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quitequietquitecute · 3 years

Text

NIGHTCALL

It had been a while yet since the last war ended and that its aftermath had cicatrized from Konoha's village face... Almost two years now that a new memorial had been erected in the cemetery, containing the -too numerous- names of those whose body had vanished and who had perished in that senseless massacre... As his father's one - like his teammate's and comrade's and a lot of the village's folks - that can be found carved on it.

He was barely twenty, yet his life entailed two tragedies, two major trauma. It took him a lot to recover from the first disaster : his sensei's death.

Unfortunately, he was endowed of a proficient brain, and that, not only to play shogi or to elaborate strategy, although it was what he was renowned for ; but also for everything what had appeal to overthinking : from self-loathing, to self flagellation or to questioning oneself or by redoing the past with all possible issues he could -have- come up with IF he had enough time, if he was fast enough, if he was ...enough... to every "if I had" that was tormenting him, even now, if less often, still vividly.

De facto, he had passed through every phases, beginning with the sorrow, then the wrath and from the denial to the guilt, in the pit of depression, sporadically coming back from a phase to fall back in another, and this, despite a duly consummated revenge.

Obviously, nobody knew _ except one particular person to whom he authorized himself to break _ timid has he had always been and of a lone and calm temper as he was :

It was the next day of his father's death anniversary. It was a dark night. Laying flat in his bed in the darkness, he could not sleep. It was worst than usual. He was not able to grab a scraps of slumber but in the morning, when he should wake up and go to work. It's been almost fifty straight waking hours...

The weariness was weakening his mental state, it was all the more grueling...

When one had heaped so much waking hour at once, they lose the common time track. It felt like yesterday was no more yesterday or there was no more morning, no more evening, no more night or things as day. Just the solar and moon revolution that seems to put you on the sideline bit by bit. It was a fact well established that peoples tend to refer to sleep to define the end and beginning of their day. Yesterday, for him, was like tree days ago for most people, then.

And while he was thinking about the human conception of the time, his mind was finding a bit of reprieve.

Yet the time was not an escape door but a one-way street, converging in a lonely vanishing point that failed him to save his loved ones... Everything was bringing him back ... at that... incurably. He wasn't able, long enough, to think about anything else.

Although exhausted, he woke up from bed, put on some clothes and exited his house for a walk :

Like the night before, whither his stroll brought him to the cemetery. Where he had met Hinata - as gloomy and drained as him - collected in front of the tall white stone.

Both of them then had faced each other and intently stared, lost and dazzled, puzzled to encounter another human being here, standing in the dark with the same goal : moping about the loss of the loved ones, disappeared "that day".

Then, they both took place ahead of the memorial in silence, the woman giving way to the newcomer.

Neither of them said a word. Side to side in a profound internal contemplation. But in the same time... There was like a feeling of communion floating around them from the incidental encounter. To be here. At hand...

He sensed something moist and tepid, a bit callous but still mostly soft, taking a grab of his hand. He then warmly let the small things slide in between his longer fingers which numbly locked on her strong tiny hand. It felt like these was at their entitled place.

The young woman had noticed he was shivering through their touch, she tightened the grip on his hand. Feeling the firm soft pressure, he took a look at her. She was sending his way a sight of sheer understanding. No smile, no wince, no pout ... just a deep, uncanny, almost inquisitive gaze, full of melancholy which she only let go to see by scarce chance to those able to catch it. That was a call to slack off, to come undone, to let off steam and relieve the pressure... and how he was craving for it... but his tight throat was not allowing anything out.

Reading such misery and distraught in her comrade's eyes, she knew it was locked, that it was not yet the time. Delicately, she had rested her head on his shoulder and hugged his nearest limb with her free arm.

They retired in a tacit agreement, seeing the first morning glimmers in the sky. Going back to their sham of pretending to have had a good night sleep.

But they were only leaving physically :

Hinata was concerned, felt pain not to worry and think about the peculiar state she sees her friend in ; that fact had thankfully eluded every of her very own concerns _ Actually. It was a good opportunity to flee her own issues that she was embracing cheerfully.

Shikamaru found himself unable not to think about the Hyuuga's heir ; her gestures toward him and her gaze ; his mind inhabited with everything he could have nor should have said her, frantically occupied to conceive in his mind all scenarii, coupled to the crave to see her again mingled with qualms.

At the end of the day, both of them tried to meet, actively seeking ... never finding each other... Lamblike, they came back home.

...

That was only at 3 a-m. when he can't bear to ruminate anymore that the Nara get out of his bed and excited his family compound. He knew -for he remarqued it during mission with her- that she usually get up around 3 a.m. and 4 a.m in the night. He passed by the memorial. Not here. Neither in the cemetery, would have been too easy. She was not on her training ground neither.

He was heading to the Hyuuga district then. He managed to not awaken attention, not to end with a grumpy byakugan possessor's platoon that would have fun blocking every of his tekketsu pursuing him. He stopped on a building's rooftop then watched around... That was quite extensive, it was like a small town full of little boxes, sober and beautiful but all the same... until he was spotting an opened area in the middle of the domain.

He swiftly jumped roof to roof in his black shirt and pants, looking like a shadow. When he was there he observed the place, finding what he thought would be : a classic but charming and harmonious garden, endued of a small, reeds bordered, nymphea constellated, pond.

On the porch from one of the adjoining house, he saw a black shape. It was the well made body of a woman in her training suit. While she lifted her eyes to the night sky to watch at the luminary, she caught under the light of the moon the crouched and very recognizable silhouetted form of the Nara clan's head. Undeterred, she had jumped and was joining him on the roof, about to say his name, he beat her to it.

"I ... I need to tell you how I feel" He grunted in a breath before he lost the nerve, his voice hoarse.

He took her hand and she followed his lead, whereas he drove her through the night, down the hills ... Nothing could bother them here.

She was here, silent and attentive. So he told her how he wasn't able to sleep, how many days had passed since the last time he was able to rest, how much he still suffered his mentors loss, that it was like he wasn't really here or like he was 'outside' everything, that he cannot make it out and how he was feeling helpless and how it gnawed at him.

At first it was pretty difficult and required a lot of efforts, then he had erratically let things get out in a throbbing rhythm, with no further form or thoughtfulness.

He finally slowly admitted, a bit ashamed, that he thought she was the only one he could talk about. To that, she responded mutely, approaching him and clasping her arm around him gently.

"I know..." She finally whispered with apathetic voice ... Only, understanding too well what he was feeling.

In fact, it was the only thing to do, there was nothing that could be said. There was no remedy but time and habit to that kind of wounds.

The only reason she still held on was because she was stultifying herself in training every single time she was beginning to think about things that was making feel her gloomy or guilty ... even with that, often she was breaking up, lone in the night.

They both knew it.

That's why he was here.

He needed to talk, pour out everything, breaking up a bit ; without fearing sarcasms, trials, harassing, bossing, nagging or being told not to crack, hearing platitudes about being strong and "being a 'man'", being forced to relativize. And he knew he could tell Hinata about his weaknesses, she won't use it against him, to mock him or give him a silly nickname because he divulged anything to her.

She was the ideal person, since she was in a similar status.

She was the understanding embodiment... Whose he needed.

He slowly slacked into her arms after a few time and flabbily gave the embrace back before crashing to his knees. Then his arms tightened around her thin waist while he layed his cheek on her stomach. She fondly caressed his hairs like she would have done to a sad Mirai, feeling yearning and happy to be there for him, living the present.

Half an hour later, she had noticed the tenseness had gradually disappeared from her exhausted comrade's body. Entirely. He was finally asleep... in this awful stance... In this state, no need to try and wake him up... Plus they was not far from his home, so she took him on her back and brought him back to his bed, before surreptitiously slipping away to her own room.

She had not trained until morning and, in place, she slept soundly.

...

When he woke up, in the middle of the afternoon, he asked himself if it was real or just a dream ; not remembering how he got back to... Though, actually he had something else to think about : he would have explanation to give to have missed a council meeting...

He sighed knowing he will not hear the end of it : "... what a drag ..."

He had bitterly learned his powerlessness at great emotional expense. Him whose intellect usually succeeded to resolve the slightest problem, him whose mind always wanted to find meaning in everything : two times, he found stronger than him in the death.

The second fateful date was like a "coup de grâce" and during a long time, it was, for him, as if nothing had logic anymore. And yet everything continued as if nothing ever happened.

So, he was doing the same, he had switched to auto-mode :

To wake up in the morning _ it was the most annoying and painful moment, everything else was a mechanic habit that required no efforts. To prepare for the day _ to wash up ; to have a breakfast without appetite, to dress up. To Leave home for the day : to walk from point A to B ; to work ; to try and listen - enough to give the right answer ; to go back from B to A ; to eat ; to start again ; to resume at the beginning ; to come back home. Sometimes. To cross someone knowing us ; to greet him ; to agree his words ; to smile a bit if required ; or ; to have a visit ; or ; to be invited from time to time, but less and less often and no longer knowing if we are alleviated or sad _ since it was always a bit uncomfortable to be in groups _ but still happy to see people we like seemingly having a good time ; to ignore the ill-at-ease feels and concentrate on present ... to finally come back home ; to lay in bed exhausted, but still being unable to sleep because as soon as we do nothing the brain starts working again ... just to works ... and it's the end of the respite ... insomnia :

Not to sink until daylight and to have to wake up for the "next day"...

And it was endless.

At last.

Except days off.

He often would decide to spend with the woman and the daughter of his regretted sensei, whose he had promised to protect. Eventually, a third variable was added to this equation. The only little eccentricity - although quite humdrum too - in his daily, that was making explode, even for an instant, the sort of bubble that he was trapped in most of the time.

And in those too brief moments ; as during picnics in company of the women of his life that they were arranging on sunny days in the Nara's domain woods. There, whereas he was laying in the shadow, after lunch, in the warm moist air of the afternoon, in a cute small clearing neatly maintained by his clan members, he seemed lazy.

In fact, he was falling from exhaustion and he was slumbering while Kurenai tidied her stuffs with Hinata's help and Mirai was performing roulades and running around sometimes stopping seeing something interesting on the ground, grabbing grass and sticks and mimicking "Auntie Hinata" -or "Auntinata"- knitting grass or just was crawling under their benevolent watchful gazes.

- That was one of those days.

The sun was starting to decrease when Kurenai decided it was time to go. Hinata had guessed when seeing her sensei getting up then start picking up her stuffs while saying Mirai they were about to go home to prepare the departure. The Hyuuga girl was watching the scene but was throwing glances every now and then to the inanimate form on the ground, a bit concerned.

"I am gonna leave you. I go back home with Mirai" The older woman finally said, to make know she was about to leave.

Hinata nodded smiling but furtively glanced to the sleeping beauty.

"Good evening Kurenai-sensei" She bowed.

"Wish Shikamaru a good night for me" She said amused.

"Yes, I will make sure he don't spend his night here." She replied, throwing the sleeper a slightly worried glance.

The toddler was eyeing the goodbyes with interest stamping a bit before letting loose her mother's hand.

"Kiss Auntinata !" She exclaimed before launching herself to the young woman.

Hinata crouched to be able to receive the child's embrace that was jumping on her to give her a big slimy kiss, laughing.

" See you tomorrow Mirai-chan" she said softly giving her a kiss back on her forehead.

" Auntinata make a kiss to uncle Shika for me ?" She asked with a big hopefull smile to the big girl, pulling on her baggy mauve vest.

Hinata was a bit surprised but smiled shaking her head : "Yes, for sure Mirai-chan, I will. When he wakes up."

"Yay ! Thanks auntinata !" then she gone back trotting to her mother, very happy under the tender gaze of the two brunettes.

Kurenai took back the small hand in hers and gave a small head sign to her former student before finally leaving. Hinata had watched them go as long as they were observable. When they were not, having disappeared behind tree trunks and bushes, the kunoichi then lifted her white eyes to the visible part of the sky.

It was adorned with autumnal warm colors but beginning to grow darker with purplish night shades. She sighed and slowly approached of the deadlike Shikamaru.

She had squatted down and then kneeled toward him before gently effloresce him, whispering : "Shikamaru-kun" ... Nothing... "Shikamaru-kun..." She shook him shyly. Few second later. Nothing.

She had lingered on his completely relaxed face, mouth ajar. She smiled a bit amused ; he had a leaf on his cheek, she took it off and gave a light caress to his cheekbone. She saw his mouth close and adorned a silly expression ; one she had never seen on his face before. It make her stop, surprised and flushed by the realization of her own act.

She redone timidly her tentative to wake him : "Shikamaru-kun?"

Still nothing.

He was still soundly asleep and proving it by straightening him up in a siting position, turning him a bit before placing herself under his torso and locking his arms around her neck. He was still passed out. She lifted him up on her back, leaning a bit forward to balance the weight then grabbed his tights to her waist, before running the straighter way to his home.

Being a full-fledged taijutsu practitioner kunoichi, it was not a big deal and they were done to his room few minutes later.

She had dropped him in his bed after taking her shoes off, on the porch. She tooks his sandals and puts them besides hers on his room's engawa.

She sighed and looked at him a moment a bit upset. She knew for a fact it was not that he was supposedly "lazy" that he was dozed off ...

She understood it because she neither had no full rest ; still not able to sleep well even with the passed years _ though she was never a long sleeper _ waking up with a jolt every night around 4 a.m. ... So she gets up and go to train until it's time, then have a shower and do as if she was just waking up... consequently to that continual lack of sleep, she felt worn all the time, mainly when she was not moving ; especially from midday until the end of the afternoon ; then around 7 p.m, the light decrease and she feels like a second breath. So, instead of going bed she go to train until she feels tired again a bit before midnight ; where she fall from exhaustion... only to be waked up with stupor again at 4 a.m, perspiratory and panting.

She had yawned, it was a bit startling since it was usually an hour of the day her mood shifted to its excitement phase in which she needed to unwind. She thought about going to bed herself while staring her sleeping friend. She leaned over him a bit, tenderly stroked his brow line while unconsciously munching on her bottom lip.

She remembered her promise to Mirai with a smile and whispered : "Good night Shikamaru" before tilting forward and planting a kiss on his forehead, very soft and slowly.

Actually, she was not sure she would have dared doing so if he was awakened.

She was about to retreat when without warning, two longs arms pop from each side and wraps around her, attracting her to the bust of the sleepy form. She had let a small 'eep' getting out of her lung in surprise, unable to breath for a moment. She construed the situation. She was awkwardly laying on his upper body, locked in his arms while he seemed to still be as asleep as ever

"A-ano.. shika-" she was cut off when he turned in the opposite direction, without letting her go, making her follow the move and leaving the ground ; before he buried his face in her bosom.

Hinata was flustered and paralyzed, reddening like hell, heart drumming, feeling weirdly thrilled. She relaxed a bit, breathing again. She sensed then the cold nose of his comrade melted with his hot breath on the tender skin of her neck ; she shuddered insanely, feeling ... strangely... vibrant.

She was blushing but quite liked that situation ; if it wasn't for the embarrassment and the lack of congruence of it, she certainly wouldn't mind staying here. Even if it was not morally ‘appropriate’ to... sleep with a men she's not married to ...at least as a Hyuuga member, she must behave a certain course of action.

While thinking to it, she stopped to exert a pressure against him and on the contrary to her morale wrapped her arms around him to hug him back.

She then heard him sighing with pleasure, groaning, almost vibrating, like a cat. She shivered. Heart jumping. Reading it as an awakening sign, she tried sheepishly : "Shi-shikamaru-kun" though ashamed by her own boldness leading to that circumstance, weird but quite pleasant.

He suddenly pressed her more firmly against him, almost possessively, breathing deeply her scents before exhaling a contented sigh.

...

Now the brunette's heart is thumping erratically in the chest, she feels dizzy and about to ... faint...

She opened her eyes : it was dark outside, although it wasn't unusual for her to wake in the midst of the night... the unusual thing was the room she was in and the body onto she was laying off. She lowly realized the situation and remembered.

When she regained consciousness, she displayed a bit her lambs on the surface she was laying on and then felt herself ... Waving ? ... up, down, up, down... She swayed. Then was the warmth below her. An arm around her back. Cuddles on her shoulder she felt through the multiple layers of her clothes.

Daringly, she lifted her reddening head to ascertain her assumptions : he was awake. He took his eyes off of his bedroom's ceiling, sensing her moving above him, guessing she was now looking at him.

The bedroom from who she was in, the body whose she was on ... Were Shikamaru's. Her head on his shoulder, her face beside his neck, her arm wrapped around him and her leg comfortably folded on his hips. She heard her friend's pounding heart resonating in her flesh, deep, but not as calm as it should be. Her own heart was beginning to pump harder too.

Actually, he felt comfortable to know his own pinkened features was concealed by the darkness ; enough to too rashly approach his hand from her face, took off a strand of her hairs from her cheek before he pushed it behind her ear, brushing it softly in the run -eliciting a faint shiver from the girl- then he granted himself the ultimate daring to look at the sleepy face of his partner. He knew she was blushing, guessing it, according to the doe's eyes she was giving him.

They stood there awhile, getting lost, eyes locked in each others, fixedly, closely, almost intimately ; not knowing what to say and not daring to put it to an end ; enjoying -although not willing to admit it- a unique moment, something unheard-of.

" ... I ... " It was Hinata's haggard voice that brought them back to the reality. " ... ano ... you... " Still not knowing what to say, but not allowed to stay there, on top of a man, forever ; even if she was not really bothered by it.

"... Yeah ... I know right. "

He tried a bit strangely, through his usual tired low voice, to help her out of the scabrous situation of wich he was not totally aware of neither, but neither bothered by.

" Just remember falling asleep in the wood " he commented, then, a bit embarrassed, added : " I guess you carried me there. " shifting his gaze away scratching his neck with his free hand, before looking back to her and ending to say a weirdly deep warm "thanks" in an almost... lecherous whisper.

At least, it's how Hinata had perceived it for it gave her body such a shudder, while she was again all captivated by his sight.

Always above his body, she was staring at his lips, awfully near ... Noticing it, she recoiled a bit, ashamed of her lascivious demeanor while on top of a good friend, getting perhaps a bit too 'friendly'. But still, a part of her was feeling like it was totally only "natural" to be so lax around him. Actually he was spurring it, with all his Slacked Might.

Now she thought, was it correct to be that close of her comrade, to feel that nice in his arms, to feel so good under his touches, while she was thinking being in love with Naruto ?

And him... he was more or less sentimentally engaged to that Suna's girl, according to what people was saying about. Surprisingly enough, her throat tightened to that thought ; was she jealous ? ... of Temari... She never felt that way even watching Sakura hugging Naruto. She was deeply confused.

Shaking her thoughts out of her mind, she mumbled :

"...it... it's no nothing... I ... I could not leave you to sleep on the wood's soil...and... and you did no-not wake up so... so... I..." she was hum and haw, it was an odd thing because the last time he had heard her stammer as much was almost seven years ago, in front of Naruto.

It was like ... for him.

A cranky idea dawned all of a sudden, but he did not dare admit it or to make the connection and accept it. No. It was not possible... Was it ?

He seemed in wonder : she read it as it was wrote on his face despite the twilight. Hinata had no idea how to take it, it was unsettling. She never had questionned herself so much over just a slight look... save Shikamaru... ; she finally sorted out.

However, she remembered that when she was hearing his name or something out off a snippet of conversation about him, or just sounding like it was about him _there was few keywords that triggered her concern_ she was instinctively pricking up her ear, her attention called. It begun in her clan and continued quite often.

"There is something inside you, it's hard to explain ... They are talking about you ... but you are still the same."

Oddly, she heard the elders offended, call to mind that young man said too youthful for his task and status ; but mostly extrapolated about him without a care of who he was, lending him ambitiousness and was accusing him of said inexperience and for his disrespect. Nothing legit, for who knew Shikamaru as well as she do.

...Well.

"There is something inside you, it's hard to explain ... They are talking about you ... but you are still the same."

Except perhaps about 'respect' ... when it comes to people that annoys him, he could be quite pungent, she must admit.

Unconsciously, staring at him, she was prettily smiling, remembering those events and almost laughing at her own conclusion.

No. She was the one who had changed. Her confusion was leaving room to some sort of confidence, she was welcoming that realization. She felt like she was smiling the largest smile she had ever made, while he was stunned by the sight. For once, his brain was at a stop.

Time too.

She was computing the hours she had fainted around and woke up and assessed, it was : "impossible" then came with a : " I-I slept at least ten hours ... at once ! " astonished.

Before she had noticed, it was more and more luminous in the bedroom, the faint cold morning light leaving room to pink and gold on the horizon. Taken aback she checked to find a clock and find the dial displaying the numbers " 6 : 53 " ... Her breath was cut from her lungs.

Shikamaru ogled her, smiling, a bit quizzical through her new commotion. He revealed himself playful :

" So. What does it do ? "

The brunette was staring at him awhile flabbergasted, before she get a kick of doing such a prowess and laughed at his teasing mood, hiding her face in his shirt. He didn't thought he was so funny but he just felt like joining her in the mirth listening to her small ringing laugh

"We should do that more often" she said in a jovial outburst, without a second thought.

Then rehashing her own words, she felt flush crawling to her face, realizing what was implied. Shikamaru was as dazed as her, but then it was a smirk that had climbed to his face. She tried to clear thing up and explain ; let's rather say : to sweep the shame-dust under her carpet-tong :

"I-I want to say... that ... we could get lai... ano ... we could lay together... I mean... we could do it... kami-sama... I-I-I mean ... sleep ...with me... hm”

Getting a bit stressed... She was (over) thinking all possible meanings that every words was endowed with and what it could imply trying not to use them and finished to stumble on every word she tried not to use since every one could imply something horny even "sleep" if you intend to... the worst part was she was the one to blame for thinking that way, not even her clumsiness or stuttering, just her own lewd mind.

Now she felt so awkward... and wanted to face-palm.

The Nara was looking at the at least distracting show that his poor shy friend was rendering while fighting with herself ; a war whose manifestation took the form of a revealing slip's chaplet, relentless and iterative.

He was feeling a jarring melt of emotions : he was amused yet bothered for her, compassionate to her trouble and tenderized to her attempts ...

But above all, unsettled to told himself that the only reason that explain it really was the thing he was thinking about : all those tries and seeming fails, was just because there was an optional meaning in her chosen word endowing sexual innuendo that stressed the one he thought so 'pure' and 'innocent'.

He was baffled by her endeavor to not be considered as a pervert, but making it worst. And she had put herself under so much stress that she even end up saying unambiguous sexual proposition involuntarily.

It was over for her. The timid kunoichi felt totally drained and ashamed by her pathetic display of clumsiness, tripping over every possible slip she could have made. She don't remember having such a terrible stuttering even in her youth... How is it even possible ?

" ... I mean ... I want t-yo...ano I-I ... I want to -to have..you ; she was wide-eyed when she heard what she intended to say crushed by a massive stutter, but she don't gave up : " ano...Sorry ... " she took a deep inhale " have a nap with you !" she finally sputtered succeeding to say something.

It was the coup de grace for Shikamaru equally. He cannot seriously listen to those words coming from the Hyuuga heiress, with her timid uncertain stuttering voice and her scarlet red face adorning those white doe-eyes of hers, before she surrendered and hid her flustered features in his black shirt after seeing the face of her genius friend so dumbfounded. He finally burst out of a warm sounding frank bubbling laugh that had her all shakened.

She lifted up to look at him, surprised by his mirth, but, weirdly, even being the cause of it, she suddenly felt a lot less stupid. No. It was not stupid if it allowed her to hear this wondrous sound. She felt light and good, happy and even ... loved ... for he was still holding her in his arm, so she took advantage of it to curl up against him.

With every new realization comes its batch of questions, but for the moment she was quite oblivious, she just lived the present ... but the morning was yet quite luminous and she has no more time ... and the day of the week, of the month, and of the year came back to her with her duties. She searched for the clock again and was appalled by its indication :

To this point, she understood. She had fell in love with her colleague. She knew not since nor when _ certainly quite some time _ but the realization just dawned on her ... just as the sunlight.

