#you asked for frederick dark magic thoughts

[ro-botany]

ACTUALLY. ACTUALLY. What are your extended thoughts on Henry's Harvest Scramble with Freddie? Mainly that Freddie has story potential to be a dark mage despite his shit Mag growths? What do you think this says about Freddie and dark magic?

(Link to said conversations, for convenience)

GOOD QUESTION THANK YOU

This conversation is interesting to me because it suggests several story things about dark magic, and about stat growths.

If you have DLC in Awakening, Frederick can reclass into precisely one tome-wielding class: Dread Fighter. (I know all male characters in Awakening can reclass to that, hush)

Of course, his magic growths are dogshit - as a dread fighter he jumps from 10% to 20% magic growth but like still - and he's got a -2 magic cap modifier. Getting his magic stat up so he can deal good damage with tomes is fighting a steep uphill battle, hours of work for something that a lot of more magically inclined characters are going to give you much better returns on.

But see. He's not incapable of magic. And it's not impossible to get him to a pretty decent magic stat; it'll be the last of his stats to reach cap, but if you put the work in, you theoretically could get that stat up there.

So we know for a gameplay-supported fact that Henry isn't lying when he says Frederick could make a decent mage. Given enough time and enough reclassing, he could. And what that suggests to me is that while stats are in part a reflection of one's natural and capabilities (cap modifiers), they're at least in part a function of a character's personality, interests, and what they're naturally talented at (growth rates).

If Frederick has low magic growths, story-wise that must at least in part be because magic is not something he's particularly interested in pursuing. He's a knight. A knight is all he really wants to be. So he pours his effort into acquiring the strength and melee combat skills that a knight needs to succeed.

Given sufficient motivation to pursue magic, it's possible he gets quite good at it, though. When you reclass him to Dread Fighter his magic growth doubles! If we gave him story reasons to take all that overachiever energy of his and direct it right at magic then I'm willing to bet that magic growth rate skyrockets.

Henry makes an interesting point about dark magic specifically; he suggests that to be truly good at dark magic, you need to be drawing on some kind of inner darkness when casting. Henry, presumably, fully indulges in his love of bloodshed when he's slinging spells... And he suggests that for Frederick, a desire to help others that spills over into self-destructiveness is a strongly dark trait, strong enough to fuel dark magic, if you can finely control how hard you lean into it.

I don't know if it would necessarily be healthy to encourage Fred to be even more of a self destructive workaholic... But the dark arts expert says Fred's got untapped talent for the dark arts, and leaning on how much he wants to protect people is a great way to motivate him into learning anything, magic included, so everything seems in order to me!

---

Now here's the part where I dive into the headcanon deep end. >:D

I don't know if Frederick would actually want to take Henry up on his offer, because dark magic doesn't seem particularly his style... Nonetheless, it's really fun to consider the precise form that Frederick's usage of the dark arts might end up being if he were to pursue it. How he might incorporate it into his fighting style... You can do some really fun shit with a man who's got a lot of melee combat experience, and who fuels his dark arts fuelled with a self-destructive desire to protect.

This is a weird example but the direction my mind instantly goes is to Kingdom Hearts 3's Rage Form mechanics. Sora is already a guy who sacrifices his well-being for the benefit of others, and Rage Form is one of the more direct ways that manifests; it lets him sacrifice his own HP to raise his attack power.

So. Steeples hands. Frederick but we make him a blood mage. He's sapping chunks of his own HP to enchant his melee weapons to do absolutely monstrous amounts of damage to whatever he hits for a few turns. Or hell, make it a fucked up healing spell. Saps his own health to heal others. Or maybe he learns to do both!

It's edgy as hell. It's reasonably in character. It's COOL. It's perfect. But also get him therapy and a stack of vulneraries while you're at it cause this is by definition terrible for his health.

[iaus]

find me

@cybebully ask and ye shall receive

G | 1,520 words if i found a way to stay with you tonight it would only make me late for a date i can't escape - way out there, lord huron

There’s a thought that breaks through the rage—that lingers with every swing, with the burning radiance that sears Salem’s skin and fur, makes his very being hum: Frederick’s dead. He knows it in his very marrow, as if someone has whispered the secret into his skin.

Intimate. True. Unavoidable.

It’s a rage he hasn’t felt in decades—the years of numbness stretching out behind him and breaking in a single jagged line. Between the rage, the burn, the anticipation of the hunt: Everything falls before him. The last water weird splits, scatters back to the water it came from and it’s as easy as breathing to cast off Yerafyn’s spell.

The water greets him like an old friend—and then the darkness.

The noise is muffled within—distant, the stench of digested food overwhelms the senses.

Finding Frederick is easy. He has memorized his slight frame, and the burn of celestial light illuminates him among the acid. He draws him up, easily, like he has done so many times before—a perfect weight in his arms.

He tightens his hold on Freawaru, and with a bestial snarl he smashes the flail into the inner walls of the creature’s belly. Light and rage heavy his blows, and he laughs as the creature rumbles around him—pained contractions. He stays close—ready to wrap clawed hands around Frederick—he won’t leave him. Even in the haze of rage and pain, he knows Yerafyn and Maeve can fix this—they brought Salem back from the halls of the dead and their familiar whispers, they can fix Frederick.

With a snarling laugh, he brings Freawaru down again along soft, tender flesh.

He tightens his hold on Frederick—his body, his corpse, gods it was fine when Salem was the one dead on the floor—and is once again, submerged. The burning of light of his body, giving one last burst of pain to the fetid creature. It shudders and with a bubbling scream, sinks.

Salem has always felt as if the rage leaving his body were a sudden wave of cold.

He feels nothing as it sputters out—the light within him smothered to ash as the weight in his arms feels so heavy.

He thinks, briefly, of Alfie—of the nameless child he knew would eventually rip out his heart. Death has been no stranger to his life, but he had hoped he had left its toll behind in the blood-stained desert.

“You—you can fix this,” his voice feels hoarse, scraping, and bloody as he surfaces. Saltwater burning in his lungs, his wounds—the burns beneath his eyes from where his light burned, burned, burned.

He feels so much weaker now—human, again, clutching Frederick as if he is the last shred of this soft approach to humanity. But… he trusts Yerafyn and Maeve (and what a strange realization to make as he swims, one-handed and bleeding to land). He can feel the burns upon his face—tear-tracks blurring down his cheeks—the raw burns. Everything aches in a distant way—he lays Frederick upon the rock, gingerly, hand cupped behind his head.

“Please,” he says, head bowed.

He is no mage, no cleric—the wellspring of his healing is not enough to touch where Frederick has gone.

He hears, again, like he does in his dreams—the call of his family.

All he can see is Frederick’s slack face—the burns along his skin. The chamber pulses with divine energy—he hears wings unfurling before he turns. The divine has always hurt to look at for too long.

“I can help,” the voice rings out echoing and within his skull. The planetar extends a hand, its expression serene—as if it has no clue. “For a price.”

Yerafyn inclines her head, a familiar glimmer in her eye. Frederick’s coin purse has always been the heaviest of the party’s. But—

“I’ll pay it.” Salem’s head snaps up—bleary-eyed, exhausted—and before he can think he is rasping, “Anything.”

Gold has its uses—the most powerful magic in his own life. He has never had so much as he does now. But why wouldn’t he part with it? He would give his own body, the rest of his days—and, oh, what a realization. He looks, wildly, from Frederick to Yerafyn to Maeve as the realization sits heavy in his chest.

What a heavy weight a family is.

(He swore this would never happen again.)

“Name your price.”

The planetar smiles, serene and unaffected, and asks for gold—the easiest price he has ever paid. “This will take some time.”

Salem nods—and time stands still for him, continues to flow for Yerafyn and Maeve. They are the heroes—practical, good-hearted, worried about the state of the raging storm outside. There is still the matter of the world to save, a portal to close, a weapon to retrieve.

The talk muffles—as if he were back in the aboleth’s belly again.

He takes Frederick’s cold hand. The Sword Coast could drown for all he cares. The heroics are for Yerafyn and Maeve to decide—nothing beyond these cavern walls truly matters.

His mind wanders: To the wall of dead, the sound of his family’s voice on the air, the name he forgot, the faces that blur with every passing day, and again and again he watches Frederick be swallowed.

He doesn’t know why he expects it to be gradual—for the warmth to return to Frederick’s body, for him to wake up peacefully. The cough that rocks Frederick is sudden, violent and Salem lurches forward without a thought—wraps his arms around Frederick to pull him close. Safe. Warm. Alive.

If he were a man of words, there are a million things he could say to him. But they are all lost in a wash of relief.

This is enough.

*

Salem drinks in the sight of Frederick—the winds howl around them, and the rain is a heavy, unrelenting torrent. Frederick looks wretched. Tired and wan, the acid burns not quite healed properly. He had put his hands on Frederick’s shoulders in the Crushing Wave’s lower chambers—poured every last bit of his scant, healing magic he could into his skin. (It wasn’t nearly enough.)

The world could end from this.

Salem has already devoted himself to follow Yerafyn and Maeve. He knows he is meant to help them—dive into the eye of the storm. He trusts them all to take care of themselves—he has seen terrifying power from all of his companions.

He knows Frederick can take care of himself.

But all he can see is Frederick’s lifeless face—he never wants to him like that again.

“Do you want to stay?”

There is no judgement from Yerafyn’s question. She is kind—practical. As is Maeve. Having your soul cleaved back to your body is not a peaceful act. Salem can see the exhaustion—the bags under his eyes, the droop of his shoulders.

This is Frederick’s fight—but it doesn’t have to be.

“You can find my wagon and evacuate,” Maeve pipes up, already standing on tiptoe to point out where it’s hidden.

Salem feels, again, as if time is standing still. He thinks, maybe he should try to kiss Frederick—to make some cheeky promise about how they’ll be back before he knows it. He doesn’t have to worry—they’ve done this before. The words, as they always do, fade when he catches Frederick’s eye.

“Frederick,” Yerafyn’s calm voice breaks the thought Salem has. “Could you cast fly on him?” She holds a hand out, gestures at Salem. “Just in case.”

Frederick nods.

He reaches out a hand, stretching up—Salem watches the motion, rapt, and notices a pause. A moment hesitation, before Frederick places a hand on Salem’s bare shoulder. Frederick’s magic has always been warm—suiting. Despite the situation, the ache in his chest, the wonder if they’re doing the right thing.

They caused this: Frederick’s kidnapping. The Trident.

Salem lowers his eyes. He does not think his heroic companions would appreciate the sentiment that he would let the city drown if it meant they could stay with Frederick. That he would rather stay with him—return to higher ground and rest. Let Frederick rest safely—where Salem can see him.

He stays quiet.

He focuses on the warmth of Frederick’s spell settling over him. The wind howls in his ears. Soon, the rain lashes the warmth from his body.

At least, he thinks as he looks down at Frederick, he’ll be safe.

Frederick pulls back—spell cast.

The right words always feel stuck at the back of his throat.

“Stay safe,” he says.

I think I’ll regret this, Salem thinks. Not saying the right words. Not staying with you.

He watches Frederick, sees the way his face crumples. He wonders if he’s imagining Frederick is holding back tears—if a sick, selfish part of him is hoping for it. Frederick’s face is wet with rain.

“Stay safe,” Frederick echoes, voice thick, “all of you.”

Salem thinks his own face might be wet with tears.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Not-Magic

A JSE Fanfic

Septics Inverted AU

First IRIS Chapter | Previous

(Heyyyy, what's upppp, it's meeee. Back with another chapter after so long. Seriously. So long. This has been the longest gap between IRIS Inverted chapters yet, I think. Tbh that's because I started writing Many Roads Diverge. A CYOA-style fic takes a LOT of work. But here we are now! Jackie and Frederick continue their investigation into IRIS by visiting other magicians. Meanwhile, Jack is having some trouble. Then Jackie makes a phone call. Enjoy!)

- - - - - - - - - -

Jackie couldn’t sit still for the rest of the car ride. He wanted to jump out and run until he found Chase. One of his best friends had just been basically kidnapped by a shady semi-magical organization, and he was just supposed to stay in the car after that? What the fuck? But Frederick was right, they had a limited window of time to meet up with the rest of the magicians. And Jackie needed more information about this IRIS, information that they could help him with.

The safe house was in Mirygale, which naturally made Jackie nervous. He was still technically a wanted criminal in this city. But he told himself that nobody would see him, as they were just going straight to the house. Not like they were walking around where a crowd of people could see his face. And even if they did, most people probably wouldn’t recognize Jackie, anyway. He’d changed a lot since his arrest and escape.

“Is this it?” Jackie asked as Frederick parked on the side of the road in a residential neighborhood. “Doesn’t look like much.”

“Good, that’s the point.” Frederick turned the car off. “We’re going in that one.” He pointed at a brown brick townhouse, identical to the rest of the brown brick townhouses around it.

“Alright, let’s go then.” The sooner they could talk to the magicians about IRIS, the sooner they could track them down, and the sooner Jackie could beat the shit out of them for taking Chase.

The two of them left the car behind and walked up the steps to the front door. Jackie hung back a bit, allowing Frederick to take the lead. Which he did, knocking on the door. And the door opened almost instantly. “Ah, I was wondering where you two were.”

“Hey, Eve.” Frederick grinned. “Sorry, we got, uh... delayed a bit.”

Jackie leaned around him. “Hi, Yvonne.”

“Hey, Jackie.” Yvonne gave him a nod. She was wearing a casual brown suit—dressed for work, clearly, as that wasn’t her usual style. But her hair was as vibrant as ever, cut short and dyed in blues and purples. “Come on in, Briony’s beside herself.”

Frederick sighed. “I know. Let’s go.”

The interior of the house was pretty normal. The front door led to a short hallway with a staircase for second-floor access. “That’s where we’re keeping all the magical stuff,” Yvonne said to Jackie, gesturing up the staircase. “But Briony and Nick are just in the living room here.”

“And it’s just them? I thought you guys had a whole team?” Jackie asked.

“Not everyone could make it right now,” Yvonne explained. “But the other four will be here later today if you want to hang around.”

“No, that’s fine.” Jackie shook his head.

“We do have a bit of a drive back,” Frederick added. “Let’s just... hurry along.”

Yvonne nodded. “Over here, then.” She walked over to an arch leading into a wide living room. “Hey guys, they’re here.”

Two others were in the living room. A dark-skinned man with his hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a woman with blonde frizzy hair and glasses. He was sitting in the room’s singular armchair while she was pacing back and forth in front of the window. They both wore similar casual suits to Yvonne—the ABIM must’ve had a dress code. That certainly made Jackie feel self-conscious in his favorite hoodie (black with red patches, he’d had it for ages now.) Frederick wasn’t wearing this suit uniform either, but his usual way of dressing was nice enough that he didn’t look too out of place.

“There you are!” The pacing woman whirled around to see them. “I swear, Frederick, you’re never—oh my god!” Her eyes had locked onto Jackie. Specifically, Jackie’s face.

“Briony,” the man said in a warning tone.

Frederick casually took a step closer to Jackie. “Sorry about that,” he said quickly. “We got delayed for a bit, but we did find out something that... well, I don’t know if it will help with the investigation, but it is some new information. Briony, Nick, this is Jackie, I’ve told you about. Jackie, Briony and Nick.”

“Hi.” Jackie forced himself to smile.

“Lovely to meet you,” Nick said, standing up. “So sorry about Briony, she has no social tact.”

“Wh—hey!” Briony said, glaring at him. She turned back to Jackie with a guilty expression. “I’m so sorry about that, I just didn’t expect—I-I didn’t mean any offense. I’ve never seen—I’m so sorry. Truly.”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but Jackie could get over it. His scars and eye-patch usually got stares. He looked at Frederick. “So, I’m guessing you didn’t tell them everything about me.”

“I told them everything important,” Frederick said. “And everything I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

“Hah.” Jackie gave him a small smile. “That’s, uh... yeah. Good.” He leaned a bit closer to him.

“Let’s not waste any time, shall we?” Yvonne said, hurriedly jumping in. “The camera we got is still in the detection box.”

“Right. Time to go take it out.” Nick checked a watch on his wrist. “Head on upstairs, everyone.”

The group left the living room and went up the stairs. And it’s here that the resemblance to a normal house faded away. There were symbols painted on the walls. Runes, drawn in lines, squares, and circles. Jackie vaguely recognized some of them. They were geared towards protection and containment. As they walked past, Briony tapped some of the runes, little zaps of mauve magic leaving her hands and causing the runes to glow the same color. Were these the wards?

“So, Jackie, Frederick said you met while on a case?” Nick asked, trying for some casual conversation.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. There was this guy I knew, he was a magician. A fucking evil one. H-he went all crazy one day and attacked me and my friends. Frederick and Yvonne were on that case, so they showed up to help us.”

“Then you guys stole my car,” Frederick added.

“You got it back eventually,” Jackie said defensively, making Frederick laugh.

“That’s the same guy who burned Frederick’s hand off, right?” Briony asked.

“Well that’s a light way of putting it,” Frederick said. “But yes.”

“That’s... where all this came from.” Jackie gestured at his face. “The magic lingered for a while until Frederick found me and healed me.” He shook his head. “So glad that guy’s in jail now. Hope he rots.”

The group walked into the last room down the hall, a medium-sized room that could’ve been a bedroom in an actual house, but was instead filled with tables that held all sorts of strange objects. Crystal spheres of many colors, mirrors and painting with abstract designs, feathers and bottles and thin wands of wood and metal. In the center of the room was a table with a box the size of a printer. The box was made of a silvery metal. Its surface shifted with faint designs, like sunlight passing through ocean waves.

Briony tapped the side of the silver box. The designs stopped, shifting to form a phrase: OBJECT READY. REMOVE OBJECT. “Right,” she said. “Nick?” Nick nodded and walked over to join her. Each of them put their hands on two corners of the box. They whispered something in unison, their eyes glowing together—Briony’s that same mauve color, Nick’s a brighter yellow-green—and then lifted the top of the box off. They set the lid on the table next to it and Nick reached inside, pulling out... another box. This one was made of a coppery metal instead of silver.

“So, I’m guessing that’s the detection box,” Jackie said, pointing at the big silver box. “What’s that, then? Doesn’t look like a camera.”

Briony smiled a little. “We keep unknown magical items in these. They muffle all magical waves and signals.”

“Here, come look,” Nick said, sitting the box on the table. Jackie hesitated, but when Frederick and Yvonne walked over he did as well.

The top of the box was transparent, like glass. Inside was what looked like an old-fashioned security camera made of white plastic and metal. On the side of the camera was a symbol in black. Like an eye with three pupils. “Hmm. Looks pretty normal,” Jackie said, aware of how unhelpful that was.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Yvonne agreed. “That’s what the detection box is for. Picking up stuff that is abnormal. Now where’re the results?”

“Briony puts the paper actually in the box, remember?” Frederick said.

“I don’t want to lose it!” Briony said defensively, already reaching back into the detection box. After a couple seconds, she pulled out an ordinary piece of printer paper and slapped it down on the table next to the camera. “Here we are.”

On the paper was silvery writing, like someone had used a metallic glitter pen to record the results. Magic signature detected, it said. Combat: none. Divination: none. Soul: none. Necromancy: none. Health: none. Transformation: none. Conjuration: none. Illusory: none. Mental: none. And it kept going like that. Jackie skimmed the list to the bottom, where something was finally different. Light magic object. Black magic object.

“That’s... weird,” Yvonne said.

“There are several things wrong with this,” Frederick agreed. Nick and Briony just looked concerned.

“And what are those several things?” Jackie asked.

“Well, it’s not supposed to list out every branch of magic like this,” Frederick explained. “It’s just supposed to tell you if the object is light magic or black magic, and what branch of magic it is, not all the ones it isn’t. And, of course, it’s supposed to tell you what the object can do.”

“So... the camera short-circuited your magical detection device,” Jackie summed up.

“Pretty much,” Nick agreed.

“Frederick, you didn’t mention this.” Briony pointed at the two phrases at the end. “It’s impossible for a single object to use both light and black magic.”

“What?” Jackie blinked, confused. “But... magicians can use light and black magic, can’t they? I mean, I’m told black magic has side effects, but using it doesn’t somehow close you off from using light magic. It’s like a spectrum, right?”

Frederick gave him a small, proud smile. “It is. But it’s different with objects. Objects can’t choose to use magic, they can only do what the person intended them to. And once you imbue an object with a purpose that leans more to the light or the dark, then any attempts to put the opposite end of the spectrum into the enchantment don’t work. They fizzle out if you’re lucky and literally blow up if you’re not.”

Jackie nodded slowly. “Alright. So that’s super weird for the camera, right?”

“So weird,” Nick muttered.

“What if you put something that’s not magic in the detection box?” Jackie asked. “Like... a regular pen or something.”

Briony shrugs. “Then the detection won’t work. The cycle will cut short if there’s no magical signature. And before you ask, the containment box is built to work with the detection, the detection will go right through it.”

Jackie went quiet for a moment. “What if it emits a different type of signature?”

Frederick tilted his head. “Like what?”

“I dunno. Radiation, or something.”

Yvonne raised an eyebrow. “Why and how would we have something radioactive to put in the detection box?”

“I don’t know! I’m just asking!” Jackie said defensively. “People are stupid and curious, surely someone in the history of magicians has tried to put fucking... plutonium or whatever into the magic box.”

