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legacygirlingreen · 1 year

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Becoming a Proper Gentleman // Sebastian Sallow x Reader // Invisible String pt I

Warnings: mild mentions of abuse/childhood trauma!

Summary:

What happens when she finally gets to meet Sebastian’s family? Why is Sebastian all of a sudden interested in being a proper gentleman? What trauma from his past keeps him attached to those unruly brown locks? When she is able to possibly spend the holidays with the Sallows, what price is Sebastian willing to pay?

Notes:

This diverts from Canon as an alternate look at Sebastian and you/your main character’s first meeting with his family. It focuses less on elements of the game, but briefly mentions them, and instead leads to just fluffy moments. Also note this fic deals more with proper Victorian style rules surrounding romance/courting/being proper. It’s all written in 3rd POV for the most part, switching back and forth from more of your perspective and his through 3rd perspective. VERY LITTLE USAGE OF Y/N

Word Count: 17,000 +

Masterlist for series here

If you can, I would like you to accompany me to Feldcroft when I visit home soon. I know I mentioned it briefly last week so it is somewhat short notice, but Ann is dying to meet you in person, and I’m really hoping it will lift her spirit. There’s so much I would love to share with you about where I grew up. If you decide to join me, meet me by the lookout tower near the Floo Flame in Feldcroft tomorrow after dawn. ~ S

She delicately played with the edges of the parchment delivered by the sleek black barn owl moments before. Over the past few months her and Sebastian’s pet owl had become more than acquainted. She had begun carrying around extra treats in her pocket daily in anticipation of a visit from his owl, Theodore, nicknamed Teddy for short. Given the frequency of their communication outside the classroom, she had grown fond of the bird, beginning to suspect he was also taking a liking to her as well judging by the way he had started nuzzling her hand when she moved to pet him.

Sebastian had mentioned a few days before possibly having her join him in Feldcroft when he went to visit Ann. The invitation to others may have seemed a tad forward, but the pair had grown close since the moment they met in the Slytherin common room by the fire. In fact, after talking Ann’s ear off on his first weekend home about the new student after the start of 5th year, she had wondered how long it would take to finally meet his new classmate. While the girl never pressed, knowing how ill Ann had fallen, she couldn’t say she too wasn’t excited at the prospect of meeting his sister. The only problem now was figuring out how to make the best first impression possible…

She often worried what would happen should his twin not take to her as much as he had. The twins were very close. It was no surprise that after months of cheeky quips, sneaking into the restricted section of the library, almost dying on several occasions and countless hours alone in the Undercroft together that she had begun to harbor feelings for the boy. She couldn’t help but admire the little details about him. From the way his Adam’s Apple bobbed with each word he spoke, to the mischievous glint in eyes. When he laughed, the sound would always below out from deep in the pits of his stomach, allowing the sweet melody to sing in the air. The way his mouth would shift ever so subtly to the right and a single eyebrow would raise at the mention of something lewd or interesting. The freckles that dotted his entire body, not just his face, in a pattern that was more beautiful than the constellations in the night sky she observed at the astronomy tables. How his eyes would appear as rich chocolate pools with seemingly no end in the darkness of the undercroft yet shift into a lovely amber shade in the sunlight.

Something that had become a favorite pastime of hers - a brief indulgence in the scary world she’d been thrown into of magic, goblins and poachers - was the way he constantly seemed to unconsciously fret over his hair. The lovely and increasingly overgrown strands of brown were in a forever state of disheveled atop his head. Every time he became annoyed, bored, embarrassed, elated or even upset his fingers seemed to take to his hair. Maybe it was a nervous tick or necessity due to his current lack of styling, she thoroughly enjoyed learning about all the ways in which he disrupted his locks.

The girl could remembered the first time she truly noticed how much he moved his tanned and freckled digits through his hair. One late night in the undercroft, growing increasingly frustrated with yet another book from the restricted section providing little insight, he gave up and slammed its cover and startlingly her. She looked up from her own notes taken from the keepers journal and watched as his eyes formed their own version of an apology for scaring her. For someone who could easily take down trolls and spiders she sure was jumpy.

He let out a frustrated sigh, letting his head fall into his hands. She noticed how his nimble fingers stretch around and met at the back of his neck, playing with the small waves beginning to touch his collar from the months he’d been at school without a haircut. Come to think of it, she’d never actually seen him attempt to maintain his hair at all in the brief time she had known him. And in the time since September the brown tendrils of hair had seemingly begun to grow out of control. As quickly as she had become mesmerized watching him slowly weave his fingers in and out of his hair to calm himself, Sebastian lifted his head, eyes meeting hers. A single brown strand of hair fell onto his brow instead of its normal pattern of being pushed to the side. He went to speak but before he could get a word out her arm lifted towards his eyeline, shutting the boy up quickly. His eyes grew as she ever so carefully brushed the strand up and off his forehead to join the rest of his unruly locks. She briefly allowed herself the indulgence of feeling the soft hair she’d been slowly noticing for weeks under her fingers.

As if finally breaking the trance the second her hand was removed from his hair, she instantly looked down to her lap, cheeks growing redder by the second. If she had looked up she’d have noticed his freckled face was even more crimson than her own. Eventually the pair would have to acknowledge the brief act of intimacy displayed by the resident troll slayer, and while Sebastian tended to be the easier flirt of the pair, she found herself accepting she needed to break the silence first.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me” she muttered finally meeting his eyes.

He stared at her for a few seconds longer before chuckling. “No need to apologize, I guess I’m growing into more of a lacewing fly bush by the day.” He then grabbed a different lock of hair from around his left ear and pulled it away from his head, allowing the both of them to note how long his hair had become.

They both laughed at his comment and before she could respond he continued saying “usually Ann helps me trim it, but lately she hasn’t even been able to do her own, let alone mine”. A solemn look briefly flashed over his face, quickly replaced by a half smile.

“You know, last time I was home Ann playful made fun of how much I spoke of our newfound friendship. She did say she would love to meet you sometime if you would be interested”.

She pondered the weight of his words. He told his sister about me… somewhere between giving an answer and being lost in thoughts of Sebastian telling his sister about her, she felt her braid being lifted by the ends. Looking down she noticed Sebastian carefully running his fingers, the same ones constantly buried in his own brown tresses, toying with hers. If she was having difficulty speaking before, she was completely mute now. All she could do was close her eyes, feeling careful digits twirling the free strands at the end of the tie secured around her hair.

Sebastian careful laid the braid back along her shoulders and removed his hand from her hair, noticing how she sat there, more peaceful than he’d seen her in a while. Eyebrows relaxed, eyes closed, light smile on the corner of her lips and a slight blush dusted atop her cheeks. For the first time since he’d known her he wondered if maybe she returned the same affection he was slowly allowing himself to grow towards her.

“You don’t have to answer now. But I will send an owl when I decide to return home if you wish to join” he told her. She finally opened her eyes and looked back into his brown orbs. She simply nodded before the pair returned to attempting to find a cure for Ann.

That was almost a week ago and since then she had awaited this owl. However now holding it, that nervous feeling in y/n’s stomach grew. Her first thought was to go find Sebastian, however she quickly realized asking the boy you liked how to impress his family seemed a tad revealing. Opting for the next best thing, she wandered back to the Slytherin common room to find their mutually shared and informed companion.

“Ah y/n, Sebastian was looking for you earlier today before I told him it better to send you an owl” Ominis said before she got close to the boy. Damn his bat like hearing for always being able to recognize her shuffling feet before she got close.

“Yeah, Teddy found me not long ago. I actually came to ask you about that…” she found it difficult how to phrase her question to him. Confused Ominis tilted his head to the side and shifted on the couch he sat on, allowing her to join him. He thought that the new 5th year would be jumping at the chance to meet Ann, as his suspicions told him that the new girl liked his friend as much as his friend liked her. He raised a brow seemingly to ask what she needed. “Well you see I am really happy about finally getting to meet Sebastian’s sister, seeing as you both have become my friends, however I am wondering how I can best make an impression on her. I know Sebastian said their uncle can be quite brash and Ann is unwell, so I was seeing if you had any advice I could use when meeting them. I do not want them to think poorly of me…”

Ominis didn’t need to have vision to see the fear her face held. While they had initially gotten off on weird footing after Sebastian quickly shared his family’s secret place with her, Ominis changed his mind about the new student. She truly did seem kind towards every one of his classmates and definitely had stronger magical talent than most people in his year.

“Well… I’ve known Ann as long as I’ve known Sebastian. While I won’t be able to help you much with their Uncle, he rivals even some of the worst of my family at times, Ann truly is a playful spirit. Her and Sebastian are very alike, or we’re at least before she was cursed.” Ominis paused, remembering with fondness how his friend used to be verses the sickly girl he had come to know over their summer holiday.

“She has really taken to doing things with her hands since falling ill. She spends a lot of time now reading and drawing. She recently mentioned wanting to take up knitting perhaps as a way to pass the time.” Ominis recalled his goodbye with Ann where she mentioned slowly turning into a at home knitting grandmother. The comment stuck out in his brain.

“Ominis you’re a genius.” She responded finally sounding more relieved than when she first approached him.

“Of course, if you don’t mind, I would love to go into Hogsmeade and collect some stuff to send to her. You can be my owl as repayment for my genius” he said with a chuckle. She nodded lifting off the couch and offering out an arm for the boy the take. While he was able to traverse the school grounds with a wand, it was always easier when he had a guide. At first he mildly protested her arm, he now simply allowed it to slip into his own. The pair made off towards the floo flame and to the streets of Hogsmeade.

—————————————

After a successful trip to Hogsmeade where Ominis purchased a small amount of treats from Honeydukes for Ann, and she had found some beginner knitting needles and yarn, the pair returned back to the castle for a good nights rest. She woke up incredibly early that morning, choosing her favorite outfit from Gladrag’s. Her nerves had kept her up all night as she laid in bed continuously rereading over Sebastian’s Owl.

There’s so much I would love to share with you about where I grew up…

She pondered what exactly that had meant. She brushed it off, deciding it better to get as presentable as possible. After getting dressed in her best “I want to look good but not like I tried too hard” attire, she picked up her hairbrush, brushing out her y/h/c locks. She almost always kept it braided, however yesterday while walking through hogsmeade she was flagged down by Madam Snelling. The overtly honest woman, who took no time in reminding the girl she still was owed a favor for running an errand to collect supplies a few weeks back. After reminding her she could use the favor then, she mentioned she would simply cash it in another time as she had a quickly approaching curfew and a blind companion she was sure wouldn’t want to sit through a hair appointment. The woman did recommend she sometimes remove her y/h/c from the braids they were always in, as it would look “soft and delicate like a flower”.

Deciding maybe the stylist knew what she was speaking about, she opted for the first time since coming to hogwarts to leave her hair down. Shaking off her nerves, and collecting the gifts from Ominis and herself, she slowly crept towards the Slytherin common room. As she was about to make it down the last steps of the girls dorms she ran into one smirking Imelda Reyes, back from an early morning flying no doubt.

Her and the girl had gotten off on somewhat rocky footing, however after both discovered the love of broom flying and sharing close proximity as roommates, they had begun an unlikely friendship. Still, the Irish girl and her taunted each other relentlessly. Imelda let out a brief whistle at y/n’s leather trousers and tight blue velvet overcoat that left little to the imagination. “First Sallow comes out of the boys dorm having actually brushed that bush on his head for once and now you’re standing here with your hair down and wearing an outfit that says ‘please take me now’. Sometimes tells me that those might not be unrelated hmm?”

Her cheeks flush at Imelda’s comment. For someone who’s fallen off many brooms over the years she still is sharp as a tack. “So what if they are related?” She quips back at her fellow student who couldn’t be more accurate in her assessment. “Oh I am all for it trust me. Between your often… unique attire and messy braids and that boys unruly hair, which in my opinion should’ve been cut long ago, you two make quite the pair. Not to mention this pining between the both of you has got to stop. Even Grace “Smelly” Smedley has noticed and she’s not the brightest young witch of our year if you know what I mean”.