" ... almost 8 o'clock ! My ... I-i did not see the time pass. I sh-should go Shikamaru-kun. "

" ...hn... don't go. It's still early... " he grumbled reluctantly coming out of his torpor.

How was it that the time passed so quickly snuggled up against him?

Instinctively, Shikamaru had locked his arms around her, feeling her receding.

" Ano, Shikamaru-kun... I would like to .. but... " He rose a brow to that in spite of himself.

She was blushing bit by bit, together to the fact she noticed : he was now looking at her, he held her tightly, he restrained her departure and to the fact she admitted that she liked it... that he wanted her to stay there...

" ... but I have to attends meeting, it's my duties toward my clan as well as my festival preparation commitments ... "

" What a drag ... " he grumpily muttered loosening his embrace, then a little side-smile adorned his now mid-amused, mid-bored face

" ... I was looking for a good reason not to attend the monday morning meeting... these are the worst ... "

Hinata was giggling to that and he was quite pleased with the fact. It enlightened his mood so far it made him bolder than usual and almost foolhardy ... his face producing the expression one does when they are about to say bullshits. Although it was not is forte, he tried nonetheless :

" ... they could be understanding if they knew I fortuitly found a lovely kind of kami in my bed when I woke up " ... when he heard himself saying it he thought it sounded better in his mind and promptly regretted it, his ears was burning in shame.

No need to tell in what state did it put Hinata.

... to be continued ...

It’s an english translation of my french fanfic : https://originalpairingfiction.skyrock.com/3337900696-Nightcall-L-Appel-Nocturne.html

I update it a bit every 2-3 days. (I’ll reblog it when I do)

I actually tried my best, but it’s not my native language, let me know about my mistakes so I could get better.

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rosethornewrites · 4 years

Text

Fic: Morass

Relationship: Zelgadis Greywords/Xellos

Characters: Zelgadis Greywords, Xellos

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Natural Disasters, Bathing/Washing

Summary: Zel's travels are interrupted when he gets stuck in an unnatural natural disaster.

AO3 link

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The peace of the mountain that loomed above the foothills where Zelgadis was hiking was broken by a rumble that shook the land so hard that at first he wondered if it was a volcanic eruption. He hadn’t thought this was a volcano, and there was no smoke, though it was rumored to have an abandoned temple beside a reservoir at the top—his goal—so it could be. He knew some cultures had once worshipped the fire gods they thought resided within volcanoes.

The noise gave him just enough warning to Raywing into the air, right before a massive mudslide hit; he couldn’t understand what had caused it, as there hadn’t been rain in the area. He didn’t have time to find out—he didn’t get high enough in time. The remains of a massive tree, propelled into the air by the seething mass of debris, grazed him, its jagged broken branches scraping painfully against his chest. He was sent careening, the spell broken.

Downward. Right into the earthen maelstrom, and it sucked him under.

Desperate, he managed to cast Windy Shield, the only spell he could think of strong enough to shield him. But debris and mud were trapped inside with him, whirling due to the spell, and Zel couldn’t break through the tumble of rock and mud beyond his shield. All he could do was fight to survive. Keeping the concentration for the spell wasn’t easy, the mud blinding and deafening him, coating his skin and every crevice, making it nearly impossible to even breathe, but he knew without it, he’d be crushed by the sheer force of the moving earth, stone skin or no.

As he was swept along, Zelgadis lost all sense of direction, the force of the slide buffeting him. Time became meaningless as mud coated his throat, leaving him desperately rasping for breath even as each wheeze brought in more. He could sense larger pieces of debris smashing against the shield, threatening to overwhelm it, and the magical cost of the spell was a fast drain on his reserves.

The shaman wasn’t sure he could hold out, barely maintaining enough concentration—one bad hit could leave him crushed by a boulder, buried permanently in a grave no one would ever find. The thought was terrifying, and he fought against panic.

Just as he thought he might lose the battle to keep the spell going, the movement of the earth surrounding him changed, slowly grinding down to an oozing, shuddering halt, leaving him trapped beneath the surface.

His only chance of getting out was casting Raywing again, but only if he could determine which way was up. A wrong guess would leave him deeper in the mud, and with his strength flagging and magical capacity pressed to the limit, he wouldn’t get a second one.

Gathering his wits, Zelgadis concentrated, forcing the Windy Shield surrounding him to push outward, hoping it would be enough. After an agonizing stretch of seconds, a hint of fresh air reached him… wafting from his feet. He let his spell dissipate and quickly cast Raywing in the split second before the muck could completely engulf him, propelling himself out and away from the mudslide blindly, unable to wipe the mud from his eyes with coated hands. He was fortunate not to hit anything. It took several to find dry land by checking whether the earth held beneath him.

The spell sputtered out, his magic burned out, and all he could do was collapse, coughing up mud, to his hands and knees. The taste of earth was joined with the taste of his own blood as he hacked the debris from his windpipe. What little strength he had left him, adrenaline spent. A wave of pain swept him into unconsciousness.

Zelgadis came to with a jolt. He was still blind and deaf, his eyes caked with mud, his ears full of it—and, he realized, he couldn’t even smell; it had apparently even invaded his nostrils. But he could sense someone or something was near him. He could barely move, his limbs lethargic with pain, with the mud starting to dry and solidify. He was helpless to defend himself from a possible foe.

His head was lifted slightly, and water trickled into his mouth—a person, then? He gulped at it, cool and clean, removing the remnants of filth from his taste buds. The water stopped too soon and he tried to ask for more, unable to do much more, unable to tell if he had even managed intelligible words.

Then his stomach roiled, and whoever it was pushed him to his side just before he learned he’d swallowed mud as well when his stomach forcibly rejected it. The acid burned, his throat already sore and damaged. The heaving seemed to go on forever until his stomach was finally satisfied.

Zelgadis was almost ready to succumb to exhaustion, until the impossible happened—a voice in his ear, whispering.

“You do get into the most interesting trouble, Zelgadis-san.”

Of course it had to be Xellos. He wanted to be relieved, but the Mazoku was generally trouble. Xellos could decide to help him, or could make things worse. Or both.

Zelgadis tried to ask Xellos how he could hear him, but only managed the first word. It was strange to only know from the vibrations of his own vocal cords whether he was speaking.

“How did I find you? Hm, well, I’m a bit… attuned to you, so when Lina-san’s Dragon Slave burst the reservoir at the top of the mountain, I sensed your distress. You’re rather lucky you were on this side of the mountain, really. The other side is even worse. She certainly causes a lot of damage!” The Mazoku even managed to sound gleeful in a facsimile of a voice.

That wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it explained how the mudslide had occurred. He doubted the temple he was seeking had survived Lina, which meant his quest for whatever lore it might contain was over. He hadn’t realized she was in the area—he had parted ways with the others, and had been travelling alone for the last several months.

He also didn’t know what Xellos meant by ‘attuned,’ but wasn’t sure he wanted to.

But Xellos wasn’t done. “Or did you mean how can you hear me? It’s rather simple to use vibrations. Despite the mud, your eardrums are undamaged.”

That was a relief; he probably had enough other injuries to worry about.

“Really, I’m surprised you managed to get out of danger yourself. Anyone else would have perished, though it took all your magical capacity and energy to survive. You are rather helpless right now, and with that thick layer of quickly-drying muck encasing you, by the time you are able to help yourself you might have even more difficulty.”

Zelgadis wanted to prove him wrong, and tried. He tried to move, and found that not only was it difficult due to exhaustion, but the mud was adding resistance. Judging by pressing his thumb and forefinger together, there was at least a centimeter of mud coating him, perhaps more in different places.

And magic… he knew he was spent. The Raywing had barely held together long enough to find a place to land.

Even breathing was difficult, and he was sure he had breathed in more than he’d managed to cough up. He may have survived, but being helpless, particularly with Xellos around, wasn’t healthy.

But Xellos wasn’t done. “Fortunately, I’m quite willing to help you, Zelgadis-san.”

The shaman knew better than to trust that—Xellos’ idea of help, more often than not wasn’t at all. The Mazoku generally had an ulterior motive, and Zel couldn’t even defend himself this time. Time had taught him wariness.

“So untrusting.” How he managed to get the inflection of mock hurt in his voice through eardrum vibrations, Zelgadis had no idea. “I can at least clean you up a bit. Regardless, you’re in no position to refuse.”

That was hardly something that needed to be pointed out, but was nonetheless frustrating. Realistically, even at full strength Zel knew that he wouldn’t be in a position to refuse a being as powerful as Xellos—something he tried very hard not to think about most of the time. He couldn’t help also being curious as to what would lead Xellos to decide to help him at this particular time, though he was also certain he wouldn’t like the answer.

He decided to ask anyway, hoping he managed the ‘why’ through his pained throat.

“Well, why not?”

A fantastic non-answer, but at least it wasn’t a ‘secret.’ That usually implied weird Mazoku plots. Regardless, Zelgadis didn’t trust his intentions.

With that he felt his body leave the ground, movement through the air—quicker than Raywing, unless his senses were lying—before he was dropped into water. For a moment he panicked, until he realized he wasn’t sliding fully underwater; it stopped at his chest, and he was seated against what felt like a riverbank of some sort, with a gentle current sliding across his body. A stream, perhaps?

“Not all of this is mud, unfortunately. If allowed to dry, you’d be in a bit of trouble. Perhaps pursuing a new career as a garden statue?”

Zelgadis wished he could glare, since that was the most of a reaction he’d be able to manage. He worked his fingers together, the layers of mud slowly thinning.

He was suddenly pulled off balance as Xellos pulled off one of his boots, then the other. He almost slipped under the water, but the Mazoku steadied him.

“What are you doing?” he managed to rasp.

“Your clothing is coated, inside and out,” Xellos answered simply.

Zel sensed his sudden proximity and flinched, but the priest only unclasped his cloak and peeled it and his pack away. Literally peeled, as the fabric stuck to him slightly, proving Xellos’ point. The burden of his pack lifted with it.

His fingers were at least partly clear of mud, and he brought his hands up with some difficulty, fighting against exhaustion to try scraping away the mud covering his eyes. He managed to smear some of it away, but not enough to open them. Even that much movement hurt, but he tried again, managing to open one eye. But he had to close it against the glare of the sun on the water, the world too bright.

Xellos helpfully wiped more from his face, getting enough off that his other eye was free. Zelgadis squinted, trying to let his eyes adjust, not fighting when the Mazoku grabbed his hands, one at a time, and peeled his fingerless gloves off.

“I admit I’m surprised you were caught in that mudslide in the first place.”

It was strange to see Xellos, who didn’t bother with the facade of talking, hearing his voice without seeing him speak. The words took a moment to sink in, and he remembered getting hit.

“Tree hit me.”

He brought a hand to his chest, remembering the pain, and found holes in the fabric of his shirt, one that stretched across his chest. Zel peered down, but could only see mud and debris clinging to the skin underneath; he couldn’t tell if it had broken the skin.

That was, until the Mazoku reached forward and pulled at a piece of debris, and Zelgadis hissed in pain. Blood joined the murky water. It was a piece of branch imbedded in his skin. The world spun a little, and when it stopped he found himself shirtless, Xellos examining the area of the wound.

“Not life-threatening,” he said with a sort of mocking cheer. “But probably uncomfortable. And with all that muck in the wound it could become an issue.”

Dark spots were obscuring his vision, and each shallow breath seemed to try to suck his awareness away with it. The shaman knew he was on his way to unconsciousness, but he struggled against it anyway, not certain whether to trust Xellos.

The Mazoku’s face appeared in his swimming vision. Zel could hear him, or at least sensed the vibrations, but for a moment they made no sense to him. Sense returned to him in time to comprehend the last of it.

“—won’t do anything untoward, Zelgadis-san.”

His mind groped for meaning, finding it with difficulty. Zel hoped his guess at the beginning of the sentence was right. His tenuous hold on consciousness slipped, and Xellos’ face faded into darkness.

Zelgadis had snatches of awareness, of water rushing around him, of gentle hands, a soft voice. When consciousness returned, he was warm, no longer in the water, and he could feel the muck that had encased him was gone. He was surprised to be able to feel its absence, but apparently even his stone skin could feel suffocated.

Despite that, his limbs felt like lead, his energy sapped. The sound of a nearby river permeated his hazy awareness, and he realized breathing came slightly easier, his nose clear of mud as well. His lungs still ached and he couldn’t take in a lot of air, but it would take time for his body to handle whatever he’d breathed in, assuming it could and he wouldn’t have to cough it up.

This would be a new test of its healing capabilities, Zelgadis realized bitterly, and he would probably keep finding ways to test it, with his luck.

When he tried to open his eyes, he had to close them against the glare of the sun—that was why he felt warm, he realized. The sun’s rays and warmth had seeped through his stone skin.

He flinched when something heavy draped across him, opening his eyes to find Xellos peering at him, his face too close, his eyes partly open and revealing his true nature. Zelgadis felt pinned, like an insect at the mercy of an entomologist.

“Ah, good. You’re conscious. You certainly took a beating, Zelgadis-san. Cracked ribs, some internal injuries. I don’t suppose you have enough magic for a healing spell?”

Zelgadis was too exhausted to even shake his head. “Burned out,” he murmured.

“Of course.” Xellos sighed, drawing back a bit. “Perhaps your natural healing abilities will handle it. For the moment, you’re in no danger.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted an expansion on ‘for the moment;’ he couldn’t do anything about it anyway.

“Why—”

His voice broke, and it was suddenly hard to breathe through the coughing and fire in his chest. Zel couldn’t even hiss in pain when he was pulled into a sitting position, but after a minute the coughing eased. Something touched his lips, water trickling in, and it helped clear the muddy taste that had invaded his mouth again.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked when he had caught his breath. It was unsettling to have a creature like Xellos helping him through a coughing fit, of all things.

Xellos tilted his head, easing him back to the grass. “Doing what?”

“Helping me. Isn’t this beneath you?”

Part of him expected to be told it was a secret, for this to be the prelude to Mazoku manipulation.

Instead, Xellos frowned slightly. “Well… It would be a bit disappointing if you were to die in such an ignoble way, I suppose. As for the other, perhaps should take you to Lina-san… though she may not be happy to see me! Or you, given that she is something of a prude and you’re naked.”

Zelgadis had managed not to notice that in the time he’d been conscious, and the exposure added another layer of helplessness, one he felt in the pit of his stomach like lead. He was surprised when Xellos stood and removed his mantle, draping it over him like a blanket—even more by the fact that he could feel the fabric draped across his skin more than he could even feel the grass at his back. Faux fabric, he realized. He tried very hard not to think about that.

“Although, you’re a bit of a prude yourself,” the Mazoku chided lightly.

Zel suddenly remembered his earlier comment about Lina, about her causing the mudslide.

“Lina cast Dragon Slave?”

Xellos crouched next to him. “Ah, yes. I did mention that, didn’t I?”

“Why?”

It was a bit more diplomatic than asking what Xellos had done, and easier for him to say. His throat and chest still hurt, exacerbated by the coughing fit, each breath painful, lending credence to Xellos’ theory he’d cracked a rib.

Xellos rubbed his head, at least feigning a sheepish look. “Ah, well, you see… It seems the temple atop that mountain was infested by giant slugs! There’s a species native to this area, you know.”

Zelgadis gaped at him for a moment; perhaps, had he not been caught in the aftermath, he would have found it mildly amusing, but he rather doubted it. The damage this prank had done was on a different level than most of the others the Mazoku had pulled. He’d nearly died in the unintentional aftermath of a prank; it felt like a bizarre metaphor for his life. An ignoble way to die, certainly.

“You’re going to kill me someday,” he muttered finally. “And it won’t even be on purpose.”

Xellos turned away, gazing off into the distance. Zel could’ve sworn he moved slightly before that, almost a flinch. Probably a trick of the light and his exhaustion.

“That is not my intention, Zelgadis-san.”

“That’s the point.”

A wave of fatigue crashed through him, and he couldn’t keep his eyes open. What was left of his adrenaline was long gone, the ordeal and his injuries catching up with him. The steady sound of the river seemed to fade in and out with each breath he took. Zel tried to fight it, though he knew it was a losing proposition.

He felt the cloak being adjusted more snugly around him. A hand touched his cheek, and he could feel it as though his skin wasn’t stone.

“Rest, Zelgadis-san. I already promised I won’t do anything untoward.”

The hand didn’t move, just resting against his face, almost a comfort. And though Zelgadis didn’t trust the Mazoku… he didn’t distrust him now. He stopped fighting, let his awareness fade.

Much later, he woke to the early morning sunlight trickling through a canopy of trees that towered above him. Zelgadis found himself in an old-growth forest beside a well-kept fire. He sat up with minor difficulty, his ribs still pained, confused. Xellos was nowhere to be seen.

Underneath him was a brand new bedroll. Pooled in his lap was a well-made blanket. He realized he was partly dressed, pants made of good quality fabric—even underwear, which was more than a little embarrassing. He hadn’t even stirred. He didn’t have a shirt on, and he found the gashes across his chest had only mostly healed. The shaman could only guess that burning out his magic had slowed his body’s natural healing.

The scent of something cooking caught his attention, and he moved closer to the fire, nearly tripping over boots—also new—and his pack on the way. Near the embers was a pot of stew; just the sight made his stomach growl. He searched through the pack for a bowl and spoon, setting aside what looked like a folded map.

The stew looked hearty, and it would help him recover, giving his body energy to work with. Zel didn’t even care that it was almost too hot, not slowing down until he had tucked in a full bowl and was well through the second. Then he opened the map, and nearly dropped the bowl when he saw the doodles.

A Z to mark where he was, halfway across the continent from where he had been. And symbols from Zelgadis’ personal shorthand, which he’d developed from a mixture of dead languages, on other parts of the map—“demon temple,” “abandoned library,” and the like.

Zel set the bowl aside and fished his journal, discolored from mud, from the pack. He flipped through it, unease shifting to dismay when he found notes throughout. “Already destroyed,” “Not the Claire Bible,” “Very helpful, Zelgadis-san!” next to his notes on rumors of Claire Bible manuscripts. The very ones he’d been on that part of the continent to check out.

At the very end, a longer note. “I quite enjoyed deciphering your code. Well done! Payment enough for my help. In fact, more than enough—so I’ve replaced your damaged equipment and clothing for you. You may appreciate some of the places I've marked on the map.” Followed by a crude chibi doodle of the priest himself.

Zelgadis wanted to scream.

#slayers fanfiction #my fanfiction #zelgadis greywords #xellos #xellos/zelgadis #slayers #the slayers

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loreleilyons · 4 years

Text

lorelei lyons ( lili reinhart ) is a 23 year old ice skater who works as a pro skater & occasional teacher at the kingscrest ice rink. she’s from cambridge, ma and lives in west vale. they’re independent and determined but can also be stubborn and selfish.

quick facts

name: lorelei ophelia lyons (prefers to be called lore)

pronouns: she/her

birthday: august 23rd (virgo)

age: 23 years old

place of birth: cambridge, ma

sexual orientation: heterosexual

occupation: 99% of time is spent as a pro figure skater, but also a skating instructor for kids

fc: lili reinhart

full bio: here

lorelei lyons is america’s figure skating golden girl.

the daughter of the owner of a major media corporation and a social media influencer, she’s never had to work for anything except for her parents’ attention. but she does work hard at everything she does. unfortunately a’s only keep attention for so long, and as a child she quickly learned that the way to her father’s heart was through impressive athletic ability.

at age six her parents moved the family out to west vale specifically so they could be surrounded by the ice, and a major coach soon was bribed enough to join them. that coach didn’t last long, but lore has been on a strict training path ever since - no parties, no sweets, nothing that could possibly risk her future, and work every single day to ensure she’s the best.

after a rocky start to things after graduating from high school, she made it all the way to the olympics, receiving a silver medal and getting her father’s approval for maybe the first time. but silver is too close to the ultimate prize to give up now, and she’s working harder than ever, full-time, to be on the top podium come beijing 2022.

truly basic extras

she lives in her family’s large house in west vale. there are entirely too many statues of lions for her taste, and an entire wall full of crosses even though they aren’t religious, but lore doesn’t spend a ton of time in the common areas. though she has what feels like a whole story to herself (truly it’s like she has her own apartment), she is still absolutely financially dependent on her parents.

she’s a pro skater, but at 23 years old she knows she doesn’t have that much time left and she’s yet to actually win gold at the olympics (silver only rip). with a strict retirement age of 30 being pressed upon her by her coach and manager, she’s working extra hard to make her name known. she’s got a bunch of sponsorship deals lined up, some magazine covers in the works, and a book deal pending for a book she isn’t even allowed to personally write.

still, she doesn’t want to rely on her parents for the rest of her life. eventually she knows she’ll be taking over the family business, but a little part of her wishes she could just settle down in a nice house somewhere else and be like… a full-time kids skating teacher who also encourages kids to have a healthy mindset about skating on the side.

her life is pretty micro-managed by her team, but they have decided to allow her to teach kids how to skate now, so that goal isn’t too far off. they think it’s a nice pr opportunity, but obviously lore is genuinely interested in doing it. in small doses. she’s still at the point where she thinks children are exhausting.

for america’s figure skating golden girl, lore is pretty closed off. she learned a long time ago that with such a training intensive lifestyle, friends can be difficult to keep, and there’ve been one too many people who have used her for her status or money. so she’s aloof to some, but a complete open-book to her best friend(s).

expanding on the golden girl thing, she avoids drinking (occasional exceptions made in the presence of (1) person on the best friend level) and will never be seen partying/at a bar/at a club. she does everything she can to be seen as a good girl and if something is threatening to shift that image, she will do her absolute best to make sure that problem goes away. including bribery.

lore’s first boyfriend was her best friend (who turned out to be gay) and her first love was her skating partner (which ended disastrously). unlucky in love? yes.

morning person by force of habit. she’s always at the ice as early as she can be. nothing beats fresh ice, and she really doesn’t have anything else to do the rest of the day. once the olympics were on the table, college was off of it. she had been attending a distance program part-time, but dropped out to fully pursue her athletic career.

when she’s not at the rink, she’s at the dance studio. she’s been taking ballet and lyrical for several years, occasionally peppering in modern, contemporary, jazz, and even hip-hop classes.

wanted connections

childhood friends - either they’re still pals or they’ve drifted, they could have been forced together by their parents or found each other organically.

fellow skaters/rink dwellers - lore is always there and is guaranteed to know everyone else who spends a decent amount of time there. they might not be close, but she’ll know some basic facts.

neighbors (in west vale) - her family’s house once was pretty, and then her bad-taste mother moved in and decided they needed a fountain and lion statues at the end of their long driveway. neighbors are welcome to have strong or weak opinions on this.

rivals - lore is very competitive. this one sort of speaks for itself.

post-high school ex - unlucky in love part three! we love to see it. could’ve ended well, could’ve not. could’ve just been hookups, could’ve been a full relationship.

zamboni driver - lore sometimes pays the zamboni driver to get more ice time in the morning, prior to the rink opening. they also might know something they shouldn’t. optional! pls contact for details.

unlikely friend - maybe a hockey player, maybe just someone who has a personality very different from lore’s.

enemies/frenemies - lore’s picture-perfect facade is surely annoying for someone out there. she can know it or she can be ignorant to it but she can definitely be their major annoyance. also open to someone just being determined to break her/make her crack. always fun.

#fro: intro #*

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minttoy · 4 years

Text

Daylight (Ch 3)

CHAPTER THREE

Summary: “She spent so much time counting her days. Finally, she sees her future clear as daylight.” - Linhardt helps Lysithea survive more than the war.

Pairings: Linhardt/Lysithea

Click here to read on FF.net.

Click here to read on AO3.

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Weeks later, she’s still flipping through the days. Some passages are easier to read and few of them trigger difficult memories. It’s a blessing she cannot recall most of the things written in these pages.

Lysithea must look particularly haggard this morning, because Professor Hanneman waltzes into the room and starts the day with a peculiar joke.

“Are you and Linhardt married, by any chance?” he asks, a smirk dancing on his lips.

She’s tired and has no energy to vehemently deny it. “No.”

He’s hardly fazed. “Engaged, perhaps? Promised to one another?”

She shakes her head. “Neither.”