Frederick leaned back against a nearby table. “Are you saying the camera is radioactive?”

“No, I’m just...” Jackie shook his head.

“No, keep going,” Frederick said. “I think I know where you’re going. It’s about the weird magical signature IRIS locations give off, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Jackie nodded, relieved. “What if that’s not really magic? But something else? Not radiation, obviously, otherwise people would know, but... something like it?”

Briony’s eyes lit up. “Something similar to magic that isn’t actually magic? That... that would make sense, actually. It’d be close enough that we can pick it up, but different enough that we couldn’t actually identify it.”

“If we’re opening up the possibility, what if IRIS has just invented a new branch of magic?” Nick asked.

“Well, we’d have to think about what IRIS could do with a new branch of magic,” Yvonne said. “This camera—it’s called a WTCHR camera, remember? And we’ve all read the description and instructions that came in the box.” As she said this, she walked over to a table by the door and picked up a manual, looking just like any other instruction booklet that came with any other electronic product. “Most of it is just a really good camera, but it claims it can identify emotions and whether or not someone’s telling the truth. That’s the odd part, and that could be accomplished with scrying magic or mental magic. IRIS wouldn’t need to invent something new.”

“But what if it’s not magic?” Frederick pointed out. 

“It would definitely explain why your fucking... magic box got error’ed out,” Jackie said.

Nick frowned, doubtful. “We can keep it in mind. Talk about it with the others. In the meantime, what do we do with the camera?”

In unison, they all looked at it. “I guess we just keep it,” Briony said. “Run it through a couple tests, maybe? I’m wondering if there are any other unusual properties it has.”

“What sort of tests?” Jackie asked, intrigued.

“Oh, you know. See how durable it is, see if it retains its weird magic signature after taking parts off, see if we can make it do stuff that it’s not supposed to.” Briony looked excited listing off these ideas.

“But, uh, we don’t need to be here for that,” Yvonne said. “Just the wizards. That’s... sort of their specialty. Learning about magic stuff.”

“Should we leave, then?” Frederick asked.

“Seems a waste to ask you guys to drive all the way out here and then send you right back,” Nick said. “Besides, didn’t you say something about new information, Rick?”

Frederick winced, irritated. “Frederick. Or Fengge.”

“Sorry.”

Frederick gave Jackie a long-suffering look that said this wasn’t the first time Nick had pulled something like that, then looked back at the others. “Yeah. We, uh... do you want to talk about it, Jackie?”

Jackie nodded. He and Frederick had discussed it in the car, and Jackie had agreed the others needed to know. He took a deep breath, preparing himself. “We’re, uh... We were... Part of the reason we were a bit late was because I wanted to go visit a friend of mine while I was already out. But when I got there, I was told that he was... moved somewhere else. Somewhere IRIS has control of.”

The others all instantly sharpened their attention. “You... you mean Chase, right?” Yvonne asked.

“Yeah.” Jackie asked.

“IRIS is kidnapping people?” Nick asked, shocked.

“Well, no, not—I mean, it is basically kidnapping, but...” Jackie paused, conjuring up his pre-prepared vague explanation. “Chase was living in a, uh, facility, of sorts. I-I don’t want to give out too many details if I don’t have to, it’s his business, but basically, it’s a place where it’s not weird to get transferred somewhere else. And they transferred him to IRIS.”

“A government-run facility?” Briony asked.

“...Basically.”

“Those are not good implications,” Nick said darkly.

“We know,” Frederick said. “It means that IRIS is able to freely contact the government and make demands of them. And it means that they want people for something.”

“Your friend... Chase, was it?” Nick asked. Jackie nodded to confirm his name. “Has he had any exposure to magic? Like you have?”

“Yeah, we both knew the same magician,” Jackie said. “Marvin Moore.”

“Moore hurt Chase, but his wounds were tended to immediately,” Frederick added. “There was no time for the magic to fester. But he spent a long time in contact with Moore. It’s possible that some magic traces linger. Very faint traces.”

Yvonne frowned. “I doubt that. It’s been, what, a year since those two had contact? I think the traces would’ve faded by now. Maybe... maybe IRIS grabbed Chase randomly.”

“If they were grabbing random people, they would’ve grabbed someone with no connections,” Jackie said. “Chase has connections. I visit him, his kids sometimes visit him, and people—people know who he is. They’d notice if he vanished. Case in point, I noticed when it happened! No, i-it has to be something else.”

“I suppose IRIS could’ve somehow... heard about Marvin Moore and realized Chase was connected,” Briony said reluctantly. “But that means that they were aware of us before we were aware of them.”

“It would also mean you could be in danger,” Nick said, looking at Jackie.

Frederick straightened. “They wouldn’t go for him. We live together. It’s too dangerous to try and grab him.” There was a hard edge to his voice that Jackie rarely heard but which made his face redden a little.

“Is there something special about Chase?” Yvonne asked. “Besides his location being easier to reach? Because I would argue that it would be quite difficult to get him out of there. Did Chase go through something you didn’t? Magically-related?”

Jackie thought about it. “Um... it’s not magic, but... he was in a coma for a while. About two months.”

Frederick’s eyes widened slightly. “Wait, if I’m remembering right, wasn’t that coma caused by Anti?”

Jackie gritted his teeth. “Yeah. It was.” Fucking bitch... you don’t just put people in comas no matter how much you hate them.

“You know... Anti isn’t magic,” Frederick said slowly. “But he can do things that seem like it.”

Jackie stared at him. “Are you saying... IRIS is like Anti?”

“Um...” Briony raised her hand. “Who’s Anti?”

Jackie sighed, already feeling exhausted at the idea of explaining all this. “Anti is Anti. He’s not human. He’s not a demon. He’s not a spirit. He’s something else. One of a kind.” He paused. “He’s also an asshole, but he’s not like... evil. He doesn’t hurt people.” Or at least, people who don’t deserve it.

“Didn’t you just say he caused your friend’s coma?” Briony asked.

“Long story. The point is Frederick thinks that IRIS’s not-magic could be like what Anti does.”

“Maybe not exactly, but it’s a good starting point,” Frederick said.

“Can you guys contact this... Anti?” Nick asked.

Jackie frowned. “I don’t know... It’s kind of hard to reach something like him. We could try to track down Jack—that’s a friend of his, he’s human. But, uh... don’t know if it would look that good coming from me. Jack and I... have a rough history.”

“Then we’ll do it,” Yvonne said, gesturing at herself and the other magicians. “We have ways of tracking down people.”

“You make it sound menacing when you say it like that, Eve,” Frederick said, a faint smile on his face.

“I... guess you guys can try,” Jackie said slowly. “Even just getting close to Jack will probably cause Anti to react. Jack is... sensitive.” That was a mild way of saying ‘traumatized by being kidnapped multiple times.’ “But I can’t be involved in this. Not until you explain the situation to Anti. We don’t exactly like each other.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be careful,” Yvonne assured him. 

“Please do be.” Jackie didn’t like the idea of Anti getting involved, but if he could help... Maybe he would recognize the greater evil of IRIS. An organization that secretly takes people couldn’t have good intentions, regardless of what those people had done.

- - - - - - - - - -

Jack pulled the blinds on the window back a little bit, looking down at the street below. It was empty. But he didn’t trust that.

Static fizzled next to his ear. “Are they gone?” Anti asked.

“I don’t see them anymore,” Jack said slowly. “But I don’t think they would’ve just left.” All morning, there’d been a white car parked on the street below. Not unusual in and of itself. But who would park in this tiny side street in between apartment buildings? Combined with IRIS’s repeated phone calls, it made Jack nervous.

Anti’s form fizzled a little bit. “They didn’t,” he reported. “I just checked the building’s security cameras. The car moved to the front. I don’t know if we’re still in range of their equipment, but they’re definitely not going anywhere.” When Jack had pointed out the car to Anti, he confirmed that—as normal as it looked from the outside—it belonged to IRIS. He could sense some of their equipment inside.

Jack shut the blinds. Sam flew over and nuzzled against his face, telling him not to worry. “No, I’m going to worry,” Jack said. “How the fuck am I supposed to not worry about this? People have never shown up at my house! Even the crazier fans haven’t gone that far yet. And even if they had, they’re just one or two people, not a whole fucking organization!”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Anti said firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Jack sighed, pressing his head against the window. “Do we have to move? I don’t want to move. I don’t want to go on the fucking run again.”

Anti hesitated. “I’m sorry. But... we might... have to.”

“It just... everything was finally working out,” Jack mumbled.

“I’m sorry,” Anti said quietly.

“No, don’t be, it’s not your fault.”

“It really is,” Anti admitted. “IRIS is after me. They’re only going after you to get to me. Maybe... maybe if I leave for a while—”

“No don’t!” Jack said hurriedly. Sam jumped up into the air, bobbing up and down in agreement with him. “I-I don’t—If something happens—B-besides, that’d just mean they win, wouldn’t it?”

Anti blinked. Then grinned. “I guess it would.”

“Y-yeah.” Jack gave him a weak smile. “Uh... I’m going to... try and keep my mind off this. Try and do something to relax. Maybe I have a game that I can... Uh, I-I’ll be in the other room. Tell me if anything happens with them.”

“I will,” Anti promised.

“Great.” Jack smiled again and turned around, heading deeper into the apartment.

Sam stayed where they were, watching him go. {Anti.}

Anti jumped a little. Even though Sam could talk to him, they usually didn’t, so it always surprised him when they decided to. “What is it?”

{You stay here.} Sam flew closer, pressing against his chest and looking up at him, pupil dilated wide. {Bad things might happen.}

Anti looked down at them. “Anything... specific?”

{No. But there’s a bad feeling. You should stay here. Don’t leave.}

“A bad feeling, huh?” Anti nodded slowly. He’d known Sam long enough to trust their feelings. They had an uncanny ability to know what people should and shouldn’t do. “Alright. I won’t leave. And I’ll... be prepared.” His hand glitched, turning into pixels, and he showed Sam the knife he’d conjured. “If you know what I mean.”

{Uh-huh.} Sam backed away, bobbing up and down in a nodding gesture. {Jack be safe.}

“He’ll be safe. I’m ready for anything.”

{Yay!} And with that, Sam bopped against his shoulder, then flew down the hallway after Jack.

Anti watched them go with a faint smile. Then he thought about IRIS again, and the smile faded. If he was stuck in Jack’s apartment, he wouldn’t be able to hack IRIS’s servers, backdoor or not. They were very secure, and he needed to be close by to access them. But... it was a small price to pay to keep Jack safe. And if disaster was averted, he might be able to return to the servers later.

He put the knife away, letting it vanish into pixels, and jumped back into the building’s outside security cameras. The car was still there.

And it would stay there for another hour before finally driving off.

- - - - - - - - - -

Dadalada-dadalada— “Hello?”

“Wait, you’re actually awake?! Isn’t it like five in the morning over there?!”

Schneep glanced out the bedroom window at the early morning sky. “The ringtone woke me up,” he lied.

“Mm-hmm.” Jackie hummed. “So if I FaceTime you, you’ll be in bed.”

“Absolutely.” Schneep hurriedly got up from the desk chair in the corner of his room and sat down on the bed instead.

“Okay, I’ll do it, then.”

“Fine, do it.”

Jackie hung up the call, but a few seconds later Schneep’s phone began ringing again—Dadalada-dadalada—with the Caller ID screen now identifying a video call. Schneep accepted it. Jackie was clearly in a car, as evident by the headrest and seat belt. There was afternoon light coming from the windows. “There you are,” Jackie said. He narrowed his eyes. “If I woke you up, why are you wearing your glasses?”

Shit. “I put them on when you said you would video call,” Schneep said.

“Oh, okay. And you combed your hair, too?”

Schneep hesitated. Then groaned. “God damn it, Jackie, how do you fucking know what my bed hair looks like?”

“We lived together for, like, four years! What do you mean ‘how do I know’? The question is how I wouldn’t. And why are you up at five in the morning?”

“Why are you calling me at five in the morning?”

“I didn’t think you would answer! I was going to leave a message!”

“Text me instead, you dunkoff.”

“Uh, can you two get back on track?” A voice called from off screen on Jackie’s end. “Don’t you have important stuff to talk about?”

“Hello Frederick,” Schneep said, giving a little wave as Jackie turned the phone to show Frederick in the driver’s seat of the car.

“Hi.” Frederick smiled at the screen, not taking his hands off the wheel as he drove.

“What sort of ‘important stuff’ are you two calling about?” Schneep asked.

“Uh, well...” Jackie hesitated, the worry clear on his face. “I went to see Chase today... You know what, I’ll work up to that. Start at the beginning. There’s a sort of investigation going on...”

As Jackie talked, Schneep sat there, eyes growing wider with every sentence. But he stayed quiet until the end. At which point, he immediately started shouting. “What the fuck do they want with Chase?! Chase has not done anything in his l—well, no, he has done quite a lot, but he was already where he should be! And where he wanted to be, I will add. What the fuck! They cannot just—just grab people! Especially not him!”

“Right? Right?!” Jackie cried. “What the fuck are they doing?!”

“Clearly nothing good!” Schneep growled, then took a moment to breathe, calming down. This was not the time to get carried away in anger. He punched the pillow a couple times and then was fine. “Jackie. I believe I have something relevant.”

“Oh?” Jackie asked, already intrigued.

“Anti was here yesterday,” Schneep said. 

“Last night, I was going to bed—”

“At what time?”

“A perfectly reasonable one, please not now.” It was 2 am. “But while I was heading there, the House did its twisty thing and I ended up somewhere else. Anti was speaking with Dark. I was curious why he was here, so I listened in. Your suspicion about Anti and IRIS is right; he has some sort of history with them. And now this organization is going after Jack. Possibly to get to Anti.”

Jackie’s expression hardened. “So they probably did take Chase because of Anti. What, does he still have traces of Anti’s power in his system after the coma?”

“It’s possible,” Frederick added. “I’m not sure how Anti’s power works in comparison to magic.”

“If you and your magicians are looking for Jack, you should keep that in mind,” Schneep continued. “You may have to beat IRIS to him.”

Jackie sighed. “This would’ve been good to know before we left the house.”

“You’re the one who didn’t want to call your friend while we were there,” Frederick said calmly.

“I am, I just—ugh.”

“It’s okay, I’ll call Yvonne about it when we get home.”

“That’ll work. In the meantime,” Jackie turned his attention back to the call. “Schneep, seriously, why are you up at five am?”

Schneep sighed. “Because I still have fucking insomnia.”

“I thought you were going to ask about sleep aids.”

“I am, but it is hard to find ones that work with my other medications.” Schneep glanced at the collection of pill bottles on the nightstand. 

“Oh.” Jackie’s voice was soft. “Well... that sucks. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, I am sure Peter can find something,” Schneep said, referring to his psychiatrist. “He is very good at what he does. I just have to wait until then. Is fine. I do not mind being up so late. I am not the only one awake in the House at night.”

“That sounds a bit ominous,” Jackie muttered.

“No, I find it comforting. Though if any of them tried to actually talk to me during this time, I am sure I would be annoyed the second it happens.”

Jackie laughed. “God, you would, wouldn’t you? Well... do you want me to stay and chat, or do you think that wouldn’t help?”

“In all honesty, it would not help,” Schneep said. “I have to be very awake to keep up with your energy, and this is not the time for that.”

“Alright, I’ll head off, then. Maybe I’ll call you later, when it’s evening here?”

“If you want. Or you could wait until tomorrow, that would be fine, too.”

“I’ll wait, then. See you, Schneep. Frederick, say goodbye to Schneep.”

“Bye, Henrik!” Frederick added.

“Goodbye, you two,” Schneep said, laughing a little.

“Bye!” Jackie waved for the camera. “Sleep well.” And with that, he ended the call. 

Schneep closed out of the video call app on his phone and instead returned to what he’d been doing before Jackie called. He re-opened the phone’s browser. It had a couple different tabs open... all relating to this IRIS organization. Their website, their social medias, any page or article he could find about them.

He’d been curious about them ever since he overheard Anti’s conversation. No, more than curious. If they were really looking for Jack, he wanted to at least know as much as he could. Even if Jack probably wouldn’t appreciate his help. But now it was different. Now IRIS had Chase. He couldn’t just sit by while Jackie and those magicians handled this! God damn it, Chase was his friend, too! Though, there wasn’t much he could do while he was halfway across the world...

Wasn’t IRIS an American company first?

Schneep went back to their website, scrolling around for information. Yes, this lists their “hometown”—the place they were founded—as somewhere called Kronolle, California. Yes, Anti mentioned that, too. With that established, Schneep closed the browser and opened the GPS, searching up the town. Yes, it was there. North of Los Angeles, with the driving time listed as 2-3 hours depending on traffic. That was a long way to go. Especially for someone who couldn’t drive.

...It was late. This wasn’t the time. Schneep sighed and turned off his phone. When it was this late, it was probably better to lie down and close your eyes. That was more restful than sitting up and doing stuff. He got up, closed the window’s blinds, and got ready to change for bed. He’d think more on this in the morning.

Maybe there was something he could do to help Chase even all the way out here.

[kennan73888]

Reveal Yourself

Mattea: Move on, please. I had a new life and living peaceably. If I done something regrettable, I’m sorry.

Frederick: [Laughed in disbelief, surprising everyone with the outburst as he snickered] Charming. I do appreciate the apology, but it's a shame. [Glance around the room and made a few eyes contact with the people he knew] I don't want to say out loud, but I guess I can't contain myself. If only Frederick was alive.

Everyone looked at each other confusedly and couldn't tell which of the changes Frederick was made into an imposter. Whispers were heard as Mattea's face went dark, afraid if she thought what she thought.

Frederick: Come now, Mattea. You know what you did, no question asked.

Mattea: It can't be...

Frederick: Oh, it is. Poor child, died slowly under the hands by his own mother. Poison at every meals he’s eaten. Beautiful. No, insightful. [Mattea stared at him in fear, not knowing who's this person possessing her son body] A sin that cannot be forgotten. Or, can you forgive yourself? Mattea?

Rembrandt: Damn, if you’re not Frederick then who?!

Frederick: My sweet, sweet father. No need to rush, I’ll tell. There’s many names and titles I went by. Junta. Faisal. Azran. The Magic King. The Human God. The Saint of all Gods and Goddesses. Ah, yes, I’m no more a saint because I left.

[teddybasmanov]

Hi there, Redacted ASMR Tumblr. No, wrong. Hi there, three and a half people, who actually read my gibberish. Yeah, that seems about right.

So, I’ve already mentioned it somewhere but I misunderstood an answer about characters’ names from the first Q&A and found out the meanings of names of all characters. I know for sure now, that most of those meanings are well... meaningless because I directly asked and got my answer in the second Q&A, but I still have this list and I thought that maybe there are more people out there willing to look for deeper meaning, where there’s none. 

So, I present to you:

List of meanings of names of Redacted ASMR characters (with my silly commentaries)

(Most of the meanings are from Wikipedia and has actual sources and explanations, but some are just from websites for future parents and have no factual support. If a demonic name is a star I also give the name of the constellation. In no particular order.)

Vincent - conquering, winning.

Adam - the ground or earth.

Ivan - God is gracious. (ironic, huh)

Oliver - olive tree planter, all true.

David - Beloved. (he sure is)

Marcus - dedicated to Mars.

Brachium - the upper arm (also measure of length); σ Librae - scales or balance. (this actually has a meaning and I don’t mean the arm)

Caelum - chisel; sky, heaven. (but Elliot has already told us)

Elliott - with Strength and Right, Bravely and Truly.

Gavin - God send or white hawk. (GOD SEND)

Vindemiator/trix - grape-harvester/ress; ε Virginis - virgin. (this is Gavin’s dead name and it’s also kind of ironic)

Asher - happy or blessed. (self-explainatory)

Lasko - nickname for a work-weary person. (yes, I’m aware of the fan)

Damien - to conquer, master, overcome, tame. (this one makes so much sense!)

Kody - helpful, prosperous. (helpful, my ass)

Huxley - Hugh's meadow. (sweet, but has the least sources)

Milo - soldier or merciful.

Avior - my father is light; ε Carinae - the hull or keel of a ship.

Vega - the falling (eagle). (more like “fallen” now)

Camelopardalis - giraffe.

Sam - God has heard.

Frederick - peaceful ruler.

William - vehement protector.

Aaron - warrior lion, mountain of strength.

Blake - black/dark, pale or "Son of lake".

Brian - high or noble. (when I said “all characters”, I meant all characters)

Crux - (Southern) Cross, also means the decisive or most important point at issue. 

James - supplanter (someone or something taking the place of another, as through force, scheming, strategy, or the like), one who follows. (holly hell)

Gabe (Gabriel) - God is my strength.

Christian - follower of Christ.

Arden - great forest or enthusiastic.

Kelsey - ship's island or victory ship.

Amanda - beautiful, deserving to be loved or the loved one. (very true)

Alexis - helper or defender.

Quinn - wise or counsel. (almost no evidence)

Saul - ask, question.

Morgan - sea chief or famous magic. (sounds so cool, honestly)

Tyler - maker or layer of tiles, house builder or doorkeeper of inn or tavern. (this seems specific).

Xavier - new house or castle. (He’s just messing with us at this point, isn’t he? The dude who’s only characteristic at the time was having a cool big new house has a name that means new house)

Ezekiel - God's Strength.

Josh(ua) - the lord is salvation.

Guy - Ravine or forest, guide.

