament is missing from the Ministry’s public records,” he concluded.

Minerva frowned, trying her best to think logically despite the amalgam of emotions. “Once a deceased witch’s or wizard’s Will has been read, it is magically written into the records. This applies to any and all testaments, and is not undoable.”

Sherlock looked at her pointedly. “Who was the known executor of Lily’s Will?”

Her eyes shot back to his and her features tightened.

…

Ever since finding out about magic, Harry’s life has been in a constant tornado of events, positive as well as less than positive. While he would never regret that moment on his eleventh birthday when Hagrid stomped on that isolated little hut’s door, there have been times when he had needed a breather, the confusion of endless adventures having overwhelmed him to nearly his breaking point.

During his two years at Hogwarts, he had found that refuge in his two best friends’ unwavering loyalty even in the face of certain danger. Still, even a precocious trouble-magnet like himself found himself occasionally seeking the steady wisdom of an adult.

He had never imagined that visiting Headmaster Albus Dumbledore’s office would ever create anything but a feeling of safety and respectful wariness.

Witnessing the elderly wizard’s calm, expectant visage the moment they entered the office was what dropped the burden of crushing disappointment and betrayal onto his shoulders.

Mr Holmes’ perceptive eyes flickered over to him, before he felt the slightest brush of an uncertain hand over his shoulder. If Harry had not been so troubled, he would’ve gave the man a weak, but nonetheless grateful smile for his efforts.

“Minerva,” Dumbledore nodded to his long-time friend and fellow colleague, who merely thinned her lips back. The Headmaster looked at Harry next. “Mr Potter.”

Harry did not answer. He rather chose slight disrespect over opening his mouth and blurting whatever crossed his mind in a fit of rage and desperation.

“Mr Sherlock Holmes. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.” Said detective’s expression remained blank, though his manner spoke the world about his impression of the wizard. “Mr Dumbledore,” he returned. “I wish I could say the same, but the circumstances dictate otherwise.”

Dumbledore made a movement with his wand, conjuring three comfy-looking armchairs and gestured towards them in invitation. Once everyone was seated, the old wizard turned to gaze out the window.

“You know why we’re here today,” the Muggle stated, unsurprised.

“You are here because twelve years ago I made a choice for the greater good, regardless of my own wishes,” was the answer he received.

“Greater good…?” Minerva parroted incredulously, her tone rising with each syllable. “For whom, precisely? In all the years I have known you, Albus, I swear…”

The wizard turned to face her, his expression resigned, knowing he deserved her ire, but adamantly in support of his motivation despite it. “No boy should have to live their entire life in the center of attention, not when such a tragedy is the foundation of his fame. Living far away from the magical world for so long was the best option.”

“And you couldn’t have trusted me to shield my own damn son from your bloody magical population? You honestly thought it was better to leave him with a bunch of savages that locked him up in a bloody cupboard? For ten years, you just watched and let them do their number while he cleaned, cooked, scrubbed, while he was being yelled at and pushed around, while he was belittled and treated as less-than-human, through all of that, you did nothing! You rant and rave about how undercivilised and dull Muggles are,” and he spat out the word mockingly, “and then you just throw one of your own into the lion’s den. And you’re still better.”

Harry stared with wide eyes at the detective all throughout his tirade, not expecting the sudden avalanche of words at all, and certainly not at this intensity, even though it was called for. The rant resumed a lot of Harry’s own frustrations over the years and he was a bit glad there was someone brave – or stupid – enough to point them out so bluntly to a form of authority that could have taken measures and didn’t.

Mr Holmes stared angrily at the old wizard, anxious to hear what the man had to say in his defense in the face of this.

“Can you truly claim that you would have been a good caretaker for Harry at the time, twelve years ago?”

You could’ve heard a pin drop in the suffocating silence that followed Dumbledore’s solemn question. If the detective had been angry before, now he was positively boiling, his bright eyes now icy cold with fury and loathing, but also a conflicted, unreadable emotion.

“That justifies nothing. I deserved to know!” he growled through clenched teeth, obviously as an attempt not to roar and scream and rage at the man.

With that, Mr Holmes leaned back in his seat from his near perch on the edge of the chair, though he remained tense, spine ramrod straight, limbs coiled like springs. Harry stared at his hands, unnerved by the showdown but occasionally sneaking glances at everyone in turn, to try and anticipate whatever their next movement would be. For now, though they had come to a standstill.