She blushed at her roommate’s understanding of the situation. She might have a point… before the girl could reply however, Imelda laughed and nodded off towards the Floo Flame. “You may wanna hurry, don’t wanna keep lover boy waiting do you?” Before heading down the hall towards the girls bathroom. She stood there flabbergasted before carefully treading up the stairs to the green flame. She stared into it’s bright color for a few months before taking a deep breath and tossing floo powder onto its center. Quickly the cold stones of the slytherin common room were replaced with the soft ground of Feldcroft. While she had flown over the quaint village recently on her broom, she hadn’t actually stopped to see what it looked like up close.

Rich colors spread in every direction. The sun hanging just barely over the horizon brought such a lovely golden hue to the earth. A slight breeze moved through the trees and she regretted not bringing a coat with her. Too late now she thought. Scanning around her she noticed several small stone cottages and some merchants carts. In the center of everything was a well. To the left of the flame stood a wooden lookout platform.

Now or never.

She pushed herself towards the small wooden structure. As she neared the bottom of the steps and brushed her pants with her sweat slicked palms. She then ran her hand over her y/h/c hair, brushing down what little bit had become ruffled by the flame and the breeze. When y/n finally rounded the last flight of stairs she saw Sebastian leaning over the railing looking out to the hillside, where a castle ruin sat, his back to her. He must have been lost in thought because he slightly jumped when she questioned “enjoying the view”.

Her voice came out in a slightly strangled with her nerves but as she spoke it slowly calmed down. She chuckled at his reaction. She crossed the platform to stand next to him as he turned around to face her. As his eyes finally landed on her they grew to the size of saucers. For once she actually noticed, a small surge of confidence flooding her veins.

Sebastian couldn’t decide what surprised him the most about her appearance. Her usually mismatched and unique wardrobe was toned down, but in the most elegant (and not leaving much to the imagination) way. The way the leather trousers sculpted her thighs would have him up at night for weeks to come. It wasn’t long before his eyes landed back on her face, and subsequently her hair. Where he had been expecting one of her many variety of braids, her locks splayed out freely along her shoulders. He almost choked at the sight of her standing in his village looking so beautiful in the morning light.

To be fair however, she was in a similar boat. Standing close to him she looked into his wide eyes, noticing their usual brown was replaced by the warm Amber she loved in the golden hour. His usual school uniform replaced with a simple white collared shirt and plain dark green vest left unbuttoned. Sebastian’s usual short trousers and high socks combo was replaced with a full length brown pant but his usual boots remained. She noticed he must have gotten warm, as the sleeves were rolled up to his forearms. Now standing here she saw what her roommate mentioned moments before about his attempt at tackling his unruly brown hair. While little was actually accomplished, she appreciated the effort of putting a tad bit of the gel - which she assumed he borrowed from Ominis - in his hair to keep it from it’s usual tousled state. She did however think I prefer his hair a tad more messy.

The awkward teens moment of gawking at each other finally drawing to a close as Sebastian muttered out a flirty “enjoying the view more now that you’re here”.

She playfully pushed him with an eye roll, however still felt the familiar warmth adorn her cheeks. “I’ve never been to Feldcroft, it’s quite lovely” she mentioned looking him instead of at the countryside.

He coughed realizing she may have been referring to him looking nice and not his quaint village before holding out an arm. Before he left the dorm that morning Ominis had given him the “be a proper gentleman for once” conversation before tossing Sebastian his hair gel and rolling back over to sleep in on his Saturday morning. She looked at the arm for a second before realizing he was offering his arm to be proper. The blush on her cheeks continued to deepen as she tucked her hand into his elbow. Once her hand found solace in the bend of his elbow, he rested his free hand atop of hers. Since when did Sebastian Sallow become a gentleman?

Standing this close she was able to note that the typical smell of old parchment and whatever soap he always smelled of was mixed with something new, something earthy. Sandalwood perhaps? She decided that she had blushed enough this morning and it would be his turn again when she found herself saying “you know Imelda said you actually put a comb through that hair of yours, but she didn’t mention you bathed for once”.

The girl knew Sebastian would recognize the joke was in reference to whatever fragrance he had dawned, as Ominis was quite vocal about how much time Sebastian spent in their dorm shower “preening and doing merlin knows what else in there”. She wasn’t expecting the awkward chuckle that followed, along with his other hand reaching up behind his neck to mess with the stray curls at his neckline.

“I see you also ran into Imelda on the way over. She give you the same shakedown I presume?” He asked her, curious if her roommate had been worse on her than Imelda had been on him. Realizing he had been tousling his hair he quickly removed the hand from his neck. He laid his free hand back on top of hers.

“Oh of course you know how she is. I got accused of wearing a ‘please take me now’ outfit, whatever that means” she said with a chuckle, her free hand brushing over the velvet vest right above where it flared out at her waist. The boy felt his hand betray him, as it ever so slightly squeezed hers and he replied “I think I know what she meant” in a lower tone than normal.

Her feet, finally having made it back on solid ground below the tower, halted and the pair stopped. Her heart in her stomach she took note of his suggestive comment made in a nervous tone. Her senses being overloaded by his warm arm wrapped around hers and hand holding her steady. The smell of what could only be cologne or aftershave becoming overpowering. After a beat of silence, she said “are you wearing cologne?”

“Yes. Ann got it for me a while back and I usually forget about it, but remembered it this morning” he said trying to sound casual but his tone giving away it was anything but. What she didn’t know was he did not receive it from Ann, and had purchased it in hogsmeade the day before trying to impress you.

“I like it” she said barely above a whisper. “I’m glad…” Sebastian responded before looking down at the girl with longing. His hand slowly reached for her loose waves and twisted a single strand around his finger. “Your hair looks pretty when it’s down” he found enough courage to say. All the words forming in her throat stalled. Sensing she was struggling to find the words he started walking again towards his home. “You know Ann may be a little disappointed though. I told her about how you always have these elaborate braids, since she’s never been able to properly learn despite years of trying.”

She reached up subconsciously and grabbed at a loose strand. Stupid Madam Snelling. Sebastian must have sensed her worry because he responded saying “oh don’t worry, she’s going to love you. Besides if mildly disappointing my sister means I get to see your hair wild and free so be it”. He smiled at her, hoping to calm what he could sense were growing nerves. She can fight poachers and rescue a dragon with Poppy but she seems terrified of upsetting my sister. The thought made his heart swell.

As he carefully guided her through the soft grass of Feldcroft he quickly found himself near the place he had called home for many years now. His uncle Solomon stood outside tending to their few animals and garden. He figured he may as well get the difficult part out of the way so they wouldn’t be interrupted with Ann. Sebastian did not see eye to eye much these days with his uncle. They had always had a somewhat tumultuous relationship since his parents had died. As he grew, he knew his uncle saw more of Sebastian’s father in him, their own relationship having been somewhat strained. However, wanting to make sure that a proper introduction could be made between his family and the new 5th year whom he had slowly started seeing a future with was more important than the many disagreements he’d had with Solomon over the past few years. Sebastian had send Teddy to feldcroft before sending the owl to her the day before. He’d asked Solomon if it was okay to bring the new student with whom he had been spending much of his free time with home to meet his sister and gain a proper introduction to the Sallow household. And while Solomon wished his Nephew got in less trouble, would give up this futile attempt at helping Ann, and better maintain his appearance as a sensible young man, he did understand and respect Sebastian’s maturity in the matter.

He sent the family owl back with a brief message accepting Sebastian’s proposal on the conditions he kept the time short as to not impede Ann’s rest, as well as handle it like a proper gentleman in regards to the young lady. However, Solomon could not deny he was curious about the girl who seemed to have caught his nephews affection enough to do something properly and for once in his life.

Her heart rapidly picked up the pace as she rounded the side of the small family cottage on the arm of her fellow Slytherin. He lifted the latch on the small wooden fence, allowing for them to both pass through. She noticed what had to be his uncle had his back to them. Sebastian cleared his throat awkwardly saying “Uncle Solomon” as his guardian turned to face them. Nothing could really have prepared Mr. Sallow for the sight he saw. His nephew, who usually looked every ounce of disheveled and cocky was standing there attempting to look proper for possibly the first time in his young life. Solomon recognized the same look of nervousness his younger brother had come home sporting the day he introduced the twin’s mother to their parents. Turning his attention towards the young girl, whom he had learned bits and pieces of from both children in his care and his former colleagues at the ministry, was standing next to his nephew, her delicate hand wrapped around Sebastian’s arm. He remembered to mind his manors. Solomon thought to himself impressed at the boys ability to follow instruction on this rare occasion.

The girl stood almost a head shorter than his nephew, with the top of her head coming to just barely below Sebastian’s chin. She was quite small, yet from what he had heard through the grapevine she took down a troll in Hogsmeade the day his nephew had accompanied her to replace her supplies. Not to mention the dragon attack her and one of the schools professors endured on their way to Hogsmeade. He knew she must hold some strength at the very least to have encouraged this radical change in behavior in his nephew.

Sebastian carefully helped her navigate their family garden and over towards his uncle, who was whipping his hands on a rag he kept on him while outside. “Uncle Solomon, I would like you to meet y/n. She is the new 5th year at Hogwarts” Sebastian said trying to keep his voice from shaking. He didn’t know why this felt so scary. It was just his uncle, whom he at most times despised. Still he stood in front of his guardian nervous as he unwrapped the girl’s hand from his arm to place his hand on her lower back. He gave his uncle pleading eyes as if to say please don’t embarrass me I really enjoy the company of this girl.

“Hello Mr. Sallow. It’s nice to meet you.” She said summoning the same strength she used to fight trolls and offered her hand to shake. Solomon simply looked at the pair before properly shaking the girls hand. He barked out a laugh and responded “please, called me Solomon. it’s wonderful to finally meet the young lady who slowly is turning my immature nephew into gentleman.”

Sebastian slowly started to zone the two of them out as she expressed awkward pleasantries with his uncle. Sebastian imagined what it would be like had his parents not died when he was so young. Back in their old flat in London, bringing her into his childhood living room while his parents would no doubly be enamored with her.

He could almost clearly see the vision in his head: they would stand on the stairs outside his parents home, awaiting his fathers answer. His father, whom he would look almost directly eye to eye with now, and slightly grey hair would smile and step aside as he would lead her through the threshold. Maybe she would bring flowers for his mother’s table. The second his mothers eyes would land on her she would instantly dote on her elaborate braids as his mother also struggled with the styles on her slightly greying brown hair.

They would laugh in the parlor as his parents would listen to her stories of growing up in a muggle village and share their recent discoveries in academia with the pair. At dinner he would help move the chair for her to sit and after he would lift a hand for her to rise gracefully. After dinner his parents would have their enchanted instruments play the music that always seemed to play in the evenings in the flat and he would join his parents as they often danced with her in his arms. She would accompany him to his childhood room full of trinkets and art on the walls listening to him explain how all the treasures came into his possession. His parents would end the evening by telling y/n she was welcome any time and his father would pull him aside and lay a hand on his shoulder saying he had “chosen well”.

Deep in thought he almost didn’t hear his uncle call out for him “Sebastian?”

The daydream broken his face turned towards the young woman next to him. She looked on him with a small amount of worry and eyes that seemed to say are you okay? His own gave back a look almost to reply yes I��m okay.

“Yes sir?” He found himself responding to his uncle.

“I still have work to do out here but you should accompany Miss y/l/n here inside. Ann’s been talking about meeting her all morning and was up late trying to clean the place and bake some treats for tea time. Best not to keep her waiting boy”. Sebastian shouldn’t have been surprised his Uncle would still manage to maintain his unimpressed tone that the young Sallow had grown to know quite well.

He found himself nodding at his uncle. She simply waved goodbye before allowing Sebastian to lead her through the yard around to the front door. When they approached she audibly sucked in a deep breath. He rubbed up and down her back reassuringly as he lowered his mouth to be right next to her ear. “She’s going to love you trust me.” His lips grazed the shell of her ear as he quietly whispered the words to her. She nervously nodded and he pulled back.