Hudson - son of Hugh.

Marie - bitter or beloved or rebelliousness or wished-for child or drop of the sea. (yeah, there’s a lot)

Colm - dove.

Regulus - prince, little king.

All possible additions, corrections and smarter commentaries are very welcome as always.

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse - The aloof Bombay & wounded Border Collie

Summary: They say you are what you are in the dark. So you prove just who you are when there's only you and Frederick in a dark house, with no one else around. 

TW: [Swearing], [Profanity], [Angst with a happy ending] & [Mild panic attack]

So, first thing first, a little backstory about this oneshot. I had already written out the first scene a week before Redacted announced the discontinuation of Frederick & Bright Eyes series. Although he mentioned that it’s fine to continue on writing headcanons about the two, I was hesitant to continue writing this fic. 

But I’ve been missing them terribly so I sat my ass down and finally completed it! Yay! Fred & Bright Eyes had one of the most interesting dynamics in this fandom so I wanted to give it a go based on my headcanons of them. 

-

There's a strange sort of energy hovering around Vincent and Sam lately. 

It's not subtle either. Its anxiety, stress and uncertainty all roll together into a heavily dense fog that makes you itches under the skin. 

This has been going on for days now. 

Vincent constantly has thick textbooks with him whenever he comes over to Sam's place. They would exchange short pleasantries before Sam hurried off to his Werewolf beau (it's sort of funny the first time Sam returns home, and you spotted courses of wolf's hair stuck onto the hem of his clothes and jeans. You figured that this man's main hobby was tussling with Wolves, but when Sam would sneak back into his own fucking house like a teenager, it wasn't hard to put two-and-two together). Vincent would then make sure that you and Frederick are fed, settled in for the night before he completely ignores the two of you in favour of his school work. 

As if the two of you are a pair to toddlers. You'd laugh if it didn't annoy you. 

Fred, ever the gentle sweetheart, attempted to make small talks at first. Tentatively asking if he's stressed out over exams and if there's anything he could do to help - the result was expected. With pen in hand, notebooks and the two hundred and one pages depicting the foundations of magical healing, Vincent rather absentmindedly shooed him away. 

Sam is arguably the worst. Ever since he stepped outside of the house during their crash course of the Empowered creatures in Dahlia to answer a phone call, he returns with lines on his forehead and shoulders tensed as hell. 

Their impromptu lesson ended just like that when another Clan member had to babysit the two of you after Sam stormed out of the house. 

You don't know whether they realise how taunt their strings have been, and you don't really care, honestly. Just curious; you're pretty confident that something big will happen soon. 

At least there's something exciting to look forward to other than Sam's disapproving frowns and Fred's frustrated attempts at making you bear your heart and guts out. 

And something big will happen soon. Apparently, there's something equivalent to a magical Olympics that occurs every year called the Elemental & Energetic Games, and this year, the local supernatural academy would be the one hosting it in Dahlia. Interesting. 

Speaking of which, you could hear Vincent talking to his lover outside your bedroom through his phone. "Sam's on the way... yeah, he just texted me." A short pause. "Yeah, I can do that. Hey, hey, Lovely - listen to me. Everything's going to be alright. You've been practising non-stop for the Games. You deserve a special night for a change. So here's what we're going to do: I'll pick up some of that blueberry pie you love so much on the way back, we'll watch some movies after dinner and then have an early night so you'll feel better tomorrow. Sounds good? Nice. Oh wait - I think I can hear Sam outside. See you in a little bit. Love you too, Lovely." 

You tune the outside world after that. It makes sense now why Vincent was stressed out; he's busy playing the good boyfriend. 

With a tired sigh, you try your best to occupy your mind. It's three hours to midnight, but to Vampires, that's practically early morning, and you're already so bored. You don't want to step out of your little sanctuary if it means having to deal with Sam, Vincent and Fred tonight. 

Or ever. Forever sounds good. 

Not knowing what else to do, you pushed yourself out of bed and padded towards the window sill. The cool night air greets you as well as the trees and shadows that stretch on for miles. Once you and Fred were officially brought under Sam's care as his Progenies, you quickly realise that his house is located on the outskirts of Dahlia. Where the forests sprawl behind the abode and the city lights are just far enough not to pollute the night sky. 

A perfect place to raise a pair of unplanned Newborn Vampires. You conclude that either Sam enjoys living by himself in a secluded property or that this house was given to him by Mr. Solaire. 

Either way, you would've love to sneak out and explore the forest if it weren't for the magical wards that Sam had warned the two of you. The moment you or Fred steps out of the immediate area, Sam would know right away that one of them disobeyed his rules. 

So despite the pleasant night air, there's a strum of anxiety and restlessness stirring within you. Is it because of Sam's recent behaviours or the upcoming Games? You can't tell, not when no one is bothered enough to tell you what's going on. 

You take a deep breath and take your sweet time to exhale the air out. There's no use in working yourself up; not when you just need to get through this Newborn phase. It's better to think of the future. 

And that bastard's mangled corpse at your feet. 

"You should've listened to your friend, little mouse." 

Ironically, the monster's voice is the only thing keeping you sane during this whole happy house facade that Sam and Frederick insist on playing. Late-night fantasies of ripping that smug's asshole to pieces are the only thing that keeps you going, sad as it is. 

It's not revenge; it's justice. It's your atonement for hurting Frederick. What good would apologies serve when you can present that monster's head to him? You're not deluded enough to play the victim; you're the reason why the two of you are the way you are now, but you'll be damn if you admit that to Sam. 

Sam's already blamed you for what happened to Fred. Even if he never says it. His lingering glances and furrowed brows are telling enough. There's no need to give him more ammunition against you. 

You breathe in and out again; willing yourself to calm down. So you start to distract yourself by planning to gather enough money and resources to leave the Clan once Mr. Solaire deems that you're safe to be on your own and to others. His kind smile and knowing eyes should've made you uncomfortable, but all you can feel is genuine compassion and understanding coming from that ancient Vampire King. 

So. Priorities: Passing the Newborn period, gather enough money, clothes and anything else that's important, thank Mr. Solaire for taking you into his Clan, and if it's not too presumptuous, ask him to continue to care for Fred. 

A knock on the door startles you from your train of thoughts, but you keep your gaze on the dark forest laid before you. 

You heard the door creak as it slowly swings open and then, "Bright Eyes? Is... Is everything ok?" 

It's Fred. Of course, it would be Fred. 

"Mm-hmm." You reply absentmindedly. You didn't even have to look at him to know that he doesn't believe your bullshit. And him being your Sire makes it impossible to lie to him, so you often gives out vague responses. 

Most of these days, your interactions with him are curt, with doubt thrown into the mix. Fred is hesitant to press you when you brush away his questions, and in return, you hide as often as possible so you wouldn't step on any emotional landmines in this house. 

"Are you sure? Because I can kind of sense that you're upset..." Fred said after a brief moment of hesitation. Ah, it's going to be one of those nights. 

The bond between a Sire and his Progeny once again proves to be a fucking nuisance. Not only could you not lie to Fred, but he could also sense phantom emotions coming from you. So much for privacy. 

"It's fine, Fred. I was just thinking." There. Not a lie but not the total truth either. 

"O-Oh." From the doorway, Fred bit his lower lip. Why is it getting harder and harder to approach Bright Eyes nowadays? He hates this distance between them. He hates how they rarely left their room. 

He hates how it feels like he's losing his friend as the days go by. 

"Do you, uh, maybe want to play a game or something? Vincent hooked up a Playstation 5 before he left. I think he also left some video games - "

"I'm not in the mood to play tonight, Fred. Maybe tomorrow." 

Fred sighs at the clear dismissal. It honestly hurt; Bright Eyes constant rebuff is getting sharper and sharper. Without another word, Fred left Bright Eyes to their thoughts. 

As usual, nothing is absolved tonight. 

-

It's a boring rainy Wednesday night. The gentle pitter-patter of raindrops against the shutters promises an incoming storm when you hear the sound of rumbling thunders approaching the city from a distance. 

Tonight, Vincent is too busy at D.A.M.N to babysit you and Fred. Sam already left the house an hour after the sun had set with his usual instructions not to go beyond the wards and that a Clan member would be coming over to supervise them. 

Why does this feel like you and Fred are the unwanted children from a divorced couple? Oh well, all the more reason to leave the clan ASAP. 

You plan to brood in your room as usual after draining your share of the blood bags in the fridge. However, the moment you take three steps out of the kitchen, lightning flashes across the sky. 

The power trip, hurtling the entire house into total darkness. 

"The circuit breaker," You murmur, inhumane eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness as you look around the area in 4K HD. "Did Sam ever mentioned where it was?" You tried to recall the house's layout from Sam's words alone, but you tend to tune out his voice whenever he speaks more than twenty minutes. So it looks like you better start from the basement.  

Just when you're about to head downstairs, a whimper froze you. You tilt your head towards one of the bedrooms. 

The sound is coming from Fred's. 

You stood your ground for only a few seconds of hesitation before you quietly approached his bedroom and slowly opened the door as to not startle him — concern creeping into your heart. 

Just like the rest of the house, Fred's bedroom is completely dark. Lightning flashed once more to illuminate Fred's huddled figure on the floor near the window. He's breathing very hard and rapidly with his head in between his knees. 

Your heart twisted into a knot at the sight of a frightened Fred, and you couldn't help but wonder if this is how he looked like when that monster hurt him. 

You forcefully put that thought away. You're horrible with words, but there's one way you can still comfort him. 

Fred's breath hitches when your back lean against his. "B-Bright Eyes?" He calls out with a choked sob, head slightly raised in surprise. 

When you said nothing, Fred let out a ragged sigh. "What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me." 

You blink and turn your head to give him a side-eye. Say what? 

"Don't give me that l-look." Fred snaps after a sniffle. "You could hardly look at my face lately, and you only leave your bedroom whenever you have to eat. If it weren't for that, you'd happily pretend that Sam and I don't even exist." 

"That's because whenever I'm around, you keep wanting to talk about Wonderworld, and Sam keeps shooting me looks as if I'm a shitstain underneath his fucking boots." You shoot back reflexively. 

Much to the surprise of absolutely no one, your words upset Fred even further. "You can't talk about Sam like that! He's been nothing but kind to us. To you and you just - "

"He blames me for what happened to you!" Fred can't be this oblivious, can he?

Behind you, Fred went stiff.

"You're his Progeny, and I'm the deadweight that he's stuck with because you Turned me. He knows it, Vincent knows it. Fuck it, everyone in the Clan knows it! So why should I give a damn when I'm unwanted? And that's alright! That's totally alright! You want to know why that's alright, Freddy?" Lightning split the night sky. A rather powerful thunder shakes the house, but at this moment, nothing exists except for you, Fred and the tension that has been brewing between the two of you the moment your humanities were forfeit.  

"I'm not planning to stay here any longer than I have to! The moment Mr. Solaire give us the green light, I'm out of Dahlia! Buh-bye! You and Sam can do whatever the fuck you want, but I don't want to stay in this city any longer! I don't have anything left here!" 

Silence enveloped the bedroom. What are you even doing here? Why did you even think you could comfort Fred when all you've been doing is hurting him. Even now! This was a mistake. You should've - 

"I was right. I'm losing you too..." 

"Uh, what?" 

Fred tucks his head in between legs tighter as if he's trying to hide from the world. "I think I always knew that you were going to leave me when you started to pull away from everyone. That's why I wanted us to talk about that Halloween night so badly." His voice is ragged, tears stream down his face. "Y-You said that you don't have anything left in Dahlia, but... you're all that I have left and if you leave... I..." Fred sighed and quietly continued, "I thought I was your friend. I thought I meant something to you." 

"I've hurt you." You reply, just as quietly. "I've been hurting you since Wonderworld, and even tonight, I'm hurting you. I didn't listen to you that night, and because of it, we're here. You lost your family, friends and future and for that I'm... I'm so sorry, Fred. You didn't deserve anything that happened to you." 

"Thank you, Bright Eyes. I-I needed to hear that." Fred reply. When he reaches for your hand, you squeeze it back. "What happened was... fucked up, but none of us knew about that Vampire. Or that Vampires actually exist. So it's stupid of me to blame you for our d-deaths." 

"But I didn't listen - "

"Yes, you didn't listen but will you listen to what I have to say now, Bright Eyes? Please? I want us to move on from this together. I want us to be better." 

Perhaps it's how raw and near begging Fred sounds that both of your walls are down tonight. Perhaps, tonight, you finally realise that it's you that doesn't like confrontations and that despite Fred's gentle and reserved nature, he has no problem mending the wounds between the two of you with force if he has to. Huh, who could've thought? 

The two of you talk for hours in the darkness. It feels so awkward to bear your heart to Fred after everything, but to your immense surprise and relief, he listens to you patiently, and once you're done, he let you into his heart. All the fears, insecurities, regrets, shame and horror are laid between you and together, you address them one by one until the storm lets up. 

And when the silver light of the moon peeking through heavy clouds, you found yourself snuggling with Fred on his bed. Your head tucks into the crook of his neck while Fred's arm is around you. It's strange how lighter your heart is now. 

"Have you stop crying already?" You ask, wondering if you'd need to run to the kitchen to make a simple bag of ice for Fred's red, puffy eyes before they swelled. 

Fred snort. He sniffles and squeezes your body in assurance. Being slightly taller than you, it feels sort of nice to be held like this. Despite their heartfelt conversation and confessions, the trauma they both carry is still fresh, but now, it doesn't feel like an overwhelming miasma threatening to drown you in guilt and sorrow. "Yeah, yeah. I'm alright now. It feels good to finally cry after... after everything." 

"Can't relate." You bluntly interject. "I usually get pissed off after a crying session." 

"I can actually believe that." Fred giggles. "I'm beginning to understand you a lot better, Bright Eyes. Thank you for listening; I know that words are hard for you, so I'm very grateful that you want to work things out as much as I do." 

"Mn." 

Outside, the rain has become a gentle drizzle, and the stars ushered a bright full moon. It's too lovely of a night to brood; you might as well take a nap with Fred. 

"Bright Eyes?" Fred suddenly speaks up, bringing you out of your sleepy haze. 

"Mn?" 

"Do you... I mean... are you still planning to leave Dahlia?" His voice returns to its timid and hesitant state. 

"Well... yeah. After our - urgh - mushy talk, I realise it's all the more reason I need to do it. You're the only thing I have left in this city after all." 

"You want to leave me despite just saying that all you have is me? Uh, I don't... don't get it. Can you please explain it to me, Bright Eyes?" 

You hold back a groan. It looks like Fred has discovered the magic of 'please' and your weakness to it. "I'm planning to kill the Vampire who killed us and use his skull as my apology gift to you." 

Unlike you, Fred groans in disbelieve. You yelp when he manoeuvres you so your body can lie on top of his and trap you in his arms. "No... Bright Eyes, no... no hunting that asshole, OK? You don't need to give me a skull; just stay here with me. Skulls are gross anyway." He whines like a needy toddler, which, surprisingly, makes you feel fond instead of irritated. 

So you roll your eyes and press your face into Fred's chest. Perhaps you can try to convince Fred to leave with you in the future, but for now, nothing matters but the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the faint scent of wet grass outside. 

They're going to be alright. 

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Hopelessness of Wanting [Part 3]

<- Part 2 | Part 4 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader

Chilton struggles with his discomfort being touched and desire to cuddle, and grapples with his conscience.

Warnings: Mentions of suicide attempt & noncon (from previous chapters). Angsty fluff. 

2,300 words

“You’re coming home with me,” Dr. Chilton said with the authoritative tone of your boss, the hospital administrator. Then you looked at him with questions in your eyes, and his confidence quickly broke. “That is… I would like you to come home with me. It would be professionally irresponsible to leave you alone. You just tried to—”

“I didn’t,” you interjected. “I didn’t try to do anything. I just…” Thought about it. Planned it. Began to execute the plan. But you didn’t do anything.

Chilton watched you, his analytical gaze muddied with guilt. He held your arm as if you might drift away if he didn’t. You glanced down the wide marble hallway of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, but no one was there to see him grasping you so familiarly. You should have known it was safe—Dr. Chilton wouldn’t have risked public affection if there was a chance of being discovered. The main hall was darkened. This wasn’t an emergency hospital, so there were only one or two medical personnel on call overnight, and guards whose rounds Chilton knew by heart.

“If you prefer, I could have you kept under observation. However, it would be more pleasant if I did it myself. Simply to make sure you are alright.”

“Don’t worry. It’s not like I’ve never thought about killing myself before. I’ve never gone through with it,” you shrugged dismissively.

“That is not a reason not to be worried,” his voice pitched up in alarm. “In fact, I am more concerned that this is a pattern.”

Fuck. You forgot you were talking to a psychiatrist.

How could you make him understand you didn’t need help? You would never have the guts to actually go through with it, however much you wanted to. Were you even depressed? Probably not. You were just a dumb, dramatic, half-assed piece of shit who couldn’t even finish—STOP!

Fuck.

“OK,” you conceded, tongue numb and heavy. “If you think it’s best… I’ll go with you.”

***

It wasn’t until you were sobbing in the passenger seat of his classic red cabriolet that Chilton began to have doubts about his own intentions.

“Perhaps it would be better if I brought you to a friend’s house,” he offered softly. Your head shot up, puffy eyes filled with—of all things—betrayal. “Or a hospital.”

“You’re going to check me into a psych ward after fucking me?”

He stiffened. In the few months you’d worked at BSHCI, you always seemed cheerful and naïve—the cutting remark took him by surprise.

Right after you made it, your hands flew to your mouth. “Sorry…” you murmured, equally taken aback. “I didn’t mean that. I know you would never take advantage of me.”

The apology cut deeper than the insult, though you wouldn’t understand why. He fell silent and stricken as he turned the ignition.

Dr. Chilton’s home was an obscenely modern monstrosity with all white walls, white kitchen, hard angles, and open spaces that gave it an air of luxury, but moreover, vacancy. It was a five-star hotel: grandiose, without a single hint of a person living in it.

He offered you the guest-room, like a gentleman—no! He would take the guest-room, and you could—

The press of your lips cut off his nervous babbling. You smiled (a weak, tired smile so different from the sunlight that radiated from your face in public) and said you didn’t want to be alone. So he led you to his bedroom, another pompously large space that dwarfed the king-size bed at its center. He often had trouble sleeping, but never considered that his bedroom’s fishbowl quality could have anything to do with it.

His blood pressure was dangerously high as he stood next to his bed. How was he supposed to sleep next to you? Undress in front of you? He was near panic at his foolish decision to bring you home when there was a sudden weight around his middle grabbing him from behind. He gasped and jerked away before realizing, quite obviously, it was you. But his heart was still racing in his ears, and he winced as you reached for him again.

“Don’t… touch me, please.”

Your eyes widened, mortified. “S-sorry sir,” you stammered, and it didn’t escape his notice that your entire body went rigid, or that you reverted to calling him “sir” like when he was reprimanding you at work. You must have been expecting him to blow up at you. He’d conditioned this response. He’d successfully made you afraid of him, and his reward was a sharp pang in his chest.

His hands found your shoulders, and he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. “It is all right,” he said. His best effort to be comforting came out dreadfully stiff and monotone. “And you… you may call me Frederick, if you like.”

He watched your throat tighten as you swallowed. With relief, he felt your shoulders relax, and then you looked up—your eyes fell on his like dawn breaking over Chesapeake Bay. Your mouth shaped into the first syllable of his name, but paused as your eyes locked on his left cheek.

“Oh,” you exclaimed. “Is it because…” You reached up to caress the round scar where a bullet had entered, but withdrew your hand quickly before making contact (and had the decency to blanch at your faux pas).

“Yes,” he gritted his teeth. “Because of that.” And because of the ones left on his abdomen by Gideon’s scalpel. And the scars not visible on the surface, left by years of neglect.

You shifted uncomfortably, seemingly at a loss if physical contact was off-limits. “I’m sorry.”

“It is all right. I am fine.”

Your lips twitched upward at that, and a gentle, sarcastic puff of air escaped your nose. Chilton straightened his posture—he’d been called out, and he knew it. If anyone else had dared laugh, he likely would have gone into a defensive pique and shut down, but instead, he returned your lopsided smirk.

Look at the two of you, pretending you’re fine. Just fine.

“That is to say, I am not incapable of touch”—he squeezed your shoulders as if to prove a point—“Our… rendezvous earlier was… enjoyable. I simply do not like being caught by surprise,” he explained haltingly. His cheeks heated. The truth was, he was bluffing: he had little experience with affectionate touch, so he couldn’t say what he was comfortable with. But surprises he was certain he did not appreciate.

“Then are you sure about sharing a bed?” you asked with tentative shyness. “I like cuddling. But if it doesn’t feel good to you, then…”

“It will be more than all right,” so long as you do not thrash too much in your sleep, he added mentally. He frowned. “I would like to enjoy cuddling.”

But he was never conditioned to enjoy physical contact by affectionate parents or by lovers, and life experience had done little but teach him to anticipate pain. Dr. Chilton understood how abnormal brains functioned. He knew he might never gain that oxytocin boost normal people get from the act of twining their bodies around each other. Still, it meant a great deal that you wanted to twine your body around his—that his simple presence pressed claustrophobically to your skin might invoke a positive emotional response.

Exposure therapy was the only treatment. If he was to become accustomed to being touched, he must practice.

“What should I do to support you?”