“Oh, but there’s something there, correct? The two of you seem to enjoy each other’s company.”

She does not remember Hanneman being this nosy. Perhaps Professor Manuela has been rubbing off him. “There is nothing between us,” she says, the words rolling lazily off her tongue. “We are not married, nor engaged, nor promised. We don’t talk about kids, or money, or growing old together. None of that.”

Poor logic at its finest, but she’s willing to admit it escapes her temporarily.

“Can I safely assume you two are not sleeping together?”

She startles, spilling a portion of her teacup as she brings it to her lips. “Excuse me?”

“Hmm.” He scratches his beard. “I suppose not.”

Lysithea hisses as she registers the burn from the still-hot tea water.

“Is there a point to this?” she inquires, holding back none of her irritation. With a sleeve, she wipes off a stain from the front of her shirt.

He shrugs loosely. “Perhaps.”

His response incites a harsh glare from the girl, but it does not last long. She reaches for her handkerchief across the table to pat down her skirt.

“This is highly inappropriate, especially from a man of your stature. I would appreciate if you were more respectful and unassuming of my relationships,” she says distractedly. “We share common goals and interests. There’s nothing beyond that.”

The suggestion was never meant to sound romantic, but she realizes in hindsight how it can be interpreted as such. Hanneman knows it too and raises her a brow.

“Linhardt is my apprentice and I know him very well,” he starts. “Believe me when I say I have never seen him more committed to anything than he is to you, my dear.”

She peers up at him briefly, and then back down to the soiled handkerchief in her hands. It’s easier to focus on other things when her face is flushed pink.

Hanneman continues, “I know what it takes to renounce one’s nobility – I’ve committed the act myself a long time ago. You give up almost everything. The people you call family, inheritance, prestige and status, the place you consider home, even a bit of yourself...” He shakes his head solemnly. “…it’s unfortunate. Despite all of that, at the end of the day, you are still the selfish one.”

Her gaze is trained to the wooden table, but she’s listening.

“My point is, I am certain Linhardt sacrificed much to be here.”

She blinks twice and looks up. “What are you insinuating?”

Her inquiry is blunt, but it’s not meant to accuse or invoke tension. The entire exchange has her squirming in her seat, even if he’s only protecting him.

“I am simply curious of his motivations,” the older man explains, meeting her gaze. “That boy is difficult to inspire and persuade, and I’ve seen it firsthand. I thought maybe you’ve done something to fuel his sudden ambition.”

She narrows her eyes. “I always assumed he took this up on his own volition, but I’m also willing to admit it’s a little far-fetched. If you’re wondering about monetary incentives, I’m not paying him or doing him any favours.”

“I never even wondered such a thing.”

She considers the idea once more. “…is it something I should be thinking about?”

“Heavens I hope not, or I would be sorely disappointed,” he scoffs.

“So what is it then?”

“You tell me.” Hanneman arches a single brow and presses further, “You said yourself the nature of your relationship is strictly business. Nothing personal beyond your collegiate partnership. Isn’t that right?”

Lysithea processes the complicated thought and attempts understanding for herself, wondering why this conversation keeps circling back on itself. The reason she keeps finding herself here.

Why do I feel like running.

She crumbles underneath his sharper gaze. “…that’s right.”

He leans back in his seat. “What’s your take on it?”

The question lingers.

“I don’t know,” she tells honestly, after a pause.

Silence envelopes them briefly.

“My apologies, child. I don’t mean to push you.” His gloved hand goes to her shoulder, and when she chances a second glance, his gaze is visibly softer. “It just warms this old man’s heart to see two of his students here at the monastery. There hasn’t been this much excitement since…well, a long time.”

She sighs, “Do you have to be so meddlesome?”

He feigns an affronted expression. “Can you blame a researcher for inquiring? I was simply…stating my observations, if you will. Did it come off as imposing? Forgive me.” His lips tug to a small smirk under his moustache. Unapologetic, despite what he says. “I admit. Occasionally I delight in wishful thinking. You see, Linhardt reminds me of my younger self. Fascinated with crestology, how it shapes the world’s foundation and transforms the individuals within it. Regrettably, I missed things because of it. The more I devoted myself to research, the more other dreams slipped further from my reach.”

Lysithea frowns and raises a brow.

“Before I pass from this world, it would give me great gratification to know he pursued such dreams. This applies for you as well, actually. Chase your ambitions, but don’t skip on life. You should get married, take care of each other, and have children. Research is its own reward, but I believe there are greater, more joyful things in life. Take this as advice from your old teacher and mentor.”

“Your advice is oddly specific,” she points out.

He laughs, characteristically barky, but jolly nonetheless. “I expect an invitation to your wedding when it comes.”

She breathes a lengthy exhale and loses her patience. Hasty, she downs the remainder of the hot tea and gathers her papers in her arms.

“That’s enough. I am done indulging in your strange and improbable fantasies–”

“Improbable? I beg to differ.”

“–I have little time as it is! We need to get back to work.”

He smirks at her attempt at scolding. Young, impulsive and puppy-like. A coping mechanism, he realizes. He indulges her anyway, gathering a portion of her file and adjusting his monocle.

“As you wish, my dear.”

----------

Lysithea is in the middle of bookmarking old texts when she hears it. A small gasp, barely even an audible breath, in the midst of the crest analyzer’s machinal sounds. She peers to the side to investigate the small commotion, observing the subtleties in Linhardt’s bare expression.

“What is it?”

He swallows hard and stares with furrowed brows. “This sample, it’s…crestless.”

His lack of energy casts a measure of doubt, but she strides over anyway. Wordlessly, he hands her the glass slide containing a drop of her blood and she runs it through the analyzer herself.

She waits.

Nothing.

No symbols appears before her.

No Charon.

No Gloucester.

No crest.

The blood is pure.

She feels her stomach drop. Her knees grow weak. She pans over to green-haired man, who jots down notes with a nonchalant flair. For someone who just reached his first real breakthrough, he is severely lacking in enthusiasm. Perhaps it’s the exhaustion.

“What does this mean?” she asks.

“It means we’re moving in the right direction,” he says blandly, not looking up.

She blinks at his aloofness, wondering what goes on in that tired and brilliant mind.

Linhardt finishes writing, flips the book shut and yawns into his hand. He finds her muddled expression.

“I’m not satisfied just yet,” he explains quietly. “On the bright side, it seems the formula I used on this particular sample yields promising results. I’m willing to test it on others to ensure it has the same effectiveness.”

He’s withholding himself, it seems. Saving the joy until the work is finished.

“I could draw more blood,” she offers, matching his tone.

He gives her a sheepish frown. She hides bruised arms under her sleeves.

“Please and thank you.”

She turns on her heel, and he catches her wrist when he realizes what she’s doing.

“It can wait until later. You’re tired,” he says. “I have to compound the serum again anyway, which will take time.”

He offers her a smile and she returns it.

----------

The three of them continue to work on this breakthrough. Linhardt, after studying the entirety of her file, is approaching the research with a medical lens. It’s apparent her crests were introduced like toxins to the bloodstream. She either rejected the virus and died, or survived the implants, forcing her crests to co-exist in one body. He intends to remove it the same way, coming up with a formula to dissolve her crests, akin to an antibiotic treating bacteria and disease.

Hanneman almost forgets he’s a proficient healer, well-versed in medicine and its properties.

That’s how they got here. Linhardt sitting on a chair, visibly pale and nauseous, hesitating to offer his arm. He was the one who suggested it – he and Hanneman offering their own blood to the cause, and hoping the recipe can eliminate their crests as well.

“I’m ready. Give me your arm,” she says.

“Please be gentle. The sight of blood makes me uncomfortable.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’ve been working with blood for several months now.”

“That’s different. I dislike watching it spill from the body, especially my own. I should add that needles are frightening as well.”

She gives him an annoyed look, hoping it’s enough to get her message across.

“Do you want the sample or not?”

“I do.”

“Then get over it. It would have been done by now if you stopped whining.”

He takes another deep breath, closes his eyes and finally stretches his arm. As she rolls his sleeves up, another thought flashes and he whips back the limb.

“Linhardt!”

“I’m sorry. Please don’t poke hard. I’m lightheaded as it is.”

He’s pouting, the most childish he’s become as of late.

“If you stay still, it won’t hurt as much.”

He gives her a suspicious eye.

She decides to change tack, softens her gaze and bends down so they’re at eye level. “Hey, I’m good at this, remember? It’ll be quick. You can trust me. I’ve done it on myself several times already.”

The reminder is stinging and leaves with him little choice and room to complain. This time, he offers his arm without another word.

The process is seamless and efficient, just as she promised. His veins stand out against his pale skin and he doesn’t tense when she rubs alcohol on it. He looks away and holds his breath when she punctures his skin. For him, it seems like an eternity until the needle is finally removed, and replaced with the pressure of her fingers. He lets out a long sigh of relief, and sinks down in his seat as if he’s been through a terrible ordeal.

He finally has the courage to look up and finds a smirk on her face.

“What?” he asks.

She removes her gloves and pats his head like she’s proud of him. “Such a good boy. I knew you could do it.”

He scoffs, “I am not a child.”

She laughs, and tips her head to a box on the nearby table. “I got you sweet pastries from town as a reward. Do you want it or not?”

He lights up, betraying himself. He doesn’t think he’s enjoyed her company more. “Yes, please.”

----------

The next step is obvious: a trial.

They’ve agreed to everything so far, but now there are three branches of thought.

Linhardt prefers to experiment with other crest-containing blood samples, reasoning they lack a sample size worthy of definite conclusion.

Hanneman insists on keeping the research between the three of them. This experiment will not be approved in the eyes of people in power, except maybe Edelgard herself.

Lysithea is growing increasingly impatient. Many months have passed since she’s made the monastery her second home and she pushes for the trial herself.

After much hesitation and few heated debates, they agree to one trial. The infirmary is turned upside down. It takes an entire day to prepare the room and concoct the mixture. Beds are moved, shelves restocked and the space is nearly emptied. A plan is devised if things go awry and her body rejects the serum. They don’t have the luxury of test subjects, Lysithea being the only one.

For all the irony in the world, the procedure is alike to blood reconstruction surgery itself. Linhardt admits he took inspiration from the mages to devise the method.

“If you have discomfort, I need to know. You have a penchant for acting stronger than you feel,” he says rather bitterly.

She stops poking around her arm for a vein and glances at the green-haired scholar. Unusually tight-lipped, rigid features on his face and posture incredibly stiff. He’s handling his instruments with a chaotic energy, revealing a side of him that hardly surfaces. He’s irritable and exasperated, which is far from his usually lax demeanor. She’s only seen it a handful of times.

“You agreed to this,” she reminds, matching his tone.

He still cannot look her in the eye. “Not willingly.”

“Don’t start with me,” she warns, keeping her voice low. “We fought about this already.”

He shrugs with nonchalance, and from her perspective, it’s kind of infuriating.

“Hmm. I still think we should wait,” he says, just for the sake of reminding her.

She tries to smile, but it comes off sarcastic and phony. She wonders how apparent it is how much she wants to pull her hair out right now.

“Too late,” she says, knowing how petty it sounds. “It’s happening today.”

“You can still back down. I won’t blame you,” he offers again.

She shakes her head and counters with a firm and decisive, “No. I won’t do that.”

He heaves with frustration and finally looks down at her. She meets his intense blue glare with as much defiance she can muster.

“You’re being impossible. I’m starting wonder if you’re doing this to spite me,” he delivers harshly, in a way he’ll probably regret later. Afterwards, he mutters some excuse about retrieving something from the lab and leaves the room in a matter of seconds.

In the deafening silence that follows, she stares down at the floor, heart suddenly weak and eyes glassy. Her breath is shaky as it comes out. Just as she expects, the feeling of scorn quickly fades into nothing, leaving a pained and bleak disposition in its place. She rubs her eyes before she crumples into a sobbing mess. These recent spats all end the same way. Her coming up empty, instead of angry.

“This will mean nothing later,” Hanneman reassures, suddenly beside her. “Both of you are stubborn. You only fight because you care for each other. If it helps, try to remember what got you here in the first place.”

Her breaths even out slowly. “…I don’t want to fight anymore.”

He shrugs. “You have to work it out somehow. Waiting is safe, but there’s no use dallying and delaying progress either.”

“Am I being unreasonable?” she asks in a whisper.

Hanneman sucks in a breath, and contemplates for a moment.

“It’s…difficult to say. I’m sorry, child. I don’t have all the answers.”

They resume in silence. She tries to pretend it never happened and connects herself to the machine. Linhardt returns a few minutes later, all traces of hardness on his face gone.

She tries not to look his way, except when he stands in front of her.

Their expressions mirror each other; remorseful and apologetic.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers first.

She shakes her head. “It’s my fault. I’m the one pushing you.”

He dismisses it with a shrug. “We’re in this together.”

It eases few of her worries, enough to breathe easy. He gestures for her to take a seat so he can prime the infusion. She obliges without complaint.

“Tell me if you feel anything.”

“I will.”

After what seems like an eternity, it finally starts running. Linhardt gives her a quick onceover before taking the seat beside the professor, opening his book for notetaking.

Somehow, it feels like her last day on earth. She’s waited and dreamed of this since being told her days were numbered. Lysithea shakes her head, tries to throw off the memories.

Fifteen minutes in, there’s a sting in her arm where the needle is located. She tries not to hiss at the pain, but it becomes difficult to hide.

Hanneman sits up, the first to notice. “What’s wrong?”

She grits her teeth. “My arm is sore, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Linhardt stands, puts away his notebook. “We should stop it.”

“No! I can take it. This is–”

She stops as an abrupt, sharp pain sears the nerves up to her shoulder. It’s burning all of a sudden, and flaring with heat and spasm. Lysithea doesn’t scream, just a gasp and a choked-off cry, but somehow that makes it worse. She winces and folds in on herself.

He stops the machine and disconnects the tubing. That alone eliminates the sharp edge of the burn, but leaves a throbbing cramp in its wake. She collapses backwards in her seat, arm splayed limp beside her.

He’s giving her a look or reprimand, but as far as admonishments go, it’s a gentle one.

“Lysithea. This isn’t about being brave or strong. We only have one shot. If something happens to you, all of this would be for nothing,” he lectures softly, bending down to inspect for bruising or damage.

Hanneman hums in agreement and rises to stretch his arms. “The boy is right. Do not feel inclined to work beyond your limits. Our situation is risky enough as it is.”

She has no reason to get defensive. As far as she’s concerned, this is what she needs to hear. Beside her, she spies the faint glow of light. His magic is familiar to her now. She knows the feel of it: languid, light and listless. It induces a drowsy aftermath and she’s passed out from it before. It’s the work of his crest. Before she succumbs to its effects, she peers down at her partner.

“I really thought it would work,” she whispers, fighting the wave of exhaustion casted by the spell.

His gaze is surprisingly soft. “We’ll have to rework the formula,” he says quietly. Biting his lip, he casts his gaze down to her arm. “There’s a caustic burn on your skin. I’ll heal the nerves as best as I can, but I’m not sure about the scarring…”

She shrugs loosely. “It doesn’t matter.”

He says nothing back, watching as she enters a trance, wilting and slowly yielding to slumber.

“Can you be here when I wake up?” she asks, fighting off another yawn and blinking heavy eyelids.

He tilts his head to one side at the inquiry.

“Okay.”

It’s the last thing she hears before her vision goes blank.

----------

She’s plagued by nightmares, not waking until she’s seeing red and a silent scream is somehow working its way up her throat.

She lunges up from her bed, clutches the material in front of her chest and finds herself breathless. Her back is drenched with sweat and her hands are shaking. She stares blank at the window pane, catching sight of clouds filtering the light of the stars and moon. It casts a dark shadow upon the monastery and the surrounding forests. Slowly, the nightmare leaves her.

After that, she sighs. Lysithea looks down at her arms, one of them sporting an ugly reddened bruise and the other hooked up to a tube. Her gaze lazily flits upwards, finding herself linked to an assortment of fluids. Her head throbs wildly, more so than the fresh burn she acquired from the trial.

She’s alone, but hears the soft whirring of machinery across the hall. Mustering the strength to go, she drags the pole along with her and stops at the front of Hanneman’s office.

“You shouldn’t read in the dark,” she pipes up quietly. “It hurts your eyes.”

Linhardt startles and jerks lightly in the dim candlelight. He inhales deeply, and snaps his book shut.

“You should go back to sleep.”

She shakes her head. “Maybe later.”

He eyes her curiously, a long blue stare. “A nightmare, then.”

She shudders, and then absently presses her fingers against her throat where there’s a pulse. A cold shiver runs up her spine. Linhardt watches idly, staring into her eyes with question.

“It’s odd. I used to have nightmares about ghosts in my room, showing up late for class, or losing my teeth,” Lysithea starts softly, ignoring the constant thrumming in her head. “Nowadays, they’re more about feeling lonely, or losing control, or dying.”

He raises a brow. “Are you scared of dying?”

“I guess so,” she says, mild annoyance seeping through. She purses her lips, then shifts her gaze to the bookshelves. “It’s strange. I was going to die in those dungeons, and the only reason I didn’t was because I was so determined to see what life I could have outside of it, even if it meant surviving my crests. Gosh, I wanted to live so much, and still ended up dying.”

She says it with a hollow lightness, as if the whole thing can be a laughing matter. And then she’s shaking her head and rubbing her face.

“I’ve been counting my days ever since, and I’m sick of it. I’m so hopeless, and bitter, and lonely, and yet…I am still so, so terribly scared.”

Linhardt gazes with a rare tenderness. No words come to mind, so he says nothing.

Inevitably, there’s a long pause.

She drops her arms and unclenches her fists. Her expression is weary. “Do you have nightmares?”

He nods. “Occasionally. Mostly they are bloody visions of war – I wake up thinking I’m still in the throes of battle. To cheer myself up, I imagine myself lying down on a field of grass, in a place where I’m free to sleep, fish, or eat sweets whenever I please.”

She chuckles softly, “That sounds just like you.”

“Does your head hurt? I can help.”

“No, not right now. That magic of yours is like a sedative, and I…” She inhales and picks at her fingers, unsure how to say it. “I’d rather we just…stay, even for a short time.”

The air is so quiet and delicate she wants to bask in it. The lighting is dark, atmosphere thick but not stilted, and the whirring machinery drums like white noise. It’s just the two of them, but the silence is easy and comforting. They’ve let go of their posturing a long time ago. This is the most peace she’s felt in months.

This is what she means to say, even if he doesn’t get it.

He nods, and she’s grateful. Moving her metal pole in front of the sofa, she settles herself comfortably beside him and curls her legs underneath. He brushes off her earlier protest and picks up his book again, reading against the dim candlelight. Eventually she caves and tugs at his sleeve. Wordlessly, he settles the book in the middle so she can read for herself. The rest of the night is filled with silence.

He understands enough.

----------

#fire emblem #Fire Emblem Three Houses #fe3h #linhardt von hevring #linhardt #lysithea von ordelia #lysithea #post-war #post-canon #post-game #fire emblem fanfiction

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batgirl-87 · 5 years

Text

Summary: Sixth Year begins and the events of last year’s End of the Year Ball still linger over Charlie and Keira. While the two try to navigate what this means exactly for their relationship, various obstacles thwart their efforts including rumours about Keira’s summer and the mysterious letters she receives, her consistently disappearing, withholding her whereabouts, and returning exhausted and bruised (does it have to do with R or something else?), and one intense night that may destroy Charlie and Keira’s relationship, friendship or otherwise, completely.

First Part of the Series: The gang reunites on the Hogwarts Express with Charlie struggling a bit with his new role as the now oldest Weasley (at least at Hogwarts) who has to wrangle his two younger Twin brothers on to the Hogwarts Express and be responsible for them the next two years – Bill had it so easy with him and Percy. There’s a lot of confusion surrounding his relationship with Keira following the End of the Year Ball last year and while their reunion doesn’t add much clarity, it ends up providing Charlie with a bit of hope. Also a surprising new fact about Barnaby is learned!

Word Count: <13k

Genre: Fluff (Charlie x MC), Humour

Warnings: Some Angst mentioning Bill graduating and going off to Egypt – WE MISS AND LOVE YOU WILLIAM! (Take a drink every time I mention Bill to try and numb the pain 😜)

Note: I’ll just apologize for the bad Quidditch metaphors now… I’m sorry. I should also apologize for the sappiness and clichés. I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. I tried! But I failed… Guess who wrote more than intended?! (Classic me!) Reference to Under the Stars (primarily). I would describe my writing style as too many commas and too many adjectives/details... Sorry... Hi, I have a problem writing concisely...

I also want to apologize up here instead of an author’s note at the end if it’s not edited all that well - I really wanted to get this posted before I leave for a little birthday vacation this week.

I’ve done a lot of research and thinking about the Quidditch World Cup and how teams are made up, games are played, etc. and I may make a post about it some time but if anyone is interested or has any questions on my take on it feel free to ask =) I also believe Charlie has tons of fans that drool over him for his Quidditch skills that he is completely oblivious too.

I am in Chapter 17 or 18 of Year 5 I believe so I’m not sure if we’re actually going to face a dragon, and if Charlie gets to be there with us, so if that does happen than rephrase the line (you’ll know it when you see it) to him feeling the same way when he finally saw a dragon in person – up close and personal =p And I’ll try to remember to change it when/if that time comes.

I estimate the Hogwarts Express takes about eight hours to get to Hogwarts since it departs at 11am and seems to arrive in the early evening, about 7? I know in the game when eating with Andre he says he shops as Gladrags Wizardwear but I believe he would splurge and treat himself to something nice from Twilfitt and Tatting’s, probably something he could wear with pretty much anything or maybe some fancy dress robes for game days and special occasions =p

Arrival of Fred and George! Get excited people!

Preview: He found himself transported to that night a few months ago where he held her close in his arms as they glided gracefully along the balcony outside the Great Hall. Where it felt like they were the only two in the world, if only for that brief private moment. Where they were able to drop their guards and allow their emotions to freely flow. .…. His arm around her waist tightened to hold her securely against him, to bring her closer to him as if they couldn’t get close enough, as if he was afraid she would suddenly disappear. The sensation of her lips on his was intoxicating; the feeling of her in his arms, her hand in his, caressing his face, running through his hair, brought a sense of comfort – it felt right. And he wanted to feel like this all the time.

“Fred! George! Slow down!” A frazzled Molly Weasley chased after her two newest editions to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as they raced through King’s Cross Station. Their agility to weave throughout the crowd without mowing anyone over with their luggage carts was a remarkable feat. Needless to say the Twins were very eager to board the train and begin their own Hogwarts adventures! While her husband watched after their two youngest children, Molly focused her energy on wrangling her two most mischievous ones. At least their high energy kept her busy from missing and worrying about her eldest now out on his own in Egypt pursuing a Curse-Breaking career.

Meanwhile, her second eldest was hell-bent on becoming a Dragonologist and working hands-on with those ferocious beasts! He was so determined, in fact, that he spent most of the summer seeking advice and help from his mum on improving his healing spells – apparently an essential skill when working with dragons according to the experts and not just their mothers. He even spent a lot of time reading up on healing potions but was waiting for school to start up again to work with his friend Penny Haywood who was apparently very skilled in potion making. But he did not remain held up in his room all summer studying – he wasn’t Percy! In true Charlie Weasley fashion, he also spent a lot of time outside during the summer as well, probably searching for new magical creatures to study and practice his caretaking on. And of course played some Quidditch with his siblings.

However, his dedicated focus on his future Dragonologist career also caused him to turn down the opportunity to play on England’s Quidditch team for the upcoming World Cup. It was an honor, and he greatly appreciated the offer, but as much as he loved Quidditch (and had quite the natural skill for it) his goal was always to work with dragons. And to achieve his goals he needed to receive an E or O in his Care of Magical Creatures class, and next year’s N.E.W.T.s, (which shouldn’t be too hard for him to do), while also proving to have high competency in healing magic, and in advance healing/antidote potion making – why he required Penny’s help. He needed to learn and perfect fireproofing spells, protection spells, and cloaking and tracking abilities.