Despite the quite sad thought he found himself dwelling in moments before in the garden, he was still extremely elated to be standing on the stoop of his now home, hand resting on the back of the most beautiful girl he’d ever laid eyes on, who was nervous about meeting his sister. He was still trying to calm her nerves before heading in when he took her hand gingerly in his own saying “trust me, twin telepathy thing ya know? Besides what’s not to love…”

She flushed the deepest red possibly of her young life at his words. He hadn’t even realized the gravity of what he said trying to reassure until he looked down into her y/e/c eyes. She was looking up at him like he had hung the moon and the stars all by himself. Her eyebrow quirked and she lifted her hand up and brushed the stray lock of hair that had fallen out of place despite the gel back where it had been previously resting. His heart hammered at the second time now she had repeated this action with him.

The first being the moment he knew he never wanted another person sweeping his loose hair off his brow.

They had been standing on the stoop too long and were interrupted by the door opening and a squeal ringing out through the air. Anne. He had completely forgot why he told himself he was there. “Sebastian!” His twin loudly exclaimed and he took his arm from around the girl to hold out to his dear sister. Her thin frame pressed into his broad chest and he held her close. Their moment cut short as Anne interrupted his attempt to introduce the girl next to him. Anne always had been a bit forward.

“You must be y/n! Sebastian has told me so much about you. Honestly since the start of the year he quite literally never stops talking about you” Anne gushed at his companion as she pulled them inside the small home and ushered them towards the table. There sat all kinds of treats and the normal tea kettle. While he was somewhat embarrassed at Anne’s insistence on him being borderline obsessed with the new girl, she didn’t seem to notice.

The two immediately begun speaking as if they were old friends merely catching up. It wasn’t long before Anne asked her how she met Sebastian and how she was adjusting to hogwarts as a 5th year. Both girls were talking so fast he could barely make out much of what they were saying- although that may have had less to do with the speed of their conversation and more of how beautiful she looked sitting in their kitchen.

“… honestly without Sebastian I feel I may have been quite lost a lot of the time. He’s helped me both on the magical and the mischief path” she spoke with a laugh and he couldn’t express how much the thought made him smile. She would be lost without me.

“Oh Anne, before I forget, Ominis wanted me to pass along his regards along with some of your favorites from Honeydukes” she said reaching into the enchanted satchel she always kept on her and placing the treats from their mutual friend on the table.

“When did you have time to go to hogsmeade?” Sebastian asked, finally joining in on the conversation. He was genuinely curious given he was also there the day before.

“Oh ominis asked me to accompany him yesterday to collect this for you and help me pick out something as well” she said avoiding his gaze. For a brief second Sebastian’s heart sunk at the thought of her and Ominis walking around Hogsmeade together and alone yet that thought quickly faded as he realized why his friends had gone without him to the small village.

His heart practically grew 10 times its normal size as she produced a small basket with yarn and knitting needles, along with a small book explaining the basics of the craft. The girl turned to Anne and explained “I spoke with Ominis and he said you’d taken to doing things with your hands and mentioned you wanted to try your hand at knitting. I figured since we were in the area I could grab something for you.”

Sebastian knew that as kind hearted as the girl was, she hadn’t merely gotten the idea while strolling the small village, and that it had to have been her idea to go in the first place. If he could’ve conjured a ring out of thin air he would’ve. Sebastian thought back to when his father explained that he had known that Sebastian’s mother was the one he wanted as his wife from their first interaction. This now made so much more sense in the young boys mind.

Ann immediately jumped to her feet, tossing her thin arms around y/n muttering many “thank you’s” at the girl before returning to her chair. She brought one of the teal colored yarns up and turned to Sebastian and asked “this color is lovely, it really brings out y/n’s eyes doesn’t it?”

He simply nodded as the girls started to flip through the book discussing how one would go about knitting a scarf. His two favorite girls. Without thinking he reached under the table, grabbing her hand from where it rested on her lap, bringing it over to rest on her knee. She briefly looked at him and smiled, allowing him to wrap his fingers around her own before squeezing his hand. He returned the gesture as if to say told you she would love you.

It wasn’t long before their uncle came inside the small house. Immediately upon entering Anne stood from her chair and quickly showed Solomon the gift brought to her by the new student. The older man, while slightly surprised, nodded and made a mental note to comment on it to his nephew later. In the months since Anne fell ill, he had yet to see her so full of excitement and life. He couldn’t be more grateful for his nephew bringing this strange girl into their home.

“I don’t mean to cut this short, however this has been a lot of excitement for Anne in one day, and she probably should rest.” He cut in after another half hour of listening to the young girls chatter about everything from hogwarts to the London fashions.

She nodded knowingly and Anne was quick to hug her before even attempted to reach for Sebastian. “Please visit again soon. This has been the most wonderful of times” Anne said pleading. She smiled at her warmly and said “of course, I will visit when I can. In the meantime I promise to owl”

“Wonderful!” Ann then whispered something to the girl, making her blush as she stepped back to allow Sebastian to say goodbye to his twin.

Anne folded herself once again into his arms. “Is this new cologne Sebastian?” She said out loud. He could’ve died in that moment, knowing the girl most certainly would’ve caught him in the lie he told her earlier. He only nodded against the top of Ann’s head before leaning back and saying “See you later goober”. Anne quickly smacked him with the book on the table before reaching over to her bed and handing in the small box he had asked her to prepare before he came.

Solomon offered to walk the pair out, as he held the door for her. Sebastian stuffed the small box under his arm and followed behind the girl and his uncle. Once outside his uncle shook her hand one more time saying “you’re welcome back any time y/n. Thank you for attempting to make a man out of my nephew. Although if you could get him to fix that mop on his head before Christmas so I don’t have to take shears to it myself I would be grateful”.

She simply smiled and awkwardly nodded, noticing the mild edge in Solomon’s voice lending more towards an actual command not a joke. It made her uneasy seeing Sebastian’s face at the comment.

Solomon turned towards Sebastian and nodded before heading back inside. Finally being away from his uncle, he let out a sigh of relief and returned his attention to the beautiful slytherin girl next to him. Without thinking he laced his fingers in hers and they walked towards the floo flame together.

Before they reached it she asked him “so what shall we do with the rest of our Saturday. It will be a while before the great hall is serving dinner?”

“I was thinking we could spend some time in the undercroft. I asked Anne to grab some of our keepsakes so I could show you since I knew Solomon would rush us off”. He responded. He was still a little angry about his uncle ordering around a girl he just met, a girl who had been nothing but sweet, on Sebastian’s behalf. However he refused to let Solomon ruin this otherwise perfect day.

“That sounds wonderful, let’s go” she said pulling him into the bright green flame into the halls of the defense against the dark arts tower of Hogwarts.

___________________________

“Wait Sebastian you were so adorable!” She exclaimed looking at the photo of him on his mothers lap when he was around 5 years old.

“Were?” He asked feigning being upset by placing his hands on his chest.

“I mean you still are, however look at this. You looked adorable. Look at your little ponytail” she says waving the photo around still amused how precious his former self looked.

He pawed the hair on his neck, trying to remember what it had felt like to have his hair that long. She noticed him looking down in his lap with the saddest of expressions while pulling on his hair so she shifted closer, putting the photo back in the box and pushing it aside. She was slightly unsure how to proceed however she had an idea. So lifted her hands to his hair and slowly brushed her fingers through the slightly wavy brown locks. The second her fingers made contact his hand stilled and he looked at her. For a brief moment she was terrified she misread his emotions and had annoyed the boy. His wild expression unreadable, however he made no attempts to stop her. So she continued her slow motion, helping to separate the gel so it returned to its more wild and natural state.

“While I appreciate the attempt at grooming I prefer you a bit more, we’ll say, ruggedly handsome” she mentioned as an explanation for her actions.

He immediately calmed feeling her deft fingers along his scalp. Thinking of how his mothers hands used to brush through his hair, separating the knots and tying the band to keep it contained while he played. His mother always loved his hair when he was younger and took much time to attend to it. While it may not have been his fathers favorite look for the young boy, his love for his wife overshadowed all else. Sebastian, even as a young boy, felt that those moments where his mother lovingly adjusted, groomed or simply played with his hair to be some of the most loving actions he had ever felt. While Anne had grown into a similar role at times with both their lack of a mother, she never really intended the action the same way. He loved his twin more than anything, but she saw attempts to help her brother groom as a necessity, almost a chore, not an outlet to show love and affection as their mum had.

Sitting in there undercroft now Sebastian couldn’t help but let out a single quiet tear at how much this moment meant to him. It rolled down his freckled cheek so quickly most people would have missed it. She noticed it almost immediately, reaching a thumb over to brush it from his cheek before continuing without a word. It’s his story to tell or keep she reminded herself.

After a while a he peaked open his brown eyes, looking directly into hers. His eyes had remained glassy despite not shedding anymore actual tears. The knot in his throat remained. She smiled briefly at him as she slowly started to pull her hands away. He reached his hand up to stop her from removing her fingers. Pushing them back up into his hair she chucked as he acted almost childish in his wish to be doted on. While she didn’t want to admit that the position had become slightly uncomfortable she was beginning to struggle to keep her arms up as the boy was taller than her even while sitting. She slowly eased his slumping shoulder down so that he laid on the floor of the undercroft atop the blanket they conjured. Laying with his shoulders and head across her lap he sighed as she continued.

Hours, minutes, days, he had no clue how long he laid there allowing her to give him the simplest but most meaningful affection he had experienced in years possible ever. Every so often he’d crack open his eyes to see her smiling down at him. She’d brush the back of a hand over his forehead or freckle filled cheeks before returning to his brown hair. The action slowly made the lump in his throat dissipate and this almost sad expression was replaced with a slight smile as he thought she must truly care for me, to show such affections.

“My mum used to always do this when I couldn’t sleep” he said, voice horse from the lack of use and swelling emotion he was feeling. He opened his eyes to gage her reaction. She simply nodded continuing while allowing him to say what he wished. He appreciated her understanding that this kind of a story, should be left completely on him to share.

“She really did love my longer hair you know. Dad always put the foot down when it got too much past my shoulders but mum loved it.” He paused gathering his thoughts. Unsure if this story was even worth sharing with the girl. He was sure she probably didn’t need to know such trivial things about him, however after watching today as she fully committed herself to gaining respect in what remained of his family, as well as showing him the extent of her care towards him, Sebastian didn’t doubt for a second he should share everything there was to know about him. He truly had nothing to lose yet everything in the world to gain from having such a wonderful girl at his side. As silly as it may sound he wanted someone other than Anne to know the reason he had strong aversions to getting his cut or why he thoroughly enjoyed this moment now.

“When they died, and uncle Solomon came to collect us I figured it would be the last thing on anyone’s mind. You would think he wouldn’t want to further upset a kid who just lost his parents ya know? But the second we crossed that threshold at feldcroft he marched me to that kitchen chair muttering how boys should always look proper, keeping their hair off the ears and collar, before giving me a hack job that rivaled Duncan Hobhouse. I remember Anne watching terrified from the side of the room but unable to do anything. To a young kid having something so wrapped in your identity stripped, especially given how much my mother loved showing her care to me that way…” he trailed off not knowing how to continue the thought without breaking down. He decided to shift away as he was sure she understood the train of thought and would prefer to keep what little dignity he may have as a young man in front of the girl.

“Every so often in the years after same story. Aggressive shearing at the kitchen table and then forcing me to clean it up. Eventually Anne learned how to cut just enough to keep it with in his rules so he would stop. Ever since Anne was cursed it’s been the last thing in everyone’s mind, until today. I still have no idea why he would even tell you that is your responsibility “ Sebastian let out an annoyed sigh as he played with the buttons on his vest.

Her hand had stilled in his hair and he knew their calm moment may have ended. She still kept her fingers on his scalp as she responded “oh Sebastian… that’s horrible. I am terribly sorry”. Her voice was full of empathy. He looked up at her and swallowed unsure how they were to proceed now that so much had been revealed in the dim light of the undercroft.

“You have nothing to apologize for Love…” his words dropped off for a moment and he moved his hand to grab one of hers before holding it tightly in both of his. “You truly have showed me more care than anyone has since our parents died” he continued while examining every crevice of her beautiful hands. Sure she had some scattered scars on her knuckles and callouses from her wand scattered, but he decided then and there that these were the most beautiful hands he had ever seen.