“Just go slowly,” he yielded. “Give me warning.”

***

He didn’t know why he showed you. Perhaps there was no other choice—sleeping with contact lenses always made his eyes red and irritated by morning. But perhaps he hoped that you would run away and get it over with. A masochistic side of him wanted to see your face contort in horror, disgust. For you to realize this hideous thing had fucked you, and curse him for hiding the truth.

Anticipation of your impending rejection felt like a boulder lifting off his chest. He was being crushed under his own happiness, unaccustomed to bearing your thoughtful gazes and kind words. The world would be right again when you ran.

“Come here a moment,” he called you into the master bathroom, voice calm but a quarter octave too high with strain. “You deserve to see this.”

Every muscle in his frail, hacked-to-pieces-and-put-back-together body tensed as you cautiously poked your head through the door and saw him standing in front of the mirror. You remained placid, but your eyes registered shock as they fell on his ghostly blue dead eye, then shifted down to his sunken cheek—the bullet hole more pronounced without makeup covering it, a gap of teeth missing where the bullet tore through his jaw.

Instead of disgust, you approached him, padding across the bathroom tile in your bare feet. You asked if it was alright, and waited for his faltering nod before caressing his tattered face under your warm palm. You called him handsome. Rugged. You called him a thousand beautiful things in a tender, soothing voice that held such magic in it he almost believed the words were true.

***

Dr. Chilton held you warm to his chest through the night, barely sleeping himself. Sleeping was impossible under those conditions. The scene of his dark bedroom would give, from the outside, the impression of peaceful stillness, but uneasy emotions roiled inside him, rocking him like a boat on a stormy sea.

Fucking was different.

When his cock was buried deep inside of you, claiming, possessing you, a primal urge took him over, blinding all his senses with desire, blotting out his over-active thoughts. But the feeling of you resting silent and trusting in his bed sickened his stomach.

He stroked your hair, watching your perfect lips move ever so slightly with each exhale that passed between them. He had been so wrong about you. Underneath your bright, friendly, forced smile was a garden as thorny as his own, and he loved you all the more for it. More than you could ever know. More than he imagined possible when he thought of you as a sunflower soaring toward heaven, high above his reach—an unobtainable treasure he admired with envious eyes.

For once in his miserable life, Dr. Chilton found someone who understood his pain.

A sunflower was just another plant trying to escape the cold, dark soil.

He flinched at being touched, especially on his abdomen or face. Holding you while you were deep in a sound sleep from which you barely stirred was tolerable. Not as pleasant as he thought it should have been, but not unpleasant. The sensation of contact was a bit squirmy, like worms writhing under his rib cage, but the warmth of your body, the sight of your peaceful face nestled against his chest made him feel protective. Strong. Desirable. You felt safe with him. A new kind of contentment washed over him, and so he bore the squiggling worms and hoped they would go away with time.

You felt safe with him.

His stomach turned again.

You felt safe, because you didn’t know that Dr. Chilton heard everything inside the BSHCI walls, including the staff break room. You didn’t know he was listening when you told Nurse Clerval that your boyfriend’s night shifts were putting pressure on your relationship. That Chilton began scheduling your shifts to conflict with his, hoping it would be the last straw. And it was. A few weeks later, you were single, and he celebrated his victory alone with a Scotch in his office, a smirk on his lips as he watched you cry to Clerval on the security feed.

You wouldn’t have let him hold you if you knew how deliberate his efforts had been to break you—to dull your shine enough that you might consider him an option, even though he was too cowardly to ever ask you for a date.

In the end, everything worked out better than he could have planned. The ends justified the means, did they not?

Forget the fact that, had a janitor not been cleaning his office, you would have been found dead on the floor of the supply closet tomorrow. Gone forever. How could he have known he pushed you that far?

Dr. Chilton had given up on himself long ago, but he had never considered ending his life. Instead, he used his misery to justify all manner of unscrupulous conduct. He hated himself so deeply that he might as well prey on a disassociating patient reliving memories of sexual abuse. After weeks in a coma, losing an eye, a kidney, half of his hearing, did he not deserve to take what he wanted? The possibility of getting caught was worth a moment’s pleasure when he hardly had anything to lose.

Was he preying on you, he wondered, as you slept in his arms?

No. This was different than Julianne. You were consenting, aware of yourself and your actions. A little depressed perhaps, but nothing that would have you deemed mentally unfit to stand trial. If you ever committed a crime, you would not be sentenced to his care.

You were wonderful, kind, and melancholy, and you wanted him. Your skin was soft, and your lips softer. He dipped his head to kiss them with the lightest ghost of pressure so you would not wake up. Your fingers curled in his silk pajamas, and you murmured a few cooing syllables, nuzzling closer before you stilled again. He would take care of you from now on. Do right by you. Everything he had done was worth it, because you were here with him.

Still, his stomach turned. The worms wriggled in his intestines, and no matter how heavy his eyelids, he could not sleep.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags:  @beccabarba​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws​ / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @madamsnape921​ / @astrangegirlsmind​ / @neely1177​ / @onerestein​ / @dreamlover31​ / @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes​ / @barbasimp​ / @storiesofsvu​ / @welcometothemxdhouse​​ / @feedthemadness-sweetie​ / @law-nerd105​ / @amelia-song-pond​ / @michael-rooker​ / @xecq / @madpanda75​ / @alwaysachorusgirl​ / @bananas-pajamas​ / @leanor-min​

[trytoimaginefireemblem]

Frederick x Reader: Trust is Earned

Request: Heya (I'm a little new/late here!)~ Would it be ok to hit you with something sad-ish, and ask for Frederick's reaction to not only having someone he's not particularly trusting of take a pretty bad hit for him and getting injured, but also having them apologize after for doing and getting in his way because of their "feelings for a man who probably doesn't return them"? I'm fine with any format, so go ahead and play around with this if ya wanna! c: Requested by Anonymous Word Count: 843 Warnings: injury

You knew that Frederick didn't trust you. You could see it in the way he looked at you and how he wouldn't allow you to be alone with Chrom or Lissa. Though his lack of trust in you hurt, it didn't stop your feelings from forming. It had been a chaotic battle from the start. The Yelissian army had been outnumbered, the troops were scattered. Frederick had lost sight of both Chrom and Lissa in the confusion. He saw you cutting down enemy after enemy a few yards away from him. Frederick always kept an eye on you during battles to make sure you weren't betraying them. After surveying his surroundings, he refocused on the enemies in front of him. What Frederick hadn't noticed was the mage creeping up behind him. It wasn't until he heard the sickening sound of a magic blast on skin that Frederick turned around. He watched as your body fell to the ground. Frederick quickly cut down the mage before going to your side. He began assessing your wound, flinching when he heard your pained whimper. There was a sickening feeling in his gut as you looked up at him with worry in your eyes. "Are you unharmed?" Frederick could only look at you in confusion. You were the one to take the hit and not him. Why were you asking if he was alright? He opened his mouth to answer you when you started to speak again. "I'm sorry for getting in your way. I just couldn't stand by and watch you get hurt. It sounds silly, doesn't it, having feelings for a man who probably doesn't return them." A sad smile formed on your lips, eyes becoming unfocused, falling into darkness. Frederick jumped into action, carrying you to a healer. After the battle ended, Frederick made sure that Chrom and Lissa were both unharmed before making his way to find you. He wanted to make sure you knew that they had won the battle, and he wanted to thank you for saving his life. Frederick also wanted to ask for your forgiveness. It was unfair to you that he never trusted you and never gave you a chance. Though he did not expect you to forgive him, he wanted you to know that he trusted you. When Frederick found the healer that had been working on you, he was met with grim news. The healer had finished treating you, you were stable for the moment, but you had yet to regain consciousness. The healer told Frederick that if you didn't wake up within the next day, there would be a lesser chance you would wake. The thought of you never coming back scared Frederick. He didn't know why it scared him so much, but he already missed how you smiled at him when you said good morning. The next day came and went with no improvement in your status. Frederick was almost always by your side. As the next couple of days passed, Frederick started to worry that you would never wake up. He would sit by your bedside, sometimes finding himself holding your hand. In his head, he desperately hoped that you would wake up and smile at him like you always did. Your last words to him replaying over and over in his head. He felt himself grip your hand a little tighter as he realized that he was losing you. By the end of the week, Frederick was a mess. Nobody could get him to leave your side. Not even a direct order from Chrom could budge him. It had been days since he had eaten or slept. Frederick could feel himself growing weaker, his vision starting to blur. He whispered out a feeble plea, "Please wake up... I love you." He slumped forward, allowing sleep to take him. Hours later, he woke in a bed next to yours. His fingers were still intertwined with yours; this time, he felt something different. A slight pressure, you were holding his hand back. Frederick's heart swelled with hope. You were fighting to come back. When you opened your eyes for the first time, you noted Frederick asleep in the chair next to your bed. His hand was clutching your's tightly, even while sleeping. The dark circles under his eyes, telling you that he hadn't been getting enough sleep. You felt your eyes growing heavy, squeezing Frederick's hand before falling back asleep. The next time you woke up, Frederick was running his hand through your hair. Your eyes met his instantly. Frederick pulled you into his arms, babbling about how sorry he was and thanking you for saving his life. He continued to ramble until you pulled away from him, kissing his cheek. "You talk too much." Frederick just laughed. No words needed to be said. You knew that behind all of his jumbled words was an "I love you." Lissa threw a party for your return. There was a large feast, singing, and dancing throughout the night. Frederick stayed by your side, holding you close.

[a-crash-in-time-collection]

Chapter 1: The Crash

She was floating in space. Only it didn't seem like normal space, which she knew all about. It seemed to shine with different colors. She couldn't move much, it was almost as if she was forced into her current position. Voices of old filled her head. Voices she wanted to remember. Voices she never wants to forget. But at the same time, the voices brought back memories of a different time. A different time...

"Us kids should stick together, not stalk one another. I mean, Mafia Town can be a really dangerous place" "If you want it, we'll have to settle it in true Mafia style!" "You Moon Penguins are just gonna write some loud, noisy drivel!" "This last time piece is all for me, darling." "Your contract has expired, sleep now in the fire!" "And do it quickly pup."

Her face formed a smile, before tears started to fall. Wait... why was she...

"Don't leave us!" "Hey kiddo, let's make another contract!" "Don't you dare leave, lass!" "Let's watch our movie, darling!"

That's why... she couldn't have just stayed. She at least needed to try and get home. And her kind weren't keen on creatures from other planets... who knows what would have happened to them? But with the end result, did it even matter-

A large ringing brought her out of the space-like place, finding herself sitting on the soft surface of her bed. Glancing around as she stopped the ringing of the clock, everything was in place. Her relics on their podiums, toys she made based on her time on that planet on the shelves in her room. Most of her badges she bought from the strange badge guy on a pin board beside her bed. Her umbrella was next to her dresser with the mirror.

A glance out the nearby window showed the mostly green and blue planet. It reminded her a lot of the planet that she could now only visit in her dreams. Unlike that planet, there was little if any magic. Talking animal creatures were only heard of in movies. Ghosts were just tall tales. So similar, yet different at the same time...

She got up, yawning as she stretched and walked over to her closet. Opening it, she grabbed a purple blazer and yellow scarf. She paused, looking at them both slightly. The blazer was taller than she used to be, when she first found herself crashed on the planet...

She remembered checking the vault as she passed by, only one time piece was left. She knew that wouldn't be enough to make it home, and she didn't know if she would pass another planet she could survive on in between them. So she grabbed it, and braced for impact. The ship crashed on 'Earth' in the middle of the night, and looking back on it now, she was lucky no big place caught sight of her. She remembered bleeding, maybe having a broken or fractured bone with the sharp pain coming from the left side of her body. She found herself being too hurt to move on her own right away... it was possible that she would have died...

But then two people entered her vision as she picked herself up. Both wore hats like she did, one of them actually had two. Apparently the two hat man, Reginald, had seen the ship pass in front of his airship while it fell from the sky. The two were naturally confused on why she was there, and concerned if she was alright. She remembered them offering to take her to the airship's medbay, but she was more worried about her relics, which were not the only things she had of her time with her old friends. The one with his orange hair in a ponytail that hung over his shoulder, who called himself 'Right Hand Man', offered to do it for her. However, she took liberty and carried them all herself to the airship. Needless to say, the two were surprised by the child's strength.

She now called these two 'Dad' and 'Papa', and they called her their daughter.

She allowed herself to exit her thoughts as she pulled her brown shoes over her purple socks and pants, standing up and walking over to the door of her room. It was a new day.

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up." An energetic voice spoke as soon as she opened the door. She was met with a more-humanoid Topbot, with a face that smiled at her, and silver hair that helped make them seem more like a teenager. He wore a blue and orange jacket, with the faintest hint of a green shirt being seen, and dark dull indigo pants that ended in his metal shoes that were literally his feet.

A few years ago, Hat Girl had found herself more lonely. Her dads, while they made time for her, were often busy at work. Most of the younger kids aboard the airship didn't let her play too often, and the teenagers were often on training missions or just plain avoided her. In an attempt to give her someone to hang out with, Reginald took aside a random Topbot, redesign and reprogrammed it to act as a brother to Hat Girl. He spent so long and hard on it that it felt like part of his soul belong to the machine in the end. Which could possibly explained how Platinum wasn't just following an interactive script, but was fully self aware and alive. He did have a small panic attack at first due to the sudden self awareness, but soon after he was able to cause trouble with Hat Kid.

"You ready for today, brother of mine?" Hat Girl asked, a smile forming on her face.

"Uhh, yeah." He said, a smirk forming on his face as well.

"Good, we can get started on our prank plans after breakfast." She stated, passing him and walking down the hall, humming a slight tune as she glanced out at the seemingly-night sky.

"Aww, come on!" Platinum said, racing next to her quickly, rolling his bright orange eyes. "You always have to eat before we can have fun. I don't see what the big deal is."

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Brother." She said, sticking her tongue out playfully. She never fully grew out of her childish phase. "I pity you sometimes, food is great and you're unable to experience it."

"Please. I got my Tanks and Family, that's all I need." Platinum replied, rolling his eyes as the two walked into the cafeteria area, which was currently a bit busy as you would expect from it early in the morning. "I honestly don't see why your body decides you need food. Just seems inconvenient in my option."

Hat Girl shook her head slightly with a chuckle as she walked over to the sideboard, where Burt and Fredrick were talking.

"I'm starting to get concerned over your coffee obsession, Burt." The Cheese wearing Toppat said, arms crossed as he glared at the man in front of him. The man always sounded like his throat was sore, at least to Hat Girl it did. She remembered questioning if he was alright when they first met.

"Coffee is nice, Fredrick." Burt said, the dyed orange part of his black hair covering one of his eyes, as per the usual. He always seemed to act like he had no emotions, and spent most of his days in his office or grabbing himself the drink that was currently the topic of their talk. "The fact that you never tried coffee worries me."

"I'm more of a Hot chocolate person, and besides, the smell alone is enough to turn me off." Fredrick stated, grabbing the lake of floating marshmallows in a cup along with the plate of 'Bacon, Egg, & Cheese Breakfast Bombs' he liked. "But I know all that coffee isn't healthy for you, I swear you drink more coffee then you eat actual food."

Burt rolled his eyes at the statement, before glancing around the area as he grabbed his coffee and toast. "Fine. I'll eat a little more today." With that, temporarily balancing his plate on his other arm, he grabbed one of the muffin-like items off Fredrick's plate and walked away.

Fredrick was frozen in shock for a few seconds, before huffing and glancing to the side. It was only then he realized the children of the leaders. "Oh, sorry you two, I didn't see you there. Off going to cause some trouble later I assume?"

"Possibly, possibly not." Platinum shrugged as Hat Girl chuckled, before giving her breakfast request to the cook-toppat that came by.

"I'll be taking that as a yes." Fredrick said, shaking his head. "Just uhh, do me a favor and don't go on a spree of spray-painting the inside of the vents, again. Took me and Sammy nearly the whole day to clean it last time."

"Alright, no spray paint in vents..." Platinum said, raising his arms in front of him slightly in defeat. He watched as Frederick left, before turning to his sister. "Want to finally see how many people we can surprise with airhorns tape to their chairs and doors?"

"Oh heck yeah!" Hat Girl said, giving her brother a thumbs up. And the Toppats that heard her shout began to feel a faint feeling of fear among them. They knew then that chaos caused by those two would come later that day.

-------

What they didn't know was on earth, a conversation was happening. About the true chaos.

"You sure this is... safe?" One government person asked another as they glanced at the cannon. Although cannon felt like an understatement. The place where the 'cannonball' would come out of look like it itself was 27 miles long. "For Earth I mean."

"Should be." The other replied, hoping away from the gears they were adjusting. "The material should begin to burn up after it makes contact with the toppat orbital station. The worst we should have to deal with are burning pieces of metal and stuff falling down to earth in the size of normal meteoroids."

"Am I the only one who feels this is a bit... extreme?" The first asked as they hop into the tunnel to the underground control system of the cannon. "I understand they've been a pain to deal with since they got up, but can't we just set up traps for them on earth."

"It's not just about the Toppats alone." The second stated as they followed the first, wanting to be as far away from the cannon before it blew its canon ball. "If other criminal organizations see what the clan has done, they'll likely follow in suit. Soon all crime might be unstoppable because those who caused it are up in space. Is that the world you want to live in?"

"No."

"Then we need to make a statement. And this is the only way. Now let's get to the control room, and get this party started..."

-------

Hat Girl had found herself staring out the cafeteria window as she finished her plate of breakfast, slightly blocking out what Platinum was talking about as he sat in front of her. This was a bit normal for the two, half the time they were inseparable during the day. Especially since the incident where Dad was captured, and Papa had to be turned into a cyborg to live. It was a bit of a struggle for the clan then, and even with Dad back it was a lot of work to make up all the money that had been stolen the night before they were meant to launch their station-

Her train of thought stopped as she faintly spotted something outside the window. She got off her seat and walked over to the window, placing her hand on it faintly as she glanced down at the planet they raided. There was some sort of... gray and slightly green ball thing. At first it was just a speck of dust, but it was getting bigger.. and bigger... it was coming to them, faster and faster.

"Hattie?" Platinum questioned, walking up next to his sister in confusion. "What's going on, you don't just leave a plate of food alone suddenly like that." She was a bit wordless at first, but managed to point to the strange thing. Platinum had to squint his eyes to see it. "That's... just a space rock."

"Coming FROM Earth?" Hat Girl asked, looking at her brother. "As a former space traveler, I have NEVER seen that happen, and I know that's not a normal occurrence for this planet. And not to mention it's perfectly... in the path of.. hitting... Get Dad and Papa and warn them, NOW!"

"Time to act serious for once then." The topbot said, quickly racing away from his sister and the group of toppats.

She glanced at the ball again, seeing it was getting closer and larger with each passing second. She found herself frozen like the poor souls in Vanessa's Manor, or the times she used her ice hat years ago. What was she going to do?

"Dad, Pops!" Platinum called as he reached the Cockpit of the rocket, taking an unneeded breath as he reached the door.

"Platinum?" Reginald asked, turning away from his cyborg husband as he glanced at his Robotic son. "What's going-"

"We need to move, or use Supreme Dominance." Platinum cut him off, with worry in fear shining in his orange eyes. "Now-"

At the very seconds, the 'cannonball' of metal and small bits of trash collided with the orbital station, hitting the middle of the rocket.

Hat Girl fell to her feet as the station twisted and chaos fell around her. Everything outside the window became a blur, as Toppats screamed in panic. She suddenly found her grip from the wall she'd grabbed onto slip, and she was slammed against another wall. Everything went black to her after that.

-------

It took a bit for her mind to process things as she awake, her body aching in places like she had a faint sunburn. She slowly opened her eyes with a groan, scanning the mix of dark and light. She appeared to be where the window of the cafeteria once was. Keyword there being once was because now it was a pile of glass on the grass below her. Some of the glass were close to her arms, and likely was responsible for the small cuts she saw on them. She glanced around as much as she could without getting up.

Chaos was the best word that could describe the current state of the station. Well, other then 'destroyed'. Parts of the orbital station the Toppats called home where broken and scattered across what she could only assume was a forest clearing. The earth was dragged up from a few parts finding themselves lodge into it. She was able to see a few Toppat members getting up or helping others up, while trying to take in what had just happened. Not like she could blame them, she knew exactly what happened, but was still trying to process it herself.

Their home was attacked, and was sent far from earth. Yet, judging by the fact none of them were suffocating, it meant this planet had oxygen or some other air humans could breathe in. Which made sense, they did land in a forest. But that meant they were out of the solar system...

Her train of thought was cut off by a sliver of a blur that entered her field of vision. At first she was a bit spooked out, until her vision adjusted, and she saw the familiar metal hand, only with a few faints scratches. She took the cold hand, although by now she was used to the chill, as Platinum helped her to her feet. "You ok, sis?"

"Y-Yeah." She said, letting go of his hand as she rubbed her arms slightly. She picked up her nearby fallen top hat, and made sure to check the side. She sighed in relief as her hand made badge, one that had the hats of her fathers on it, was still there, and placed that hat back on her head. "Some shards of glass cut me a bit when the window broke."

"Well... considering what just happened, it could have been a lot worse." Platinum looked around. "This is all so unreal..."

"Yeah..." She slowly walked past her brother as she glanced up at the sky, then around at all the greenery around them. Why... was she feeling like she had been here before? Her mind told her it was simply because it looked like earth, but her heart was insisting it was something more.