Professor McGonagall was surreptitiously watching the detective, most likely looking out in case he suddenly jumped out of his seat and throttled the old wizard, though by her crisp, angry and disillusioned visage, she was more than a little tempted to do it herself.

The one to break the pattern was the Headmaster, as usual, when he rose from his seat slowly, for the first time in Harry’s life actually showing the consequences of his old age. He disappeared from their view for a few seconds, then returned with a few yellowed papers in his hand.

“When James and Lily Potter were declared officially deceased and their wills were read, I ensured that most of Lily’s will would be followed to the letter, except for a few select points.”

What was most likely the will, he spread out over his desk. It was obvious that should any of those present be unsatisfied with his credibility, he was willing to read out the entire will for their sake. But after the whole circus, none of them were up for a formal ceremony at this point.

“ ‘To William Sherlock Scott Holmes, I leave a letter to be handed by my Executor.’ ”

Dumbledore handed an envelope to the detective, who accepted it after a brief moment’s hesitation. The man held it gingerly, almost reverently, but seemed firm to suppress the instinct to open it at once, instead opting to see the rest of their meeting carried out.

“ ‘To my son, Harold William Holmes-Evans, I leave the residue of my estate, including a letter to be handed by my Executor upon his eleventh birthday.’ ”

The other envelope was given to Harry. “As James had already left most of his estate to you as well, I had Lily’s savings deposited into the same vault as his,” the old wizard explained carefully, before returning to the last point to be mentioned:

“ ‘I appoint William Sherlock Scott Holmes, the biological father of Harold William Holmes-Evans, to be the guardian of my son until he reaches 18 years of age.’ ”

He concluded by rolling the manuscript closed, and sliding another piece of paper over the desk towards his guests.

On it, written in old, faded but mostly well-preserved ink, the letters spelled out clearly: BIRTH CERTIFICATE.

Harry stared dazedly as he read what was apparently his real name. Harold William Holmes-Evans. And wasn’t that a mouthful.

Well, at least Mr Holmes won’t be complaining about Harry’s name anymore.

Oh yeah, Mr Holmes’ name was there too.

“Your first name’s William?” Harry blurted.

The man pinned him with a deeply unimpressed look. That was the most relevant line of inquiry on his mind to him? “Unless you’d like me to call you Will Junior…” the words even left a sour taste in his mouth, they were so idiotic.

“I’m good,” the boy interrupted hurriedly. If Harold was too serious, he had absolutely nothing in common with the name William.

He supposed he’d learn to live with it, considering his mother had chosen his name.

Also, his real name was as sentimental as his fake one, apparently.

Most of all, now I know for sure that he’s my father and legal guardian, Harry thought, feeling more than a little relieved and excited by the prospect.

See you never, Dursleys!

Harry’s train of thought was interrupted by sudden movement from the corner of his eye, as Mr Holmes stood to pick up the birth certificate. Professor McGonagall was standing as well, by now.

The detective and the old wizard were now having some sort of silent exchange.

“Was it worth it?”

Both of them turned to look at Harry in slight surprise. “The choice you made… was it worth it?” he clarified tentatively.

Dumbledore’s usually twinkling eyes had lost most of their brightness and they actually looked sad as he answered, “I don’t know.”

Harry bit his lip. Albus Dumbledore was a good man. He’d always felt that in his gut, even though the old wizard tended to be more than a little vague. Looking at it objectively, one might suppose that the Headmaster was in a position to take the hard decisions no one else could, for the sake of the wizarding world or whatever.

The boy supposed one day he’d be able to forgive that, not just acknowledge it.

For now, though, he desperately wanted to go home and maybe cry about it for a bit – not that he’d ever admit it aloud. He had his pride, after all. He grabbed Mr Holmes lightly by the sleeve, trying to convey this silently.

The man clearly got the message, because he nodded meaningfully towards the Transfiguration professor, who turned to lead them back out of the office. They left without another word to the Headmaster.

To be continued…

So that’s it for now. I’m not even gonna promise anything anymore, hopefully I’ll be writing and updating sometime soon, but considering I have my Cambridge examination sometime soon...

Again, if you want to see more Harry and Daddy Holmes fluff or have any requests related to them, check out my blog and click the request button there.

See you next time!

#parentlock #harry holmes #sherlock #harry potter #recalibration #crossover #fanfiction

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