He wanted to show her even half an ounce the love she had shared for him, but was unsure how to be proper about it. Given their close proximity little remained in terms of getting closer. He did not feel as though he had crossed a line she was uncomfortable with. He slowly brought her palm close to his mouth.

She felt her breath falter the second his lips made contact with her palm. He didn’t rush it either, slowly allowing himself to place a kiss on her palm, before moving just above where he placed the first to place another. Slowly he placed delicate, butterfly like kisses over every inch of her hand and fingers. Somewhere along the way he started muttering out “thank you” after “thank you” against her skin. She sudden felt lightheaded.

Sebastian wasn’t sure when he planned on stopping. He wasn’t sure if he ever wanted a moment to pass for the rest of his life where he didn’t have some sort of contact on her soft skin. He prayed to Merlin she hadn’t noticed how he lingered too long when he kissed her ring finger. His eyes opening for a brief moment to imagine what a simple band would look like adorning her lovely hand. The thought almost scared him and yet exhilarated him at the same time. Of course this wonderful woman should one day carry his hand, his ring, his name, his children…

After a while he stopped and thread his fingers in hers. Same as he had at this kitchen table, it still felt like a perfect fit. They laid in the silence together, listening to each other breathe.

She decided that while she did enjoy getting a deeper spot in his heart and mind, they had a lifetime for serious moments. “So Anne gave you the cologne?” She mischievously mentioned with a sarcastic tone. He had completely forgot Anne ousted his lie.

Sebastian felt warmth flash over ever inch of his body. He finally leaned up from his resting spot on her lap and shyly rubbed his neck. “I may have lied…” was the only response he could come up with.

She laughed plucking the courage to grab his hand voluntarily. He slightly smiled at her comfort in the act. “It’s okay Sebastian I know you just wanted to impress me” she said almost teasing him, however given it was a true statement he saw no need in denying it.

The Sallow boy figured he wanted one more milestone before they would have to return to their normal lives. Nothing too far however after the day they had he wanted more than to just hold her hand. He unwrapped their fingers to instead put his arm around her shoulders. Pulling her body close to his, he allowed his warmth to circle her. He leaned in closer to her ear, lip’s barely grazing the lobe as he playfully whispered “So have i successfully impressed you y/n?” He asked not really caring about the answer. He truly just wanted to see her face flush. When her cheeks slowly tingled with pink she nodded while briefly making eye contact before staring into her lap.

“I will admit I like this more mature version of Sebastian I’ve had the pleasure of meeting today” she replied after a moment. He took a single strand of hair that was resting near his hand on her shoulder and twirled it letting it slip along his digits. He tried not to think of the implications of what she meant.

“Well, I promise if you wish to see more of him, that he’s all yours, should you choose…” his words faltered as he continued “I wouldn’t just comb my hair for anyone now” Sebastian continued with a laugh as she snorted, surprised at this playful retort in a time so intimate. He always felt those moments ought not be mutually exclusive.

She looked up at him. Same brown eyes as this morning. Same brown hair. Same freckled filled cheeks. Yet it all felt different now. She leaned in and she ever so gently placed a chaste kiss on his right cheek. His eyes fluttered closed as if to savor the moment.

“I would love nothing more”.

——————————————

In the following weeks since their visit to Feldcroft, Sebastian found himself always lingering next to her when he could. Sure she still had Ranrok and the keepers to deal with, occasionally joining Natsi or Poppy out of the castle for endeavors to take down the goblins or criminals, but he was there when she was free. Moments to and from class he found himself walking along side her, tucking her school supplies and in under one arm while the other was stretched out towards her. Despite still continuing their playful banter, he would find himself rushing ahead to hold doors, pulling out chairs for her to sit or offering his robe when she got cold. A flirty gentleman some would say.

The attention had not gone unnoticed by those around him either. Their house mates and friends obviously were quick to notice, as they saw more of the pair in places like the common room cuddled up next to the fire or at dinner when he’d offer the last roll to her. Poppy had clocked her crush on Sebastian quite early, as in one of their magical beasts class she caught the Slytherin girl staring longingly at the boy who was cuddling up next to a niffler.

Even some of the professors had noticed not just the pair, but the shift in the resident trouble maker as well. While he had always used a strong sense of manors around adults, they slowly started to notice the lack of finding him in precarious situations. Madam Scribner slowly started leaving the Restricted Section of the Library with its normal enchanted lock, and now no longer finding it tampered with in the mornings. Professor Sharp saw the way the boy was always quick to grab her often heavy advanced potions books and supplies, treating them with such care. One comment from professor Garlick almost sent her into a coma as the sweet herbology professor noted that it was “such a lovely thing to see young love blossoming at Hogwarts”, encouraging Sebastian to feel free to select any of the flowers he wished from her muggle section of the greenhouses. While he groaned at the embarrassment he still took her up on the offer anyway, often slipping them behind her ear from time to time.

After Ominis walked in on Sebastian and her laying in the undercroft one night sharing sweet words and stolen pecks, she decided she ought to show him the room of requirement. Deek had sworn to not tell professor Weasley of Sebastian’s presence as she had done so much for him and the magic creatures around hogwarts. Deek himself thought the calming nature that Sebastian brought the often stressed young girl to be a lovely thing. She truly did need to stop trying to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Sebastian had slowly realized as time went on that they could possibly save Anne with her ancient powers so his trips to the restricted section became less and less frequent. He slipped into an almost normalcy with her, in the most proper and respectable of ways. Something the mischievous boy would never have seen coming months before if you asked him. However, she had reigned him in much like she had the wild magical creatures she kept in the vivarium.

Sebastian had grown to love nothing more than sneaking off with her to the secret room after dinner and laying in the grass of her vivarium as she stroked his still growing brown locks. While he was still unsure quite how they worked, given his slowly growing tan, he would assume they acted as a port key of sorts, bringing them to a place almost always warm and sunny. The sunlight that brought him a slightly darker complexion was bringing out more of the freckles that she loved so dearly, as well as turning some of his brown tresses into a color similar to honey. She couldn’t help but love what the sunlight brought out in the young man.

Today they had migrated inside the back rooms of her private area, laying on a sectional she conjured months before. Her magic abilities in the brief amount of time she had known of them still impressed him. She set a book they had found in one of Isadoras’s workshops on the arm rest of the chair reading over the notes. He laid his head in the almost permanently claimed spot of her lap, soaking up the now normal affection of her petting his hair.

“What are your plans for winter holiday?” He asked her. She looked up from her book nervously. It’s not that she didn’t want him to worry but she knew he would feel bad for her when he discovered she had no plans other than staying at hogwarts.

“Well… professor Fig and I decided that with so many people after me right now, returning home to my very much muggle family would put them in harms way. I planned to stay here honestly…” she felt sheepish. The poor girl with no where to go in order to keep her family safe. Professor Fig had helped her pen them about the danger and while they were disappointed they understood why she intended to keep them at distance for now. Initially wary of the strange man who explained that their seemingly normal daughter was a witch, now accepting that he would stop at nothing to help keep her safe.

Sebastian sat up from her lap shocked she was going to spend Christmas alone. He reached for some blank parchment and a quill immediately without thinking. She looked at him confused for a moment before asking what he was doing.

“Writing to Uncle Solomon. No one should be alone at the holidays. Besides we already take in Ominis and Anne’s been begging to see you again”. He made it sound so natural. Of course she would spend her holidays with him. It made every ounce of sense to Sebastian.

She quietly responded “are you sure that’s okay? I don’t want to impose…”

He looked up from the now finished note, trying to find the owl that occasionally hung out in her private room. Finding it, he simply passed on instructions and sent the snowy owl on its way. Sebastian rejoined her on the couch, collecting her slightly shaky hands in his. “I see no reason for him to object given the situation. Whenever you’re there things are… easier” he quickly pondered how harvest festival had gone with her at their table. She actually did the heavy lifting with the cooking since Anne was still unwell and their uncle always seemed to burn dinner without the help of a “woman’s touch”. The pair of young girls had moved about the kitchen together laughing as flour coated their hair and warm smells filled the house. Even Ominis occasionally cracked a smile at their antics, finally getting to enjoy his two friends together and Anne seeming to be in better spirits than normal. The only bump in the road once again being Solomon slightly more grumpy this time, telling him to get a haircut before he returned home again. The thought loomed over him but he brushed it off as he still had a week to figure something out…

“I want you there” he said with sincerity as he found her eyes. She looked at him smiling and nodding. “Well we shall wait for your uncle to approve it or not before getting too excited” she said.

She always was more realistic and grounded than him. He understood though. She was the rational for his passionate nature. With the danger she faced and the power beneath her fingers, she had to be calm and level headed as to properly handle situations she found herself in. They had grown to compliment each other wonderfully.

“Of course. Although I don’t imagine he will take poorly to the idea. Although my uncle and I don’t often get along, he seems to enjoy my presence more now that you’re around.” Sebastian poked at her side and she laughed.

——————————————

They were in the slytherin common room close to curfew with Ominis and Imelda when the owl returned from Feldcroft. Sebastian unwound its note, snagging a treat that he discovered she always carried for his personal owl off her. The discovery had warmed his heart.

Sebastian,

I will allow y/n to come, with a set of conditions, as Anne seems to truly do better when she is around. First, you will continue to be a gentleman towards her. I want no funny business, and nothing beyond what is acceptable. Secondly I want no talk of a cure for Anne while anyone is here. Let us simply enjoy a normal holiday without your rambling. Lastly, I meant what I said about fixing that damn hair of yours. You have a lady on your arm, and you are representing our family, be mindful of that.

Off the ears and off the collar.

~ Solomon

She sat next to him, eyes pleading his response as he finished reading the note. He was thrilled she would be allowed to come… with the exception of the last part. Given their proximity to curfew he didn’t want to delve into the intricacies of why his uncle allowed her to come until the morning. The thought of openly giving Imelda ammunition on his hair, something she mocked enough on her own, made he queasy. Ominis also would tease him relentlessly if he knew, so he decided to wait until the following day to discuss it with her. They only had potions on Fridays, so they spent more time in the room of requirement on those class days.

“He said you are more than welcome to come.” Sebastian responded while tucking the note back in his blazer, as he had discarded his robe soon after reaching the common room. He accepted whatever fate he’d have to deal with in order to spend a holiday with his sister and his best girl…

——————————————

The night had come and gone. Sebastian was standing in the shared slytherin bathroom fixing his tie in the mirror before breakfast. His wet hair was still clinging to his forehead and in the back touching his shoulders. He sighed, running his hand through the brown tresses. In the past 7 weeks since she met his family, he had thoroughly enjoyed having her preen his locks. She was not shy about the fact his hair had to be one of her favorite qualities about him. He knew at some point it would have to come to an end as Solomon was still his guardian. Still it felt bittersweet.

He found himself zoning out at breakfast and in class. He was anxious beyond belief. The only thing keeping him grounded was her hand holding his beneath the table as she brought him back to earth every so often. She’d smile warmly at him and he’d fall back into reality for a bit as he briefly overheard the grumpiest of the professors praising her skill with the caldron. That’s my girl.

Once they finished for the day, he helped her navigate the halls with a simple hand on her lower back and all their books in his other arm. They always found themselves in the room of requirement without having to mention where they were going. Once inside she took off, going to care for the magical creatures. He sat nervously in one of the chairs she kept near her loom, holding the note from his uncle he’d received the night before. The same phrase that had been repeated over and over as he attempted to sleep still plagued him: off the ears and off the collar.

Sebastian wished he knew why such a trivial task caused him such anxiety. At the end of the day, hair was hair and it grew back. Even he could admit it was getting to the point he found himself frustrated with it most of the time as it fell into his line of sight or tickled his ears. He was more concerned with how she was handle it. That and the logistics of who was going to take shears to his head, since if it was him, he knew it would look bad.

She stepped out of the vivarium and walked towards him. In her hands she held some puffskin fur and joberknot feathers. She laid them out next to the loom and came to stand near him. Her fingers immediately sought out his hair. Usually the act would cause him to relax but now he found himself tensing up. She sensed him tense and removed her hand, almost wounded by his reaction. He looked at her as if to say it’s nothing you did.