"Oi. Are ya ok, Reg?" Right Hand Man asked, as he helped the Chief onto his feet, worry in his human and robotic eyes.

"I'm fine. But... the others..." Reginald coughed slightly, before looking around the crash site, as much as he could without moving from his spot anyway.

As the leader of the Toppats, one skill he gained over the years was being somewhat-able to get a rough estimation of how many clan members were in his sight. And after seeing at least 100 Toppats in his vision, he knew others were likely on the other side of the rocket. Assuming at least 88 toppats were on that other side, it meant that a few were still stuck inside, likely injured or, worryingly, dead. Not to mention the children...

"Right Hand Man! Check the rumble for any trapped members!" He ordered, his voice and tone clear that there was no time to waste. He was still not fully used to his lover's cybernetics, watching his legs turn into a booster as he flew into one of the openings near the top. But he loved him all the same. He glanced at a nearby group of Toppats. "See if you can find anything from Medbay, and get it setup for any injured members!" The toppats seemed to be slightly surprised by his tone, but they quickly got to work, scanning the nearby areas.

"Sir." A voice appeared behind him. He turned around to see a man in a black jacket with his white shirt visible. "I know you likely don't want anyone else going into the wreckage, but-"

"Yes Quincy, go find the kids. Just be careful." Reginald answered, the fellow father wasting no time to do so in response, likely worried for his own daughter. The kids were in a pod similar to the leader's pod, it was one of the first things Reginald planned out when he made the blueprints. They would spend most of their days in there, it was the safest for them, especially if the place was to below up, they would already be in a pod and on their way to earth.

Hat Girl found herself walking near the nearby Woodline. That's when she noticed the traces of purple deeper down, and found herself frozen in realization.

Reginald noticed his daughter near the Woodline, and walked up to her. "Are you alright, Hattie?"

"I recognized this place." She said, looking at him. "I been here before."

Reginald's brown and blue eyes showed sudden confusion, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. "You... what?"

"This was the planet I was on before I crashed onto earth." She responded. She then pointed out where the green of life and calmness turned into the creepy purple and black of dread and the unknown to all but her. "That ghost who's song Papa sings lives there."

"Really, the one with that Mafia, one of which went into space to try and get a toll from you?" Reginald question. He never thought his daughter was lying about the planet, but he figured he never find himself on said planet so he mostly just consider it stories.

"Yeah!" She exclaimed, childlike joy in her voice. She never really outgrew her childish side.

"Well... I suppose that means there's a town nearby, at least We should be able to get resources there." Reginald sighed, turning over his shoulder as Right Hand Man landed behind him. A look over the cyborg's shoulder showed some toppats in a little medbay-like area, some medically skilled Toppats using their skills to help the more injured Toppats, the 3rd in command Sven among them. He looked back at his partner in crime. "Was that everyone... alive in the rumble."

"Got everyone t'at was in t'e rubble." Right Hand Man stated. "Surprisingly, everyone lived."

Reginald was a bit surprised at this, but a smile formed on his face. "That's very relieving."

"So... what's the plan Dad?" Platinum asked, glancing at the Toppat leader slightly. "We can't just stay here with no place to rest, or prepare food." He paused for a second. "Well, you guys can't, at least."

Reginald brought his hand to his chin in thought, before dropping it and walking up a nearby rock. He cleared his throat, before calling out. "Can I have everyone's attention!?"

The clan members stopped whatever they were doing, except the few tending to the hurt Toppats, but he knew they were listening as well.

He took a breath before speaking. "As your Leader, I would be lying to you all if I were to claim I knew how to fix this, or the exact steps we should take next. We are the first of our kind to find ourselves stranded on a planet that can maintain life. But we cannot let this disturb us. It may be a long while, but I promise you, we will find our way home. But for now, survival is our goal, to watch after one-another, as clan and family." He paused briefly as he glanced at them all, lost souls unsure of what to do, before resuming. "Those of you who are well enough, see if you can move the walls detached from the station in order to make a temporary form of shelter. We do not know when a storm will come by, if this planet has storms at all. Look for supplies that fallen outside of the ship, only go in to retrieve items that are necessary for our survival. Go along the Woodline and look for wood for a fire. And trust in one another." With that, he backed up from his position on the rock.

Platinum watched as the clan members took a few seconds to process the orders, and the fact they were on another planet, before most started to look around. He spotted Burt and Fredrick walking up to a broken piece of wall, and seemed to start debating where the best place would go to serve as shelter. He saw Calla Fox, the one who stole the Ruby alongside Sven, slowly walk away from the Swedish man to help others look for supplies. He found himself glancing to where the purple part of the woods were hidden, his curiosity growing.

Reginald began to walk over to the wreckage that a few hours ago was the base of operations for the Toppat clan. "Hopefully we stolen enough we can sell in order to pay for what we need to fix the station..." He placed his head in his hands. "It's going to be so expensive..." He let out a muffle shout, not wishing to distract his clan members.

"Still t'ink ya s'ould 'ave let me 'unt after t'at pink-'aired government-kissin' t'ief." Right Hand Man grumbled, glancing at him. "Especially since we lost two members t'anks ta 'im."

Hat Girl watched her dads walked closer to the broken station, and went to follow them to help, before feeling a chilly hand grabbed her hand. "You said one of your friends lived in the creepy woods, right?"

She turned to look behind her, taking a second to glance at where the woods were before returning to her brother. "Yeah."

"And the creepy woods is in the direction of that purple stuff, riiiight?" Platinum voice showed intent, and seems to show he already knew the answer.

"Yea, The forest is kinda pretty in it's own way though, if memory serves me right-" She suddenly looked at him, processing the grin that appeared on his face. In response, she gave her own smart smirk. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"We sneak away from the clan while they take care of the crash rocket mess and chill with your old pals?"

"YES!" She said, high fiving her brother as she bounced in the air slightly. "I been wanting to see them all again, but never thought I actually could until now! I just... hope they aren't still mad at me for sweeping them off of my spaceship."

"Come on, with your cute face as a child, and you still a bit childish face now?" Platinum asked, warping an arm around her shoulder. "They'll forgive you in a heartbeat."

She nodded, a smile on her face as removed her brother's arm around her shoulder. "Catch me if you can then, brother." She said, sticking out her tongue with a 'bleeh" and raced into the woods. She heard a shout from her brother, something about 'cheating' by 'not telling him' and heard his metal feet click ageist the ground to catch up to her. She let out a giggle before shouting once they were a safe distance away from the clan. "Snatcher, here we come!"

[thedevilsruby]

A Sapphire Among the Diamonds (multi chapter Spanche fic)

Blanche never expected to be anything special when they were growing up, especially a person who shares a bond with the Legendary Articuno and the magic of hydro kinesis. What happens when an Isle of people threaten the world of magic?

Warning: Some chapters will contain violence and smut scenes. You have been warned.

(Chapter One) (Chapter Two) (Chapter Three) (Chapter Four) (Chapter Five: You are here)

Chapter Five: The Village

Blanche and Spark were bombarded with a crowd the second they stepped off the beach and Blanche had returned Lapras.

"Your Lapras is magnificent!" A woman holding a newborn infant beamed. "You must be very proud to have tamed such a wonderful Pokemon."

"Err, thank you." Blanche said, trying to ignore the heat in their cheeks and gripping Spark's hand tighter.

"I love your hair!" A little girl squealed, stars in her eyes as she admired Blanche's silver hair. "Did you use your magic to make it that way?"

Blanche shuffled but shook their head. "No, I was born with it."

"Settle down, now, settle down!"

The crowd immediately went silent at the booming voice and parted as Cyran walked through, brown eyes locked on Blanche. Blanche had to suppress a shiver as they felt him staring into their soul.

"Isn't it exciting, Sergeant Cyran?" A woman giggled, practically bouncing in place, her skirt swooshing. "Newcomers!"

"Yes, I know, Mary." Cyran said, smiling gently at the woman. "It is exciting but I'm sure they would like a chance to settle in before anymore questions are asked. Go about your business now."

The grumbling crowd slowly dispersed, some of them wishing Spark and Blanche a good day before disappearing.

Cyran couldn't help but squeeze his baton hard. Why was that blonde man with the target? Didn't Nicholai know this magic scum was supposed to be alone?!

"I thought Lord Nicholai requested you come alone." He said, trying to sound civil as he could.

"I do hope you'll forgive the intrusion but this is Spark, my boyfriend. He insisted on accompanying me on this trip." Blanche stated, hugging Spark close. They didn't like the feeling this man gave them, no matter how inviting he seemed to be.

"I see." Cyran muttered, but nodded. "Very well, follow me." He turned around and walked away. Spark and Blanche hoisted their bags up and walked, trying to ignore the stares of the villagers.

They trekked up a hill where a large castle sat. Spark couldn't help but gulp at the dark intensity just looking at it gave him. "This place gives me the creeps." He muttered into Blanche's ear.

"Shh." Blanche hissed, giving his forearm a light smack.

"Wait here." Cyran said, stepping into the large oak entrance and disappearing, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Babe, let's just go, I don't like it here." Spark said, looking around as if something would pop out and grab them.

"You insisted on coming!" Blanche said, shooting him a glare. "You said you wanted to know more about our powers, did you not?!"

"Yeah, if I knew this place would be this creepy, I wouldn't have said we should go!"

"Spark." Blanche groaned, rubbing their cheek. "We set a goal out, now let's see it to the end."

"Fine, I hate it when you get determined, it's sexy and it'll be the downfall of us one day,." Spark grumbled. Blanche simply rolled their olive green eyes at their boyfriend.

That's when the doors opened back up and out stepped Cyran. "Lord Nicholai has told me to escort you to your inn. He apologizes for not doing it personally but he is busy in a meeting. He requests you come back tomorrow at noon."

"Very well." Blanche nodded, they couldn't help but feel a little disappointed they were not going to meet their host right away but understood.

They made their way back to the village where Cyran had walked them to a small two story inn.

"Hello Frederick." Cyran smiled at the front desk host.

"Sergeant Cyran, what a pleasant surprise!" a tall lanky man with glasses smiled. "What can I do for you, friend?"

"Oh, Lord Nicholai has instructed me to escort these two new comers to your inn. He says to make them as comfortable as possible."

Spark could have sworn a glint of evil appeared into Cyran's eyes as he seems to spit the word 'comfortable' out.

"Of course." Frederick nodded, the same glint appearing in his own blue eyes. He then grabbed a key from behind him and held it out to Blanche. "Room 10, down the left hall. Enjoy your stay."

"Thank you." Blanche nodded, taking the key and dragging Spark off. Spark looked back and was taken aback as they rounded the corner, murderous frowns had taken the place of Cyran and Frederick's smiles.

Blanche unlocked the door, and there was a small room with a large bed, a nightstand and a small tv.

"So they have some modern conveniences." Blanche mumbled.

"Babe, I don't think I like this." Spark mumbled, holding them. "You should have seen the way those two looked when they thought we weren't looking. They looked like they wanted to eat us alive."

"Oh Spark, you're so paranoid." Blanche sighed, turning around and pecking his lips. "Everything will be fine. You're just tired."

"Tired...right." Spark muttered, laying on the bed and sighing.

He hoped this trip would be fast and they would be home in no time.

[cuculine-nelipot]

Wish We Could

Chapter Three: All Aboard (The Hogwarts Express)

2nd June, 1996

“So how was your date?” George asked with a sing-song lilt as soon as Fred arrived back at the store, an impish grin splashed across his face.

“What date?” Fred feigned innocence, and rather poorly. He wound his way through a maze of boxes, putting his things behind the counter before setting about stocking shelves with his brother.

“You know, the one you were on all day with a certain curly haired, amber skinned, friend of the family.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” answered Fred, pursing his lips and shaking his head as though lost. He told his brother everything, usually. But this was different — felt different. For now at least, he wanted him and Hermione to be just him and Hermione, alone together and shinning.

“Oh you know, about yay high, half-Indian, half-Caribbean, muggle born, a fair bit posh, definitely too posh for the likes of—“

“Mate,” his demeanour darkened dramatically, “if you don’t stop it, I’m going to have to smack you.”

Considering however, that in doing so Fred would wind up hurting himself too, George persisted, confident that he wouldn’t. A nice bit of twin magic that. Or a curse, depending on where you stood. So he followed his brother around the store, pelting him with questions.

“Where’d you go? What’d you do? What’s Foyles? Are those books? Can I see? Did you get something for me? Fred did you get something for me? Did you kiss? Did you hold hands? Did you kiss her Fred? Fred did you kiss her? You know it’s funny, I always thought Hermione and Ron— OW!” His upper arm throbbed in pain, and he looked down to see a red patch on his arm roughly the size of Fred’s fist. Fred stalked upstairs, his trainers thumping loudly on the steps, rubbing the same spot on his own arm.

.

Late that night, George rolled over in bed, and Fred’s arm throbbed in pain. “Sorry,” Fred said from his own bed across the room, his voice meek.

“It’s fine,” was George’s sleep-gruff response. He meant it, and that only made Fred feel worse.

“It was a good day. If you were still wondering.”

“Good, I’m glad.”  And he meant that too. Fred could hear the smile in his voice.

Minutes trickled by, then hours. George’s breathes came slower, and quieter as he fell asleep. Fred lay awake, his eyes fixed on the blackness above. Fred and Hermione he said to himself over and over, finding new empathy for 10-year-old Ginny devoutly drawing hearts around Harry’s name. He couldn’t believe his luck, was almost certain it wouldn’t last, couldn’t shake the feeling that they were on borrowed time somehow. He said their names like an incantation, like a mantra, like a prayer. Fred and Hermione. He would hold on to it as long as he could, as long as he was allowed. Fred and Hermione. He let the phrase well in his ears, warm, and light, and rosy. He let it percolate through his body, shinning from his head to his toes, until at last he fell asleep.

1st September, 1998

He couldn’t exactly not go to King’s Cross, it being Ginny and Ron’s last year at Hogwarts and all. Seeing Hermione was just a bonus, even if she wouldn’t talk to him, or look at him. Even if she had ignored every owl and phone call since they last saw each other. Even if he had to see Ron kiss her, even if his only small comfort was convincing himself that maybe he saw her pull away away. It was, he thought, enough just to see her from across the station.

And Hermione hadn’t doubted for a second that he would be there. Still, seeing him set her teeth on edge. The familiar, biting, Fred Weasley brand of annoyance shot through her from stomach to her jaw. Just look at him, standing there, his legs spread in a V, one arm crossing his chest, the fingers of his other hand touching his lips, laughing at something Ginny says. His ginger hair coiffed, and in brilliant contrast to a white t-shirt and navy bomber. What an arse.

Hermione’s thoughts, like his, turn inevitably, unerringly, unstoppably to the last time they were both on Platform 9 and 3/4.

1st September, 1996

The rest of the summer had been peppered with moments like this; Fred tenderly rubbing cream into bruised skin beneath her eye after she had fallen victim to a trick telescope, Fred showing up outside her window on his broom in the middle of the night, to take her anywhere, or to just stay and talk a while, Fred, Crookshanks-like, reaching out to stroke her face while she read, Fred flinging and arm around her while they walked, or playfully shoving into her and running away so that she had to chase after him to get her revenge. Fred pulling her in for a kiss before she could.

Snogging, — this  time behind a pillar in a half hearted attempt to not be seen, at least not by anyone who would care. Her arms around his neck, his hands on her waist, something pink glittering under her skin, his skin. Neither of them had felt anything like it before and both we sure they would never feel that way ever again, not with anyone else.

“Stop it you’re going to make me late,” she whined, but she was smiling and made no attempt to pull away. Maybe she could spare a few more seconds. It wasn’t like she had to say goodbye to anyone else anyway.

“It’s fine that was just the warning whistle.” His voice muffled against her lips.

“Come on Fred. “

“Can’t,“ he teased, “don’t go there anymore.”

“Frederick,” she’d said in her best warning tone. She was going to be late for the prefects’ meeting. He was going to make her late. Fred let out a deep sigh, rubbed his nose against her neck, kissed her quick once, twice, three times on the mouth before he dropped his arms and let her go.

“Granger,” he called. She hadn’t taken three steps. Half turning around, she fixed him with a quizzical look. “I miss you.”

Ridiculous, she thought. She rolled her eyes. She walked away before he could see the smile that cracked across her face, grateful that he couldn’t see her blush.  

She felt a pang of sadness, boarding the train. She hadn’t had anyone else to say goodbye to. At her insistence, her parents hadn’t come. The Weasleys’ are always running late. There wouldn’t be time for a proper goodbye. Yes, I’m sure. I’ll see you at Christmas. I promise. I love you too.

Of course, she would have preferred they be there, but it seemed much too dangerous, all things considered. Voldemort clearly wasn’t hiding anymore, and she didn’t want anyone remembering what her parents look like. In fact, when whatever was coming eventually came, she wanted her parents as far away from her as possible.

But such thoughts were cut short by the fluttering of paper on her cheek. She pulled a small folded aeroplane from the air, unfolded it on her way to the prefects carriage, observed the now familiar script, halfway between elegant and utterly illegible.  

You’re perfect Granger.

And just like that she was smiling again.

1st September, 1998

He throws another fugitive glance in her direction, but this time he catches her looking too. She narrows her eyes at him before snapping her attention back to her parents.

“You have to write to us everyday, do you understand Hermione? Everyday. And we want pictures. Lots of them. Do you have the camera?”

“Yes dad,” she says, trying her best to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

“And film?”

“Yes mama.”

“Okay. Good, good,” her father says. Both her parents are looking at her with the same, worried expressions that cross their faces whenever Hogwarts had come up recently. They don’t particularly understand why Hermione doesn’t just do her A Levels, go to a nice Muggle university, stay far away from the world that had put her in so much danger. She hadn’t ruled it out entirely — A Levels and uni, but she isn’t one to not finish something she started, and she definitely isn’t one to run scared, at the first sign of trouble. Or the hundredth for that matter. Besides, there is the burning desire to experience at least one semi-normal year at Hogwarts to take into account.

“Are you sure about this darling?” Her mother asks again, the same pained expression on her face.

Her parents had married young, and were only in their mid-30s the first time they sent her off to Hogwarts. The intervening years had been kind to them, no doubt, but there was no denying the crows feet carved into her father’s dark skin, the wisps of white hair falling like thin satin ribbons, framing her mother’s ashy brown face, the creases in their brows. They had plenty of time left, it was true, but none they wanted to spare, and Hermione had been so distant for so long. Still…

“Very,” she says, apologetically.

“You’ll write everyday, won’t you?”

“Everyday,” she confirms

“Well, okay then. You better go.” The train whistles in agreement. Mrs. Granger pulls Hermione into a bony hug, all collar bones and elbows, but warm and comfortable nonetheless.  

Everyone boards, Hermione piling into a carriage with Harry, Ginny, Ron, Luna, and Neville. She gives her parents final kisses on the cheeks, leaning out the window as the Hogwarts Express glides out of the station.

She stays that way, leaning on the windowpane, long after King’s Cross is out of sight. She watches farm and field roll past as the crisp autumn air whips at her face. The carriage is crowded and suitably noisy, everyone excited and nervous in equal measure at the prospect of returning to Hogwarts.

A small paper aeroplane flutters toward her, pausing in front of her nose. She plucks it from the air, and unfolds it with needlessly careful fingers.

I miss you Granger.

No one is looking so, perhaps for the first time in her life, Hermione acts without thinking too much, without giving herself the chance to lose courage. No one pays attention as she rummages in her rucksack for a quill, or when she hastily scrawls a reply, refolds it into a plane, and breathes on it to make it fly. There. Now it’s done. Now he’ll know. No turning back now.

She feels lighter suddenly, and pulls her body into the carriage to keep from being blown away. She listens to Luna tell one of her ridiculous stories, and to everyone’s surprise, she smiles good-naturedly instead of tearing the (lack of) reason apart, as she would have done once upon a time.

“Alright, Hermione?” She turns to find Ginny looking at her curiously, her pink, delicate face set with perhaps the faintest hint of concern.

“Yeah,” Hermione says smiling, a reckless joy bubbling in her chest, “I’m great.” She laughs and Ginny, though she’s not sure what’s so funny, laughs too, simply happy that her friend is.

.

Things go quiet the closer they get to Hogwarts, each person drawing increasingly inward, all trying to imagine what it will be like to walk those halls again — halls that they themselves helped rebuild just months ago. What it would be like to eat in the Great Hall as they had done so many times, to sit through History of Magic knowing that recently they had no small part in making it. They pull on their robes in silence, do their best to clean up the sweet wrappers and pasty crumb. Harry puts his arm around Ginny’s shoulder and she leans into his side. He brings his hand up to play with the hair next to her ear. It’s unclear who is comforting whom.

Hermione looks out the window, not wanting to miss the first sight of the castle. Ron, in his seat across from her, leans over and tries to take her hand but she jerks away from the unexpected touch. Turning to find a wounded look on his face, she takes one of his hands in both of hers. Then she sees it, the silhouette of its towers against the fast dusking sky, a thousand lights winking in a thousand windows, and she feels magic rush through her veins again.

“Harry,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. He is the only one of her friends who really understood the wonder of discovering magic, and Hogwarts. He is the only one who knows how it felt, learning that it came at so perilous a price. Switching places with Ginny, he leans toward the window, a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. The moment he catches sight of the first place that ever felt like home to him, she feels a slight squeeze, hears his breath hitch. She turns back to look to him, and he gives her a nervous smile, a glint in his eyes approaching something like wonder.