He had done his research, a lot of research, over the years on what he needed to do to finally get to work with his beloved dragons and he couldn’t allow anything to distract him or take time away from his studies. If he didn’t do well in his classes or on his N.E.W.T.s and didn’t improve in the necessary areas to become a Dragonologist because he was too busy training and practicing for Quidditch he would never forgive himself. And probably always resent Quidditch which would be horrible because he loved it! He just loved dragons more.

Besides, he still planned on venturing out into the Forbidden Forest just in case he found his own dragon out there – old habits die hard and if he did find one and handle being in its presence wouldn’t that prove he was destined to be a Dragonologist? (and look good on the resume?) – and still planned on helping with Cursed-Vaults adventures, plus he had Prefect duties – his plate was already pretty full. Unfortunately, he couldn’t accept the offer to play for England – it would be just one too many things to take on for him. At least Forbidden Forest explorations and Cursed-Vaults adventures could help him in the areas he needed to become a Dragonologist. Unfortunately, Quidditch didn’t really help him on the skills he needed to achieve his dream career and therefore would be an unnecessary added responsibility and a distraction. It was a tough decision but he felt he made the right one. He would still play at Hogwarts for Gryffindor of course though!

Molly at least didn’t have to worry about Charlie possibly getting severely injured while playing Quidditch in a professional setting, especially for the World Cup which was a major event in the wizarding world and those players practically played until the death to win. It was a tough sport and playing in school was already bad enough. Her children playing in their backyard was even worse. Not that she wouldn’t be immensely proud of him if he chose to take their offer. But she was also immensely proud of him for making such a difficult and mature decision to turn the offer down to focus on his dreams. Honestly, she wished he could do both. But at least studying was much safer than playing Quidditch. Until he graduated and went to work with actual dragons…

Oh, what did she do to get such adventurous, reckless children? Didn’t they think about what their actions did to their poor mother?

Speaking of her second eldest, where was he? He should be helping her with his younger brothers just as she had Bill help with him and Percy. Although, Percy clearly was not as much trouble as the Twins.

Bill may have sent Charlie a letter before the start of the school year wishing him luck on looking after the Twins while also gloating how he graduated just in time. Looking after Charlie and Percy was a walk in the park compared to looking after Fred and George. Of course Charlie could always write to Bill whenever he needed. But Bill had to admit he was glad he didn’t have to watch over all four of them at school.

“Percy, help me with your brothers.” Molly nudged the least adventurous of her children whose nose was currently stuck in a book as they walked along the station towards their platform.

“Isn’t that Charlie’s responsibility?” The good thing about being a middle child and having older siblings was watching after the younger siblings automatically became their responsibility and he got left alone.

“And when we find him I’ll make sure he looks after all of you but until then I need your help,” Molly informed him, causing Percy to sigh a bit dramatically and close his book.

Charlie was already at Platform 9¾ scouring the crowd of returning and new Hogwarts students for one in particular. He had tried to get their earlier but getting the bustling Weasley house organized was a trying task and they always ended up being later than intended to anywhere they were heading. Fortunately, most were understanding. It was already getting close to 11, so the Twins also had a bit of a reason to rush if they wanted to make it to the correct platform in time.

“Charlie, there you are!” Charlie whirled around when he heard his mum calling to him. “I was wondering where you disappeared to.”

“Sorry, mum.” Charlie smiled apologetically as he walked back over to his family, Percy currently in the middle of giving the Twins a scolding lecture, one they were not really paying any attention to.

“I know you’re eager to return to school and get that help on your potions and learn all you need to so you can achieve your goals but try and have some fun to,” Molly reminded her son as she draped an arm around him as they walked back to the rest of their large family.

“I will, mum,” Charlie promised.

“And please look after your younger brothers. I know it’s impossible to ask you to keep Fred and George out of trouble completely but –“

“Don’t worry, mum, of course I’ll look after them. And try and keep them from getting caught,” Charlie added with a smirk, earning a couple more smirks from his twin brothers. Molly huffed and playfully hit Charlie’s arm but smiled at her boys. She did love her children so.

“I can’t believe we’re sending another two off to school,” Molly said as she stared wistfully at the Twins, some tears beginning to form in her eyes.

“Ugh, mum,” the Twins groaned in embarrassment, looking away from her intense gaze only because they were going to get emotional too!

“We’ll be empty nesters soon enough,” chimed in Arthur who placed a lovingly supportive arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“Oh, don’t talk like that,” Molly scolded.

“Won’t know what to do with ourselves then,” Arthur continued.

As their parents lovingly bickered, Charlie and Percy took the opportunity to bestow their older brother knowledge on the Twins and what they could expect. Sure, they had heard about some of their adventures and experiences at school but the more boring, informational things, such as the rules or what to expect on their first day they tended to tune out when anyone mentioned it. They knew the Twins found it boring but begged them to listen.

Of course Percy may have also told the Twins not to cause too much trouble, especially for him as he worked towards becoming Prefect and Head Boy himself and if they got in the way of that he would never forgive them! Also, don’t embarrass him.

“Don’t worry, we’re not going to ruin your chances at becoming Head Nerd,” Fred snarkily assured.

“And how could we possibly embarrass you more than you already do for yourself,” George asked as innocently as he could with a smirk.

Percy narrowed his eyes at the two of them briefly before waving at Charlie. “They’re your responsibility. Good luck.”

Charlie sighed and shook his head but did echo some of Percy’s sentiments. “He’s right though. Try not to get into too much trouble.”

“Don’t worry. We plan on pacing ourselves,” Fred assured their older brother.

“Yeah, we have a whole school year! We’re not going to waste pulling all our best pranks at the beginning of the year and having nothing left for the rest of it,” George explained.

Charlie sighed but chuckled softly. “As long as you mean that. And do well not to get caught. I don’t want to have to punish my brothers all the time.”

“Get caught,” the Twins scoffed. They were not amateurs!

“You two plus Tonks and Tulip are going to be the death of me,” Charlie groaned.

The Weasley family said their goodbyes which were filled with promises to write home and a lot of hugs all around. Molly made sure to give each of her boys plenty of kisses to make sure they knew how much she loved them and would miss them, along with her stern warning of keeping out of trouble. Don’t make her send howlers every week! She’d lose her voice!

“Hey, Percy! Where are you going?” Charlie called after his brother as they boarded Hogwarts Express. Almost instantly onboard, Percy took off down the corridor through the throng of students, primarily First Years unaware of where to go since older classmen already had their usual compartments.

“I’m going to sit with my friends,” Percy shouted back over the crowd.

“You don’t have any friends,” the Twins shouted back in unison. Charlie sighed and shook his head before taking the lead as the new oldest Weasley at Hogwarts and following after Percy, maneuvering through the crowd of confused students. He knew as Prefect he should be helping them but he was busy helping some other First Years at the moment so technically he was doing his Prefect duty. Besides, the wrath of his mum was way scarier than the wrath of the Head Boy and Girl and other Prefects.

“Excuse me. Pardon us.” Charlie politely forced his way through the mass of students, new and old, before arriving at the compartment Percy disappeared into towards the front of the train. Of course Percy would sit as close as he could to the Prefect carriage without actually being in it.

“Why do we have to sit with Percy,” the Twins whined. Their complaint was echoed by Percy himself when Charlie opened his compartment’s door.

“Oh no, they’re not sitting with me!”

“They have to,” Charlie informed them all.

“But why-“

“Because I have to go up to the Prefect’s carriage,” Charlie continued.

“Why can’t we go sit with you up there,” the Twins asked with a smirk. Charlie was unable to hold back his own amused smirk at the thought of that happening.

“No way. If anyone gets to go up to the Prefect carriage without being a Prefect it’s me,” Percy announced, standing up for emphasis.

“Okay, settle down, none of you are going up there with me. Not that I don’t doubt you’ll all make Prefect if you want, but for right now, I’m going up there and you’re all staying here,” Charlie instructed. Which of course was met with more complaining.

Bill had it so lucky with him and he planned on letting Bill know that especially come Christmas.

“Percy,” Charlie started, turning his attention to his now second in command, whether either of them liked it or not. “I’m going to need your help with looking after Fred and George. Think of it as prep for becoming Prefect. And I’d owe you,” he added.

Percy thought it over a moment before sighing. “Fine. Although I still don’t understand why they have to sit with me.”

“Don’t you remember your First Year? You think you’re prepared but there’s a lot more people than you think and it’s overwhelming and you haven’t made any friends to sit with yet so you sat with me. And you sat with me in the Great Hall for meals and hung out in my room with me and my roommates –“

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Percy held up a hand to stop Charlie from going down this memory lane.

“They’ll make friends quickly, don’t worry,” Charlie assured Percy.

“Yeah, people love us,” the Twins decided to chime in with their charming grins.

“Just buy them some sweets when the trolley comes around, that’ll keep them occupied,” Charlie suggested to Percy.

“And get them all sugared up? I don’t want to deal with that,” Percy cried.

Charlie groaned again and made another mental note to write to Bill informing him of how wonderful and easy he was as a brother, caused Bill little to no problems, and how he would expect some great birthday and Christmas gifts to show his appreciation.

“It’s a long trip, they have to eat. And you can’t keep them locked up in here the whole time. Maybe they’ll make friends and then they’ll leave you alone,” Charlie reasoned. Percy thought that over a moment before nodding his head in agreement. If they met friends on the train and left to sit with them they would no longer be his problem!

“Just don’t be out in the corridor causing any problems when I’m on patrol,” Charlie suddenly instructed the Twins.

“If we see you in the corridor we’ll turn right back around,” the Twins promised.

“Alright guys, I really got to get going. I’ll come back and check on you when I can. Listen to Percy,” Charlie told them, making a point to tell the Twins to respect Percy’s authority. Doubt it would really matter but at least he tried.

Fred and George sighed but didn’t argue as they moved to go into Percy’s compartment. “Where are all your friends, Perc,” the Twins teased as the noted the empty compartment.

“They haven’t arrived yet and once they see you two here they’re going to find somewhere else to sit,” Percy irritably replied.

“Once they saw your rat they fled,” Fred joked.

“Hey! Ron likes my rat,” Percy argued.

“Ron likes anything soft and furry,” Fred retorted.

“Except for that teddy bear we turned into a spider that one time,” George reminded with a mischievous smirk.

Charlie turned to leave his bickering brothers and head to the Prefect carriage through the still crowded corridor of the train. “Excuse me,” he started as he attempted to push his way back into the traffic of students.

“Charlie! They’re being unreasonable!” Percy’s cry of outrage was followed by the giggling fit of the Twins. He knew putting the Twins with Percy alone in a small train compartment was a recipe for disaster but couldn’t they manage for a few minutes? “Wait until I tell mum you dropped the Twins off on me and ditched out on your older brother responsibilities!” It had literally been two seconds and Percy already had enough of babysitting Fred and George.

“Percy-“ Charlie started, unable to hide the annoyance and frustration in his voice as he spun back around to confront them. Unfortunately, this quick movement could not be done gracefully in a narrow corridor bustling with students trying to find a place to sit for the ride. He wasn’t sure if he tripped over someone’s bag or foot or what it was but whatever it was caused him to fall forward and knock into another student who was trying to sneak by.

Fortunately he was able to catch himself and them before they both hit the floor and risked being trampled on by other students. One hand flew out to slam against the wall of the train compartment holding his brothers to stop his fall and regain his balance, while his other arm instinctively wrapped around the smaller figure he almost knocked over to catch them, causing them both to fall against the wall on the compartment side of the train instead of the floor. Great, first day as the eldest Weasley at Hogwarts and he almost killed someone! Ugh, he missed Bill.

Charlie opened his mouth to apologize and check to ensure they were okay but his breath hitched in his throat when he heard them speak first.

“Well bonjour mon étoile! This is quite the reunion, eh?”

Charlie looked down at the person he currently had pinned against the wall and found himself suddenly drowning in stormy sea eyes once again. He quickly became hyper-aware of how close they were, their faces mere inches apart, his hips pressed against hers as he pinned her to the side of his brother’s occupied compartment, his arm securely snaked around her waist.

He found himself transported to that night a few months ago where he held her close in his arms as they glided gracefully along the balcony outside the Great Hall. Where it felt like they were the only two in the world, if only for that brief private moment. Where they were able to drop their guards and allow their emotions to freely flow.

Their eyes were locked much like they were now before Charlie leaned down to close the distance between them, moving instinctively. However, the fear suddenly struck that maybe she didn’t want this and maybe he was putting her in an awkward and uncomfortable situation, a situation that could ruin their close friendship. But when she leaned up and her lips met his all his fears and doubts melted away as a spark ignited within him.

His arm around her waist tightened to hold her securely against him, to bring her closer to him as if they couldn’t get close enough, as if he was afraid she would suddenly disappear. The sensation of her lips on his was intoxicating; the feeling of her in his arms, her hand in his, caressing his face, running through his hair, brought a sense of comfort – it felt right. And he wanted to feel like this all the time.

It was addicting.

Now he understood why so many couples were caught snogging all the time. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it throughout the summer, replayed that moment over and over again in his head as he remembered all those sensations. And he’d be lying if he said he had no desire to feel that way again when in actuality it was all he wanted. They had had so many “almost” moments and he was quickly growing tired and, frankly, frustrated by them; and now that they finally had their moment he greedily wanted more.

When they eventually parted, slowly, he rested his forehead against hers, their eyes remaining shut as they savored the moment. And he would have kissed her again, kissed her all night if he could have, but their pivotal moment was brought to an end as one of their friends found them to spend one last moment at the ball with Bill – the whole reason they even went to the ball that year – surely including pictures since Penny was around.

He was very reluctant to let her go, to no longer have her near him, leaving him feeling cold and incomplete. But when she reached down to grab his hand and led him back inside the Great Hall that spark she always ignited within him returned, spreading her signature tingling warming sensation through his body.

The rest of the evening and the next day at the End of the Year Feast were dedicated to Bill, and packing up to head back home, but primarily for Bill, filled with tearful goodbyes and bone crushing hugs – both mainly from Keira herself. They even had a goodbye dinner at the Burrow over the summer for Bill, which Keira would have attended but she spent most of this summer in Canada. Therefore, they never discussed the events of that night. They never determined where they went from there, what they were now. And maybe because of the fear and anxiety of the uncertainty of what either of their response would be – possible rejection after putting their feelings so boldly out there, an excuse of being swept up in the moment, fear of losing a close, dear friend – neither of them had brought up that night in the few letters they shared throughout the summer, a lot fewer than previous summers.

She was busy and far away and this wasn’t really something that should be discussed in letters anyway, right? This should be something to discuss in person. Which may be why he was so eager to get to the train station that morning, to finally see her again. He wasn’t sure why, but he just had this feeling that once they saw each other, in that moment everything would be made clear.

However, this was definitely not the reunion he had planned for.

Instead of sharing a knowing look where they both somehow understood each other’s unspoken thoughts and feelings and ending on the same page he had knocked into her, almost fell on top of her and squashed her, and now they found themselves in a compromising position in front of a large portion of students at Hogwarts, including new First Years and his brothers.

But none of that even registered to Charlie at the moment. All he could see was her. And all he could think about was how he was finally holding her close again in his arms, where she belonged. And how that electricity flowed through them when their hands touched, even just brushed up against each other, and how that initial spark lit a fire that burned hotter within them the closer they grew. Her warm, dark, alluring scent with her signature hint of ocean air enveloped him. It seemed every time he was around her he found himself drowning in her, completely entranced by her, but it was one of the best feelings he’s ever felt; it was exciting but calming, an adventure and home, dizzying yet grounding all at the same time. It was an overwhelming, intoxicating feeling he couldn’t get enough of. He imagined this would be how he would feel when he finally came face to face with a dragon, but never imagined a person would cause these feelings to stir within him. Suppose he had to admit he had become utterly enamored with her. He loved being completely immersed in her, yearned to be lost in her. Without even realizing it, he had begun leaning down towards her, longing to reclaim that captivating, pleasurably blissful feeling once again that only her enticing lips allowed.

“Bloody hell, Charlie, are you going to start snogging her right here in front of everyone?”

“The train hasn’t even left the station yet! Bet mum can still see you through the window.”

The teasing from the Twin’s caused Charlie to freeze, his nose brushing against hers, successfully halting his actions. Suddenly their surroundings crashed into him like a freight train. Students were still shuffling behind him trying to locate a place to sit for the ride, his brothers were right there staring at him from the doorway of their compartment and – Oh Merlin, what if his mum really could see them through the window of the train?! Part of him feared he would hear his mother storming aboard any moment now – ‘Charles Weasley! What are you doing to that poor girl?!’ She didn’t raise him to be like that!

“I expect this type of behavior from Bill, but not from you Charlie!”

“Never from you, Charlie!” The Twins continued to taunt their older brother.

Charlie pulled away as much as he could, which wasn’t much considering the hoard of bustling students behind him trying to frantically find a place to sit before the train took off to Hogwarts, stammering out an apology to the young woman he still had trapped.

Fortunately for him, she somehow always managed to diffuse the awkwardness of a situation like this for him. “It’s okay,” Keira assured with a small amused laugh. “I missed you too.” She patted his chest playfully a couple times before a mischievous smirk played on her lips. “Ooo, someone worked out over the summer.”

“What? No,” Charlie awkwardly replied with a sheepish chuckle, glancing away a moment as he felt the familiar feeling of heat rising to his face she always brought upon him.

“Clearly you spent a lot of time outside,” Keira observed. “I think your freckles have doubled – at least,” she teased.

“Yeah? Are you trying to tell me I look fit,” Charlie asked her with a charming smirk.

“You’re looking very fit,” Keira confirmed with a flirtatious smirk of her own, her infamous House of Black genes showing, causing Charlie’s brothers to groan.

“I think I preferred it better when they were about to snog,” George leaned over to whisper to Fred.

“This is only the beginning.” Percy muttered his warning to the Twins – he would know, he had already spent a couple school years around them making eyes at each other and all their flirting and blushing – it got annoying.

“She’s right, Charlie, you are looking very fit.” The group of primarily red heads turned to look at the girl who interrupted their private moment with her unsolicited, overtly flirtatious comment as she eyed Charlie like he was her favourite treat on the Honeyduke’s trolley. She appeared to be in Charlie and Keira’s Year and brought her own little posse of Charlie fangirls with her for an added bonus.

“Oh, thanks mate,” Charlie replied, ever the oblivious one to his throngs of adoring fans for his amazing Seeker skills, particularly towards the ones who practically threw themselves at him. Honestly, they could be laying on a bench in the Quidditch changing room in lingerie with candles lit and smooth jazz playing and he still wouldn’t get it.

“But if anyone here looks fit, it’s Ady,” Charlie said, taking a moment to admire the Slytherin fully in front of him. “You look great,” he gushed sincerely, causing a light blush to appear on her face.

“W-well I did play a lot of Quidditch this summer,” she stammered, suddenly nervous.

His adoring fan did not take too kindly to the attention being taken away from her and glared daggers at the Slytherin who received such high praise from him. “Did you play a lot of Quidditch this summer, Charlie,” she asked in an attempt to get the attention back on her.

“Uh, yeah, not as much as usual with Bill leaving,” Charlie awkwardly replied. He missed his older brother and best friend.

While one of his admirers continued to swoon over the Gryffindor Seeker, coming on a bit strong in Keira’s opinion… Keira managed to slither out from under Charlie and give the Twins a proper greeting, hugs and all. She couldn’t help but gush about how excited she was that they were all going to be going to Hogwarts together while also voicing her concern about dealing with them and Tulip and Tonks – the four of them and their pranks were going to end up being her downfall long before ‘R’ ever got to her.

Much like with Bill and Charlie, Keira bonded rather quickly with the Twins, and seemed to share a particular closeness with them. And as soon as the Twins caught on to Charlie’s little crush they definitely used that to taunt to him. Not like Charlie was really going to be jealous over his little brothers and worried the now eleven year olds were somehow going to “steal” Ady from him, something they liked to tease him about, but she did seem much more comfortable with physical affection with them – the hugs, sitting close together, sharing a blanket, arms around each other. And at first he thought it was because they were little kids, but he couldn’t help but notice she wasn’t like that with Ron or even Ginny much! Sure she’d give Ginny a hug and let her play with her hair if she wanted but it was nowhere near the same level of physical contact as with the Twins.

Any time she visited the Burrow or they somehow managed to run into each other while shopping in Diagon Alley, the Twins always gained her attention and did, much to their smugness, steal her away from Charlie to spend time with them. Which led to more taunting such as how she loved them more than him, how they were going to ask her to the ball and she’d of course say yes to one of them and reject Charlie. Ugh, little siblings…

Honestly, though, he was worried about the quick close relationship she had with his Twin brothers because the three of them and their mischievous nature concerned him and what trouble they were bound to get into. And like Keira, the thought of George and Fred with Tulip and Tonks was anxiety provoking. Oh what was going to happen to poor Ben… The Weasley’s were known for being a very close, tight-knit family. Charlie and Bill always visited each other’s room, Percy visited both his older brother’s rooms and now the Twins – who had to be sorted into the same House, right? – were going to barge into Charlie’s room. Or worse. Sneak in and leave traps everywhere. His poor roommate Ben…

“No way, you guys are totally Slytherin!” Charlie glanced over as he heard Keira inform his Twin brothers they belonged in her House instead of the family Gryffindor one. And actually, he wouldn’t mind it if they were in Slytherin. Give him a little bit of break to not worry about pranks set up around his room. Let them terrorize some other people for a change! “Whatever happens, you guys belong in Slytherin and nothing will convince me otherwise.” Charlie couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as her proclamation.

“Charlie? Did you hear what I said?” Charlie looked back over at his fellow Gryffindor as she sweetly – sickeningly sweet – called to regain his attention back on her.

“Uh, no, sorry,” he apologized politely.

“I asked if you would help me with my Charms homework some time.” She repeated her question as she reached up to place a flirtatious hand on his arm.

“Oh, well actually Ben is the one who’s really good at Charms. I’ll let him know you’re looking for some help,” Charlie told her, continuing to be blissfully unaware of her advances.

Keira had to admit those types of people who tended to throw themselves at him and shamelessly flirt with him did bother her a little bit, but since Charlie showed no interest in them whatsoever – that, and he appeared completely unaware he was even being chatted up – she wouldn’t say she was necessarily jealous. Maybe if Charlie showed interest in someone else, connected and grew closer to them, then she would be jealous. But this, while it annoyed her, didn’t make her jealous. That being said, if necessary, she would rip that girl’s arm off and beat her to a bloody pulp with it.

“Okay, that’s enough. Piss off!” The girl was suddenly shooed away from Charlie by his best, although never recruited, wingman.

“Hey! We were just talking!”

“Yeah, we heard you chatting him up, being all cheeky. We get it, you’re up for it, but he’s not – at least with you – so begone,” Andre demanded as he continued to usher the girl and her little friend group away. She called back to Charlie to come by so they could finish their talk but Andre was adamant that they keep moving and get out of there.

“Honestly, the nerve of some people,” Penny huffed as she folded her arms after assisting Andre with escorting Charlie’s small group of admirers away.

“She just wanted to talk about Quidditch and asked for help on her Charms homework,” Charlie said with an ignorant shrug.

“Sometimes you’re dafter than Barnaby,” Andre informed him. “She fancies you – they all do.”

“Who?”

“All those girls – your fans,” Penny chimed in.

“You guys think everyone fancies everyone,” Charlie said, waving off their supposed warnings.

“Shouldn’t you guys be in the Prefect Carriage,” Penny suddenly reminded them.

“Oh right! That’s where I was heading,” Keira said from her new position of leaning against the compartment’s doorway, an arm lazily draped across Fred’s shoulders. Charlie couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at his little brother’s smug look – it was the smugness that got him and he would wipe that smug little look right off his face! Everyone thought Bill was the one Charlie was supposedly jealous of with how close he was to Keira but turned out that maybe it was the Twins instead!

“Right, so we better get going then. The train’s about to take off any minute now,” Charlie said before turning his attention to his brothers. “Now what did we discuss?”

“Only cause mischief when you’re not on patrol.”

“Don’t listen to Percy, he has no authority whatsoever!”