He simply held up the note from Solomon for her to read as explanation for his strange reaction. At first she was worried something had happened with Anne, and quickly snatched the note. She had noticed his downtrodden nature all day and was worried what caused it. When she finally finished reading she understood why he seemed upset.

“What are you going to do?” She asked him in a hushed whisper. It seemed so trivial the more he thought about it. The girl who had a thousand problems, and faced real danger at every corner, was treating something so seemingly stupid with the same care she would rescuing someone from the likes of Victor Rookwood.

He sighed and grabbed her hand from his shoulder, placing a kiss on her knuckle. “Be a man and get a haircut” he said with a small laugh. No one was dying and she would continue to feel the same about him, at least he thought so.

She looked concerned for a moment before responding “who are you going to have do it for you?” She asked shifting her weight to her other foot. It was a reasonable question, and he understood why she’d ask. Anne was in no position to be doing such things. Ominis, while an expert at somehow managing to maintain his own hair perfectly, was unfortunately blind. He wouldn’t trust someone like Imelda near his head with shears. That only left himself and the girl as far as he thought.

“I could attempt it myself, or you could try..?” He seemingly posed as a question. While he was confident she would do her absolute best, and wouldn’t Intentionally make him look bad, the worried look at the thought that crossed her face made him concerned.

She pondered it for a moment, face full of anxiety and fear. Then she had a brief flash of realization. She took his arm, leading him to the floo flame towards an unknown destination. Under normal circumstances he’d be worried but he fully trusted her. At the end of the day, he truly only was concerned about looking presentable for her.

Within seconds of using the flame he smelled the familiar air of Hogsmeade. She continued pulling him off towards the small river. He let her. She knew what she was doing. Sebastian knew one thing about his life at the current moment: he could trust her with just about anything from his life to even something as small as grooming. She knew how much small things like this were sometimes scary for him. Sebastian knew that she would respect his childhood trauma entirely while also making sure he didn’t walk away appearing as if he got attacked by a kneazle.

He saw the striped red pole and realized where the girl must be taking him. He remembers Anne coming here after a confringo disaster lead to her requiring the bangs she still kept to this day. Madam Snelling sure had a reputation around Hogsmeade as someone who, while occasionally pegged for rude, was honest to a fault. In fact, day of the troll attack, while she was off repairing carts for some of the venders she had stopped him, practically begging him to allow her the opportunity to tame the unruly hair that was even quite disheveled at the beginning of their school year.

Before heading inside she gave him one last glance as if to ask “is this okay?” And he simply nodded, grabbing the door and stepping aside so she may enter. Upon entering she was immediately swept into loud pleasantries with the flamboyant woman. He watched almost laughing as the girl received air kisses from the stylist commenting on how she is glad the girl took her advice and started leaving her hair down from time to time.

He glanced around realizing while he passed it often in Hogsmeade, it was one of the few stores he actually hadn’t stepped foot in. He did know for a fact that Ominis liked to pretend he didn’t come inside almost twice a month to maintain the same appearance he had sported since first year. After today Sebastian realized he could no longer tease his friend for it. “So what brings you in today?” The older woman asked, glancing at the pair of Slytherin students.

She pulled him closer to her side as he had unintentionally been cowering behind her. “Well, I know you said I could cash in a favor sometime, so I was wondering if you could help this one out in place of that favor…” she trailed off gesturing to Sebastian.

Madam snelling looked absolutely thrilled finally seeing the young boy who’s hair had to have been as lovely as his twins sister in her shop. “Ah the Sallow boy! I remember your sister, Ann isn’t it?” He simply nodded reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. He felt her hand slowly rubbing up and down his back in reassurance. “I have been wanting to get my hands on that mane months ago after the troll attack! Besides I do owe your friend a favor for running all the way to the coast to collect supplies for me”. She started rambling about how floo travel turned whatever she had delivered into unintentional hair dye so it must be transported via broom.

She removed her hand from his back and stepped back towards the stylist, speaking in a quiet tone he couldn’t quite understand. Madam Snelling nodded quickly at whatever she had informed her of quickly replying “I will be gentler than a mooncalf I promise! Come on over Love” she said turning her attention back towards him.

He cautiously sat down, allowing her to tousle his hair around before she asked him “so what kind of style would you like today?”

He hadn’t really thought about it. The events of the last 24 hours had led him into a situation he truly couldn’t have planned for. Snelling must have realized he didn’t know so she hoped to ease him in a direction by saying “I know your other friend, the blind boy, comes here often. I could do the same as him if you want?” No. He wanted to scream that while his friend looked great, that is not a look Sebastian imagined would look good on himself.

She spoke up quickly from next to him before he found the words to respond. “Is there any way you could just help clean up what he has now? As long as its just off the ears and collar I am sure it will be a tad more acceptable than it is now”.

Thank Merlin. He thought to himself.

“I don’t really do simply acceptable if you know what I mean dear. I made a career out of making people look good. While… we certainly have a good frame to work from there’s much to be desired by this current lack of style. I have a few ideas on my own, I was wondering if you knew what essence you were reaching for?” Sebastian was more than confused. How does hair have an essence?

The girl once again cut in, bringing the words he could no longer find to the conversation, “What about just a proper gentleman with a more ruggedly handsome edge? He has this one lock that always falls on his forehead, I would hate to see that too tamed you know? I think he should maintain a sense of himself. Also if you can leave it long enough to still put a hand through that would be perfect.”

Madam Snelling immediately started smiling and nodding her head. Finally. While Sebastian was quite confused what exactly that all meant, knowing she like also didn’t know what the outcome would be either, he trusted her.

It wasn’t long before he found himself with hair freshly washed and an anxious expression meeting her face. She gave him a reassuring smile. At least he knew that he would avoid another hack job at the hands of his uncle or an accidental mistake if she had braved his unruly hair in the room of requirement. A quite funny thought of Deek appearing just to see him with a towel around his shoulders and poorly cut hair on the floor almost made him laugh. Oh Merlin, if they had to rely on the house elf for help that would’ve been a disaster.

Honestly, the more he pondered it, the chances of ending up at a place like here to fix a mess someone else made seemed the most likely outcome. They had simply bypassed few steps. He could live with that.

Sebastian realized that this didn’t have to seem such the death sentence he had built it up to be in his head. He wasn’t a young boy anymore, who could have long hair being groomed by his mother. He was a young man who, wether he wanted to admit it or not, had to demonstrate the best the Sallow name had to offer. Sebastian should want to look presentable for her, so she could walk around her dorms without Imelda mocking her about when she was going to ‘groom him’. He finally sat up straighter seeing this as an opportunity for success not a punishment designed to make him fail. Besides, she was along him every step of the way, and would still be there at the end of the day to take him back to the privacy they developed and continue preening him.

He was slowly loosing himself in his thoughts when he heard her ask Madam Snelling “Is there any way possible you could show me how to do that? We often don’t get much free time these days and as I am sure you can tell, he still is quite jumpy when strangers touch him. It may be a good piece of knowledge to have for future reference”.

The woman simply nodded bringing the girl around to show her exactly what she was doing as he sat there, unsure where to look. He opted to simply close his eyes and let the process unfold without him awkwardly making eye contact in the mirror.

When the snipping started he was thankful that he had already shut his eyes as the first few sounds were quite jarring. He slowly felt his right ear being unearthed from the months of hair growth. It felt cold.

Madam Snelling, for as much shit as everyone gave her, genuinely seemed to care about her customers comfort in the chair. She noticed him still slightly tense and simply asked if she could get him anything, which he brushed off, opening his eyes again to see her very patient eyes examining the process in case in the future she would have to repeat it.

“Wow Sebastian I didn’t realize truly how long your hair has gotten” she said sheepishly. She almost seemed sorry by the way she spoke. What he didn’t know was that moments ago, seeing him having to loose the locks she knew he enjoyed simply so she could spend Christmas in Feldcroft made her feel guilty. It almost hadn’t crossed her mind, but as the first wave of chocolate brown hair hit the floor she understood the gravity of the situation. He was putting himself in a situation he didn’t want to be in for her.

The two had become close in the small amount of time they’d known each other and he could read her tone immediately. While confused why she would feel such as way, he lifted a hand out, almost beckoning her to grab it.

She didn’t notice him reaching for her at first, as her eyes were still trained to the floor watching the small mountain of brown hair accumulate at her feet. The same soft brown hair she loved watching him tousle. The same hair she herself would ruffle to calm him. Snelling sure is taking a lot of hair off she couldn’t help but think. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that she realized he was holding a hand out to her. She moved around, careful to not slip over his hair, and allowed him to thread his fingers with hers.

She had spent so much time reassuring him that everything would be fine, and now he needed to return the favor. “Hey, I really don’t mind this y/n. You’ve been kind enough to help me get this done properly, which I never would have asked for or even thought to do. Hell I was content to pass the shears to the house elf and let him give it a go when he’s only got a few hairs to call his own” she laughed at the thought as he continued “Is it something I would’ve done for myself, probably not, but this is such a small price to pay to wake up and see you amongst my family Christmas morning.” He spoke to her calmly for the first time since last night. She simply nodded.

He did feel the need to break the looming serious that had been over them by adding “Besides, it was getting unruly. How on Earth did you allow yourself to be seen in public with me?”.

She shrugged at his words with a small smile, realizing he was slowly starting to let go of the tension as the nape of his neck was slowly appearing for the first time since she’d known him. Finally coming to peace with the situation he tried to just relax. Haircuts could feel nice he supposed. Solomon always haphazardly grabbed large chunks of his hair, quickly removing them in whatever fashion was the fastest. Anne, while more gentle, just simply cut every strand a tad shorter than it was, unwilling to go further for fear of messing up. While the feeling of the enchanted shears and Madam Shellings fingers on his scalp were gentle. She would cautiously lift certain pieces, explaining to the girl what she was doing, before allowing the strands to be clipped. It felt more relaxing than he figured it would. Not quite as nice as the new student simply running her hands through his hair, but still nice.

He did loose his calm nature for a brief moment when he opened his eyes to search where she had situated herself and he caught a glimpse of a quite large chunk of his brown locks falling into his lap. Oh Merlin. He couldn’t help but semi-panic but when he made eye contact again with the girl, seeing her smiling at his new appearance, the worry disappeared again.

Eventually the snipping stopped and he was turned away from the mirror. He felt hands pushing strands of his hair out of his face. At least he knew he had a tad bit left. He had begun to grow mildly concerned seeing the size of some of the snippets and with how long it was beginning to take. Madam snelling took a step back, asking his companion what she thought.

He was curious at her reaction, blushing as she looked down at him. She came forward, pulling a strand or two onto his forehead. Her eyes locking with his brown ones. He sucked in a breath seeing her so close. “I love seeing these few pieces fall over his brow” she said before continuing “I really love it Madam Snelling. I can’t thank you enough for both being gentle and informative. I had grown used to the unkept look, I think it certainly looks more mature.”

“It was a pleasure Dear. I do say it’s some of my best work. What did you call it again?” She asked reaching around and undoing the cape around him, sending massive amounts of different sized clippings onto the floor. Sebastian stood and reached up to his neck. It was quite odd not immediately feeling brown curls under his fingers, but it wasn’t a bad thing necessarily.

“A ruggedly handsome gentleman?” She asked looping her fingers through his, pulling him towards a mirror. After having to navigate his hair on the floor - a sight that might’ve sent him into a coma days before - he found himself gazing at his appearance for the first time.

The sides were not much to write home about. Short enough to comply with Solomon’s rules, but not sheared down l short enough to show skin. The top however was shockingly split down the middle where it used to be pushed all to one side. In the front strands had been left longer and had been pushed back, almost like curtains, over his ears stood. In the front he saw the few strands she had pulled back on his brow in their normal place. It was different, but he felt as though it could be a nice change.

“So what do we think?” He found the stylist leaning against her counter, lighting a cigarette, beaming at her work.

Sebastian had to admit, he really did look good. Probably more put together than he had in years, yet as he lifted his hands to run his finger through it, noting that she had left him enough length in the curtain style fringe to run his hands through and push it off his face on both sides. “It’s going to take some getting used to…” he started to say, feeling her eyes on him, and he continued musing his brown locks in the mirror, gaining confidence as he continued. “I think its a nice change. I still feel like myself which is nice. It just won’t take a long time in the morning fusing over it not laying properly. Thank you, I am not sure I could have properly articulated this, but it’s perfect”.