.

Fred was halfway home by the time it found its way back to him. He hadn’t expected to see it, assumed that she would have burned his little note to a crisp. So he just stared at its floating form, mouth agape. The paper plane, growing impatient, began insistently banging into his forehead. He snatched it from the air then, as though afraid of startling it, as if it might still burst into flames if he was too eager, unfolded it with cautious fingers.

I miss you too.

Taglist: @solunars @lovedyouthreesummers @keoghans @aquaeryn @thelasttime

[locke-writes]

Which of your fics...?

Well I wasn’t tagged but saw this floating around and honestly I don’t even wanna do it for self-promotion I just want to do it to have an excuse to tag my favorite writers

Did you think would get a bigger reaction/audience than it did?

 The World Goes By which is a Frank Castle x Reader fic I did for a writing challenge. I don’t know what I was expecting and it did ok but I was (and am) really proud of that fic so it hurt a little that the traction ceased

Got a better reaction than you were expecting?

Easily it’s Only Time Will Tell but that isn’t because I had a hard time writing it or anything it’s more because I’ve always been afraid of posting unrequested work/my own ideas. So to see that fic get a good reaction was more than I ever thought possible and actually gave me more confidence to just post what I want to write as well as requests

Is your funniest?

I’m not entirely certain because humor is subjective but one of the first posts ever on this blog was a short thing based on something from an imagines blog where Matt Murdock takes suggestions from a Magic 8 ball so: Ask Again Later

Is your darkest or angstiest?

People might disagree but it seems that I pour all my angst into SVU pieces. I’d have to say that it might be: The Wrong Time and I would like to apologize ahead of time if you’re reading it for the first time (it’s a Barba x Reader btw)

Is your absolute favorite?

I have favorites from every fandom honestly because there are just some things that are really fun to write anyway I’m going with Stranger Things for this one because I will forever love To Call Mine (Jim Hopper x Male!Reader)

Was easiest to write?

There’s been a few because sometimes you just get an idea or a request that you have every detail fall into place for. I have to choose In Times of Darkness There Will Be A Light (Poe Dameron x Reader) because fuck I love Poe and loving a character makes it ten times easier to write for them

Was hardest to write?

I’ve had a few for fandoms I no longer write for or characters I just find hard to write for. Forgiveness (Thranduil x Reader) was incredibly difficult and it still surprises me how popular it was because not only was it hard to figure something out for that prompt but I’m not a huge fan of The Hobbit hence why I stopped writing for it and LOTR

Has your favorite lines/exchanges/paragraphs? (Share It)

Can I just say the entirety of In My Storm (Bruce Banner x Reader) because that was one of those rare fics where I knew exactly what I wanted to do with it.

As for more specific answer, it has to be this paragraph from Starting Over (Tony Stark x Reader) because after writing it I just sat back and had to take a moment:

“I promise you I’m done with all this. The world doesn’t need Iron Man anymore there are plenty of other heroes. I want to be Tony Stark again, I want to be in a lab for the fun of it and not because I’ve got suits to build. I want to buy a house, not anything to big, and I want to live there and have a family there and live a normal life. I’ve had time as a hero, it was good but I’d give it all up to be with you.”

Have you re-read the most?

Oh none. I can’t re-read my work. At least not unless it’s for a series in which I have to read the last chapter again to figure out where to start the next one

Would you recommend to someone reading your work for the first time?

Depends on the fandom and what they like but some of my personal favorites are:

Sacrifice the Soul (Being Human US, Aidan x Reader)

Becoming Whole (Criminal Minds, Hotch x Reader)

Forget About the Fear (Frank Castle x Reader)

Frederick Chilton x Reader Drabble

The Mediator (Lucifer Morningstar x Reader)

Are you most proud of?

Quite a few if I’m being honest:

In Other Words (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Kissing Bodhi Rook Headcanons (Star Wars)

Chandelier In Pieces (Erik Lehnsherr x Reader)

Never Doubt (Frederick Chilton x Reader)

Broken Pieces Come Together (Sonny Carisi x Reader)

Now to tag some writers who are under no obligation to do this but I thought it would be fun to promote what you loved writing:

@lotsoffandomimagines @cactiem @myriadimagines @moonlit-imagines @emcon-imagines @writefasttalkevenfaster @welldonebeca @randomfandomimagine @regrettablewritings @johnnyshellby  (and any other writer who sees this!)

[yannfredericks]

PLEASE talk about your polly backstory 👀

omg ty SO much for asking!!! 🥺 (and sorry for taking far too long to answer!!)

To me, polly shows obvious signs of being an only child with a massive inferiority complex instilled by her parents for not meeting their outrageous expectations, but I think that’s only if you’re specifically looking to understand why she is the way she is and not just writing her off as Pretty Popular Girl Is A Bitch :) This has gotten very long so I'll put it under a read more!

So in my mind, she’s not only an only child, but the only gryffindor in an all slytherin family. Her family were ~almost~ in the sacred 28 (which they pride themselves on) and only missed out due to the ‘unfortunate’ choice of partners a very select few of their ancestors made. They weren’t necessarily on Voldemort’s side, but I wouldn’t say that they were overly opposed either, I imagine they mostly kept themselves to themselves and skirted by by keeping up appearances and being friendly with, but not close enough to end up entangled with, pure blood extremist families. So not great people needless to say, quite cowardly too in all honesty for all their ambitions of being amongst the likes of the Malfoys. While this mostly concerns her grandparents, they raised her parents to have the same values and general outlook on life.

So then we come to Polly’s childhood. Her parents never really loved her unconditionally so much as loved the idea of her being the golden child to restore their name and carry on their legacy. Which was unfortunate when she failed to show any signs of magic for the first 9/10 years of her life. They didn’t have any real time for her being a child and mostly regarded her and expected her to behave like a little adult. She didn’t get to play or actually be a child really, she was usually left to her own devices outside of schooling and piano classes and was in many ways, raised by the family house elf Pipsey. Polly mostly saw her parents at the dinner table, for breakfast and supper and had the rest of the day to herself, mostly shut in her room with her piano (which, although reasonably good at it, she grew very quickly bored of). She had a very vivid imagination and grew bored of study and lessons easily. She wasn’t given any dolls but managed to make her own out of the clothes she grew out of, while they weren’t very pretty she loved them and could create stories out of the most mundane things since that was really all she had at her disposal. This carries on for the first 6/7 years of her life, she would create stories in her room for hours and was much closer with Pipsey than her parents knew, which meant that Pipsey was often involved in her (very limited) play time under Polly’s instruction. This lasted until she started homeschool.

She was expected to study every day from the day she started school as her parents demanded excellence, which is where the disappointment started but no where near where it ended. She was schooled in a group of other pure blood girls, the children of her family’s friends, which was where she first learnt how effective manipulation and humiliation was. Actually, that’s not quite true, the first person she learnt that from was her father, who seemed to find endless things about polly childish, unbecoming and disappointing. Her mother wasn’t much better, and the more time that passed without her showing any signs of magic, the more resigned and borderline hateful they became of her, calling her a squib and a ‘failed endeavour’, and unfortunately, as children often do, she started mimicking this behaviour around the other girls and found out very quickly how to get what she wanted. Whether that be to get a specific girl to be her best friend, another to be ignored by everyone, to get answers for the homework, to get out of the homework, or most importantly: frighten the girls out of ever bringing up the fact that she couldn’t do magic. She probably made threatening comments about being very powerful and not trusting herself to use magic around them to cover up the fact that she was coming up nine and a half and still hadn’t had a single instance of magic.

I don’t think she really understood how horrible her behaviour was then and likely thought this was normal behaviour bc the girls she was schooled with weren’t exactly nice either, and when that’s how people behave in your home and in your class/every aspect of your life you tend to make the assumption that that's just how everyone is. It made her feel good in the moment, having power over others often does have a certain appeal, however dark, but I imagine she spent a lot of time thinking about it at night and feeling awful but not being able to articulate why. I like to picture her having long chats with Pipsey and skirting around the subject, wanting to talk about it but being too afraid to find out what was making her feel this way.

Skip forward and her parents began to talk about replacing Pipsey, she’s old and a lot slower these days and far, far too indulgent with Polly. Polly, struggling to get her parents attention at the best of times, begs and begs them to keep her on, begs them to just get another elf to help alongside Pipsey instead of getting rid of her entirely, and when they refuse to listen and send her off to her room, she throws the tantrum to end all tantrums, screaming, crying, kicking, throwing things, all the behaviour she has been taught against suddenly comes tumbling out of her until they all realise that she's levitating their massive heavy wooden bookshelf up and up in a very menacing way over her parents.

It’s not her conscious intention to hurt them, but on a subconscious level it’s definitely her desire to make them feel the hurt, upset, and fear that they’ve made her feel, and I’d consider this the first time we see just how strongly she cares for the people she loves. It’s the fear of losing Pipsey that drives her to use magic for the first time. Her parents are OVERJOYED at this display of magic as they’d honestly almost completely given up on her and decide to keep Pipsey as a reward for her display. Not a great thing bc it instilled in her the idea that she can get whatever she wants if she throws a big enough tantrum and is threatening enough, but on the other hand it teaches her to always fight for what she feels is right so... plus Pipsey is so grateful to Polly for working so hard to keep her (as if Polly would /ever/ let anything stand between her and what she loves)

The magic doesn’t come easily after this though, it comes rarely and is quite difficult for her since she’s been raised to be so reserved and emotionless, but she’s felt it now and manages to achieve the barest of minimums from here on out. I don’t think magic is exclusively connected to emotional states or a persons openness but being closed off has definitely been to the detriment of Polly’s power. She’s got a renewed sense of self worth from the experience though and begins to feel once again like she might be able to make her parents proud.

She gets her Hogwarts letter and it is the happiest she’s ever been and it’s the closest they’ve ever felt like a real family. Everything is perfect until the moment she meets Yann Fredericks on the train and her world image starts to crumble.

Yann is easily the nicest person she's ever met and it's confusing and INFURIATING and she has no idea how to cope with it, but suddenly (and she doesn't know HOW) she has a friend and the sorting hat is on her head and she's in Gryffindor with this boy she's only known a few hours and her entire world is upside down.

That first night she creeps down into the Gryffindor common room because she's so confused and sick with anxiety that she can't sleep, only to find Yann down there too. He also can't sleep, but his reason is that he misses his mums and his sister Leah, and the combination of that mixed with his excitement for the years ahead means that he probably won't sleep for hours. They end up talking about anything and everything until they can't keep their eyes open, and although she's still more nervous than she's ever been, she's also made her first real friend. They end up having long, quiet chats in that corner almost every night for the rest of their time at Hogwarts.

She gathers the courage to write to her parents the next day and never receives a reply, which is a reply in itself, and she's absolutely devastated. Not to mention she's not managing any better with her magic, and seems to be just about the only one with this issue except for:

Albus Potter.

Her homeschool days come back to her and suddenly she's picking on Albus and pointing out all his flaws and the fact that he can hardly manage any magic it all and now no one even notices that she can't get her feather to levitate or a broom into her hands because they're all noticing that in Albus. It's not nice and it doesn't make her feel good, but it's a relief to not have to worry about herself when she's got everyone laughing at someone else's misfortune. And in doing so she makes another friend: Karl Jenkins! Who seems equally as keen to make jokes at the expense of others, and who introduces her and Yann to his friend Craig Bowker Jr.

I could go on and on but it's already taken me like, a year, to answer this!! and it gets a bit more just 'story' rather than 'backstory' from here so there you have it! I'm sorry for taking an absurd amount of time and for rambling so much and probably only making a small amount of sense but there you have it! I love Polly so much and I'm so excited for her to grow, mature and get the help that she needs to become the person that she's meant to be <3 Thank you thank you thank you for asking!! I am literally always down to talk about Polly, or any other member of the gang, and I will endeavour to do better than a year's turn around in future <3 love youuuuu

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 4 - I’m Alive

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

The tournament has been announced! Hermione expresses some conflicted feelings, and Fred and George make a harrowing discovery.

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note: I will now be updating this story every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST)! Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<< Chapter 3

If I should break My silent streak Will knives come out To cut my cheek?

  Hermione couldn’t help the swell of pride in her chest at Fred’s acknowledgement of being bested. Truly, it wasn’t a thing to be proud of. There was no joy in winning a game amongst idiots. What was the muggle phrase again? Play stupid games, win stupid prizes? Either way, the last thing she ever expected to fill her with smug glee was Frederick Weasley’s approval. No. She shook her head. It wasn’t his approval that made her feel this way. It was the glorious relief of getting the prat to shut up once again, that’s what it was. But if that were true, then why was her mind drifting back to last night’s conversation and the gentle banter the two shared? She felt it then too. The glowing sense of satisfaction that he not only approved of her mental prowess when it came to the art of repartee, but that he also found amusement in it.

Unable to ponder on the thought for long, she turned her attention to Dumbledore as he announced for the year’s sorting to begin. Hermione watched as the group of frightened first years filed into the Great Hall; their eyes wide with wonder. She remembered her first moment seeing the magnificence of Hogwarts. No amount of reading had prepared her for all that the school had to offer. The sorting went by quickly, Hermione clapping and cheering politely when one of the new students joined their table. Some students, especially the Gryffindor students, got quite into the sorting, seeing it as some competition. Hermione was all for house pride, but she really didn’t see it necessary to boo when a child was placed in Slytherin or laugh when placed in Hufflepuff. Glaring over at Ron, Harry, and the Weasley twins, Hermione wished they would conduct themselves with a bit more civility. Honestly, the school could do with more house unity in her opinion. Still, they acquired quite a fair number of new Gryffindors, including the Collin Creevey’s little brother who was already gawking at Harry like he was some kind of god.

Hermione snorted. She imagined they wouldn’t feel that way if they ever had to help him with his Astronomy homework.

Once the sorting ceremony was over, Dumbledore stood up again, his midnight blue robes sparkling with silver stars. Hermione always secretly wondered where he got his robes. They were the most ornate and intricate pieces she’d ever observed in the wizarding world. Surely, they didn’t sell them anywhere in Diagon Alley. At least, she never saw anything quite like them in Madame Malkin’s shop. Perhaps Twilfitt and Tatting’s. She watched as their headmaster adjusted his half-moon spectacles and cleared his throat.

“Good evening and welcome back to another fantastic year at Hogwarts. I would like to begin with a few announcements. First, as many of you know, the forest on the grounds is strictly prohibited to all students. Second, the wizarding village of Hogsmeade is also off limits to students below their third year or for those without permi—” Dumbledore was cut off by a loud crack of thunder and the groan of the large Great Hall doors opening. All heads turned towards the entrance, confused by the sudden interruption. What they found was a short and stalky man standing haggardly as the heavy wooden door closed behind him. A sense of unease washed across Hermione as she watched him enter the hall slowly. His long, patched robes hung heavy on him, dripping water onto the floor as he limped towards the head table. He leaned heavily on a thick, wooden staff and grunted with every step. Wet, tangled grey hair hung in his face – a face marred with thick and grotesque scars. But it wasn’t the grueling number of scars that unsettled her. It was his eyes. One eye was small, dark, and beady, while the other was a striking blue that never seemed to stop moving. It swiveled around in all directions, never focusing on one spot for long as he kept his pace towards the headmaster. As he approached, Dumbledore smiled unfazed. They shook hands briefly across the table in a familiar manner before the mysterious wizard limped to take a seat at the spot usually reserved for the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

“What good timing my old friend, I was just about to introduce you!” Dumbledore exclaimed delightfully. “This year, the Defense Against the Dark Arts position will be filled by a very dear friend of mine, Alastor Moody. Alastor?” Dumbledore motioned to the scraggly man. Moody stood and gave a curt nod to the mass of students. A spatter of confused, yet polite applause greeted him. Hermione stared at the man speculatively. She had read about Alastor Moody. Some called him Mad-Eye Moody, which observing him now, she could see why the nickname was appointed. A famous auror and dark wizard catcher, he was renowned for his part in catching most of the known Death Eaters currently in Azkaban. However, over the past few years he had become known for his increasing paranoia. If the rumors were true, Hermione wondered if he was truly qualified to be teaching young children.

“Right! Lastly, I have the unfortunate duty of informing you that our annual Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not be taking place this year,” announced Dumbledore. His announcement was met with numerous cries of outrage from the tables of students. Some of which were most loudly emanating from Oliver Wood down the table. Hermione frowned sadly in his direction before looking to Harry and Ron who seemed equally as devastated but more entirely confused. While Hermione was disappointed for them, she couldn’t help but feel a small jolt of glee. At least she wouldn’t have to spend hours in the cold watching Harry try to kill himself on a broom.

“This is due to a very special opportunity—” Dumbledore went on “—Over the coming months, our school has the honor hosting an event that hasn’t taken place in over a century. It is my pleasure to announce that Hogwarts will be home to the Triwizard Tournament!”

“You’re joking!” Fred Weasley exclaimed, his voice ringing loud through the hall. Hermione turned to glare at him for his incredibly rude outburst, but ultimately rolled her eyes when the entirety of the hall began to laugh, including Dumbledore himself.

“No, Mr. Weasley, I am not joking,” the headmaster stated before continuing to inform them all on the history of the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione of course, knew all about the tournament. There was a whole section in Hogwarts, a History dedicated to the event. While the competition was a great opportunity for selected students to show off their magical abilities, it was also quite dangerous. In fact, the whole reason the tournament hadn’t taken place in centuries was because of the overt amount of deaths it resulted in. She warried a glance at Harry across the table. This was exactly the kind of thing he would find himself mixed up in.

“I’m going for it!” she heard Fred whisper down the table. Rolling her eyes, she doubted he had half the knowledge and strength it took to win something as monumental as the Triwizard Tournament. As Dumbledore went on, the hall became restless. Student voices, excitedly discussing the tournament and all it had to offer, soon rose in volume that Hermione deemed quite inappropriate.

“Now, now, I know all of you are understandably eager to participate and win the Triwizard Cup for Hogwarts—” lamented Dumbledore “—however, as one of the compromises made in order to bring the tournament back, myself, the heads of the participating schools, and the Ministry of Magic have all agreed to place an age restriction on this year’s event. Only students seventeen and older will be allowed to enter their names for the Triwizard Tournament. This, is something that we feel is necessary as the tasks will be incredibly difficult and will require the education and experience of older witches and wizards, to complete.”

Hermione gave a great sigh of relief at this revelation. Thank Merlin. That fact alone meant everyone she knew at Hogwarts personally was safe. Even Fred and George weren’t seventeen yet. However, looking around at the disappointed and even angry faces at her table, showed that only she was happy about the rule change. She didn’t let their disappointment ruin her mood though. Instead she listened contentedly, until next thing she knew, her was done and dinner was served.

Dinner went by uneventfully, conversation filled laments of summer trips, general gossip, and theorizing about the upcoming tournament. Hermione was thoroughly stuffed by the time the tables were magically cleared and their group departed back to Gryffindor Common room. Hermione trailed behind Harry and Ron as they walked with the twins through the halls, thinking about her classes the next day when George’s voice broke her concentration.

“You know, Freddie, I reckon we could find a way to get past whatever Dumbledore will use to enforce the age restriction,” George said enthusiastically.

“How do you suppose they’ll pick to decide who gets in or not?” Harry asked. Hermione thought that was quite a good question. In her reading, it was never explicitly stated how the competitors were chosen. It simply stated that they were.

“No idea, but it’ll be them that we have to fool—” stated Fred, his chest puffing in confidence “—I think a few drops of aging potion should do the trick.”

“But Dumbledore knows you aren’t old enough,” Ron piped up as they made their way back to the Gryffindor common room.

“Yes, but whoever is deciding doesn’t. It seems to me that they’ll just choose whoever is best from each school. Dumbledore is just trying to stop us from getting our names in is all,” George replied to his younger brother.

“And you two aren’t the least bit concerned that people have died in this competition before?” Hermione inquired, feeling irritation bubbling up below her calm façade.

“Not a bit,” the pair responded with cheeky grins.

Fred and George’s response irked Hermione quite terribly. Were they really that immune to the idea of potential imminent death? Fred definitely wasn’t – no matter what he said. She knew that for certain just from her memories of the Quidditch World Cup. He had been just as afraid as her, she saw it on his face. That fact alone gave her comfort when she continued to endure the agonizing nightmares revolving around that night. Rubbing at her eyes, she cursed at just how bloody tired she was. When she nodded off in the Weasley kitchen that night sitting across from Fred, it had been the first peaceful sleep she’d had in weeks. Unfortunately, the peace did not last long, for as soon as her head hit the pillow in Ginny’s room the nightmares were back again. However, the comforting thought that she had not been the only person scared and panicked that night reassured her that she was not overreacting. Even though everyone had all but forgotten the events of the Quidditch World Cup. Hermione wanted to forget as well.

“Well if Fred and George figure out a way to enter their names, I want in,” said Ron as they sat in the common room. Upon entering the tower, Fred and George made swift exits to their room, most likely to start on their idiotic aging potion idea. It wasn’t going to work, Hermione knew that, but she doubted anything she said to them would get through their thick skulls.

“You most definitely will not Ronald Weasley!” Hermione scolded the freckle-faced boy sitting across from her in front of the fire. He rolled his eyes at her, ignoring her objection.