Charlie sighed while Percy slammed his book down on his lap and glared at the Twins. That was not true! Keira however found this quite amusing. “Don’t cause any mischief while I’m on patrol either,” she requested to which the Twins happily obliged.

“I can’t believe you became a Prefect with all the trouble you get into,” George amazed.

“According to all the stories we heard from Bill and Charlie,” Fred added for a further explanation.

“I know. If I can become Prefect, anyone should be able to, right,” Keira joked.

“Tell me about it,” Percy muttered, earning himself a glare from the Slytherin Prefect.

“I don’t think becoming Prefect is in the cards for us.” The Twins had to agree on that. It was added responsibility and duty that would get in the way of their fun.

“You guys could if you wanted to be! How cool would it be if all of us became Prefects?” Charlie couldn’t hide his excitement over that thought.

“If we wanted to be-“

“But we don’t really.”

Charlie’s grin fell at the Twin’s admission. “Come on, Charlie.” The Gryffindor looked over as he felt a cool hand on his arm which began to lead him away from his brother’s compartment. Keira smiled up at him reassuringly before another realization dawned on her. “Oh!”

She quickly let go of the redhead and hurried over to Penny, throwing her arms around the Hufflepuff. She had almost forgotten to give her friends a proper greeting as well! Her and Andre shared a special handshake – no hugging since it would wrinkle his outfit, plus much like her, he wasn’t really one for physical affection, but she had clearly grown more comfortable with her friends over the years, opting to give them hugs at least. Charlie walked back over to partake in the friendlier greetings as well. There was brief chitchat over how everyone’s summer went – Good? Good! – and promises to talk more about what they did over the summer, and what they planned to do that year regarding the Cursed Vaults, before Charlie and Keira had to part ways and finally make it to the Prefect Carriage.

“You’re late.”

The warm greeting welcomed the pair of Prefects as soon as they opened the door to the Prefect carriage and stepped inside.

“Uh oh, are we grounded now,” Keira snarkily replied as she plopped down in an available seat, smirking playfully at the Head Girl who scolded them upon arrival.

“We were helping some First Years find a place to sit,” Charlie explained as he took a seat next to Keira. He conveniently left out the fact that those First Years were his brothers earning a small smirk from Keira as the Head Girl accepted his reason for being late.

Fortunately the debriefing in the Prefect Carriage and distribution of patrol schedules was brief and they were able to return to their regular compartments with their friends.

Keira plopped down on the seat across from Barnaby, who was getting a head start on his tutoring lessons with Rowan, resting her feet on the seat across from her between her fellow Slytherin and the wall of the compartment. “Hey roomie,” she greeted, causing the Slytherin boy to beam. Charlie closed the compartment door behind them and took a seat next to Keira.

Ah, that’s right, Charlie recalled hearing something about Barnaby moving in with Keira over the summer when they ran into each other in Diagon Alley for some back to school shopping. Well, he saw her, she didn’t see him because he made sure to hide and avoid her, somewhat awkwardly according to the Twins and Percy. He wasn’t sure why but seeing her put him into a bit of a panic. Well that wasn’t the complete truth, he did have a good idea why…

For one he had lost the snitch, sort to speak, let it slip right through his fingers and didn’t keep in better contact with her over the summer. Especially after spending the End of the Year Ball together…

And for another…

He had first spotted her hanging out around the entrance to Knocturn Alley with Barnaby, Jae, and Merula and Ismelda, of all people, who probably saw the others there and went to investigate what they were doing per their nosy selves. Charlie knew how his mum felt about that place and the people that hung out in the shady shopping area, banning all her children from even thinking about entering that place or anywhere like it, so he clearly did not want his mum catching Ady there! She was initially put off by the idea of her two eldest boys befriending a Slytherin, changing her mind once she actually got to know Ady better, but if his mum saw her in Knockturn Alley… he did not want to deal with that. So there was some awkward rushing of his mum past the Knockturn Alley entrance.

They didn’t seem to spend too much time there, however, and soon Charlie saw her walking around Diagon Alley with Barnaby and he, once again, awkwardly hid and avoided her, ducking into the nearest store as she approached and was warmly greeted by his mum and family. Unfortunately that store was Twilfitt and Tattings, a store that his family never entered since they could never afford the high end prices which therefore earned him a lot of confused and disdainful looks from the wealthy, primarily pureblood, shoppers…and Andre. Commence more ridicule.

“Charlie?!” The second eldest Weasley spun around from watching his family through the store window from behind a mannequin at the surprised call of his name to come face to face with his fellow Quidditch aficionado, Andre Egwu.

“Uh, y-yeah, h-hey, Andre. What’s up? How was your summer? Doing some back to school shopping?” His attempts to act cool and casual clearly failed since the Ravenclaw saw right through him. That and he was, again, in a store he never shopped at.

“…What are you doing in here,” Andre questioned suspiciously.

“Umm…. Shopping?”

“I’ve never seen you in here before. I’ve also never seen you wear anything from here before. Normally you’re in Bill’s hand-me-downs,” Andre observed.

“W-well, maybe I thought with Bill graduated and gone now working in Egypt I should get myself some nice, new clothes,” Charlie attempted to reason.

“Really? Is that so? Then why are you hiding behind a mannequin,” Andre questioned.

“I’m not hiding! I’m just looking at this piece of clothing,” Charlie defended, turning to admire the article of clothing on the mannequin before grimacing. Bloody hell….

“Those are women’s dress robes,” Andre pointed out. “Not that I’m one for gender stereotyping, of course, I think anyone should wear whatever they want. As long as it’s stylish and properly tailored, of course. But you’ve just never struck me as someone who would wear something like this… Not even something feminine but something so lavish. You and your family manage to pull off the casual, second-hand look.” It was a compliment, he swore!

“…Maybe I’m looking for something for my mum,” Charlie quickly thought, earning an unamused look from Andre.

“Really? We’re going to keep doing this?”

“Okay, okay,” Charlie sighed exasperatedly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m…hiding,” he awkwardly admitted.

“From what,” Andre asked quizzically.

“Not what, who,” Charlie answered before begrudgingly motioning out the shop window where Keira and Barnaby were talking to his family. Andre peered out the shop window before a devilish smirk spread across his face.

“Ohhhh…. I see. Why are you hiding from her? I thought you guys had a great time at the Ball last year,” Andre recalled, his smirk widening.

“I haven’t really talked to her much this summer,” Charlie admitted.

“What,” Andre cried out in surprise, earning the attention of most of the shoppers although he didn’t seem to notice or at least not to mind. “But… why?! I thought we were finally over all the oblivious feelings and then the awkward realization of feelings and embarrassing behavior around each other. You had your chance, you took it, I was so proud of you! And now –“

“I know! I know!” Now it was Charlie’s outburst that caused the shoppers in the store to once again look over at the two boys. “I blew it! I buggered everything up!”

Andre frowned as he watched his friend wallow in his despair. “Maybe not. Why don’t we go talk to her and –“ The mere mention of going out to talk to Keira instantly horrified the Gryffindor, his eyes widening, face paling, and adamantly shaking his head no. And they’re supposed to be the brave House… “Alright, how about I go out and talk to her. See if she’s upset with you ditching her after one night together. If she thinks you were just using her to get what you want and then once you got it you threw her away or you didn’t enjoy your time with her, think she’s a bad kisser –“ Charlie let out a groan of despair. This was not a good pep talk if it was supposed to be one! “I’ll go do damage control,” Andre rephrased before handing Charlie a robe he was looking at before heading out of the store and joining the group catching up in front of it.

Meanwhile, Charlie watched them nervously from behind the mannequin in the store. Ugh, what was he doing? What had become of him?! He was a Quidditch Seeker, a future Dragonologist, a big brother! He normally was braver than this and more calm and collected. Dragons didn’t scare him but this girl did? What was happening to him?!

He just couldn’t bare it if he hurt her and he was afraid he did. He didn’t mean to! And he wanted to fix it! He just wasn’t sure how to do that… This whole situation, having these types of feelings for someone, everything, was entirely uncharted territory he was trying to navigate with a map he couldn’t read. Normally he would turn to Bill for help but now he was embarking on the next chapter of his life in Egypt as a Curse-Breaker.

“So? What happened,” Charlie questioned eagerly but nervously once Andre returned into the store.

“I think you can rest easy, she doesn’t seem mad at you,” Andre informed him, causing the Seeker to visibly relax. “Actually she said she felt bad she didn’t keep in better touch, like it was her fault, so doesn’t sound like she’s blaming you. She asked about you, wondered where you were. Sounded like she missed you.”

Charlie took a moment to process what Andre told him before finally speaking. “She blames herself? Why? She shouldn’t do that! I didn’t write to her either –“

“Yeah but even if you did it sounds like she wouldn’t have gotten it for a while or have a lot of time to respond back. According to Barnaby she was away from home a lot this summer. Spent most of it across the pond in Canada,” Andre informed him.

“Oh… Guess Barnaby did a better job of keeping in touch than me,” Charlie chuckled.

“Well it was easier for him. They’re living together apparently.” Charlie immediately tensed back up at this new information that completely blindsided him.

“They’re living together?! What does that even mean?!”

Andre shrugged. “I don’t know, I didn’t ask. I was sent to go see if she was mad at you. Which I did. And since she’s not, you can go ask her about her living situation. Now give me this,” Andre said, taking the robe he was looking at before all this drama started from the Gryffindor, “You can’t pull this off.”

Charlie admitted, at first, the news of her and Barnaby living together came as quite the shock to him and he may have been a little… jealous… and confused and worried what that meant exactly… And he tried to listen to Andre, despite the Ravenclaw being only somewhat helpful, and prepared himself to step out of that store and rejoin his family and greet Ady and Barnaby but as he began to do so, the owner of Quality Quidditch Supplies stepped out of their store and attempted to get Ady’s attention who quickly grabbed Barnaby’s arm and said her goodbyes to the Weasley’s as she hastily took her leave before the owner of the Quidditch store caught up to her.

Charlie wasn’t really sure what that was all about but he was more focused on figuring out what was going on between her and Barnaby. He knew they had always been very close friends, and Charlie and Barnaby were good friends as well, sharing a common passion for Magical Creatures as well as in interest in Quidditch since Barnaby was Ady’s Beater partner on the Slytherin Quidditch team. He just wanted some clarity on the situation because the uncertainty was causing a lot of crazy thoughts to swarm through is head.

He had started a letter to Penny about twenty times, scribbling out each attempt and throwing away a lot of parchment that evening when he got back to the Burrow. Bill’s empty bed was now covered in crumbled up pieces of parchment from all of Charlie’s failed attempts at trying to figure out how to casually ask the Hufflepuff, who knew everything that was happening with everyone at Hogwarts even during the summer months, if she could shed some light on what was going on with Ady and Barnaby. But every time it was too awkward or obvious why he was asking and Penny, like Andre and Bill…and the rest of his siblings, loved teasing him about his secret feelings for Ady…which may not be so secret anymore…

Ultimately Charlie scrapped the whole thing and instead had the brilliant idea to ask Tonks instead. Tonks, who surprisingly discovered was related to Ady which only brought the two closer, who also did not care much, if at all, about who fancied who, or who was dating who, or who was caught snogging who unless it was a funny, embarrassing story. Tonks who also was his first, and still one of his closest, friends since he first starting attending Hogwarts (clearly not including Bill).

Tonks proved to be quite the reliable source, although Charlie had to steer the conversation back to the topic at hand a few times since Tonks could lose her train of thought and get distracted easily. According to her, Barnaby had spent most of the last summer and holidays with Ady at her place or at Hogwarts with her. This summer it seemed he officially moved in to one of the spare rooms in 12 Grimmauld Place (Keira taking over the old House of Black home was a sort of revolutionary act and having her friends visit during the summer and hang out there was surreal. Walburga was probably rolling over in her grave). It was pretty common knowledge, at least in their friendship group, that Barnaby did not have the best childhood with his father or being cared for by his grandmother. Apparently things with her continued to be bad, possibly growing worse, and none of their friends felt Barnaby should continue to live in such a negative, stressful, and toxic environment. And Ady was the one friend who finally took action.

First she opened up 12 Grimmauld Place to all her friends whenever they needed a place to go, to get away or just to hang out, and then she practically packed up Barnaby and his things herself and brought him over to live with her and her elusive guardian. Barnaby still visits his grandmother, checks on her to make sure she’s doing alright since she is getting older, and run some errands for her (apparently that’s what they were doing in Knocturn Alley that day and ran into Jae and the others) since Barnaby still cares for his grandmother and feels responsible for her and her well-being. However, he does seem to be doing better since no longer living there, like a weight has been lifted and he even seems well-rested.

Charlie appreciated Tonks sharing this information with him. Not only did it ease his anxiety but it just made him admire and fancy Ady even more than he already did. Plus she didn’t tease him about his crush on Ady like Penny would have. That Hufflepuff was part Slytherin, he swore!

“Oh thank Merlin,” Andre breathed a sigh of relief as he entered their compartment. “I hope it’s safe in here. Tulip and Tonks are getting an early start on their mischief making and rumour has it they have two little apprentices with them as well,” Andre informed them as he closed the door behind him and took a seat next to Rowan after she shifted over for him. Charlie tensed up at the mention of the two apprentices although he did his best not to show how anxious he actually was. But his worst fear was happening. And they hadn’t even made it to Hogwarts yet!

“Shouldn’t you two go and stop them as Prefects,” Rowan asked the two sitting across from her, giving them a pointed look from over the top of her glasses.

“It’s safer in here. I’m not going to get caught in a dung bomb explosion or worse,” Keira replied.

“And I deal with this kind of stuff every day when I’m home, can’t I have a little bit of a break,” Charlie pleaded.

“Besides, there are other Prefects who can handle it, ones who are on duty right now. We’re on break,” Keira added. Rowan sighed but dropped it, resuming reading her book.

“So, how was everyone’s summer,” Andre asked in an attempt to change the subject to a less anxiety provoking one. The small fraction of their group of friends began to share their summer holiday stories, the popular Hufflepuff even managing to join them from her busy task of greeting and catching up with essentially everyone on the train (she was the most popular person in Hogwarts for a reason), sometime during Rowan telling everyone about her time on her family’s tree farm.

When it was Charlie’s turn to talk about his summer he had to admit it was bittersweet with Bill leaving for Egypt. He didn’t mean to bring the train compartment down but he missed his brother and they all missed their surrogate older brother. Or crush in Rowan’s case. And as proud as his family obviously was for him becoming a Curse-Breaker and achieving his dream, of course they all missed him and worried about him, especially their mum. But he promised to write them often and so far had kept his promise, writing to them almost every day, mainly to assure their mum he was safe and eating and had clean clothes and he was okay. “You might get some letters from him too this year, who knows,” Charlie told them, trying to end on a positive note.

“What about you, Keira? How was your summer,” Penny asked, peering around the Gryffindor who sat between them.

“Fine,” Keira answered with a shrug. The rest of the compartment stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Just…fine? That’s it,” Penny asked with a frown.

Charlie didn’t want to pry or urge her to speak when, he assumed, bringing up the topic of Bill had upset her. She wasn’t one to normally show her emotions, at least not the negative ones, in front of others and only a select few had actually seen her stress, frustrated, and depressed, himself and Rowan being a part of the select few. Keira and Bill were close. Very close. Best friends. Partners. Family. And him graduating and leaving had to be just as hard on her as it was on him and the rest of the family, if not possibly harder. She had lost one brother and now it was sort of like she was losing another one. But he was sure Bill would write to her and keep in touch with her. Didn’t matter the distance between them, nothing would break their bond.

“You were gone a lot,” Barnaby finally spoke up when it was apparent Keira wasn’t going to say any more on the matter. “It was kind of lonely. Luckily Tonks and some of our other friends were around to hang out with,” he added with a grin, but it was obvious he missed her.

“Gone? Where did you go,” Penny asked curiously.

“Canada,” Keira answered. These one word answers were clearly starting to annoy the Hufflepuff as she narrowed her eyes at the Slytherin girl.

“And what were you doing in Canada,” Penny asked.

Keira shrugged as she stared out the window. “Stuff.” Charlie swore he saw her smirk briefly but she quickly hid it to continue messing with the Hufflepuff.

“Must have been really busy since I didn’t hear from you much over this summer,” Penny continued.

“Yeah, I was really busy,” Keira confirmed sincerely. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t write more often. To you and everyone. Plus travelling that much distance is exhausting,” she added.

Penny perked up once she got a genuine answer from the Slytherin that was also more than one word. “What was keeping you so busy? Something exciting?”

“More Curse-Breaking adventures,” Rowan asked, intrigued as well because she was also worried that she hadn’t heard much from her friend over the summer holiday but learning she was not the only one was a relief.

“Did you get a Thunderbird,” Barnaby asked excitedly, practically bouncing in his seat.

“Was it a guy,” Andre asked with a smirk, causing Keira to look over at him curiously. Why would he assume that? His suggestion seemed to capture everyone’s attention in the compartment as they looked over at him in shock over that possibility, since it never crossed any of their minds, before looking back at the Slytherin being questioned curiously.

“A guy. Twenty guys. You don’t know my life,” Keira replied with her usual sass. And while everyone else chuckled Charlie was filled with dread - he may have just missed the snitch and lost.

“World Cup is happening next year,” Andre announced excitedly to change the subject once again. “Teams are already competing for a spot.”

“Did you get offered a position, Andre,” Penny asked curiously. He was working towards playing professionally after all.

“No, unfortunately but they only choose a few select Keepers so it’s more difficult to get offered a position as one compared to say all the Chasers,” Andre explained.

“Guess that makes sense. One Keeper to three Chasers,” Penny replied.

“Right, but since this is the World Cup and not any normal match, games in the tournament can last for days or weeks! So they want to have two to three Keepers and a few lines of Chaser and Beaters to switch out so players can get some rest,” Andre continued to try and explain. “So teams may have nine Chasers but only two or three Keepers, so the odds are slim. I’m not taking it personally. Or letting it discourage me from playing professionally,” he assured.

“That’s good to hear,” Penny replied with a grin before Andre turned his attention to the red head next to her.

“While I may not have gotten an offer, someone here did…”Charlie tensed up slightly as all eyes turned to him.

“You got offered to play,” Rowan asked excitedly.

“Uh… yeah… I was offered a position for England,” Charlie admitted awkwardly, clearly a bit embarrassed by all this attention. Also because he knew when he told them he turned it down they were all going to throw a fit.

“Congrats! I knew you would, mate,” Andre congratulated proudly. “I can’t wait to watch you play and beat all those other teams and win, and oh you think you have fans now, wait until they see you -“

“I’m…not going to play for England,” Charlie interrupted nervously. But he didn’t want Andre to get himself all worked up only to be let down by his decision.

“What? But you said you got an offer to –“

“I did. But… I turned it down,” Charlie admitted.

“YOU DID WHAT?!?!” Charlie winced and looked down as the entire compartment yelled at him followed by a lot of scolding and questioning. He was afraid Andre might hit him in an attempt to knock some sense into him!

“Are you insane!? It’s an opportunity of a lifetime!”

“Why wouldn’t you want to play in the biggest Quidditch tournament in the world?”

“What is wrong with you?!”

“What?! What do you mean you’re not playing for England?” Charlie glanced over at the Slytherin next to him whose question, although a cry of surprise and outrage, was not as rage filled as others (Andre) but instead filled with disappointment. The look on her face confirmed the tone in her voice and Charlie’s heart began to ache slightly.

Keira had sat up when Charlie made his announcement, her feet dropping to the floor from the seat across from her. She was definitely not expecting him to say that. And she couldn’t hide the shock and disappointment from her face as she stared at him awaiting an answer, an explanation for his poor life decision, in her opinion.

“Can we all stop yelling, please!” The compartment went silent and for a brief moment everyone’s attention turned from the red head to Barnaby. “I know you’re not fighting but I still don’t like all the yelling,” he explained. The compartment quietly apologized to the Slytherin boy before turning their attention back to the Gryffindor Seeker.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself,” Andre demanded, folding his arms over his chest as he watched Charlie fixedly.

“It was an honor being asked and I am very grateful for the opportunity, like I told them, but… after thinking a lot about it and how much time and energy it would be asking of me, and travel, and everything it meant… it’s accepting a huge commitment and that means it would take time away from school and studying and working towards becoming a Dragonologist. It’s my dream to work with dragons and I’m not going to let anything jeopardize that, even Quidditch. And if my grades slip or I’m unable to master necessary spells and skills I need to be able to work with dragons I’ll never forgive myself.” His passionate speech seemed to settle the questions everyone in the compartment had, even if they were still disappointed in his decision.

An awkward silence fell throughout the train compartment until Keira finally dared to break it. “I guess it’s for the best. I would hate to see the disappointed look on your face when Canada beats England and wins,” she told him with a small smirk.

Charlie blinked at her a couple times, not expecting some trash talking, before a small smile crept onto his face. She, and everyone else, may still be disappointed in his decision but at least they accepted it, or were at least trying to.

“You’re right, it is a big commitment and you have different goals for yourself and your future. It couldn’t have been an easy decision to make but I think it is the right one for you. Takes a lot of courage to be able to turn down an opportunity like that and maintain your focus on your aspirations that you know will make you happy overall instead of just for a moment,” Penny spoke up encouragingly.

“Thanks, Penny.” Charlie was really touched by the Hufflepuff’s words. He was very fortunate to have such understanding friends and it meant a lot to him that they thought so highly of him.

“Very focused on your career goals… Very ambitious… Very Slytherin of you,” Keira teased with a small smirk earning a small smirk and chuckle from the Gryffindor.

“Well, you know-“ Charlie started before being interrupted from the Ravenclaw across from him.

“Wait, hold on,” Andre said suddenly, holding up a hand as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. Charlie prepared for another tongue lashing but instead, to his surprise, Andre turned his attention to the Slytherin next to him. “You think Canada is going to beat England? And win?”

“Yeah, I do,” Keira replied confidently.

“Really? I’ll take that bet,” Andre replied just as cocky.

“Oh no, here they go,” Rowan sighed, shaking her head.

An evil, mischievous grin spread across the Slytherin’s face. “Are you sure? Without Charlie they don’t really have much of a chance to win, do they,” Keira pointed out with a smirk before looking at the Gryffindor Seeker. “So really I should thank you for turning down playing for England. Makes England far less of a threat.”

“Your maple drinking team is the nonthreatening one,” Andre barked suddenly.

“Alright you two, calm down.” Penny attempted to calm the two Quidditch obsessed friends down. This was not the first time they got into passionate arguments over Quidditch teams and players and it wouldn’t be the last. She had a feeling this was going to be a long year with the World Cup coming up.

“Hey! Maple is delicious,” Keira snapped back. Not exactly the point but still she felt she needed to defend it.

“It really is. She brought me back pure maple sugar candies – those things are amazing,” Barnaby informed the compartment blissfully.

“Did someone say maple sugar candy?” The compartment’s residents all turned to look at the new voice that graced them with their presence. Jae stood in the now open doorway of the compartment with a bag of what they all assumed was full of some of his merchandise slung over his shoulder.

“Hey Jae,” the group greeted prompting Jae to go into his sales pitch. The train ride to Hogwarts was a long one! They needed snacks, rarer ones they couldn’t get from the Honeyduke’s cart, and things to keep them busy! Plus now was the best time to get their hands on last minute school supplies, like auto-answer quills, before they arrived at Hogwarts. And since they were his friends he’d promise to give them a deal… He had a bag full of stuff for everyone! Like Santa except they had to pay him…

“We’re fine, Jae, thanks though,” Charlie answered. Every day that kid pitched him something, being roommates, so he had gotten used to turning him down without any feeling of guilt.

“Alright but if you do decide you want anything, you know where to find me. And speaking of maple sugar candy, I believe we have our own deal to make,” Jae told the Slytherin girl who sighed and stood up to grab her own bag from the overhead luggage compartment.

“Keira! Have you become one of Jae’s suppliers,” Penny asked, sounding rather shocked by this turn of events.

“He asks me to bring him some candies and snacks from Canada that he can’t get here to sell. It’s not a big deal,” Keira assured.