He wasn’t sure how much of the thanks came across as directed at Snelling instead of her, but he didn’t really care. He truly just wanted to go back in the Room of Requirement and spend time with her until dinner, where he was sure their friends were going to have a lot to say. He merely put an arm out for her to hold. Madam Snelling passed him a small thing of gel, similar to Ominis’s but not quite as greasy. She explained to him that just a little would go a long way in keeping it looking tousled but in place. She even demonstrated how to quickly for the boy. She then sent the kids on their way with a quick comment about how long it was going to take to clean her floor from the massacre she preformed on his head. She slipped her arm into his and followed him out the door with a chime.

“Care to join me for a butter bear m’lady?” He spoke with a bad posh accent making her laugh.

“Lead the way kind sir” she responded as the pair headed off for the three broomsticks.

—————————————

When they reappeared in the Room of Requirement a small voice called out semi-startling the pair.

“How wonderful it is to see you again Miss y/l/n, and with your friend Sebastian who looks much older with his new do. ” The small house elf spoke up as they came barreling in the room laughing about how pale Sebastians neck look in comparison to the rest of him.

Receiving taunts from their friends was something he expected, however compliments from a house elf weren’t on his list of things to happen today. Sebastian simply responded “thank you Deek” as he ran a hand through the left side which had slightly shifted back onto his forehead from the floo travel.

Deek turned his attention back to her, telling her one of her thestrals had given birth to a fawn as Sebastian found himself looking in one of the many mirrors spread around the room. He was slowly getting acclimated to how it felt, getting used to not seeing the wild brown locks haphazardly placed around his head would take some getting used to. It felt a lot lighter as well.

He had already received several compliments now, Sirona hardly recognized him, saying that it was a “pleasant and unexpected change”. Although, the way she had passed glasses between the pair made him question if the witch was referring to the haircut or the change between himself and the new student.

After checking on the recently born thestral she joined him in the adjacent room on the lounge. As she sat next to him, he caught her staring, quickly quipping “you are staring you know”.

She quickly muttered out an apology, “I am sorry, your ears are just really lovely. Who knew they were hiding under there this whole time?”

“How are ears lovely?” He questioned with a laugh.

“I don’t know, they just are…” she trailed off, looking at her lap, embarrassed. He carefully lifted a hand to move her hair from covering the ear closest to him. While he didn’t exactly know what she had meant, he still took the opportunity to playful mess with her.

Lowering his mouth to her ear he kissed the outer shell before lowering his mouth, whispering against her earlobe the same way he had done in Feldcroft so long ago; “Everything about you is lovely, you know that?” He told her. While attempting to get a rise out of her, he still meant the words. He wasn’t prepared for the small moan that came tumbling past her lips before she could stop it.

Heat quickly rushed to both their cheeks. Maybe it was feeling more confidence due to the recent makeover, but Sebastian decided to do something that aired on the side of not-so-proper. He leaned back in towards her ear again, ever so carefully taking the lobe between his lips. He could feel the way she suckled in a deep breath, holding it. He lightly allowed his teeth to graze the delicate skin before leaning back just enough that he could see her eyes.

Somewhere along the way she had closed her eyes at the feeling. Her cheeks still flaming red as the new found act of intimacy startled and excited her in ways she didn’t fully understand. Before she had time to respond the bells for dinner started chiming and the trance was broken.

“We should probably go eat” she whispered out, not moving and voice thick with the looming feelings surrounding both of them.

“I concur, after you” he said responding in a similar manor. Neither moved. While he was certain she enjoyed the affection, he was unsure if she felt he crossed a line. The two, while close and growing daily into a nice rhythm, had yet to officially address what they were developing into. Realizing he had neglected to properly ask her to be his, assuming their shared glances, hand holding, and other moments to be sufficient.

When she didn’t move from the couch he simply decided that was something he needed to rectify. Sebastian pulling his weight from beside her, moving to the floor in front of where she sat. Taking one of her hands in his own he went to speak when he noticed her eyes get wide. “I am not doing that, calm down” he said realizing this was a similar stance to when rings were involved. Not now, but someday he thought.

“I am realizing on this lovely Friday that I have been improper. I have carried your affections without offering you the full extent of my hand. Would you do me the honor of an honest and proper courtship?” He said it in the same silly voice earlier he had used to invite her to the Three Broomsticks, however the weight of his words poked through despite his antics.

She simply nodded and he placed a delicate kiss to her knuckles before lifting her to her feet. “And would the lady please accompany me to fine dining of the great hall amongst our most cumbersome of allies?” He said continuing the same bit.

The pair broke out in laughter slowly creeping out the hall towards the floo flame. Given they would depart tomorrow for Feldcroft, she stopped to make sure Deek would be able to care for the beasts while she was away. Sebastian watched as the house elf handed her a scarf knit from the joberknot feathers she had been saving. She thanked him, giving him a small book in return. She is kind even to house elfs he thought.

The last thing they heard Deek say as they headed to exit was “It is so lovely to see Miss y/l/n and her friend Sebastian so happy”. And for once he couldn’t agree more.

—————————————

While he told himself he was prepared for the amount of grief his housemates were going to throw his way, he certainly wasn’t expecting the news to completely flood the Great Hall…

“No, no please Imelda describe it to me in detail.” Ominis said with a laugh. The table had been making jabs left and right as she and Sebastian arrived and took their normal seats.

“It’s better than he normally looks that is for certain” Imelda said before congratulating her roommate on successfully ‘domesticating’ the boy. She returned to Ominis and for once held back spite as she took her time carefully describing how it looked to their blind friend. While Ominis may have been cracking a joke, he truly did appreciate getting to gain a better sense of what his oldest friend now looked like.

Sebastian wished they could have sat at the Hufflepuff table.

Everyone in his house had similar reactions of openly giving him cheek, yet agreeing it was a pleasant change. He still felt quite self conscious about the whole ordeal. He was extremely grateful when her quiet friend Poppy Sweeting came over to exchange small gifts for the upcoming holiday, finding the courage to say that Sebastian should “Ignore what everyone is saying” and that she thought he “looked very handsome”. She really did live up to that name.

It still wasn’t easy to ignore the gagging noises he could hear from the Gryffindor table as he openly saw Leander and Gareth mocking both his new haircut and his affections towards the girl. He caught them making mocking kiss faces at each other after pretending to lob off Weasleys hair. He could stand to loose a few inches as well he thought before electing to wait until crossed wands to deal with them.

Before long dinner had ended and the group migrated back to their common rooms. Along the way they ran into several professors, including Fig who pulled the girl aside to confirm the work she was to continue over the holiday on their shared mission. The kind old man then returned the young girl to Sebastian’s company and made sure to compliment the boy saying “Mr. Sallow I dare say you have turned into a spritely young gentleman. Please keep an eye on Miss y/l/n over the holiday… although I am sure she will keep as close of an eye on you, as you will on her” Fig flashed a wink at the pair before quickly returning to whatever direction he had been running off to.

When they finally returned back to the safety of the common room the pair collapsed together on the couch closest to the fire. They knew curfew would soon be approaching, and tomorrow would have an early start, but for now they simply wanted to enjoy the remaining moments at Hogwarts before the end of the term.

He kept his arm wrapped around her shoulder as they all continued conversations with their housemates. she noticed on occasion his fingers would start drawing patterns across her shoulder. She did everything in her power to not blush as it slowly lulled her to sleep. Slowly everyone started trickling back to their rooms, leaving the common room mostly empty. He didn’t want to wake her, but assumed shed much rather start tomorrow on a full nights sleep. Besides prefects would be around for bed check soon. He brushed some hair off her face that had fallen when her head had softly leaned into his shoulder.

He placed a soft peck to her forehead, softly rubbing circles on her arm to help her slowly wake up. She stirred and slowly opened her eyes, finding him staring back at her with his lovely brown eyes. “Hey beautiful its bed time” he said still looking down at her.

She nodded and slowly stretched out her stiff muscles before allowing him to help her stand to her feet. She wobbled a bit, but he kept her upright, slowly helping her navigate back to the base of the enchanted steps he couldn’t help her climb. Damned Salazar Slytherin and his stupid charmed stairs.

She climbed up on the first step before turning around to give Sebastian a brief hug. Her toned arms wrapped around his neck and she breathed a sigh into his ear. He felt her smile as her cheek was resting against his skin. Before he could question why, he felt her delicate fingers toy with the now short locks at the base of his neck before she placed a small kiss on his ear, in the same manor he had earlier. Immediately everything became warm.

As quickly as she had done it, she pulled back from him. She ran a quick hand through his hair before saying “I truly love this haircut Sebastian, and I can’t wait to explore all it has to offer… goodnight Love” before running off. Between her comment and actions he felt the blood in his face rush elsewhere, and for once he was glad his best friend and roommate was very blind…

—————————————

It was very early in the morning as Sebastian crept down the hall to shower. He had been up most of the evening and wanted nothing more than to have the cool water run over his body before he was expected to be around people. While today most students boarded the Hogwarts express to go home for the holidays, their method of floo travel meant they weren’t stuck to a strict timeline. However, Sebastian this year wanted to leave early during the winter holidays in order to eat breakfast with Anne instead of in the Great Hall. He had risen earlier than even Omanis usually did, heading to take a quick shower before anyone else would be awake.

It was almost a startling surprise when he realized he grossly overestimated how much shampoo it would require for his short hair, dumping in the normal galleon sized amount, and the suds took forever to wash out. He made a mental note to Remember to use less shampoo next time.

Sebastian quickly dried off and slowly started to dress for the day, opting for a more casual trouser and loose fitting button down shirt. No need to wear the 3 piece plaid suits he was accustomed to at school. Toweling off his hair also took little time at all. He was used to having to fight it in the morning. Attempting to comb it after drying always took forever, yet only took a few seconds now. It was convenient he’d give it that. Heeding Madam Snellings words of caution, he used only a small amount of the cream she’d given him the day before, just to make sure it appeared tidy. While he planned on most days to let it hang somewhat free, making sure his uncle was satisfied today would be important.

After quietly packing his things and heading to the common room, he sat by the fire and decided to continue working on what kept him up late last night. After heading off to bed he realized that now with y/n coming to spend Christmas with his family, that he would also need to think of the perfect gift for her. Ominis was usually one of the simplest people to shop for, as he always enjoyed muggle literature translated into braille. Anne always was quite simple, as he knew his twin inside and out. For her however… it seemed difficult as some gifts seemed too sudden and others seemed not enough. Sebastian also had come to semi-unfortunate realization that she had to be one of, if not the best gift giver in the world. From the handmade niffler plush she made Poppy, to the Ugandan styled Gryffindor robes she designed for Natty.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard movement coming from the girls dorm hallway. Before long he heard quiet laughter. He turned his attention towards the hall in time to see her and Imelda coming down the stairs. Imelda was holding a new quidditch robe in her hands, with her holding what he assumed to be an updated broom in hers. Perfect gift giver.

He was shocked when his girl and Imelda formed a friendship, as he always found the girl quite rude and Anne had less than savory opinions after sharing a room for 4 years. Yet, being around her seemed to bring out a somewhat bearable side in the Irish Slytherin to the point he at this rate considered her more than an acquaintance. Imelda came down the stairs with the girl dressed in a simple linen shirt and trousers, her dark brown hair which usually sat in a boring ponytail was in one of the elaborate braids he knew must have been the work of her skilled hands. She quickly hugged the girl before saying “Happy Christmas” and acknowledging Sebastian with a nod and running back towards their room.

At her quick dismissal she turned around and came to sit with Sebastian. He had tucked the parchment he had been using to brainstorm back in his bag so she would not see. She came and sat next to him, her eyes drinking him in. He suddenly remembered the other thing that kept him up all night…

Sebastian moved to grab the hand she had been using to hold her bag, holding it in his own. “Goodmorning, you look beautiful as ever”. He said taking note of her chosen wardrobe. Dark green trousers which slightly tugged at her thighs, an off white button down that stopped at the elbow and a tight blue vest overtop. She seemed a bit more casual than normal, yet maintained the same look she always managed to have. She had thrown a worn brown leather coat on top of her bag, presumably for if it got colder. At closer inspection he saw… spikes? Where did she get a dragon skin cloak? No doubly plucked it off some poachers now that he thought of it. His girl was resourceful, he would give her that.