“Oh, come on Hermione. Everyone knows the age limit is insulting. Us three have faced loads of dark magic already. Especially Harry! You don’t think he’s capable of winning a silly little competition? Tell her Harry!” Ron looked over at Harry for support, but all the bespectacled boy could manage was a conflicted expression before Hermione responded.

“I think Harry has faced enough life-threatening situations for a lifetime, thank you very much. I’d rather you two lose the opportunity of fame and fortune, than risk your necks again. To do so would just be stupid. No one can evade death forever!” Hermione rose from her seat and stormed out, leaving the two boys to gawk at her retreating form.

Hermione huffed and puffed about her room, slamming books down and pulling on her sleep clothes more aggressively than usual. The other girls in the room continued their babble, paying her no mind as they were too engulfed in whatever the latest gossip was to care about her bad mood. She crawled into bed and drew the curtains closed, blocking out all the light from her roommates Pavarti, Lavender, and Fey. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to sleep – to block out all the frustrations of the day and to most importantly not have nightmares. Truth be told, she shouldn’t be so upset at Ron. It was all trivial. In the end, the twins would never figure out how to enter their names into the tournament and thus neither would Ron nor Harry. This might end up being a perfectly normal year after all. There was no magical item with the ability to keep one alive forever taking up residence in the castle; there couldn’t possibly be a second mysterious chamber hidden under the school housing a deadly snake; and there wasn’t an escaped Azkaban prisoner seemingly attempting to murder her best friend – that she knew of. No, this year they would be the spectators. They would watch as three experienced and skilled students, they were not close to, risk their lives in the tournament. Maybe a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin would compete for Hogwarts. Whoever it was, it wouldn’t be them and they would watch from the stands, getting a thrill from the entertainment. Then they would return to the common room, talking about who they thought would win. They would study hard and pass their classes. They would end the year happy and safe, and looking forward to the next year.

Everyone would be safe, happy, and together.

    No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be there. It had to! Fred tore through his trunk again, this time physically removing the items one by one and throwing them onto the dormitory floor around him. However, much to his dismay, he reached the bottom empty handed. Standing abruptly, he rushed over to George’s trunk and began to do the same. He was halfway through its contents when his brother came in, followed closely by Lee Jordan and Kenneth Towler.

“Oi, Freddie, mind telling me why you’re scrounging through my personal things?” George asked, staring down at his brother with a curious gaze.

“It’s gone,” Fred answered gravely, continuing to tear through George’s trunk.

“What’s gone?” asked Lee, hopping over the growing pile of things on the floor and landing clumsily on his bed.

“I swear I just saw it the other day and now it’s gone Georgie!” exclaimed Fred in a panic, sitting back on his heels when he, once again, reached the baren bottom of the trunk.

Towler sighed, walking through the mess, and placing his school bag down next to his neatly made bed. Airily he pulled out a few textbooks and laid down before remarking, “I always knew one of you would lose it. Personally, I always thought it would be George.”

George cast an unamused expression in Towler’s direction before crouching down next to his obviously distressed twin. “Get ahold of yourself mate—” George shook him roughly “—just tell me what’s going on.”

“The money!” yelled Fred, breaking away from George’s hold and moving to his wardrobe. “It’s gone! I’ve looked everywhere for it and it’s gone. Last I checked it was in our money pouch and now it’s not there.”

“Wait. You don’t mean the money we won, do you?” George asked, rushing to Fred’s side, and grabbing him by the arm. He pulled him roughly, forcing Fred to cease his search and face his twin. Fred swelled with irritation. He didn’t have time for this. He needed to find the missing galleons. Fred didn’t need to respond for George to know that it was, in fact, the money they won from their bet at the world cup. George’s eyes widened in disbelief and then, he too began to tare wildly through his wardrobe, all the while chanting a desperate mumble of “No, it’s impossible.”

“Two hundred galleons do not just up and walk away Freddie!” cried George, abandoning his wrecked wardrobe, and lying flat on his belly to look under their beds.

“Where on earth did you two get two hundred galleons?!” asked Lee incredulously. He sat up in his bed, showing a larger interest at the mention of money the two had seemed to misplace.

Fred sighed, sinking to the floor, and leaning against the open door of his wardrobe. Closing his eyes tightly, he banged the back of his head against the wood as he tried to think.

“We won it,” answered George, now pulling back the covers on his bed.

Fred smirked sadistically, knowing it was a lost cause. He already checked there.

“Won it?” asked Lee again, clearly both confused and impressed.

“Yeah, we bet our dads friend all our money and a bloody fake wand that Krum would catch the snitch, but Ireland would win—” Fred rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms in frustration “—he was pretty surprised when we were right, but he paid us. We’ve had the money locked up in my trunk ever since. We were going to use it to upstart our business.”

‘Were’, was the important part of that sentence, thought Fred. Now without the money, he had no clue how they would fund their business after school. They could get jobs he supposed. He and George could work in a shop and save up until they had enough. It wasn’t the worst scenario, but merlin, it wasn’t what they imagined.

“Well I didn’t touch it,” said Lee, holing his hands up to signify his innocence.

“You couldn’t have taken it even if you wanted to,” said Fred. “I put so many wards on my trunk, you’d think I was trying to keep Dumbledore himself out.”

“It has to be here somewhere Freddie. Are you sure you didn’t take the money pouch out for something and then, I don’t know, leave it somewhere?”

Fred looked at his brother in irritation before snapping, “Actually now that you mention it, just the other day I was sitting on my bed and I thought ‘Gee, you know what would be an excellent idea? Taking two hundred galleons for a bloody walk.’ Of course, I didn’t take it out for anything! What do you take me for, Georgie?”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. That was a stupid question. I just don’t understand what could have happened to it.”

“This friend of your dads, he wouldn’t happen to be Ludo Bagman, would he?” asked Towler from his bed, nose currently buried in his transfiguration textbook.

Fred and George froze, so still they could have easily been mistaken for victims of a well-placed body bind curse. They looked at their second roommate with suspicion.

“Why?” the two questioned in unison, staring hard at the sandy-haired boy.

“My dad says he’s a real bilker. He’s always making bets and never paying up – still owes my dad two galleons and seven sickles from a game of cards almost a year ago,” said Towler, looking back at his book with a bored expression.

Fred took a moment to process his words. Kenneth Towler was many things: swotty, boring, killjoy to name a few, but he wasn’t a liar. So that meant if he said Ludo Bagman was a renowned cheat, then it was probably true. Still though, he had paid them the money. Almost immediately even. If he was constantly broke, then where did he come up with the galleons to pay them off? Unless…

George seemed to have the same thought he did because it was his turn to sink to the floor in abject horror.

“Leprechaun gold,” they said in distraught realization.

It was the only possible explanation, thought Fred. While possessing the exact same features as a wizarding galleon, leprechaun gold had one little thing about it that made it unique – it vanished after twenty-four hours. Fred cursed under his breath, standing, and beginning to place his things back into his trunk.

“Of course that slimy git would try to con us out of our well-deserved money. We should have known!” exclaimed George, throwing his hands in the air.

“Maybe it was a mistake,” Lee offered kindly.

Fred and George snorted, “That’s likely.”

“Well it never hurts to make sure,” said Lee, taking off his shoes and kicking their things out of the way as he shuffled to his wardrobe to pull out his sleep clothes.

“He’s got a point Georgie,” said Fred, pausing his cleaning to grab parchment, a quill, and his ink bottle from the ground.

Dear Mr. Bagman,

Fred and George Weasley here! We’re sure you remember us from the world cup. We were the two incredibly dashing twins that won all that money off you.

Speaking of the money, it seems there was a slight mistake and you paid us in leprechaun money instead of real money.

We’re sure it was just an innocent error on your part and therefore would hold no ill-will against you as long as you respond to this letter with the amount in full.

Sincerely,

Fred and George Weasley

Founders of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes

Fred penned the letter as George stood over his shoulder reading aloud and making suggestions. When they were satisfied with the tone and contents of their letter, Fred folded it neatly and placed it inside an envelope, addressing it to Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry of Magic.

“Do you suppose we have enough time to make it to the owlery before curfew?” Fred asked, kicking the rest of his things out of the way, and pulling on his shoes.

Kenneth Towler snorted rudely from his bed, “When have you two ever cared about curfew?”

“He makes a fair point Freddie. Come on, let’s go then.”

“Oi! Aren’t you two going to clean up your mess?” Lee shouted at them as they made their way to the door.

The twins yelled a shifty “Maybe” over their shoulders as they exited the dormitory and made their way down the stairs to the common room.

Fred held tightly to the letter, hoping against all hope that it was all just a big misunderstanding. Perhaps Ludo had been a bilker in the past, but recently changed his ways. Perhaps he had every intention of paying them in full. Perhaps he’d be embarrassed upon opening the letter and realizing his mistake. Perhaps George would sprout a tail overnight and he would shit out a pig.

Still, it was worth a try. Not only were they short the two hundred galleons Ludo owed them, but they were also down the 37 galleons, 15 sickles, and three knuts they originally gave him for the bet. It was all the money they had to their name. They needed that money. Fred rubbed a hand through his hair and gripped it tightly at the roots behind his left ear. He honestly didn’t know how it would all turn out, but one thing became apparently clear as they reached the owlery.

If Ludo Bagman didn’t give them the money he owed them, then it was more important than ever that they get their names into the Goblet of Fire and have their chance at the prize money.

Chapter 5 >>

Taglist:

@theworldisugly-22

[kingreywrites]

Unravelling

Words count: 5978

Eugene Appreciation Week Day Four: AU

AU: The Snap from Avengers: Infinity War (but not a crossover, so no Thanos!)

Summary:  At first, Eugene thought that they had won. One second, he was laying on the ground, weak and drained, and the next, he was getting up suddenly, seeing the other Coronans do the same. He tried to find Rapunzel, because surely, she was responsible for the victory, but his eyes landed instead on Zhan Tiri, towering above them all and cackling.

Warnings: Temporary character death

Read on ao3

@fishskiin

At first, Eugene thought that they had won. One second, he was laying on the ground, weak and drained, and the next, he was getting up suddenly, seeing the other Coronans do the same. He tried to find Rapunzel, because surely, she was responsible for the victory, but his eyes landed instead on Zhan Tiri, towering above them all and cackling.

"Don't you see, Rapunzel?" It said, its voice chilling Eugene to his very core even as he scrambled to his feet. "Now that I have the sundrop and the moonstone, I hold the universe in my palm. I can hurt, I can heal, the world is listening to my every whims!"

A shape appeared behind the demon's head but it grabbed her - it was Cassandra, who had tried and failed to knock Zhan Tiri out and was now hanging upside down in its tentacle, as Eugene had done earlier. He got a glimpse of Rapunzel as she screamed Cassandra's name, and ran toward the stairs, trying desperately to get to her, taking notice of her long but brown hair.

"You know what else I can do?" Zhan Tiri continued gleefully. "I could wipe life off the face of Earth with only a snap of my fingers… But where would be the fun in that, if no one is there to suffer from it?" It laughed just as Eugene was close enough to see the horror mirrored on both Rapunzel's and Cassandra's eyes.

Zhan Tiri raised its arm, letting Cassandra down harshly, an awful smile cutting through its face.

"Let's only do half of it," Zhan Tiri grinned and snapped its fingers, releasing a wave of energy that brought everyone to their knees.

Eugene coughed and, when he opened his eyes, Zhan Tiri wasn't here anymore. He got up again and ran to Rapunzel, who seemed to be frozen in place.

"Sunshine? Are you alright?" he asked frantically, his hands going to her shoulders.

"Eugene," was all she could choke out, her eyes going to the crowd under the balcony.

Despite his worry, Eugene also turned his eyes toward them when he heard worried exclamations - just in time to see Quirin trying desperately to reach Varian as the kid disappeared into dust.

Eugene choked out Varian's name, his heart beating in his head loudly as Zhan Tiri's word echoed in the wind. Let's only do half of it.

Right before their eyes, friends and family were disappearing, but they were both frozen to the spot. Rapunzel was trembling under his hands but Eugene felt too much like he was floating, unable to wrap his head around this horror, to be capable of comfort.

"Eugene," Rapunzel whispered again, something so wrong and fragile in her voice that his eyes automatically went to her. "I- I don't feel so good."

She collapsed against him and, as he lowered her to the ground, Eugene felt like he was being strangled.

"No, no, no, no Sunshine," he pleaded, taking in her pale skin with burning eyes, "don't do that to me, please, Rapunzel-"

"Eugene, I'm sorry," she choked, her hand going to cup his face like he had done to her a long time ago - and, if he thought he was reassuring her at the time, he now knew that it was the opposite. Her hand was cold and weak on his cheek and he hated it, hated the contact, hated the meaning she was putting into this because she couldn't leave, not like that, she couldn't-

Her hand disappeared from his cheek and he watched numbly the dust, realising that he hated it even more. His tears were falling down on her now, inhibited, but he wasn't like her - he didn't have any last minute miracle, any lingering super power, he was just Eugene. Plain old Eugene, who couldn't save her.

"Rapunzel," he begged as she smiled, something sad and resigned in her eyes that he hated.

"You're my dream, Eugene Fitzherbert," she said, present tense, but it still sounded like a goodbye.

"You're mine," he sobbed back, but there was only dust under his tears now.

------

The kingdom was in shambles. Zhan Tiri was on the run, armed with infinite powers and the capacity to hide where time and space didn't exist, making any search pretty difficult.

King Frederick was gone. Princess Rapunzel was gone. Queen Arianna now reigned alone, Eugene acting as Captain of the Guard, right hand man, next in line and a shit ton of other jobs that he focused on as long as he could ignore his emotions on the current situation.

Ah, and he was now King of the Dark Kingdom. (He hadn't even known his father a year, but like everything else, he took that thought and shoved it far away in his mind, right in a little box where he couldn't see it. The box was overflowing.)

"We need the manpower to track down Zhan Tiri," he argued, frustrated as Arianna stayed carefully blank in front of him, seated alone on the throne.

"We need the manpower to rebuild Corona," she answered firmly.

"We can rebuild when we've brought everyone back! Which is why finding Zhan Tiri comes first!"

The problem, when you were constantly faced with global magical threat, was that it was difficult to accept something as final. Turning into dust? Please, they nearly turned into birds and were fine; Eugene just had to find Zhan Tiri, kick its calamari ass and everything will be fine, as it always was! And for that, he needed all the help he could get, if only Arianna would listen to him. Her face was hard and sunken with grief.

"Eugene, our kingdom needs to be protected and our citizens need to have their homes rebuilt. I will not send the few men we have left on a wild goose chase-"

"So that's it?! You've lost faith already?!"

"Captain," Arianna growled, something he never heard her do, "do not question my faith."

Eugene gulped, and closed his eyes. A flash of Rapunzel crumbling into dust before him made him open them again quickly, and he tightened his fists so hard that, without his gloves, his nails would have pierced through his skin. The silence between them was heavy, until Arianna sighed, looking smaller and older on the throne.

"You can have a small team working on it, but the priority is reconstruction, alright?" she proposed and the weary hope in her eyes was enough to make him crumble a little inside.

"Yeah," he breathed, shoulders slumping, "thank you, Arianna."

She smiled, a tiny, fake, entirely unconvincing smile, and he gave her the same in return, both of them not okay but with too much responsibility to truly let it through.

------

"Come on in," Eugene called absently as he poured through old documents concerning anything to do with the moonstone, the sundrop, Zhan Tiri or anything, really, that could matter right now. The moon was high in the sky, and he had been doing this well into the night, but he had too much to do the day and too many nightmares to escape anyway.

The door to this office opened and closed, and he heard an anxious intake of breath but, instead of saying anything, this person waited. Eugene sighed and raised his head, his eyes widening when he met Cassandra's (which were back to normal and, in a way, that was destabilizing).

"I've been told you wanted to see me," she finally said, squaring her shoulders.

"Yeah, tomorrow morning, not at whatever hour this is," he answered without too much heat, closing the useless book he held.

"You're not sleeping."

"Are you?"

She didn't answer. He didn't break the eye contact.

"Why did you want to see me?" she asked, lowering her gaze to watch her feet. She wasn't as confident as he remembered her but, clearly, the situation could excuse some of the differences.

"I'm making a team to chase Zhan Tiri down, and you'll be part of it," he announced, his Captain tone accepting no contradiction. Cassandra stiffened at the order, clearly uncomfortable, and Eugene felt guilty because he knew Rapunzel would be angry at him. After the whole moonstone debacle, his Sunshine would insist on making Cass the most comfortable possible, encouraging her to be herself and follow her dreams or something. And, honestly, when Rapunzel had faith in someone, Eugene never managed to stay angry for long - he had missed Cassandra and, while he couldn't excuse everything, he could move past it if Rapunzel did.

Rapunzel was not here, however. He was, this situation was and he needed Cassandra as the soldier he knew she could be.

"I- I'm not sure… Me?" she mumbled, her right hand going to cradle the other.

"Don't," Eugene warned, sensing immediately where her mind was going. He walked to her, too close for both of their comfort, his face hard as he poked her shoulder. "This guilt you're feeling? Shove it. Or better yet, turn it into anger or whatever fuels you to be stronger. You," he poked again, satisfied to see a dangerous look flash through her eyes, "you are one of Corona's strongest asset right now so, if you want forgiveness, work for it and help me bring everyone back."

She pushed his hand away and nodded, immediately raising herself to her full height to glare at him. He'd have smiled, if he didn't feel like there was a hole in his soul. In some part of his mind, he realised that burying their feelings until they exploded must be unhealthy but, for all their griefs, Cassandra and him were scarily similar when dealing with serious situations. They'd break later.

"Alright, Captain," she nodded, the word foreign on her tongue when it concerned Eugene. She swallowed against the lump in her throat to no avail. "Let's bring everyone back."

She went to sit and opened one of the books in the pile. Eugene wished Rapunzel could see it, could see how Cassandra was willing to listen to him even as it went against every of her instincts, because she wanted to save her - and he realized that Rapunzel would see it once he brought her back. He sat down too, and took another book.

------

It was weird going out into town to see that, as much as everyone wished it didn't, time was still passing. Some families were luckier than other - it was true both of those who lost no one, and those that lost everyone in one go - but all of the Coronans were just that, Coronans. They raised up when life brought them down and, right now, there were collective efforts to rebuild effectively.

Eugene was still surprised to see the genuine concern they held for him, now that Rapunzel was gone and that this whole fiasco happened at the start of his career as Captain of the Guard. They didn't resent him, apparently, when they had every reasons to, and Eugene was incredibly grateful for it.

It had been two weeks since the Snap. They were now used to see him travel into town to help them, Eugene being careful of what he agreed with Arianna - and she was right, he could see. Corona couldn't wait for a still unknown miracle, the subjects needed help now. And, after all, he didn't want to sleep much anyway, so it was a win-win.

Today, he wasn't stopping to help, however; he had a clear destination in mind.

He got down from Maximus, petting him gently because he had been the greatest horse and friend a man could ask for - and Eugene could see how sad he had been, having too lost his closest friends. Pascal was gone, too.

He went to knock and the door opened immediately.

"Hello, Quirin," Eugene smiled feebly, seeing in the shadows under his eyes a mirror of his own grief and exhaustion. "Sorry for not coming earlier."

"Ah, don't worry Captain," Quirin sighed. "We went through a lot of- of Varian's notes, and we found a lot of interesting material to find Zhan Tiri," he announced as Eugene went inside, barely stumbling over his son's name anymore, but not able to hide the deep-seated grief he held.

As awful as the comparison was, father and son had a very different way to deal with loss. Quirin was a quiet and efficient kind of devastated, though his red-rimmed eyes betrayed the way he spent his nights. Varian had been angry and loud, ready to destroy everything if it meant getting his dad back. Though, Eugene saw in Quirin's determination that they were lucky he didn't think Corona was responsible for the situation; something told him that he would stop at nothing to get his son back either.

They walked toward the lab, and Eugene felt a bittersweet kind of ache at seeing Angry pouring so silently over some papers. Catalina was gone, but she wasn't. At the very beginning, when Eugene realised that she was alone, that even Lance was gone - and that was its own can of worm he didn't want to open because Lance had been the only constant in his life since he was a kid and now, he wasn't here anymore - he had proposed that she sleep at the Castle. He wasn't sure it was a good solution, because the castle was huge, empty, and half-destroyed, but Angry needed help and he cared about her too much to let her go somewhere he didn't trust.

Thankfully, Quirin had come forward, tears still in his eyes, and asked if she would prefer to come to his own home.

"You already visited a lot of time," he explained, talking directly with her instead of Eugene which he knew the girl would appreciate, "and you're my son's friend, you're always welcome in our home."

So that was how this arrangement came to be. Angry raised her head at the noise and looked carefully at Eugene - he had been by but he hadn't stopped here in four days, so he understood some of the worry she displayed, especially now that everyone she cared about left her. Unwillingly, but to an orphan with abandonment issues, it was the same devastating feeling anyway - Eugene knew something about it.

"Hey, Angry," he smiled, going to put his hand lightly on her shoulder and she let him. "Quirin tells me you've found useful things?"

She looked up to him, looking so mature now, as if it wasn't two weeks but two years that had gone - and it certainly felt like it. But her little hand brushed against Eugene's for a second, before she launched herself in a explanation, and perhaps they weren't okay, but at least Eugen knew they'll manage. For now.