“Yeah, and it’s not like I’m taking advantage. We’re splitting the profits,” Jae assured Penny as Keira grabbed a package out of her bag and began to hand it over to him. “70-30.”

Keira paused at Jae’s distribution percentage and quickly pulled the package back to her before Jae could get his hands on it. “70-30? It’s supposed to be 50-50.”

“Did we decide on that though? I mean, I am the one doing all the work, making all the deals, doing the sales pitching, putting myself at risk by carrying the merchandise around so if I get caught that’s it,” Jae debated.

“And I’m the one who smuggled these in for you and without me you wouldn’t have any merchandise to sell,” Keira pointed out.

Jae frowned and considered her point. “Fair enough. 60-40.” Keira’s eyes narrowed at the shady dealing Gryffindor. But since she knew he did this to get money to send back to his mum she didn’t mind him getting the majority of the profits. Besides, she had enough money.

“Alright, deal,” Keira agreed before they shook hands and she handed over the package to him.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Jae said with a smirk before placing her package in his bag. “I’ll come back around later and see if you guys want anything.”

“You could also come back just to say hi and hang out with us because we’re friends,” Penny pointed out.

“I would, Penny, but I’m working,” Jae pointed out.

“You know, if you put in half as much effort into your school work as your do with this little business of yours you could be top of the Gryffindor students in your year,” Penny informed him.

Jae blinked at her a moment before bursting out into laughter. “Oh Penny, I had no idea how funny you were! Studying about plants and writing essays on Goblin Rebellions doesn’t help me, but perfecting my business skills and making money does.” And with that the shady dealing Gryffindor took his leave to get more sales, closing the door to the compartment behind him.

“There goes all the pure maple candy,” Barnaby sighed, looking down in disappointment. That was short lived, however, as suddenly a box of the candy he was just mourning plopped down in his lap. “Maple candy,” he exclaimed excitedly with a grin.

“I wouldn’t give him all of it,” Keira assured. “Have to save some for ourselves. For free,” she added. Keira began distributing some more candy and snacks she brought back with her from her visits to Canada around the compartment. “Oh, you know who may like some of these? Talbott.” Since, thanks to Penny, she learned he had a bit of a sweet tooth. “I’m going to go find him,” she announced, standing up. “Besides, I have to do my rounds soon anyway. Tonks and the rest of them better take a break from their mayhem.”

“I’ll go with you,” Penny said, standing up as well. “I want to go check on Beatrice.” Of course she did. She was going to be even more overprotective of her little sister after what happened last year and no one blamed her.

Barnaby stood up suddenly as well and wrapped Keira in a tight bear hug. “Thanks, Keira! You’re the best!”

The Slytherin girl blinked in surprise before laughing slightly and reaching up to pat Barnaby on the back a couple times. “Thanks, Barnabas. Any time.” After their hug, Barnaby took his seat and began devouring the maple candy while the two girls left the compartment.

As soon as the door to the compartment closed, Andre looked over at the Gryffindor with a devilish smirk.

“No –“ Charlie started.

“So….” Andre started innocently.

“Don’t –“ Charlie warned.

“You two-“

“I’m not talking about this right now with you,” Charlie informed him.

For a brief moment Charlie honestly thought Andre had dropped it but he just lulled him into a false sense of security. “So do you think she has a boyfriend back in Canada,” Andre asked suddenly. “Maybe it was just a summer fling,” he suggested as Charlie groaned and slumped over to thump his head against the wall of the train. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think she actually dated or did anything with twenty guys,” Andre added, trying to make Charlie feeling better…or mess with him more, Charlie wasn’t sure, but it didn’t help him feel any better and instead let out another groan. “Could always ask her roommate,” Andre suggested with a smirk, glancing over at Barnaby who was preoccupied with stuffing his face full of candy.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Charlie attempted to say but Andre just spoke over him like he wasn’t even listening.

“Hey, Barnaby. Do you know what Keira was busy doing in Canada this summer,” Andre asked curiously.

“She went to see her family over there,” Barnaby replied after a moment. “And… I know there was something else… but I forgot.” The Slytherin paused a moment to think. “I think it’s supposed to be a secret. So guess it’s good that I forgot,” he laughed.

“That’s it? You can’t remember anything else,” Andre urged prompting Barnaby to think hard once again.

“Umm…. I think I remember her mentioning someone named Patrice?” Charlie and Andre shared a look at Barnaby’s possible recollection.

“Is that…a woman or a man,” Charlie eventually, carefully asked.

“It depends,” Rowan spoke up from behind her book, the boys forgetting she was even there for a moment since she was so quiet! “Typically in English it’s a feminine name but in French it’s a masculine name.”

“Well that doesn’t help much,” Andre sighed. Charlie still wasn’t sure if Andre was actually trying to help him or if he just liked messing with him. Probably both. But guess he should appreciate his friend taking an interest. Unfortunately, none of this made Charlie feel better or clear up anything for him.

After Keira returned to their compartment, with Tonks in tow – whether she came as a friend or as a prisoner from getting caught in her mischief making while Keira was on rounds was unknown – Charlie left to go on his rounds.

“Did you find Talbott and give him some candy,” Rowan asked curiously.

“I did. I think he was happy. I told him where we were sitting and he said he might come by,” Keira replied as she took her seat back across from Barnaby and next to the window.

The group of friends chatted idly, quietly read or watched the scenery go buy, and snacked on their various snacks. Charlie’s mum of course made her children plenty of delicious homemade snacks, as did Penny’s mum, and they were nice enough to share with their friends. Although Keira also joked she might go shake down Percy for more. At least Charlie thought she was kidding…

Rowan even attempted to hone her teaching skills by discussing what she was reading about and quizzing her friends but that did not last long since they decided they weren’t even at Hogwarts yet and they would have plenty of lectures and homework and studying this year so they wanted to continue to enjoy the last bit of their summer holiday; although of course Rowan thought this was fun! Penny came back for some time but left again to check on her sister once again, and once again no one was going to blame her for her overprotective nature. Honestly, the fact that she didn’t keep Beatrice chained to her was astounding. Jae also returned and attempted to sell them some of his merchandise once again but they all refused; however, they did manage to get him to stay and hang out for a while before he continued with his side hustle, taking Andre’s place as Andre went to visit with some other people for a moment.

It was hard having so many friends and such small compartments on the train and they did their best to squeeze in – it became like a revolving door of friends in an attempt to get to sit and hang out with each of them during the ride up to and from school. They basically needed their own train car at this point.

Eventually, the part of the eight hour train ride came where everyone began to get tired, or aka: nap time. Tonks leaned against the compartment wall, snoring slightly as she dozed. Jae pulled out a pillow from some unknown magical place to help him sleep, apparently needing that break from the hustle and finding the perfect place to do it with them, while Rowan fell asleep in her classic style with an open book across her lap and her glasses askew on her face. Keira meanwhile had fallen asleep with her arms folded and legs still propped up on the seat across from her next to Barnaby. At some point she slowly began to fall over and ended up using Charlie’s shoulder as a pillow – something that was becoming a bit of a habit – which he of course didn’t mind and instead gazed down fondly at her with a small smile from his newest book on dragons as she slept peacefully, reminding him of other times he had the privilege of watching her sleep over the last couple years.

“Hey, Barnaby,” Charlie called out softly to the only other person awake in the compartment, possibly due to all the sugar candy he ate earlier. Barnaby looked up from his own book on magical creatures where he was probably more admiring the pictures rather than reading it. “What does etrall mean? Keira said it earlier…”

Barnaby frowned quizzically as he repeated the word under his breath a few times. Was this some sort of trick question? “Oh! Do you mean étoile?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Charlie confirmed. “Couldn’t quite remember it. Do you know what it means?”

“Don’t worry, I have that problem all the time,” Barnaby assured when Charlie apologized for not remembering. “Étoile means star.”

“Star,” Charlie repeated before looking over as he heard voices coming from their compartment doorway.

“Looks like it’s full,” Penny observed. “I’ll go sit with Beatrice and come back later,” she assured with a smile as Andre continued to stare at Barnaby.

“You speak French?!” Barnaby smiled proudly up at the Ravenclaw who was astounded to learn this new bit of information. He shook his head as he slowly closed the door and went to go find somewhere else to sit for the time being and needing time to process that Barnaby, who he thought had a hard time with English, apparently spoke two languages! Maybe more! Barnaby continued to grin proudly as he resumed looking back at his book.

Charlie’s gaze once again turned to the sleeping Slytherin on his shoulder, his eyes softening as he admired her a moment. “Star,” he repeated again softly, the memories of asking her to the Ball last year during her Astrology class and dancing with her under the stars before they shared their first, and only, kiss playing in his head. Maybe he hadn’t lost after all. Maybe he still had a chance.

A/N: I know the song I’m referencing isn’t the best to use for a romantic relationship (since it’s about drug addiction) but it has some great lines I think that are perfect for them (it talks about a dragon okay?! =p) I’m going to continue using the lyrics throughout each part that I think correspond to the mood.

Again, apologize for the rough editing and that I have a problem being brief... Too many commas, too many adjectives/details... I’m sure there’s a support group out there somewhere =p

I decided to make a sort of series instead of just one about them admitting their feelings because I have a lot of ideas that happen this year. I also wanted to finish Year 5 fics before getting into Year 6 but this has been sitting around waiting to be posted and I love writing the sibling banter with the Twins so I’ve been excited to get this posted and this series started - so many ideas! But I will try to get the last Year 5 fic written and out soon too I just haven’t had any motivation to write it, all my inspiration has been taken up by Year 6! (I’ve also been looking into AO3 and Wattpad to post my fics on as well so if anyone has any experience with these platforms please let me know =) )

I hope you enjoyed, hope you laughed, and if you did please let me know which parts you enjoyed and laughed at the most! As always feel free to comment and/or reblog with your thoughts and comments and let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list (and I’m sorry if I forgot anyone, I have to find a better way to do this!)! And as always my Masterlist is linked in my bio =)

Thank you for reading! 😄 ❤️

Tag List: @sly-vixen-up2nogood @sungoddessra @cinnamoncam @bexeris @urban-eagle @thatbritishcanadiangirl @abravelittlefangirl @justducky0423 @tatlikar @otpshipper93

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goodvibesatpeace · 5 years

Text

Dealing with energy vampires

Energy. It’s the very strength and vitality we require to live a dynamic, driven and determined life. We all have it and we all need it, yet many of us find ourselves lifeless and lethargic by the end (and sometimes at the beginning), of the day.Life is precious and unpredictably short-lived.

It’s no wonder then, that many of us drag ourselves through each day miserable and melancholic with the thought that we could be living much better lives.Throughout the ages, high-energy has been associated with happy, vivacious people, and low-energy with depressed and apathetic people.

Unfortunately, psychosomatic medicine has shown a strong link between the mind and body, meaning that the less energy we possess, the more prone we’ll be to suffer from illnesses such as depression, anxiety and other mood disorders.

It’s true that the healthy and happy person is one filled with energy. Without energy, how can we fulfill our dreams, pursue our goals and overcome our obstacles? Without energy, how can we hope to truly achieve anything of meaning or significance in life? It’s true that some people naturally possess more energy than others, but have you ever considered why? Certainly, genetics play a role, but more importantly the environment around us does as well.

EVERYTHING IS ENERGY

If you want to find the secrets of the universe, think in terms of energy, frequency and vibration. ~ Nikola Tesla

At a sub-atomic level, all that exists in life is composed of vibrating atoms, or pure energy. Even incorporeal things such as our thoughts, emotions, instincts and sexual drives can be said to be composed of energy. So essentially, we live in an ocean of motion, and like in the ocean – or any environment on earth for that matter – there are both predators and prey.

ENERGY VAMPIRES

In life, there are just some people who tend to drain us of energy very quickly. If you’re a Highly Sensitive Person, or an Empath, you will be very aware of who sucks your energy and when.

However, not all of us are as sensitive or in-tune with our bodies, and this can be difficult and confusing to deal with. While some people argue that Energy Vampires are people who can’t sustain their own life force in a positive manner, others speculate that Energy Vampires are well-meaning and normal, yet naturally overbearing people. The point of this article, however, is not to delve into the psychology of the Energy Vampire, but to identify and explore ways to strengthen and energize our lives in light of them.

There are two types of Energy Vampires:

Physical Energy Vampires

Some people are not able to continue on in this life without taking energy from those around them whether they know it or not.

They often have emotional or mental issues that drain them causing them to feed off of the energy of others.

An energetic part inside of this person attaches itself to you, and sets up the whole thing. This could be any person in your life a coworker, friend, family member, ETC.

Non-Physical Energy Vampires

These types of vampires often go undetected and enter our lives with ease. They are opportunists who will attach to energy siphons that another human is using.

They hit the hardest when you deal with something like trauma, injuries, addiction, and even extreme fear

HOW TO IDENTIFY THE ENERGY VAMPIRE

You will experience the following symptoms of being:

Overwhelmed

Stressed

Physically ill (e.g. headaches, body aches, etc.)

Mentally or physically exhausted

Irritable and/or anxious

You may notice that the Energy Vampire displays many of the following characteristics:

Big ego, e.g. loves to debate, argue and pick fights.

Aggressive or passive-aggressive tendencies.

Paranoia.

Resentment and anger issues.

Narcissism

Melodramatic behavior.

Whining and complaining.

Bitching and gossiping.

Insecurity, e.g. the constant need for reassurance and acceptance.

Manipulative behaviors, e.g. guilt tripping, emotional blackmail etc.

Jealousy.

Energy Vampires are, in most cases, takers rather than givers who gain free therapy sessions with their family, friends, lovers, colleagues and even children and strangers who are on the receiving end.

It’s also good to realize that Energy Vampires are not always necessarily human beings. They can also be situations or even physical objects in your life. Examples include:

The internet

The TV.

Other electronic devices (e.g. the radio, mobile phone, etc.)

Public situations (e.g. crowds, parties, train stations, shopping centers etc.)

Animals (e.g. neurotic pets)

The hardest thing about suffering at the hands of an Energy Vampire is when they are part of your family or friends circle. How can we regain our vitality in such energy-sucking relationships?

Sure you may be the prey, but there’s no use in playing the role of the victim. To better your life you need to do something. Here are some suggestions:

1. STOP MAKING PROLONGED EYE-CONTACT.

I’ve personally found that this is one of the biggest energy absorbers. The more eye-contact you make, the more you engage with the other person and what they have to say. Only occasional eye-contact is necessary in this instance.

2. SET A TIME LIMIT.

Your time is precious as well, and it’s not necessary for you to sit around for 1 or 2 hours having your energy zapped and brain numbed. According to your energy level, set a limit of 5, 10, 15, 20 minutes where you can give your focus to the person, and no more.

3. LEARN NOT TO REACT.

This is very important. The Energy Vampire feeds off the reactions of others, fueling them to continue on interacting with you. It’s important for you to learn how to be neutral in your interactions with others, meaning that the display of overly positive or negative emotions should be monitored carefully.

4. LEARN NOT TO ARGUE OR CONTRADICT.

Yes it’s tempting, but in the long run you can’t change other people unless they change themselves first – the more you resist them, the more they will resist (and drain) you.

5. GO WITH OTHER PEOPLE.

Approaching the Energy Vampire with 1, 2 or 3 other people will help decrease the level of effort expended, and attention received. For this to work you need to ensure that the additional people aren’t psychic leeches either.

6. LISTEN MORE THAN TALK.

A lot of the time Energy Vampires simply want and need a listening ear. The more you talk, the more energy you tend to lose (especially if you’re introverted). Using words such as “why”, “when” and “how” will encourage the psychic sucker to do most of the talking, which in turn will help preserve your energy.

7. TRY STICKING TO LIGHT-HEARTED TOPICS.

Your conversations don’t need to be depressive and oppressive. Take control when necessary and change the topic of conversation to something more light and simple.

8. VISUALIZE.

Many people claim that visualizing protective light/energy shields around them helps to deflect psychic fatigue, and maintain a neutral and calm state of mind. Try it some time.

9. AVOID WHEN POSSIBLE.

This is not always possible, but is a simple and straight-forward technique to assist in your self-preservation. I don’t recommend this as a consistent resolution, as the less you come in contact with the Vampire/s the less opportunity you’ll have to develop, and put into practice, a useful and necessary life skill.

10. CUT OFF CONTACT.

This is the last resort. Sometimes for your own health and happiness, you need to make difficult decisions regarding who you choose to surround yourself with. In the end, if you continue to suffer, the best option may be to simply cut ties and move on.

11. MEDITATE

Sometimes meditation really can solve this issue. Give yourself some time to break away from the chaos and recenter yourself. It works wonders for keeping negative energy and stress away!

12. STOP TRYING TO FIT IN

When you shrink yourself to fit into a group you are allowing yourself to be walked on. You never need to be less than what you truly are for sake of being accepted.

13. STOP TALKING TO PEOPLE THAT TALK AT YOU INSTEAD OF TO YOU

People who leave you feeling drained after phone calls or in person visits should not be apart of your life.

14. STOP LETTING PEOPLE MAKE YOU FEEL GUILTY FOR NOT LIVING UP TO THEIR EXPECTATIONS

JUST BE YOURSELF, YOU ARE ENOUGH!

15. STOP LETTING OTHER PEOPLE WALK ALL OVER YOU

Doing the things other people want you to, even when you don’t want to is not right. You should never let people manipulate you into doing things for the wrong reasons.

16. STOP HAVING MEANINGLESS SEX

You should be sleeping with someone who loves you as you do them, not someone who you know is using you. Meaningful sex is the best sex.

17. STOP STAYING IN TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS BECAUSE THEY ARE FAMILIAR

18. STOP STAYING IN ABUSIVE SITUATIONS

Remember that in all of this you could also be stealing someone’s energy to combat the loss of your own.

If you want to make sure you are not stealing the energy of others maintain a good sense of self-love and do not let your inner strength die off.

You are Worthy... You are Enough

Much love to all... go in peace my beautiful friends 💕💕💕

Protect your energy!

#empath #energy #vampire #energy vampire #protect #meditation

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4am-blackbirds-blog · 5 years

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Like Profound/Dark Music? This Post Is for You. (Also, mild MBTI)

What Is Profound Music?

Personally, I look for profundity in my music. That is mostly my entire criteria besides having it sound relatively pleasing to the ear, and even that has exceptions in the case of some truly distorted tracks.

What does it mean though for something to be profound? If a top 40 pop song makes a declaration about how love is difficult, is that any less profound than an artist weaving complex metaphors about their love losing themselves to an addiction? I think profundity can be both of these things- ultimately, I think what makes something deep, profound, and interesting, is when a critical thinking question is asked. A critical thinking question is any question that probably doesn’t have one right answer, that can be seen and interpreted from many perspectives. It might invoke feelings in us, make us think of things we have never thought of, or be relatable to us on a level we didn’t know existed in us before. It may attempt to answer a question about love or pain or the world we didn’t even know we had, or knew we had but didn’t necessarily know that anyone else shared. If a song talks about love being difficult, it is profound if it asks why love is difficult. If the song talks about loving someone with an addiction, the implied questions might be Why is addiction so unfair? Why did I have to fall in love with this person? What do I do now? The uncertainty that comes with questions with no right answer forces us to feel this uncertainty and to think about all its possible answers and implications. The more we are inflicted with these two things, the more deeply we feel and the more invested we are in thinking about it is what gives music, and any other art, that personal profundity which is what I feel makes something worth listening to.

But… No One Else Feels That Way

If you share this view, or some version of it, you may be wondering why popular music so often feels less profound. If it invokes an emotional response, it is fleeting. If it invokes a question, the questions have simple answers. Sometimes, there are no questions in it at all – often because they are supposedly answered in the song. The artist simply blames another person or fate for their problems. Or they talk about having a goal that they are sure to reach. It is especially difficult if we cannot relate to their experiences, because then, aside from the catchy beats, why listen to that music at all?

It is easy to be critical of popular music. The issue is though, we in turn are being critical of the people who genuinely enjoy that music. And if you have ever tried to convince someone with different taste from you that your music is superior, or even tried to explain why you like it so much, you probably know how difficult, and often impossible, that well-meaning goal is. Rationally, the only option is to “agree to disagree” and that is pretty much correct. But instead of being left feeling unsatisfied, and probably if you like the deeper, darker, and/or more emotional music, being left feeling misunderstood and even rejected or crazy – it may help to understand why that person will never like the music that means so fucking much to you.

Why Most People Don’t Like It

So here are my thoughts and observations.

People choose, often subconsciously, to experience different levels of profundity. At some point, they drop off exploring the questions any further. For some, the statement that “love is difficult” is enough for them. They understand it enough for it to be useful in their lives and feel no desire to pursue it further.

And that is perfectly okay. Here’s why.

In my experience, these types of people feel no desire to feel and philosophize with music because their attention and energy is directed elsewhere. They tend to be the doers of the world. The people who prefer what they can learn from their own experiences, the physicality of the world, and/or more factual, answerable questions.

Myers Briggs would call them “sensors” and they make up almost 70% of the population. I won’t go into the details of what that means or all of the exceptions because there certainly are some. Nor will I go into the function stacks here because this is already starting to sound like jargon. I am simplifying, hopefully not misunderstanding. Not all sensors are necessarily this way, but it’s safe to say the majority are at least most of the time. The 30% who fall on the other side of the spectrum as intuitives don’t all enjoy the more profound philosophical music either. My INTP sister has no patience for my “whiny” Bright Eyes masterpieces or “mopey” Sujan Steven’s Carrie & Lowell because although she is very philosophical, she prefers to question thoughts rather than feelings and prefers things to have concrete answers. Although for example, she might be interested in music that seeks to answer some question about how unfair society is for LGBTQ+ people. My INFP mother doesn’t shy from the profound necessarily either, but she prefers her music to have a more hopeful and happier outlook due to her desire for kindness and harmony in life which limits the more profound questions, which we have to admit due to their uncertainty, are often dark and even despairing.

Anyway, popular music is often for the doers.

Because most people prefer this more concrete, answerable world, music isn’t necessarily less important to them, it just has a different function. Because they prefer this outward world, they use music to aid them in their quest to getting things done.

Working out? Look for something with lots of energy. Emotions in music such as rage in metal or the goal-getting motivation in rap can be useful for this because it stokes, fleetingly, that same emotion which fuels the workout with its power. At the same time, it doesn’t require a whole lot of profundity and thus thinking and feeling deeply which might hinder the workout and make the person want to sit on their rep bench and try to answer deep questions about the world. Similarly, if someone is going about their day full of errands they may want something positive with a boppy tune to fuel their running around from place to place. Listening to something deep may exhaust them out of their work.

For the people that listen to these kinds of music exclusively or most often, this may be why they love them. It feeds the things they value which are getting things done, having a good time with friends, building a six pack, etc. And who could possibly fault someone for that? Those are all amazing, worthwhile things that make the world go round, keep us happy and motivated, and all of that good stuff. Even if you like deeper music, you probably listen to these kinds of things at least sometimes so you too can experience motivation and good times.

Profound Music

So what about profound music? If it doesn’t help us be happy or get things done, what is it good for? Well, our culture, because it is made mostly of sensors, unfortunately makes us ask this question.

There is hope though. Art is a safe place for the philosophizers of the world to share the uncertainty of the unanswerable questions they experience along with the fear, sorrow, and pain these questions bring with them. That means, those of us who are also philosophizers, or those of us who wish to expand our understanding of the world to include a little philosophizing and profundity, can consume the art put out into the world by these often tortured artists or artists recovering from tragedy. With music, we really get to feel their emotions and hear their thought process, thus living for ourselves that circumstance, event, or mental state they are singing about. While we listen, we are basically forced to experience that profundity. For those of us to which that is not important or unnecessary, we might shut the music off. But for those willing to brave the dark hole of someone else’s mind, and dark hole of our own, we experience a kind of strange, perhaps even inexplicable feeling of home.

Finally, the things we have been feeling are experienced by another, are explained from another perspective, are attempted to be answered by someone else. We feel understood. If it is not an experience we’ve had, we understand the feelings and can have empathy for the struggles of the artist. We even begin to understand our entire world more deeply, how humans are all connected through our emotions and our deep-rooted fears about the questions we cannot answer.