He was elated to see she had twisted her y/h/c hair into a very elaborate braid this morning, knowing Anne would enjoy seeing it. He was snapped back to reality when she said “you don’t look too bad yourself. How’s the hair holding up” She gestured towards his head before carefully adjusting his usually misplaced lock back to its natural resting place.

“Still getting used to it… I way overdid it with the soap this morning and it took ages to finally wash out…” her laugh cut him off. She couldn’t help but imagine his shock discovering that his normal amount of shampoo to way too much.

“Ya know, there is one thing I am still trying to figure out about it…” he said, breaking her thoughts from the hilarious image he had initially laid out. She almost didn’t catch how his tone had shifted. However, the gleam in his eyes vanished and instead was replaced by a look that was much darker.

“What would that be” she struggled to get out, voice suddenly going horse with nerves. He leaned in to her, brushing her braid off her shoulder and onto her back. Sebastian took his left pointer finger, slowly running the back of it down the side of her cheek and onto her neck before smirking. Leaning closer to her ear he whispered “I spent practically all night racking my brain trying to figure out exactly what my hair would have to offer you, and why you seemed so eager to explore it…”

At the mention of her own words, her eyes went wide. To be fair, she hadn’t meant to be so lewd the night before. Waking her up from sleep made her a lot more candor than she had ever intended. However, sitting here looking at the half smile playing on the lips of the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen her ability to care was slowly starting to dwindle.

She tried to play the same game he was getting at by replying “I guess you’ll have to wait and find out…” in the most sultry tone she could muster. She was completely unprepared for the almost growl that escaped his throat as she spoke. His eyes grew as it must’ve startled him as well.

Before either could reply they heard a bag drop to the floor near them as well as a voice drift out saying “If you two are done I would like to get going”. Ominis. He sure had a wonderful way of finding them in the worst possible moment. Now was no exception. He did have a point though, Sebastian couldn’t help but think. Collecting his bags, and hers the trio started to the flame, and with a flash were off to Feldcroft for the holidays.

To Be Continued…

Authors note:

I plan to continue this as a small series so stay tuned for when I finish part two, and I will upload as soon as I can! Feel free to leave suggestions if you choose! Also the photo linked in the text is a screenshot from TikTok where someone demonstrated an appearance Mod if anyone would like to know, the account name is @miss_soapy. It provided most of the inspiration for the fic… Thanks for reading!

Part 2 out Now:

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x slytherin!reader #sebastian sallow x you #ominis gaunt #poppy sweeting #natsai onai #victorian #fluff #hand holding #hair play #haircut #anne sallow #imelda reyes #sebastian sallow/reader

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memphisnovels · 11 months

Text

Evermore

Chapter 1. Dream a little dream of me

Masterlist

Chapter 2

I’m back my loves!

This is a new series that I have been working on for quite a while and I really hope you all enjoy it <3

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

just to preface: The first three chapters are backstory for the OFC and her path to meeting the Avengers and Pietro comes into things in chapter 4. I will note this again at the beginning of chapter 3, it is an optional chapter which furthers her backstory but if you are too excited for Pietro then just reading chapter’s 1 + 2 and skipping to 4 would still be okay <3

Trust me Pietro is worth the wait!

summary: Nadia was raised in the Red Room, raised to be a weapon; a killer. From five years old this is all she knew, until a near-death experience and a chance meeting turned her world upside down.

series warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of blood and injuries, PTSD, angst, trauma, mutual pining, slowish burn, eventual smut, mentions of medical procedures, guns and torture.

chapter warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of blood and injuries

Russia, 2006.

Whether it was February or sometime in June I was no longer sure.

The air was glacial around me, and I was sure I was dying.

There was a dampness that enveloped me, something in the stale air that agitated my senses. I laid back against the rough gravel, sweat streaming down my neck even with the snow that dappled my cheeks. It must be February still, this much snow could only mean winter. I rasped a breath out. My eyes were heavily lidded, suit becoming damp with the blood that spilled from my side. I saw a familiar face then, her name was Annika, or at least I thought it was. Dark hair slicked back as she prowled around searching for me. When our eyes met, I hoped death would come with haste, surely it would be merciful. This instead of returning to his grasp. She came to kneel beside me, gravel crunching under her weight. She said my name, but it was distant, her hand came to grip mine. Perhaps there was something in my gaze, something she recognized. That is the only conclusion I could come to as she let her hand drift from mine offering a single nod, but not the slightest of expressions as she spoke.

“Отдыхай сейчас, сестра.”

Rest now, sister.

I would never forget her mercy. My eyes drifted shut as everything became distant, the dreary cold, the aching muscles, the blood that drained from me. Then, there was nothing. Finally.

The smooth, delicate flesh which had seen no hard labor smoothed my hair down, twirling a golden curl between slender fingers. A quiet hum filled my ears, followed by smooth words

Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper, ‘I love you’. Birds singing in the sycamore tree.

“Dream a little dream of me.” I murmured; the low hum of an engine filled my ears as I jolted awake. I was confused by the strange vision I had seen whilst unconscious, an American woman who had found her way into my mind’s eye many times before. When I’d told Natasha about her years ago, she’d said perhaps the woman was my guardian angel. The thought made my heart clench, I wondered where Natasha was, if she was still breathing or if she was merely another piece of the past now.

When my consciousness returned fully, I managed to prop myself up enough to take in my surroundings, I immediately regretted it. Surrounding me, atop my legs, by my head were bodies. I suspected we were being taken to a site for disposal, that had been my path, a nameless corpse among the others taken to be dumped in a wide grave. However, by some wicked twist of fate some stubborn part of me seemed unwilling to die. I had planned my escape before, many times over the past 10 years. Yet, now when it was practically in my palms, it was hollow and did not feel as if it were mine. I tore a small shred of fabric from the shirt of once of the corpses, apologizing to the lifeless eyes that watched me as I used it as a makeshift bandage over the wound at the side of my stomach. It hurt, yet I’d sustained far worse. I reminded myself of this as I took the knife from my boot and cut into my wrist, blood trickling down my forearm as I slipped the tip of the blade beneath the skin to locate the chip that would tell him exactly where I was. An ache set into the base of my skull as a ringing noise filled my ears, I persevered, nonetheless. Finally, metal hit metal and I slipped the tracker from my skin. I put the microchip into the pocket of one of the corpses. Even if it was followed it would only lead to a hole filled with dead. I pressed my bleeding wrist to my chest as I dragged myself to the edge of the trailer, tucking my head and rolling. The gravel scraped my flesh, digging into me and engraving new cuts into my body. I gasped for air as I landed on my hurt side, shutting my eyes tightly to block out the still present ringing. Whether there was a part of me that truly wished to live or it was merely stubborn fury that pushed me to get up I was unsure.

The pain seared through me as I watched the car leave the driveway from behind some stray shrubbery. Forcing myself back to my feet I hobbled toward the now empty house. A brief search of the area surrounding the backdoor returned no sign of a spare key and I could feel the blood still oozing from the wound on my side as well as the steady stream on my wrist. I leaned against the wall, steadying myself momentarily as my head began to spin. With a swift movement I shattered the small glass panel of the door, reaching within to flick the lock. Given the distance of this particular house from the nearest neighbor, I was not concerned that someone may be alarmed by the sound, hence the appeal of this property. When inside I made quick work of securing the items I required; pants and a shirt, to allow me to remove my torn, bloodied suit, only keeping my boots and push dagger. I also grabbed some towels. When I’d found each item I moved back to the kitchen, searching for some kind of first aid kit, though there was no sign of one in the vicinity. After rifling through a few more cupboards, I gave up on the errand, not wanting to linger in case the homeowner returned. Makeshift antiseptic would have to suffice, I grabbed the bottle of vodka I’d clocked in a cabinet before carefully moving to sit on the tiled floor. I peeled the black suit from my body, cursing as it clung to my gash. When I was down to only my undergarments, I pressed one of the folded towels between my lips, gritting my teeth around it as I held the other towel just below my wound.

I was unable to swallow the groans of agony that ripped through me as I poured the vodka onto my flesh, blood-stained alcohol pooling onto the towel in my hand. The ringing noise returned, echoing through my ears as the pain intensified, fraying my nerves. When the overwhelming burning subsided slightly, I began to attach a piece of cloth over the marred flesh; it would have to suffice until I could find a needle and sutures. As fast as I was capable in my state, I slipped into the clean clothes disregarding the mess that I’d created in favor of getting out of this house as soon as possible. I only collected the items that were coated in my blood before filling a canteen that I’d found with water from the tap. Before leaving, I grabbed a coat and gloves from the rack next to the door.

The flakes of snow kissed my cheeks as I trudged through the streets, tightening the coat around my body, chin tucked into the soft inside layer. I wasn’t sure where I was going or what I planned to do when I got there but remaining on my feet seemed a solid starting point. I managed to find a pharmacy along my way, the faint green cross bringing some relief as I all but stumbled through the door. Old Russian opera hummed over the radio, surrounding me as I scanned the shelves. A young boy sat at the front of the store, completely engrossed in the faded, well-loved comic book he was reading; I wasn’t sure he’d even noticed me enter, regardless of the bell that had rung above my head the moment the door had opened. I glanced at him to ensure he was still ignoring me before shoving a stitching kit and some bandages into my pockets. This was all I needed, though my feet seemed cemented to the floor where I stood. I was unsure whether I was swaying or if it was just my imagination. The room suddenly seemed to be spinning around me. My breath felt ragged, and I could feel sweat on the back of my neck.

“Могу я вам помочь, мисс?”

Can I help you, miss?

The boys’ words barely met my ears. I closed my eyes tightly, releasing a shaky breath and attempting to steady myself against the shelf.

“Нет, спасибо.” No, thank you. I grabbed a pack of throat soothing candies from the shelf, holding it toward him. “У тебя не т��т вкус, который мне нравится.” You don’t have the flavour I like. He nodded in response, watching me with what I believed was concern for my welfare glimmering in his gaze. I offered him a smile that was likely not very convincing before turning and making my way from the store. I found a block of public bathrooms to lock myself in as I peeled the layers from my body and began the laborious task of stitching my wound closed. My hands were nowhere near as steady as they normally were, and it was no small task to focus my eyes. I’d stitched up my wounds and the wounds of others countless times, yet now, when time was not on my side, nothing seemed to be going my way. The sting of the needle seemed nothing compared to the collective pains from the day.

I recalled stealing the loaf of bread, so fresh it burnt me beneath my coat where I had stowed it away as I stumbled toward the tracks. The sting of the piping hot dough against my chest was easy to focus on, something to anchor me to reality. I remember that and I remember falling unceremoniously into the empty carriage at the back of the cargo train, the door was so heavy against my frail consciousness I was barely able to pull it closed. Even after summoning the last shred of strength that lingered within my bones, a slither remained present in the door.

I hadn’t the faintest idea how many hours were passing, by what I believed was the third sunset I’d witnessed through the crack in the door I was too exhausted to eat the bread that remained half wrapped beside me. The cool metal of the canteen in my hand the only thing anchoring me to reality. The days had begun to pass by with the same routine, it would begin with a searing agony that would eventually become a dull ache, the violent shaking would follow soon after, though at times they arrived in unison. Sweat would bead on my flesh, making me clammy and overheated as the glacial breeze continued to infiltrate the stale air of the carriage.

When the train slowed to a stop just before the fourth sunset, I decided that if I didn’t pull myself from the carriage now, I’d almost certainly die here.

There were bricks beneath my feet comprising the path surrounded by trees, I studied my surroundings through blurry eyes. Berlin. I had been here recently, but the months still seemed to have passed me by. People were celebrating, they were dancing in the street in colorful costumes and singing jovial songs; I remember now, it was the beginning of Fasching, the beginning of Lent, it was February. The streets still bustled, though no one danced, German flowed around me.