------

Faced with the doors to Rapunzel's room, Eugene felt sick. It was one thing to convince himself that he could fix this; another to be in front of the reality of her absence. He could practically hear her laugh inside, talking to Pascal about one thing or the other; could practically see her painting inside, with paint she didn't notice on her nose, so beautiful and bright that she made him light up inside each time. His hands hovered above the handles, trembling, and Eugene nearly turned back.

But he was here because he knew he would find her here.

Slowly, he pushed the door open, Rapunzel's bedroom more somber and grey than he had ever seen it. On her bed, her back to him and hunched on herself, was Queen Arianna.

Eugene swallowed harshly at the sight, unsure if confronting her here was the best idea. Her shoulders were shaking and, in her hands, he could see clearly Rapunzel's journal - for a moment, he wanted to cry too, but he didn't allow himself this privilege. He had to fix this, and Arianna was avoiding him, so here he was.

"Hello Eugene," she said quietly, her voice breaking.

"Hello Arianna," he breathed, guilt churning inside his stomach.

"I won't be able to avoid this conversation forever, will I?" Arianna laughed, but it was an empty sound. Still not looking at him, she put Rapunzel's journal carefully on the bed, and brushed her tears. When she met his eyes, the determination in her green one was so much like Rapunzel that Eugene felt like he was choking. He was still standing stiffly, but he had left the Captain uniform for this conversation.

"I- Cassandra found the device we needed in Demanitus' lair and, thanks to Xavier and Varian's notes, we managed to make it work," he reported carefully, before taking a big breath. "We can find Zhan Tiri."

The announcement didn't bring joy, because joy was something they both lacked these days. Arianna was still looking at him, every bit of the Queen she was, but with something of Rapunzel he couldn't face. Eugene closed his eyes tightly, before coming out with it.

"James - the ex-Captain of the Guard - agreed to take charge once again considering the situation. Cassandra will be going with me, and that's all, so Corona will still have all the manpower it needs but-"

"You're leaving," Arianna finished gently, her hand going to fiddle with her necklace. "Well, chasing after this monster, in any case."

"Yes," Eugene croaked, "I am."

She got up and suddenly, Eugene found himself wishing that she would scream at him. Scream that he was abandoning her, abandoning the kingdom he had swore to protect when he became Captain, scream that he should have saved Rapunzel when he had the occasion, not nearly one month later - scream at him all the things he already thought about himself, all the reproaches he wanted someone to throw at him. He wished for someone to blame him at least half as much as he blamed himself, because, then, he wouldn't feel so empty all the time.

It was unfair to expect that from Arianna. Grief was an old friend to her, and anger had never been her refuge.

She walked toward him, the purple sky illuminating her features and Eugene had to force himself not to take a step back when faced with the tangible emotion she exuded.

"I've lost a lot, Eugene. The world lost a lot. The kingdom, my kingdom is suffering, and I need to be strong for everyone, but I was wrong to think that I could stop you in your endeavour."

She raised her hand when he seemed about to protest, and got closer to him. He was taller than her, but didn't feel like it right now, not when she seemed to hold the universe on her shoulders.

"I've lost my husband. I've lost my daughter, for the second time." Her voice broke and tears gathered in her eyes while Eugene stood helplessly, unsure of the point she was trying to make even as he wished fervently he could do anything to ease her pain. She had done so much for him, and now he was helpless to comfort her. Arianna composed herself, her hand going to cup his cheek gently. "Don't make me lose you too."

Eugene exhaled all the air in his lungs with a "oh", his eyes warm and tingling as he realised that, in the middle of the worst loss of her life, Arianna was worried about him, wanted to protect him - was, to him, the only mother he ever knew. He was trembling, or she was trembling, he wasn't sure, because he abandoned all pretenses and swiped her in a crushing hug that she returned desperately.

For the first time since the Snap, Eugene cried.

------

As much as he wanted to just up and go, it took nearly a week for Eugene to be able to leave. Mostly because he helped the reinstated Captain of the Guard with the strategy the kingdom should adopt given the current situations, and also because they still needed more information before being able to. As surprising as it may sound, the Captain and him worked really well together, and Cassandra's help had too been invaluable.

"Fitzherbert," the Captain had called after him, a few minutes before their departure.

"Yes?"

"This," he gestured to the uniform Eugene had worn not too long ago, "is not permanent. I'm not un-retiring, we clear?"

Eugene could only nod, his throat dry, because he hadn't even thought they would want him back, considering the absolute disasters that happened during his short time. He was grateful, more than they could imagine because he had liked being Captain - he had liked the trust they were giving him and he had liked to be useful. He was glad it wasn't over yet.

As he told Arianna, only Cassandra and him went or, more precisely, both of them plus Max and Fidella. Eugene had worried about taking Maximus with him, considering this horse was the best guard in all Corona, but the same Maximus had decided for them that he would go with, and Eugene had never won a single argument with him.

They took the balloon for the long distances and that was the start of their search for Zhan Tiri.

The Demanitus’ device they managed to activate thanks to Varian's work was a radar that allowed them to get an idea on where Zhan Tiri was hiding thanks to the sheer energy the demon emitted, now that it possessed the powers of both the sundrop and the moonstone - but they soon realised that Zhan Tiri was playing with them. It lured them from places to places, appearing long enough for them to know that it worked, before disappearing - or worse.

"You’ve got to stop doing this," Cassandra muttered, tightening the bandage around his arm painfully. Eugene grunted, but didn’t bother answering, the pain a good distraction from the glare she was throwing him.

He yelped when she hit shin hard with her boot, before scowling at her as he took his arm from her hands. It was bandaged enough, anyway, and he didn’t have to justify his actions when she was the one he protected with this move.

"Eugene," she had said when he mumbled that he would go get something to eat, "you can't save them if you're dead."

He didn't answer, again, but that didn't stop her words from hitting their mark. He knew he had to do better.

Time passed quickly, and too slowly at the same time, until Eugene realised that it had been three months since the Snap and that he was still expecting Rapunzel to appear from time to time. Or Lance, or Catalina, or his Dad, or each and every person that he lost at the same time - his mind couldn't wrap itself over it so he just… didn't. Denial was his middle name, these days.

He had, quite ironically, started a journal, where he detailed precisely moments of their travels so he could tell everything to Rapunzel when he saw her. He knew she would appreciate it. Sometimes, it wasn't so much descriptions as it was letters, to them, the ones he lost - most often to Rapunzel. Sometimes, he only wrote "I'm sorry", because saying anything else would break him and he couldn't be weak - he couldn't let them down again.

Cassandra and him talked, a lot more than he expected. At first, he had asked of her that she recount to him every moment she spent with Zhan Tiri, a desperate attempt to find some kind of clue about what it could want. From there, she was the one who went into more personal territory, telling him about her choices and her regrets. He couldn't find it in himself to extend the same trust, because he couldn't conjure the force to talk about their lost friends except as if they had all went on an unexpected trip.

But he did try, with Cassandra. He told her about the things he had trouble forgiving her. Then, he told her about things he had trouble forgiving himself for. Little things, but that was better than nothing.

On Rapunzel's birthday, he said nothing. Not a word, not a joke, he barely made any noise at all. Thankfully, Cassandra left him relatively alone - something that Rapunzel would have never allowed, but that he wouldn't allow from anyone but her. On her birthday, he wrote about the proposal he had been imagining since his own real birthday - since he found out Rapunzel had a ring for him. He wrote about taking her on a boat, and putting the ring in a cupcake for Pascal to reveal. He wrote about how he imagined she would shut him down, if she still wasn't ready, and he wrote about how he imagined she would accept, if she was. He wrote about how much he loved her, but not how much he missed her, because there were already tears running down his cheeks and he didn't think he could stay silent if he did.

He remembered telling her that they should stop doing their birthday tradition of being put in mortal danger, but now he wished for these moments back because, at least, in the end he knew she was alright.

He shut the journal down.

Thankfully, Rapunzel's birthday only lasted a day. Lance's birthday too. Edmund's too. Catalina's, Frederick's, Varian's… He hated birthdays again, now.

It had been a year, since they went after Zhan Tiri. They had come back to Corona once or twice, the balloon a good mode of transportation and owl a great message carrier, but despite all of their efforts, each time they found Zhan Tiri - nearly once every three days - the demon easily knocked them down and disappeared again. It was playing with them, and Eugene still couldn't see what was the point of it all.

No one in Corona dared to tell Eugene that maybe it was hopeless, but he could see in their eyes that it was what most thought - one of the reason they didn't come back more often. Cassandra understood. They argued, but, in the end, they were made of the same stuff, and they had the same goal.

Eugene still missed Rapunzel so much it felt like a missing limb, but he was clinging to this pain, clinging to his grief as if it was new, because he refused to mourn. Mourning was giving up, and he couldn't. He couldn't understand how Arianna and Frederick lived eighteen years through this, eighteen tears thinking that Rapunzel might be dead but never giving up hope. Each day made him quite aware that he wouldn't last eighteen years - not when only one broke him this much. Soon, there wouldn't be any pieces of him that could be picked up.

Finally, they found the solution in their beginning: the eclipse. Exactly one year after the Snap, some kind of poetic irony Eugene didn't want to think about.

Whatever Zhan Tiri did to get away each time, whatever great power it possessed - the day of the eclipse, Zhan Tiri was weakened. Once that Eugene and Cassandra understood that they needed the sundrop and the moonstone in its arms to touch, it was scarily quick to defeat this demon that took so much from them.

One year. One year of pain and grief, for it to be over in less than an hour. Eugene would have laughed, if his heart wasn't beating so loudly inside his ears as he watched the glowing stone floating in front of them, a beautiful mix of the moon and the sun's powers.

It wasn't over yet.

Maximus neighed worriedly but Eugene ignored him as he got to his feet, ready to take this stone and turn everything back as it should be. It was a hand, however, that stopped him.

"Eugene, this- This could kill you," Cassandra said, a question she couldn't ask between these words. 

"We didn't come this far just to turn back now," he answered plainly, no doubts lingering in his mind. "And if I can't bring them back…"

He didn't finish the thought, but Cassandra heard it loud and clear. This was their last chance, their last hope; if this didn't work, then… They had one year of grief to catch up on. She didn't think she could survive it, and she definitely knew he wouldn't. She had seen him unravelling, more than anyone. He had a journal full of stories dedicated to ghosts he couldn't let go of.

"Then, let's do it together," she announced firmly, her own decision taken. Maybe, at least, they wouldn't die - maybe she could save Eugene, even if she couldn't save anyone else. She hoped it wouldn't come to that, but she was tired of losing people because of her mistakes.

He looked about to protest, but nodded in the end. They approached the stone, pushing against the ring of energy encircling it, her hand gripping his sleeve. Eugene wondered what Rapunzel would think, now that both of her favourite people in the world got along - she would be overjoyed, he knew, and he couldn't help but smile at the idea that he would see her soon...

One way or another.

They grabbed the stone, together. They looked at each other but couldn't really see, blinded by the energy coursing through their veins. Eugene was the first one to talk - he sang the healing incantation, and Cassandra followed suit.

Flower, gleam and glow

Let your power shine

Make the clock reverse

Bring back what once was mine

The words were heavy and clumsy on his tongue, nothing of the grace he remembered Rapunzel having. He thought back to this night, at the campfire, when she healed his hand - thought back to this day, this smile, this woman who changed his life forever.

Heal what has been hurt

Change the Fates' design

Save what has been lost

Bring back what once was mine

He was begging at this point. Who, he didn't know, but for the first time since he hugged Arianna, he let himself feel the possibility of a world without his dad, without Lance or Varian or all his other friends - without Rapunzel, and he begged, because the pain in his heart was too great to consider even living in this reality.

What once was mine, they both finished, and the power exploded out of their hands, toward the sky, sending them both flying.

Maximus shook Eugene awake, one more second away from outright licking him - which would have disgusted them both. Eugene gasped, sat back up quickly, his eyes darting to Cassandra - seeing that, thankfully, she was also getting back up. Then, he looked around him.

There were flowers that hadn't been there before. A bird was looking around, apparently a bit dazed, before he took off - but Eugene was sure that all the birds had fled when the showdown with Zhan Tiri began. There was life, when there had only been half of it before.

Eugene flop back down, and laughed so hard he cried.

------

Getting back to Corona was the most stressful journey Eugene had ever been on. He almost started to write in his journal, until he realised that it was his way to talk to Rapunzel when she was not here - but she was now. He would see her soon, it was merely a two days journey in the balloon; he didn't need to write anymore. So he fidgeted, instead, his mind running with the best and the worst scenarios for their return. He also thought about those he had left in Corona - about Arianna, being back with her family; Quirin, finally reunited with his son; Angry, being hugged by both Catalina and Lance after a year apart. Had it been a year for them? He didn't think so, but he'd only know for sure once he was back. He wondered what Rapunzel must think, now that she surely had been briefed on the situation. Was she worried? Nobody knew where they were, exactly, or how they won against Zhan Tiri so, for all she knew, they could be hurt. All the more reason to get back as soon as possible.

Cassandra, for her part, was nervous but also worried. Half of Corona still thought of her as the crazy moonstone lady that put them in the clutch of Zhan Tiri, and she didn't want to know how they would react to her. Eugene threw her a knowing glance, but didn't think he could reassure as well as Rapunzel would surely do once they were back.

Because they would soon be back, and he would soon see her. Was he giddy or queasy? He wasn't sure.

They saw Corona well before the were above it, and Eugene popped his fingers so much Cassandra nearly worried he would break them. Then she was two busy biting her lips to make any kind of comment.

Neither of them were ready for the applause.

As the balloon got closer to the castle, they heard cheers and claps. Eugene peered over the edge of the balloon and saw that a lot of Coronans - a lot more than when he left - were gathering on the streets and cheering them on, some going as far as calling their names. Eugene smiled, and said nothing as he saw Cassandra get more emotional beside him, this acceptance more than she expected - even if it was deserved. Maximus headbutted him and Eugene petted him, a little absently because the were only moments away from landing.

Moments away from seeing them again.

In the yard, they were met by the wide-eyed stares of the guards and Eugene felt something lift in his heart when he saw that Conli, who had been turned into dust, was back. He was even more surprised when they called him Captain, before crowding him and Cassandra. The Captain - James - went to hug his daughter, but Eugene, as touched as he felt, really wanted to run to the throne room, because he felt that was where he'd find her.

He extracted himself and ran toward the stairs leading to the front door, not even having the awareness to excuse himself. They'd understand.

Eugene arrived in front of the door and, as he lifted his hand toward it, the doors were thrown open.

His eyes met Rapunzel's green ones. She hadn't changed a bit, except for her hair that was now short again and- and-

Eugene threw himself at her, bringing them both to their knees as he hugged her as tight as he could. She wasn't light, she wasn't dust, she was a sure weight against him that he knew like the back of his hand. She breathed his name, and he laughed weakly, tears making their way silently to her dress as he buried his head in the crook of her neck.

Rapunzel's right hand was tracing circles on his back as an attempt to sooth him. Eugene briefly opened his eyes and saw, from the corner of his vision, Cassandra standing awkwardly to the side, a shy but genuine smile on her lips. Eugene shifted, raised his hand to her - and she took it, nonplussed.

He pulled her into the hug. Rapunzel beamed, he could feel it on the skin of his neck, and he closed his eyes again.

Which was why he didn't see Lance get closer to them until he was hugging all three of them, his arms massive and familiar and safe. It was like a dam broke open and, suddenly, Catalina, Angry, Varian all jumped on them. Then, there was Edmund's arm settling on Eugene shoulder, and the flowery perfume Arianna always wore appearing to his left, with Frederick's rumbling laugh to accompany it. More people came, and maybe Eugene couldn't breathe, maybe there was still something in his heart that would never be completely fixed, but they would heal because they were home.

They were all home.

[ghostfriendly5]

Shadowtober Fanfic - The Mage

Prompt from @mithryl-draws. Ilsa and Joachim Tresckow  (Recreations of Wizard and her brother Wizard Boy from Goblin Slayer) are from my Fighter series, which this piece fills a gap and silence in.

Warnings: brief suicidal thoughts, bullying, bad parenting.

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“Those…people didn’t hurt me, but you had to kill them, Schwester…like that. I’m sure it was the only way.”

“Truly? Kleinen Jo?”

“The best way, then. The only way for you. I know that much–and don’t call me little.”

“Bitte. Please? One last time.”

Joachim Tresckow, fifteen and alive, scowled charmingly through his blush. Ilsa Tresckow, Heidelberg mage and shadowrunner, gazed across the compartment at the little brother she’d dealt with a dragon to save.

The maglev hissed onward, through shadowed pine forests, carrying one of them home. Even if Gruber and the Runners he’d hired to kidnap Ilsa’s brother were all dead, she’d been in no mood for any chances. With a simple illusion to falisfy their appearance, she was delivering Joachim back to their parents directly. Even the remotest Prussian country estates were a brief journey from Berlin, in this Sixth World–there was a very little time left, and she could think of nothing to say.

“…how is it?” She finally asked, “Prince Wilhelm Military Academy?”

“Oh, we do more than march about waving rifles, singing praises to Rommel and Frederick the Great. Matrix warfare, political science, languages, engineering–everything the modern Bundeswehr might require of its officers. Everything to that end. I imagine the corporate feed-schools are only a little better.”

“Are you happy with it?”

“Is it wrong, if I am?” The question was an honest one.

“You wanted to be a scientist.” Ilsa saw Joachim’s shudder, remembering how the Colonel, their father, had broken his chemistry set in front of his eyes with iron-cold resolve.

“When I was ten. It wasn’t because of that you went to Heidelberg, was it?”

“No. It was a push; father called me proud and selfish, but I did not only defy for him for myself. Nothing, however, could have turned aside my fate. Magic isn’t what I do; a mage is what I am.”

“Yes. Yes, your gift, your path. It’s something special, to know. A mage, a brilliant researcher…that was what you were born for, Schwester. I swear on the Tresckow name, I never believed you could had caused that accident by neglect. Every hike we took to escape our father’s house–every walk to the end of the garden!–you planned like a campaign. They said it was your arrogance; people not worthy to carry your shoes. I told them, go to the devil.”

“Joachim. I’m been a shadowrunner for almost two years. I’ve done things I never imagined I’d do.”

“Is what you did what you are?” Joachim’s eyes, so like her own, shone keenly behind his glasses, “I suppose you had to kill people…no, I can’t imagine what you had to do. Some soldier…but I can forgive you all of it, because you’re alive.”    

Two years of darkness and fire after she’d been framed for the lab accident, Ilsa did not feel she deserved Joachim’s trust–but she felt his faith. Wearily, gloriously–if her lover, her best friend and the whole world condemned her, Joachim would still forgive. That shouldn’t have meant much, objectively it didn’t, but by all the bestial acts she’d lived through, it did.

“When anyone at Prince Wilhelm insulted you–they called you witch, and fool–I fought them.” Joachim went on, “I spent half my first year getting my nose broken against a wall, or worse. However, when Walther, the football champion, gave the graduation speech, I added something perfectly timed to his drink. His shame was well deserved. I might have made an excellent shadowrunner–but all of my future hopes were fixed on you, Schwester. When you disappeared, I knew I had to seize on the power I had–the resources of the military, the influence of the Tresckow name. I went to Prince Wilhelm for you, not father. Whether to find you, help you, avenge you…finish your work, prove your innocence, build you a monument, anything I could do. Nothing I needed to do, in the end…I should have known you would save yourself, and me. Whatever should I do now?”

“All I have done in the Shadows–” Ilsa’s proud smile had only grown, “–was not only to prove my innocence, but to show you that my freedom was not a mistake. Even if you already knew–anything I could do to give you another push. You can–you must–do whatever it is that you wish. That it truly a gift.”

“Everything we both fought for, for each other’s sake…was unnecessary, then?”

“In a sense.” Neither sibling normally smiled; both of them were grinning fit for tears.

“Ilsa? What will you do now?” It was a question with a silence in it.

“There is only a kind of freedom in the Shadows. One cannot simply stop Running, and live–and I will live, in the Shadows, Joachim.”

“You said your innocence had been proved. Father could help you–”

“–into a prison.”

“I could go with you. I know, I’d be throwing away everything you’d lost–but didn’t you say I should do as I wish?”

Ilsa only answered with a hard stare. They were still silent, when the maglev hissed to a stop, and Joachim followed his sister through the station and the village into the dark pine forest.

Alert as a hawk, Ilsa set her hiking boots forward across the familiar twig-strew path. Joachim felt the chill of her Watcher spirits ghosting back and forth; he watched Ilsa. Sensitivity to the dreamworld of the astral, at least, came with the Tresckow’s great spirit.

They halted in a clearing far from the edge of the guarded estate–the closed Ilsa could safely go, though a powerful nature spirit would watch over Joachim to their father’s doorstep. Even if Ilsa lived out the week–without throwing herself into death for her betrayals, now Joachim was safe–she did not expect to see her brother again.

“We might see each other again.” Joachim told her, eyes steady and clear, “I mean to attend university, whatever father thinks, and work in military intelligence; we may even work together. If you can…even if you have no home here anymore, I will always be here. Wherever you go in the world…this will always be your brotherland.”

Ilsa cast the illusion away. At last, they saw each other’s face. There was no thought of a final salute–they embraced each other in the forest clearing, quickly and surely as liebestod.