Personally, it evokes a kind of dark euphoria when I listen to a song that I relate to or can empathize with deeply. The deep human connection that I have craved from a sensing, external, fast-paced world for so long – it is finally here, with me, in my bedroom. I know this artist so extensively, so deeply, just from a one-hour album and I feel his or her fear, pain, lust, sorrow, love. Finally feeling that one is “not alone” is the cliché so commonly circulated as important for mental health and the like, but this is more than that. Here, in this glorious space of connection, I am safe inside of my fear. The darkness is still darkness, the fear is still scary, the questions are still not answered. But my soul is housed inside the soul of another, and theirs, although they do not know it, is housed inside mine. And with that connection comes a sense of safety and finally coming home that is truly beautiful and for a moment, even fufilling.

Implications

Although I am not a music artist, and perhaps you aren’t either, I hope that sharing our love for profound music can connect us too. We don’t have to know each other. If you read this, I don’t know you from Eve. But like the artist and the listener, you have a piece of me now, and I, although I don’t know you, have a piece of you too. If this does not scare you, you have a strength that others do not have. You have an ability to connect that others may not understand. Although, they will probably never envy or appreciate your taste in music, they will do so for this inner strength.

You like profound music because you, yourself are profound. This does not mean your music taste, or you, are better than everyone else. You’re probably not better at doing the real world all too well for example. But the important thing, is you aren’t nuts. In this world, you may be a bit of an alien but that’s alright. The last time I went to a Wonder Years concert, I was so emotionally invested, I looked like I was singing a really powerful hymn at a church. My lovely ISTP friend thought I was insane and was completely bored the whole time. But I wasn’t insane (at least, not completely) and neither are you.

You are beautiful, just like the music you love.

#mbti #dark music #psychology #essay #profound #dark #darkart #music #emo #emotions #beauty

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filmsunstuck · 5 years

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Why are artists the only people we encourage to have feelings?

While rewatching the 2009 MGM remake of “Fame” recently (I know, why do I do this to myself, etc), I found myself watching a trope that I feel like I’ve seen a thousand times before, but had yet to be articulated. Malik (Collins Pennie) is sitting in a room while all of his peers face him. He has just finished detailing the death of his sister, when his teacher jumps in and asks him to expand not on the facts of her passing, but on his feelings surrounding the event. “But I wanna know how you felt, and I think you need to know how you felt,” Mr. Dowd tells him, on the spot, in front of 20 other students. Malik blows up and leaves, but not before his superior informs him that “theater is not a place for cowards.” And just like that, the formula has become clear: learning how you feel and expressing that feeling is is the opposite of cowardice, it is bravery.

This specific type of character development is found in other films too: in “Raise Your Voice” (2004), Terri is unable to process the death of her brother until she shakes off her overpowering father and starts pursuing vocal training. In “Brigsby Bear” (2017), James uses film to learn not only the truth about his upbringing, but to come to terms with it as well. Hell, basically the entire premise of the “High School Musical” franchise is Troy learning to be okay with having feelings, while simultaneously exploring his newfound talent in theater. Time and time again, the idea that it is imperative for creatives to listen to their hearts crops up, even sometimes allowing those around them to be enlightened by whatever final performance takes place, usually with lots of lens flares.

Morality themes are often times found in films targeted at children, and I think the examples I listed above are emblematic of that. However, learning to embrace emotion is nearly always presented in the context of a creative field: sing a song, perform a dance, produce an album, deliver a monologue, direct a film, hit the drums REALLY hard. I can’t think of any other genre, kid-centered or not, where the acceptance of one’s internal state is not just tolerated, but required. Did anyone in “Remember the Titans,” “Hoosiers,” or “Rudy” tell a kid that they need to go home and practice until they don’t just know how to do something, but why, and to verbalize that for the people around them? Has anyone in the entire MCU had a publicly therapeutic moment, where their emotions were considered a true necessity for success? I’m talking more than a knowing glance or an offscreen change of heart. These are common moments in theater kid movies, and at best subtleties everywhere else. And that’s kind of worrying to me.

It makes logical sense that if your job is to create things out of thin air, you probably need to keep tabs on your brain. Emotions provide the juice for that motor; they allow your brain the energy to travel off in some strange direction, where hopefully you can make some new connections and get the job done. But most of us will never have to be creative in our day-to-day lives. Sure, we could get fancy with some problem solving skills, maybe buy an adult coloring book or two, but there isn’t much actually encouraging us to keep in touch with our current mental state. Too often, most of us view emotions as things to be handled at best or squashed at worst. Happiness is great, yes, but it can be quickly replaced with much more difficult responses like hurt or frustration or regret. And for those of us who were never taught the value of those things, they morph from quiet internal alerts to being issues in and of themselves. In essence, it becomes too easy to forget to actually feel your feelings.

Despite the gung-ho attitude provided by these films, creatives aren’t immune to this either. When your feelings guide your work, suddenly it can feel like currency. Once relying on creative energy for your livelihood, feelings are wasted if not utilized, but difficult to utilize under so much pressure. And when the tank runs out and the motivation isn’t there, it can be tough to jump start that engine again. There are reasons why so many people experience writer’s block, why so many creators recommend if you’re gonna start a new venture to just start it, don’t wait for any particular spark of motivation. Because you have to learn to grind it out, even if you aren’t feeling it, and you may as well get used to it now. Plus, burnout is almost inevitable; making yourself vulnerable over and over is exhausting, tapping into your psyche all the time can very easily sap you of the energy you need to make that effort worth it, to turn it into a product. There’s a cycle in that mess of emotions, with lots of loops that turn in and around and behind each other, and creatives don’t always come out the other side loving that experience.

I find myself, as usual, in between these two poles. I am not creative as a profession, but I do have responsibilities that require creative energy. I co-run a website where I have to put out weekly content with varying levels of monotony involved, I write and podcast a few times a month for a different website, and I consume and analyze a lot of media in order to prepare myself for those roles. I’ve also been in therapy for a little over a year: long enough to know how much I intellectualize my emotions, but not long enough to have re-learned a healthy way of handling them. So when I heard Mr. Dowd later in the movie tell Malik that harnessing his feelings will not only make him a better person, but a better actor, part of me was ecstatic. “Finally,” I thought to myself, “a character who will learn to prioritize what he feels, who will actually process it.” But the longer I sat with it, the more I realized how untrue that is. Because Malik didn’t learn to forgive himself or become closer with his mother. No, in the next scene, he went onstage and bared his soul in front of the crowd, and they all cheered, and his arc ended. His struggle became his brand, and his own personal cycle began.

Unfortunately folks, if you are keeping score at home, you’ll find that my conclusion here is a bit of a downer. It seems to me that other genres don’t encourage this attitude for precisely the reasons that artists are: in those worlds, it’s not deemed necessary to accomplish a goal, and in the creative world, it is. To these films, it’s not about growing as a person, it’s about growing as a character, and those two things are not synonymous, and that’s a real shame.

To those too young to know this yet: learning to accept who you are, to understand what makes you tick, it doesn’t just affect how good you are at your job, or your love life, or how many friends you have. It affects every single aspect of your existence, it allows you to grow exponentially. It’s perhaps the most important thing you could ever do, if only because it is the first step you must take. And to those who already understand that: make sure you pass the knowledge along to someone who needs it. Knowledge only finds value when it is shared, and is probably the simplest way to create the highest impact.

Five years ago, I would have benefited greatly from knowing what I have learned about myself and how my brain works. Five years from now, self-reflection and embracing my emotions will allow me to feel more at home in my mind and body than i currently do. Whether I’m a damn creative or not.

#fame #movie analysis #movie review

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thedepthsremember · 6 years

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20 Questions: Choices fanfic writers edition

Tagged in this by @breaumonts! Thanks :D

1. When/what age did you start writing? In elementary school, I wrote and drew my own picture books, which at that age I definitely thought was the best thing to do forever. In middle/high school, there was some self-insert Spider-Man and Harry Potter fanfic that I hope stays buried forever. I picked it back up more regularly during an awful period in college where I lost my love of drawing (unfortunate, considering my major) but still needed to express somehow. 2. What inspired you to start? Similar to my art it's been a way to express myself, to tell my side of how I'm seeing things. A lot of the time it's like solving a puzzle, what was that character thinking? And then I just keep chasing that thought.

It weirds me out that writing feels more like..... excavating. Like it was there and I’m just uncovering it. Drawing doesn’t feel like that at all. 3. Where and when does inspiration usually strike you? I do a lot of driving, so usually then, or if I'm doing something repetitive at work and I can let my mind wander. While I'm getting a massage is a random one but I'm relaxed and my mind can just play without getting in its own way.

4. Where and when do you usually to write? Morning? Late at night? On the bus? In bed? Lately it's been my favorite way to procrastinate sleeping because it's like I'm being productive! Hahaaa

I'll write entire scenes in my head before I write anything down. Sometimes I'll dash down little parts on paper or in my phone to make sure I don't forget.

5. Do you listen to music while writing? If so what genre/playlist? A lot of chill video game instrumentals are a good default, unless I have a playlist or an artist I know will set the right mood. I'm pop trash so usually that'll fall to the background enough that I can focus. 6. Which category do you like best? Angst? Fluff? NSFW? Other? I would love to wrote more fluff, but it seems to tend towards a lot of angsting and anxiety with some humor thrown in, I guess because that's how I deal with my own thoughts. I do get to give them happy endings, so that's nice! 7. Which category do you find most challenging to write? Smut is really difficult and awkward for me, partly bc part of the appeal of the actual acts irl are they help me turn my brain chatter off, so it's hard to put that back into descriptions. Plus I'm just self conscious about how personal that is.

Also anything with an actual plot. I can give you moments and that's about it. 8. If you had to pick your favourite Choices book, which one would it be and why? TRR is the one that sucked me in and stole my soul for whatever reason, BUT I can also admit a lot of that is for what it could be. It's a good thought playground. Like Harry Potter.

Perfect Match is shaping up to be my jam, I live for sci fi and found families and all that "what is the nature of humanity" nonsense. It's like Dollhouse without being built on a base of creepiness.

I also really love the ILITW cast, enough that it balances out how much of a wimp i am when it comes to scary things. 9. If your Choices LIs were real, which one (and only one!) would you personally want to be with? I've said before that Damien from Perfect Match is the closest to my irl type, but right now I'm kind of exhausted of that "I'm too cool to like things" sort of dude. Idk let's give older Lucas (ilitw) a shot. He's motivated but has a playful side, we might balance each other out. Especially after he figures himself out more in college. 10. Do you share any physical characteristics with your Choices MCs? Pics/selfies optional :) Riley is small and ready to brawl and I've basically given her an idealized version of my body type when I draw her. Uhhh like half of the others end up being long haired blondes because even though that's not my hair anymore it was like that for most of my life. 11. Which MC do you share the most personality traits with? Perfect Match MC feels the closest, a lotta the other MCs are leader types, PM MC is like Alright yeah let's kick ass so we can go home and eat ice cream. Feels very purple Hawke.

TRR MC in her more absurd moments also feels very familiar. I have a story about the fancy hats. 12. Which Choices character do you feel you have the best grasp of in terms of personality? I get Drake bc that fucker is every guy I've befriended who then caught feelings because he's not used to being treated nicely. :| He also has a “the people I care about deserve the things I want more than I do" thing that I am only now realizing feels.... awfully familiar....... :| …...let’s move on.

13. What’s your favorite Choices pairing to write for? Obviously Maxwell x MC. I love pairs that have a good push and pull, where they can be silly but care about each other.

Sidedish of MC+Drake friendship because my wish fulfillment fantasy is those previously mentioned guys stop ruining a potentially good friendship with their moping and actually be a pal, dammit. 14. What is a pairing/s you hope to start writing for? Like anything else, lmao. More friendship stuff? Hana's only been in one of my fics which bums me out.

Pretty sure some Damien x MC and Hayden x MC will be coming now that PM2 is happening. Something with more ladies. Eleanor x MC from THOBM! Ghost gf fitting into the modern world has plenty of potential. 15. What do you hope to improve in your writing? Current struggle is I keep trying to write smut and then distracting myself with what happens before/after. Gah.

More actions / feelings. I feel like too much of my writing comes from dialogue with actions peppered in to meter the rhythm.

16. Any pet peeves related to writing? So. Words have always been a finicky thing for me. Things will make sense in my head, and then I say them out loud and realize people aren’t seeing things from the same spot. So sharing my writing is A VERY SELF-CONSCIOUS TIME.

In terms of the actual process: When I just wanna write something self-indulgent and I start actually trying, and then we're like 5 miles off track from the fun part. I also get pretty self-conscious that the OOC police or something is going to come for me. 17. Are you inspired by any IRL experiences when you write? Care to share? A lot of flaws or traumas I'll saddle my characters with are my own but tweaked, because I like the idea that someone can have them and still succeed. 18. Is there any particular piece of work you consider to be your ultimate writing goal? uhhhhh i. don't. know? If I could make someone laugh and cry in the same fic that's golden. 19. Did/do you write for any other fandoms? If so which ones? I have a bunch of drabbles for Dragon Age. I also just checked my ancient FF.net account to make sure the really old stuff is gone and found some Teen Titans and ATLA stuff I completely forgot about. 20. In your spare time (when you’re not writing) what other hobbies do you pursue? Art mainly, I'm back into digital for the first time since graduation (I majored in animation/illustration) so that's kind of exciting right now. VIDEO GAMES. I like to bake but my housemates have way more self control than I do, meaning I always end up eating most of whatever it is, so that's dangerous. I do like to work out. Share and tag fandom writers! @riseandshinelittleblossom and anyone else who wants to!

#vee life #meme me

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homogrimoire-archive · 3 years

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Exhausted Wings / Good Luck

Chapter 3: High Mind in the Sky / Two of Hearts

Clover and Robyn arrive in Atlas. Clover and Qrow finally kiss after like, what? About 13 k words? Gotta love slow burn.

With such disaster on the horizon, Clover would have hardly given any thought to his appearance, but with little else to do on the way back to Atlas he found himself judging his current attire as he looked for spare clothing that was his size in the ship’s supplies. A large gash could be found on the front and back of his uniform. The frozen blood, which also covered his pants, covered his back and made the uniform stiff and uncomfortable. In between the fabric, he could make out the mean scar that went down the middle of his chest. He imagined there was a slightly meaner one on his back, considering Harbinger’s shape. He didn't like how he got the scars, but if he were being honest with himself, he didn’t mind them. Scars are hot. Guys dig scars. Though Qrow was the only guy he wanted, and he imagined Qrow wouldn’t dig those two in particular. He would like to say that it was Tyrian’s fault, but he has to admit that he and Qrow had a lapse of judgement that fight. How could I be so blind?

He managed to find a pair of pants his size, the only one that was his size, but the shirts were either a size too big or a size too small. Strange. You think they would have restocked. They restocked the ships with supplies every other day, and yesterday was one of those days. It was just yesterday we were eating and joking together about Jacques’ arrest. He wondered how so much could change in so little time. He changed his pants and opted for a smaller shirt. He did a few stretches, and found it too restricting upon his movement. He quickly changed into the larger size. He hummed approvingly. Sure, the looseness meant the shirt would be easy for an opponent to grab, but he decided he would take his chances. He also tore off the sleeves and tied his red bandana back onto his arm. He never much liked sleeves. They were about halfway to Atlas now.

“What’s the plan boss?” Clover made sure to check that the officers were still knocked out. He would rather they didn’t hear this.

“Simple. You’ll say that we’re going to report the mission details to Ironwood, and hopefully, we’ll find team RWBY and her friends along the way. If they’re captured, we’ll have to take on Ironwood ourselves.” He hummed in agreement. He looked at the hole in the windshield that was patched with duct tape. He was lucky to have found some on the ship. It was rarely carried in the supplies because it was deemed unnecessary years ago.

“You know, this isn’t how I imagined you planning a coup. I always thought it would be in a safe house with your Happy Huntresses.” he joked.

“Oh no, we already did that. It was a back up plan in case Ironwood ever went too far. If we weren’t already doing this, I probably would've been flying up to Atlas right now with them. Unfortunately, they aren't here, so I’ll have to do it without them. They’ll forgive me if I bring them a video of me kicking Ironwood in the dick though.” He wasn’t sure she was joking, but knowing her, she probably wasn’t. Would I have been able to fight you then? … Definitely, unless Qrow was in my life, but even then…

“Hey, Robyn?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry. For acting like a dick. And not doing what was right.” She found herself a just a bit shocked. She knew he was a good person at heart, so the apology wasn’t too surprising.

“Apology accepted. Today, you’ll make amends, so thanks.”

“Don't thank me. If there’s anyone you should thank, its Qrow. He opened my eyes.”

“I guess I will have to thank your boyfriend when I see him.” He could feel a blush begin to arise at the mention of “boyfriend.”

“You're not gonna let that go, huh?”

“Not until you become Mr. Branwen. Then I’ll call him your husband.” He nearly tripped at the word “husband.” He could feel the red in his face now. An image of him and Qrow kissing in front of a beautiful background flashes his mind. Flower petals and clovers are falling as a crowd cheers. He touches his lips, wondering what it would feel like. She turned from the pilot seat just in time to catch the embarrassing moment.

“Oh wow, ha! You've got it worse than I thought.” She wasn't wrong, and he couldn’t fire anything back at her since she and Fiona were academy sweethearts. Just as he was about to speak, the comms came live. They were granted clearance to land.

“Well, here we go.” he said as he let out a long sigh. They immediately began speed walking out of the ship. An officer matched their pace, ready to take his orders.

“See to it that the men in there are taken care of. Miss Hill and I must speak to General Ironwood.”

“Yes Sir! But, um, General Ironwood has requested that he have no visitors at the moment.” Damn it.

“I’ll report to him later then. Do you have any information on the wanted criminals?”

“They were last reported in the academy, Sir!”

“Thank you. That will be all. You're excused.” With that, the officer left and Clover and Robyn began sprinting towards the academy. “Listen, there's a hidden vault under the academy holding the staff of creation, you can access through an elevator near Ironwood’s office. We have to get to him before he gets there. Only the biometrics of the specific people can open it, but you can bypass it with a code to enter your biometrics. I’ll send it to you right now in case we get split from each other.”

“Got it.” Just then, another explosion could be heard underground. While Robyn merely faltered, Clover tripped. “What was that?” That wasn't near the vault. That was near the maiden!

“We have to spit up. I have to make sure that the maiden is safe. You take care of Ironwood. I’ll explain later.”

“Alright.” She said, trusting her friend. With that, he sprinted to the maiden’s location.

“Neopolitan.” The name was seethed out in anger.

“You know her?”

“We haven't exactly heard good things.”

The four of them stood there, facing their silent foe, awaiting her move. This is taking too long! It was obvious the mute girl wouldn’t make the first move this time. With a battle cry, Nora led their charge against their enemy. She moved in for a hard swing, but found it blocked by a surprisingly strong umbrella. She felt it across her face as she was pushed to the side. She quickly got up and rushed towards Neo who was now dodging attacks from Juane and Ren as she got a hit in where she could.

“Hey! Get back here!” Knowing that the hammer’s hits would deal a great blow, she moved backward to dodge them. A downward slam missed. A strike upward missed, but Juane’s sword and Ren’s blades connected, leaving her off balanced. It was nothing she couldn't recover from, but a strong poke from behind was just enough to interrupt her and send her forward to meet the face of the heavy hammer. She flew upward and hit the ceiling flat on her back, but with the hammer raised in the air, she was able to land on it with her hands and launch herself towards the Oscar. Oh come on!

Using the momentum and her skill, she was able to launch herself to land behind Oscar and swiftly take the lamp, swiping at his feet to knock him off balance after. She quickly ran in the other direction, her goal achieved. Damn it!

“After her!” screamed Jaune. Just after she rounded a corner, they saw her flying in the opposite direction. To their surprise, Clover rounded the bend, lamp in hand. Just what we needed.

“Are you four alright?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned. That wasn’t what she expected. However, he wasn’t wearing his Ace Ops uniform, and had Qrow’s weapon, covered in dried blood. Immediately, they turned their weapons to him.

“What’s it to you?” Jaune said, wary of the man who could very likely be on his way to turn them in.

“Wait, please! I'm on your side!” He held out his arms with the lamp and weapon in his hands. “I know this doesn’t look good, but you can trust me. I-” he cut himself off as he threw the lamp towards them and raised the sword to block a kick from Neo. They ran to the fight, Oscar grabbing the lamp as they ran.

“Go! Find the Winter Maiden! She should be below us! Here!” He tossed them his scroll in between slashing at Neo and dodging a jab. “Use it on the elevator over there! Hurry!” With little reason to doubt him, they ran towards it. Nora, scroll in hand, turned to see Clover blocking Neo from pursuing them. Looks like Qrow did choose a good guy.

“Aaaaand, going down.” she said when the scanner accepted Clover’s ID. Just as the doors shut, she could make out a ring on his hand.

This girl’s a lot tougher than she looks! She was graceful, skillful, and powerful. Normally, she wouldn’t be this difficult a foe, but he was still getting used to the weapon. All Atlasian students were trained on how to use common weapon types, but he was rusty. He was also nowhere as graceful as Qrow with the weapon. It was a good thing she liked to fight in close quarters. It meant he could fight dirty. Its what had set him apart from the other students. He made use of every opportunity, applying his luck wherever he could and not allowing his opponents to take advantage of it.

After a series of back and forth attacks, he managed to get a key block with the sword as she swung her umbrella down. He quickly seized her weapon and kicked her away. He rushed her down, using the umbrella to jab and the sword to slash. At first, she managed to stay in sync with his blows, dodging and dancing around. However, a horizontal slash with the sword proved to be the wrong move. She jumped to land on it, disrupting his momentum, and with a backflip, delivered a sharp kick to his chin, followed by a frontflip to hit the top of his head. However, he slipped and fell backwards, subsequently pulling the sword from out under her. It caught her a bit off guard, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. She made sure to get her umbrella before backflipping to recover. She did a second one to make some distance, but had the misfortune to land on a heel, causing her to fall onto her back.

She heard footsteps advancing towards her, and opened her weapon in anticipation of an attack. She anticipated correctly, for the weapon’s covering blocked a downward slash from a scythe, followed by another. She could see that he was going for a swing upward as he spun to gain power. She closed her umbrella and latched a leg onto scythe's long handle, letting the swing pull her upward. She moved to land on his head, but just as she jumped off, she felt her ankle being grabbed. She was slammed to the floor with a thud. She only barely managed to roll out of the way of the scythe’s blade as it embedded itself into the floor beside her. The time it took to yank the scythe out was just enough for her to put some distance between them with a few flips but had landed wrong on her hand and ended up falling once more. She was leaning against the end of the hall now. She was about to raise her umbrella, but found that it wasn’t in her hands.

Clover had picked it up from the ground where she accidentally dropped it when he slammed her down. As she was falling back, he raised her weapon like a harpoon, took aim, and threw it with all his might, hoping to break her aura or at least do some big damage. It narrowly missed her head and instead pierced her hat and embedded itself into the wall. She removed the weapon from the wall and placed the hat back atop her head. He couldn't see her face as she rose up to her full height, even if it wasn’t much. Slowly, what appeared to be shards of pink glass covered her body. They receded to reveal Qrow. Qrow? The imitation let out a chill-inducing scream, and could now see that it was crying. At that moment, he felt himself lose some aura.

“Qrow, I'm sorry, I-” He could feel tears forming, though he did not notice, nor did he notice Harbinger as it clattered to the floor. He held an arm out to reach The Qrow as it was running at him full speed now, tears in the imitation’s eyes more visible than before. It punched him with a force so hard she shattered her own illusion. He flew down the hallway and skidded across the floor to end at an intersection. She was now running at him, anger clearly visible in her eyes Quickly, he got up and grabbed a capture device that was at his side and tossed it at her, but she shattered as it hit her. Where are you? He decided that getting Harbinger was advisable. He got up, and began to run towards it, but tripped as Neo hooked the crook of her weapon to one of his ankles. Harbinger was nearly within reach. As he tried to extend his arm out to grab it, his hand was stopped by a sharp jab that summoned a small grunt out of him. He looked up to see Qrow staring down at him. The face quickly turned to anger as it moved to stab his hand again, but the illusion shattered on impact. Illusions. They’re only illusions. Qrow isn’t here. That’s not him. Despite the reaffirmations, he couldn't shake the look on the illusion’s face off. He grabbed the scythe and picked himself up. As he got up, he could see Qrow down the hall once more.

“Qrow… ” He was running towards him now. As he ran, sword in hand, Clover extended an arm out and limped to him, scythe held in his other hand. His expression was pained, as if he had so much to say, but could never convey it properly. Just as the sword was about to connect, he moved swiftly out of its way and tossed another capture device. You won’t fool me thrice! It connected this time. He then dashed forward and brought down a heavy slash that shattered the illusion and slammed Neo into the ground, unconscious and aura low. Before he left to find the kids and the maiden, “I’m sorry, and I know they are too.”

Going down the elevator, he could still only see the pained look on Qrow’s face and the wretched cry that shook his body down to his soul. Did I really cause you that much pain? He brought Harbinger up to look at it. The sword was cleaner now that the dried blood had fallen off during the fight. Despite it causing his demise earlier, he felt no ill will towards the weapon. It was a piece of Qrow. He could never hate anything that was a part of Qrow. And without his pretty face to look at, the ring and weapon would have to suffice.

I love you too, Clover.

Shocked, he looked around in the small elevator to see if he could see the source of the voice. He briefly wondered if it could be another trick caused by the illusionist earlier, or some other foe, but knew she was incapacitated. Though he couldn't entirely rule out another foe, he had the gut feeling that it wasn’t a foe. The words felt too genuine, and sounded too much like him.

“I love you… ” he repeated. He wanted to hear the words and say them to Qrow in person. He knew he would. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash that shook the elevator, causing a light to go out and the elevator to stop. “Lucky me.” he sighed. He pried open the doors to find that the elevator had stopped perfectly at a floor. Lucky indeed.

Meanwhile, Robyn had made her way upward. Why the guards didn’t question her motive of “I’m here to help track down the fugitives.” was baffling to her. As the elevator finally opened to one of the higher floors near Ironwood’s office, she was met with the other Ace Ops bound in the middle of the room, unconscious. Team RWBY and her friends were nowhere to be found. By the time she found the elevator, entered her biometrics, and waited a looong time for the elevator to stop and reach the Relic’s sanctum, she found that team RWBY was already engaged in combat. She had seen videos of him in his hayday, but was still surprised to find that he was still standing his ground against the prodigious team. Looks like diplomacy failed. With Yang and Ruby fighting him up close, Blake attacking at mid-range and using the length of her weapon to support Yang, and Weiss supporting from behind with her Glyphs, Robyn decided to stick back and snipe.

She perched her self on a nearby pillar, and carefully studied their movements, locating the patterns and calculating the geometry. While she was waiting for the opportunity to strike, she could not help but be amazed at their teamwork. She imagined that they would have taken him down soon even if she didn’t show up. One, Two, Three! One shot ricocheted off Crescent Rose to hit the side of his head, another off the floor to hit him under his chin, and the last barely grazing his shoulder. Off balance, Ruby flew behind him to bounce off a glyph and knock him off his feet while Yang delivered a Burning punch that sent him crashing to the ground, aura shattering on impact.

“Its over General.” she could hear Ruby said as she jogged over. Desperate, he quickly raised his gun to fire a shot that did not find its mark. Robyn raised her weapon and shot the gun out of his hand, sending it to the abyss below. Exhausted, he fell unconscious. Before anything else could be done, a crash came from above, sending a figure slamming into the floor.

“THAT'S FOR MY GRANDMA!” came a shout. From the hole the projectile created, emerged Nora, eyes outlined by a glowing pink flame and lightning cackling all around her. Team RWBY and Robyn could see that the projectile was Cinder, eyes also aflame. Almost as if instinct, Ruby began to activate her Silver Eyes. Cinder, with barely any time to react, only barely managed to escape with minor injuries by flying through the walls to reach the cold outside, leaving a gaping hole.

“That won't be the last we see of her.” said Yang, shifting to a more relaxed pose as Nora floated down to them.

“Come on guys, let's go use that staff for something good.” She said as she led the way to the vault.

“What exactly are we gonna do with the staff?” questioned Robyn, curious to its purpose.

“Well, we’ll first have it lower Atlas, and then we’ll have it do something that will protect Atlas and Mantle.”

Robyn shrugged her shoulders. Whatever. It’s not like magic makes any sense. It’ll work out. They were half way there before they were interrupted by a callous voice.

“Not so fast little girl! I have a score to settle with you! Oh! And you too, Miss Hill!” said the man with a maniacal laugh. “How wonderful! I get to kill two nuisances at once! I really must thank our Goddess for this… festivity!” With a hyena’s laugh, he began to rush towards them.

“Nora! Go! We’ll handle him.” said Ruby, her voice as steady as ever. Yang and Blake used their weapons to maneuver so that they would be behind him as Ruby and Weiss faced him from the front. Tyrian ran towards them, firing his weapon at them and dodging shots from Robyn. The bullets were easily blocked. Very soon, the distance was closed and Yang and Blake moved in for the first hit, only to see the man shatter before their eyes as their weapons connected. Quickly, they all got in formation to cover each other’s backs. There weren't any enemies in sight. That was because they weren’t looking up. From above, Tyrian descended with a wild laugh. The girls were quick to react, and dodged the attack. Neo floated down, and gently landed with her back facing his. Her opponents, Blake and Yang, stared her down, as Ruby, Weiss, and Robyn stared down Tyrian.

“I like you, girl. I’m glad I didn't kill you earlier.” Neo rolled her eyes at the statement, as if she doubted he could have killed her, despite her aura being only half full now. With the conversation over, they rushed to attack their targets.

Neo found her fight to be an amusing challenge. It felt refreshing. The two worked so well together, as if by design. They dodged, slashed, and punched so well in sync. Their movements allowed them to use each other to gain more speed and power, while also allowing them to dodge attacks they normally wouldn’t be able to. This all just meant they would fall together. Neo could tell that Yang had certainly improved from their last fight. Her punches were quicker than before, and were sharper and heavier. Her partner was also certainly quick, much quicker. However, she sacrificed strength for range. The cat faunus’s semblance had caught her a few times, but Neo quickly worked them to her advantage. An icy afterimage that caught her umbrella was used to dodge an attack and counter to kick Yang back. A fiery image that exploded allowed her to put more power into a strike that hit Blake hard. She noticed that Yang hadn’t brought out her semblance yet, which she found slightly concerning.

Meanwhile, Tyrian was having a field day. He couldn’t kill the silver eyed girl yet, but he figured he could have some fun first. Robyn, however, he could kill if he wanted, so he focused on blocking Ruby and Weiss’ attacks and doing minor damage to them. His fighting style was too chaotic. He mad use of every limb, using each one as a pivot at some point. With his tail slashing and guns shooting as he spun and weaved passed their attacks, the two would soon be overwhelmed. He could see the frustration growing on their faces. Oh, how we wished he could take a picture to immortalize moments like these.

Black and yellow were moving much faster now. A bit more difficult for Neo now. Yang was beginning to use her partner’s weapon as a means to increase her speed and damage, and Blake was using her semblance sparingly now. However, there was still no sign of Yang’s semblance, which was beginning to concern Neo now. She figured that Yang was gonna save it for something big, so decided to focus Blake. Sure, Yang had gotten stronger, but not enough. With Blake out of the picture, Yang would be easy pickings. It proved to be a mistake. The cat faunus was no slouch in close quarters either. She was much more graceful than her partner, which allowed her to dodge more hits and set up hits for her partner. Her semblance was also proving to be more of a nuisance now that Blake had more chances to use it. Choosing to focus blake meant they were fighting in much closer quarters now, leaving less time for Neo to react to the afterimages, and more time for the duo to follow up.

Red, white, and Robyn still proved to be easy foes to Tyrian, until their semblances got involved. Weiss multitude of glyphs proved to be an annoyance, allowing Robyn and Ruby to get in a few good strikes. And just when he was about to get a beautiful hit on Ruby, she bursted into a flurry of petals that blinded him. He felt himself being lifted into the air. He could see Weiss focusing on a glyph. He shot at her, but his guns didn’t have good range, and the damage drop off was too much, so any bullets that would have hit their target were easily blocked by Robyn. He had lost sight of Ruby, but soon had an idea of where she was when he felt a powerful shot from above hit his head, followed by a few arrows to his body. Gravity took over once the glyph was released, but just as he was released, he was struck by another powerful bullet that sent him crashing into the ground.

However, their fights were interrupted as another object came crashing back into the area, creating a cloud of dust. From it, one figure emerged, a maiden clad in red and black with glowing eyes.

“Mom!?” exclaimed Yang, surprised at her appearance. Her mother only turned to glance at her, wanting to focus more on the fight at hand. Cinder shot up, but was promptly slammed back down by the line caught around her ankle. The line loosened and slithered back to its wielder. Qrow found himself blocking an attack from Tyrian who had made his way over in the chaos, happy to move to a more agreeable target. All things considered, the weapon wasn’t very good for blocking, especially from a quick brawler like Tyrian. Fortunately, he was just barely managing. And thankfully, Robyn had fired a few shots to give Qrow a chance to put some distance between him and the killer so he could use Kingfisher more efficiently. Unfortunately, the distance wasn't enough, and Qrow braced himself for another attack. However, the attack didn’t connect. Another weapon blocked it and sent Tyrian flying back. Unluckily for Tyrian, Clover, along with Oscar, Ren Jaune, and Penny, had joined the fray in the chaos.

“You should be more careful, I don’t want to lose my favorite charm.” For a moment, Qrow found himself a bit dumbfounded. He hadn’t imagined he’d find Clover so quickly. He quickly regained his composure though. A battle wasn’t the time to gawk.

“Me, or the pin?” Qrow said as he moved to stand next to Clover. A quick glance told him that everyone else was busy fighting too. Team RWBY was taking on Neo, while the other kids and Raven took on Cinder. Nora had moved on from trying to open the vault. She couldn't figure out how to at the moment, and figured she’d be more useful fighting. She’d have a lot more time to figure it out if there were no enemies to bother her. That left Qrow, Clover, and Robyn to take on Tyrian once more.

“You, of course.” he said with a wink. He noticed that one of Qrow’s eyes was that teal green.

“Lucky me.” said Qrow with a small smile. He noticed that Clover’s right eye was red.

“Lucky us.”

“You should be dead.” Poison seeped from the murderer’s words as he gave a mean scowl. His demeanor shifted from frustrated anger to that of his usual crazed self. “I guess I’ll just have to kill you again!” He rushed at the duo, moving erratically to make it hard for Robyn to aim. With the distance closed in a mere moment, the real fight began.

Qrow and Clover were undoubtedly huntsmen of incredibly high calibre, but their unfamiliarity with the weapon in their hands was beginning to show. Killing grimm was one thing, but fighting dangerous people was another. It was a far cry from their first fight with the chaotic murderer where Tyrian was taken down with relative ease. This fight was certainly much more difficult, but they were managing. Clover had shifted Harbinger back to its sword forme, finding it more beginner friendly. While his scythe attacks were slow but hard hitting, his sword attacks traded that power for speed. He knew he would need to be quick if he were fighting Tyrian. Qrow had also begun to use Kingfisher more like a whip. He couldn’t exactly let it wildy fly around wildly like during his fight with the grimm. Despite their inexperience with the weapons, the fight was still in their favor. Their teamwork and Robyn’s incredible support, though one could say they were supporting Robyn, was enough to tip the scales.

The fight seemed to be more in their favor now. Qrow and Clover were moving so well in sync that one could think they were communicating telepathically. That was, until the fight was interrupted by a loud roar. Cinder’s aura was starting to get low, and in a last ditch effort, sent a shockwave of fire that knocked everyone back. Oscar and Jaune were fortunate to be knocked back into a crystal, and Jaune had caught Ren from falling off the platform. Team RWBY was knocked off, but had their own methods to get back onto the platform, while Neo had shattered away. Raven, Penny, and Nora were safe, already in the air.

Qrow, Clover, Tryrian, Robyn, and Ironwood had gotten the short end of the stick. Robyn was close enough to grab onto the still unconscious Ironwood as they fell off. She did manage to embed one of her weapon’s wings into the side of the platform, reducing their fall speed, and eventually came to a stop. While letting him go would be easier for herself, she couldn’t just let him die. Not like that anyways. He deserved a fair trial and a guillotine or firing squad after, or exile or imprisonment, if they were being generous.

Meanwhile, Clover and Qrow were closest to the edge and had fallen down first and were flung far from the platform’s edge. Tyrian had managed to embed his weapons into the side after being flung off. As fast as he could, Qrow took hold of Clover holding him close. It surprised Clover a bit at how quickly Qrow pulled him in so close. His head was near Qrow’s chest, and could hear his heartbeat. He could almost swear it was in sync with his. Qrow had flung the hook to try to get it to latch to the edge, but Tyrian had other ideas. As the Kingfisher’s hook flew to its target, he released one of his weapons, took fire, and aimed at the hook, firing his last bullet. Tryian had definitely used the last of his luck there, for the bullet hit head on, knocking the hook off course.

“Looks like I just killed two birds with one stone! So long love birds!” Tyrian saluted them and cackled maniacally as he began his ascent back to the top of the structure, content knowing that the ledge was outside of the rod’s range.

“Hey, Clover?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry about earlier, for siding with Tyrian, and leaving you.”

“Well, I should be sorry too. I should have stood with you in the first place.”

“We should have stayed together. … This probably isn't the time, but I should also tell you that IKindaHadMySisterBindOurSoulsToBringYouBackToLife.” Clover stared at him with a bewildered look, but then burst out into a laugh. Qrow gave a small, concerned laugh, thinking the worst as usual.

“Don't worry, I believe you.” Clover’s eyes then opened wide with realization. “Quick. How do you turn into a bird!” Qrow knew what he was thinking.

“Just think it! Imagine It!” He said with a big smile before turning into his namesake. He had a feeling that what Clover was thinking would be right.

The first bird that came to mind was a Kingfisher. They’re in his earliest memories, and some of his earliest friends. He remembers practicing fishing by the river when he was young and seeing the birds fly high and dive at incredible speed into the water. He would try to mimic their dive with his fishing hook. Being young and impressionable, he was amazed when he got the line to arch perfectly to get the hook to dive in the water like the birds. As thanks, he would leave some fish out for them. After some time, some of the birds would even hop up to him and walk onto his hand. He would always give them a piece of a fish he had caught. He soon found himself performing a new trick practically every week. Those moves would become the basis for… something. There was a blank where what should have been his original weapon. He wasn’t sure why that blank was there.

One day, when he was about fourteen, he was cooking some fish he had caught earlier by the river with some vegetables his parents bought him. Grimm weren’t a concern because hunters routinely patrolled the area, and any dangerous animals weren’t a concern either because the smell of smoke and fire was a good deterrent. He had a sword given to him by his grandmother just in case though. It was a half scale replica of her own weapon from when she was a huntress, although it wasn’t also shotgun and didn't split to be able to form a dual sided glaive like hers. Despite being half scale, the replica was still large, about as tall as his fourteen year old self and half the width of his body. It was made of light materials, so it was easy enough to carry.

As he was grilling the food, he heard a small rustle in the thick, nearby brush. He rushed to the sword and prepared himself. Out from the thickets came a small blue and orange bird, a kingfisher. It was hopping around, one wing obviously injured. It was also rather thin looking. Clover figured the food was very enticing to the starving bird. Slowly, as to not scare it, he took a fish he was cooking and cut off a small piece. He crouched and slowly made his way closer to it. He gave a low whistle to get its attention. He showed it the piece, left it on the floor, and backed away. Once he backed away, the slightly bird cautiously made its way over to the slice of fish. The bird was moving slowly, but Clover patiently watched it wanting to see what it would do. He watched it in awe as it soon devoured the small slice. Once it finished, it looked at him and chirped. He stared back at it, bewildered at first. He then chirped back at it, to which the bird replied with another chirp.

“Do you want more?” he asked. The bird answered with a chirp again. He cut another sliver of fish for it and held it in the palm of his hand. Still mindful of its injury, he crouched and moved a little closer to it as it carefully hopped towards him. When it reached his hand, it pecked at the food and moved it to the floor. Clover just stared at it in awe as it ate. Once it finished, it chirped at him again. He slowly extended his palm to the floor in front of it. To his surprise, it hopped on. He got up and began to walk back to his area. He moved his other hand to give it a light scratch. He gave a small laugh as the bird leaned into it. He set the bird down onto the soft blanket he had spread out earlier. He then got a bottle of water and filled its cap. He set the water filled cap in front of the bird and watched it drink. He continued watching the bird as it drifted to sleep. He was mesmerized by the rise and fall of its chest as it breathed. He could have stared at it for hours, taking in every minute detail of the bird. He would have if he didn't begin to smell burnt food. He moved to take the food off the grill and put it in a trash bag.

It as about noon then, so he still had plenty of time to fish. He gently scooped up the sleeping bird and placed it on his head. His granny was always joking his hair looked like a birds nest. He carefully walked over to his chair by the small river and sat down. He moved the bird from his head to his lap. Sitting down, he cast the line and waited. This gave him time to admire the bird, and get a closer look at its injury. He assumed it was broken, based on the odd angle it took. About an hour later of gazing at the resting bird and the scenery, he heard footsteps behind him.

“Clover? What are you still doing out here?” his dad asked, “You're usually back by now.” Clover replied with a quiet shush. “Why?” he whispered. Clover motioned for him to come closer. He saw his dad’s eyes grow wide upon seeing the bird that was sleeping soundly in his son’s lap.

“Can we take it to the vet later? I think it has a broken wing.” Clover whispered.

“We can go right now if you want. I saw one on the way here. It was about an hour away.”

“That sounds good, the sooner we help it, the better.”

“Alright. Go and tell your papa to get ready. I’ll clean up here. Tell him if he’s not ready by the time I’m back that I’ll send my sisters after him!” his dad whispered loudly. Clover gave a little laugh.

“Alright, I will.” With that, he began the short walk back to the cabin. He always found the story concerning his aunts and parent funny. His dad was a retired middle class merchant and his papa was a retired huntsman skilled in archery. They met when his papa showed up at his dad’s store to buy supplies as he was passing through. He found himself enamored by the clerk at the front desk. His dad decided then and there that he needed to rest and stayed at the city a litter longer. He made sure to visit the store during his stay and chat it up with the tantalizing clerk. Soon, he left, but not before stealing a kiss and giving a promise to return. And return he did. He found himself staying in that city for longer and longer periods, getting closer and closer with the other man. Eventually, he took up residence with the man and took jobs in the city.

One day, he figured he wanted to take the relationship to the next step, and went to his older sisters to ask for permission. Being the protective older sisters they were, they would hive him their little brother’s hand if he bested them in a battle. A local tournament was coming up that had two versus two format, and the two sisters planned on entering. The younger sister’s husband wanted to join as well, so the sisters figured they could solve two problems at once. The man, partnered with the younger sister’s husband, had made it to the finals to face off the two women who had also made it to the finals. The older sister wielded a weaponized yo-yo that paired well with her semblance that could increase the weight of things. The younger sister used a pair of daggers. They worked well with her ability to interface with objects and control their movements as if she were using telekinesis on them. The husband dual wielded beautiful swords that were mostly ornamental. Through dance, he could channel his aura through the earth, allowing him some control over it. The other huntsman was armed with his bow that could split into swords. His semblance was a more subtle one. It could be described as an extreme attention to detail. His senses could detect the smallest shifts in any detail.

It was a spectacular fight, one that was held as the paragon of a tournament fight for many years. Despite the husband’s graceful movements and the huntsman’s exceptional aim, they lost. The women remained standing with a fourth of their aura. The huntsman could really feel the defeat. The cash prize was hardly any concern. Not only did he not have the sister’s approval, he lost in front of his lover and missed the perfect opportunity to propose. As the sisters helped him up, the motioned him to look at the huge screen above. On it, he could see his lover proposing to him. The huntsman ran into the crowd to give the merchant a passionate kiss. The crowd began cheering and hollering and whistling for them. The noise was interrupted by the announcement of a bonus round, much to the excitement of the crowd as they shifted their attention back to the stage. Apparently, the sisters had begun to fight to see who would be the best woman. The huntsman guessed that the battle was just their form of the shovel talk.

Older and retired, the men gave lots of their time and attention to their son while still giving him the space he wanted. Their summer get away cabin inherited from a great-grandfather was a good place to do so. On the way to the veterinarian, they asked him questions about how Clover came to befriend the bird. He happily explained the whole ride there. His parents were very happy to listen. They found it adorable when the bird woke up and Clover began to talk to it in little peeps and chirps. They even joined in on the conversation a few times. The vet determined that the wing was indeed broken, but put on a small type of cast so that it could heal properly. They told the family that it would be healed in about four weeks, and they should make sure that the bird gets plenty of food, water, and rest during that time. Clover spent the whole time caring for the bird, hardly every aking his eyes off it. Soon, four weeks had past. Early in the morning, the family went outside, Clover holding the bird gently in his hands, the miniature cast taken off prior to show a wing that created no pain as it was moved around as instructed by the veterinarian. With a slight hop, Clover opened his hands and the kingfisher flew. This is what Clover imagined as he took flight: shimmering orange and blue feathers that passed through the morning rays of light, surrounded by love and joy.

Being a bird was much better than he imagined. He felt so light and free in the new forme, though he could wait to be in awe later. There were more pressing matters to attend to. He thought that flying would be hard for him, but he found it surprisingly easy after a moment since most of the bird’s innate knowledge and instincts were available to him. Qrow flew towards the wall while Clover in his new kingfisher forme flew upward. Once Qrow meet the wall and was directly below Tyrian, he flew upward until he was between Tyrian and the wall. At which point, he transformed back into a human. With his back against the wall and knees against his chest, he kicked Tyrian off the wall with all his might.

From above, Clover began a dive downward. He struck one of Tyrian’s legs while Qrow stuck one of his arms. Both began a flurry of strikes that whittled down at his already low aura. Then, Qrow flew higher, tossing the line to wrap around Tyrian, and flung him upward, sending him above the platform. Just before he began to fall, Clover, who had flown ahead, transformed back into a human, Harbinger in hand, and brought down the scythe with a heavy blow that broke his aura and sent him flying straight into Cinder just as she was about to unleash an attack, breaking her aura upon impact, since everyone was ganging up on her after Neo fled and they fell of the side. They into a nearby crystal, leaving a crater in it and breaking some of it off. They both fell to the floor, unconscious.

They all bust into celebration, cheering at their victory, a sign of the tides turning in their war. Raven stood back and kept her eyes on the battle’s losers. At a glance, she could see people hugging each other and jumping up and down, as well as the new Winter Maiden and a guy with a pink stripe in his hair helping the General and a woman get back onto the platform. She also saw that Clover had made the first move and kissed Qrow. It surprised him at first, but he soon leaned into it. They were getting pretty handsy. Through Kindred Link, she could feel the love Qrow had for him. Not only that, she could also feel the love Clover felt for her brother. She considered it odd at first, but quickly realized it was probably just a result of the pact. It felt of pure adoration and respect. It was a desire both longed for after so much time in solitude and self-doubt. Ultimately, it was love, something she had repressed for some time.

She felt that feeling being amplified by another source within the room. She looked around to see her daughter kissing and embracing the cat faunus in black. She sensed these feelings in Yang before, but to see it in person was a real wake up call. She could see and feel what she had been missing out on after all those years. She decided then and there that slowly, but surely, she would change. Someday, she would sit and talk with Tai. Someday, she would visit Summer’s grave. Someday, she would be there for the weddings of her daughter and brother.

#the past is full of cringe but is a place of bliss #Exhausted Wings / Good Luck #7.7k words #fun fact: I have a whole convo between raven and clover typed out that i ended up scrapping bc this was a long chapter.#do feel free to ask for it if you're interested in such ancient cringe #rwby #fair game

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