I approached a man who sat reading a newspaper on a park bench, asking him, in perfect German, what day it was. He told me it was the 1st of March and then he asked if I was well. I nodded slowly and turned from him, offering nothing further in the way of conversation. Continuing down the street I attempted to make a plan, I had no contacts here, not ones that existed outside of the red rooms grasp. A woman pulled me from my thoughts, she was not speaking to me, she was on the phone, and she spoke English. I glanced toward her noting the wallet that she slipped into her coat pocket, a small map in one hand. She was British. I diverted my path subtly, adjusting my gloves to ensure that no blood stains were visible. For a moment I just listened, having to close my eyes to focus in this altered state, in my head I mimicked her voice, repeating the sentence she’d just spoken over and over.

“Yes, I’ve just arrived in Berlin, it’s absolutely freezing here.”

Again and again, I said it as I approached her, she was ending her phone call when I finally stood before her. She gave me a friendly smile when our eyes met. “Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, I just heard you speaking English, and well, I don’t speak a word of German, I was wondering if you could help me.” I spoke mimicking her accent.

“Oh of course, it is a tricky language! I’m Anna, what’s your name?”

I had found German to be relatively easy to learn, but I disregarded this. “It certainly is, I’m Natalie, I was hoping you could give me some directions to the nearest pharmacy?” She agreed happily, unfolding her map and beginning to show me what roads to follow to find my destination. I hummed along as she rambled, ignoring her words as I swiftly slipped my hand into her pocket, snatching her wallet and slipping it into my own coat before she’d finished talking. “Thank you so much, really, you’re a saint.” I spoke, forcing a smile just as warm as hers to spread across my face. I turned and began to make my way down the street in the direction she’d told me.

“Oh, and Natalie.” I rolled my eyes at her voice, forcing a smile back onto my face as I turned back to face her.”

“Yes, Anna?”

She stepped toward me, her expression completely calm and collected as she adjusted her jacket. “Might I have my wallet back?”

The smile never fell from my face as I regarded her, I was trained to face any circumstances that may arise on a mission, there was no room for error in the red room I had been forged into something of a perfectionist. “I’m not sure what you mean, your wallet?”

“Yes, love, my wallet which you just nicked.” I told her I hadn’t seen her wallet and I even acted mildly offended that she was assert such a thing. “I must admit you are quite an adept pickpocket, if it were just that perhaps I’d assume you were a mere street hustler and leave it at that after regaining my wallet. Though, I’ve been told I’m something of a connoisseur at separating your run of the mill con artist from someone like you.”

The accent I’d employed remained strong as I queried. “Someone like me?” Glancing at her with furrowed eyebrows as if to query her sanity. “Are you alright, Anna, what a thing to accuse someone of. I’ve not even seen your wallet.”

“See it’s that right there that gives you away, sweetheart.” I raised an eyebrow at her gleeful expression. “You don’t even falter when you lie, no shift in your demeanor, no evident tell of any kind. Really that is talent, kiddo. However, you did make one mistake.” I could feel sweat beading on my head and my surroundings were becoming more fuzzy than clear. Forcing myself to remain upright, I only prayed I wasn’t becoming paler before her eyes. I asked her once more what on earth she was speaking about. “You said that you spoke no German and yet you understood the map perfectly. The map which has not one word of English on it.”

Had I shown that I’d understood the map? I couldn’t remember, everything was becoming groggy and distant, I had never once been made before, but now, I could barely hear the words Anna spoke to me. Too weak to run, and too ill to continue deceiving her I simply threw her wallet onto the ground in front of her. “Fuck you.” I spoke letting the accent slip from my words, settling back to my regular speaking voice.

“You’re Russian? Are you working for the KGB? Did someone send you here?”

Suddenly I couldn’t feel my legs and my words became slurred. “Fuck off.” I attempted to leave but I stumbled, catching myself against a wall, the cold bricks pressing into gaunt cheeks.

“Are you alright?”

I pulled the push dagger from my pocket, aiming it toward Anna but evidently the threat was empty as I was no longer able to hold myself up, slumping down to the ground, limbs going limp at my side. My eyelids were inexplicably heavy then, each time I blinked I was plunged into the darkness longer. I could see the woman’s mouth moving as she approached me cautiously though none of her words stuck as the darkness came once more.

Thank you so much for reading - Pietro is worth the wait <3

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff fanfiction #pietro maximoff x ofc #pietro maximoff smut #pietro smut #marvel #marvel avengers #avengers smut #avengers fanfiction #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson smut #atj smut #pietro maximoff x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader

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quietlyimplode · 6 months

Text

the language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: Day 19 - A floral bouquet

Warnings: child abuse, nightmares

Word Count: 1.7k (gif not mine)

Summary: after Clint proposes, they both need time to recover and recuperate.

A/N: this is completely unread, forgive the mistakes bound to be embedded. I don’t have the energy to read it though.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

2011

IOWA

Recovery time is granted as a courtesy and requirement. It sets Natasha’s teeth on edge but even she can see that Clint needs it.

She wants the next assignment, the almost dying part not really phasing her. She’d almost died many times before.

If she was a cat, she would have used her nine lives by now. It doesn’t mean the panic for Clint doesn’t permeate into her dreams.

She dreams that she can’t breathe, and wakes up gasping, when she gets back to sleep, she watches Clint gasping for breath.

She performs CPR only to break his ribs and watch him die anyway.

It’s disconcerting and always results in her focusing on him sleeping into the hours of the morning.

He comments that she looks tired, but she always retorts that he does too.

There’s a cabin south of Iowa, he invites her to, she knew he had it but they’d never been able to go.

The dainty log cabin smells musty when they arrive, but as soon as it’s aired out, Natasha takes in all the details.

Surrounded by trees, the cabin is four rooms, a kitchen and main room all together, a bedroom and a bathroom.

There’s wood everywhere; bow and arrows on the walls, and a shot gun for good measure. He watches her surveil the place and stands in place, waiting for her assessment.

“Whatddya think?” he smiles.

“Did you make these arrows?” she asks in awe, touching them and continuing to look around.

“Yeah,” he nods, “the bow too.”

The wood fire sits inert and Clint promises to light it at night.

“Come for a walk,” he offers, taking her hand and leading to her to the door, “the weather is good and we can gather some wood.”

Natasha smiles and grabs her jacket as they head out.

The lake surrounds, birds chirping and flowers line the path they take.

It’s renewing in a way she’s never felt before; maybe that the air feels fresher than in the city, and whilst since they’d been released from hospital, breathing had been a little more labored, it feels like it can loosen off.

“Pick some flowers,” Clint prompts, “I’m going to get some twigs and kindling.”

It feels like an odd request, but Natasha follows it, starting with small flowers, pink ones that have tiny petals, she then finds some white ones, cutting them cleanly with her switchblade. She moves away from Clint and finds other flowers, longer ones that look like bells, the purple blending with the others as she traverses around the lake.

The yellow flowers spread everywhere, and she chooses them more selectively. Large petals, and smaller cone shaped ones.

As she heads back up the incline, Clint calls for her to come over.

“This one too?”

The delicate blue wildflowers were small, easy to pick and went well with the bunch that Natasha had picked

“They were my mums favourites,” she smiles.

She holds the bunch up for his approval and he smiles.

“Perfect,” he tells her.

They walk back, conversation easy, light gossip and commenting on the world around.

“Do you think it will storm tonight?” Natasha asks.

Clint shrugs, opening the door and allowing Natasha to enter first.

“Maybe, depends if the temperature drops, then you’re in for a chance.”

They both go about unpacking some food and Natasha starts cooking and cutting vegetables.

He sets about lighting the fire then puts her flowers in water and smiles as he places the forget me nots to the front.

“Tell me about her,” Natasha asks, “your mother? What was she like?”

There’s a beat of silence before Clint acquiesces.

“She loved nature. I think we would have got an animal if it wasn’t for him. I think she knew that if we did it would become another thing for him to destroy or use against us, but she made it up in other ways.”

He moves to the kitchen to help her, grabbing a carrot and chewing on it.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t —“

He waves her off.

“Nah, I want to, otherwise she just lives in my memories, and I’d like her to live in yours too,” he smiles, crunching down.

“She had brown hair, maybe a bit shorter than you, smart but in a clever way. Not book smart I think, as she struggled to read, but the way she could deduce and read people was easy. It always made me wonder how she ended up with my father.”

Natasha turns the portable gas heater on, and passes him the chicken for cooking.

“Did she like to cook?”

Clint laughs.

“No, not at all, we would eat the same thing over and over, meat and vegetables, or potatoes; there were lots of potatoes.”

He takes onions and places them in the pan.

“Barney liked to cook,” he says a bit more softly, “he’d take over from my mother when my father wasn’t home. He loved making sauces and mixing flavours.”

The sizzle on the chicken is loud and so the next words feel more for him than anything else.

“He found Barney once, cooking with my mother looking on, yelled and ranted that it was women’s work. He threw the hot saucepan at him and burnt him across the arm, here,” he says gesturing to his forearm.

“Barney still liked to cook, but was just more careful about how he did it after that.”

Natasha stands next to him.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him.

“It’s okay, I was telling you about her, not him.”

Clint puts the next piece of chicken on the small fryer.

“She liked stories, any stories. So I’d tell her them from school, also, Gus; he had the best stories, so I’d tell her them too. I think she liked to think about them, maybe they helped in some way.”

Natasha takes over the fryer, motioning to the cooked meat for cutting.

“She could be forgetful, and told me things usually more than once, but I didn’t mind. She had the kind of voice that when she spoke you’d listen regardless of what she was saying.”

He stops cutting and thinks.

“I think she would have liked you,” he says generously.

Natasha looks to the pretty little flowers.

“Yeah. I think I would have liked her too.”

The distinct smell of the wood fire brings Clint out of his nightmare. The disorientation makes him freeze on the spot dampening his breathing so that he doesn’t wake Natasha.

He ruminates on the images the dream produced, the dodging of beer bottles before one caught him, the way he was small and his father was big, and his mothers face, blood coming out of her mouth and the familiar bruise covering her cheek and throat.

He sorts the images and finds the truth in the lies, then separates it further, smelling and grounding himself with Natasha’s gentle breathing and the smell of the fires.

He’d hoped talking about her would be cathartic, and in a way it was. He’d just not anticipated the memories it produced.

He sighs wanting to get up but knowing it would wake Natasha.

If they get married, he’s not going to become like him. He’s not his fathers son, he is his mother’s though.

He pulls out his phone and googles how far it is to visit her and settles back down with a plan for the next day.

The grave reads Edith’s name, the date of her birth and death and words that read ‘beloved mother’.

The fact that she has a headstone at all is something Natasha can’t help but comment on.

“The circus helped us pay for it, it came about a year and a half after her death, maybe 6 months we’d both been there. We agreed to work for free to get it done.”

Gently, Natasha moves the moss and Clint pulls the weeds around it.

It takes them some time but they clear it and make it neat in its appearance.

Natasha pulls the little bouquet of forget me nots she’d picked and places them down.

Clint hugs her and they stand side by side in silence.

The ride home is comfortable, soft country music playing as Clint taps his finger to the beat.

“Do you think my mother has a grave?” Natasha asks, a question she’s never thought to think.

Clint reaches across and holds her hand.

“I hope so,” he says, squeezing it.

“Maybe she had a sister or someone to lay some flowers at her grave too,” she hopes.

Clint nods.

“Maybe she’s hanging out with my mother, wherever they may be.”

Natasha smiles, then laughs.

“They’d tell lots of stories to each other I think,” she says.

“My mother would like that,” he nods.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks, squeezing his hand.

“I know you had… dreams last night, but do you think this will make sleep hard as well? Can I do anything?”

Clint shrugs.

“I don’t know. Maybe? Nothing you can do, but maybe we can play a game or watch a movie together before sleeping.”

He sighs.

“It’s been a long day.”

Natasha nods, opening the window then closing it with the smell.

It breaks the mood and he laughs.

“Cows are certainly an acquired smell,” he grins.

“She liked magic too,” Clint offers, the movie finishing.

“Can I show you some?”

Natasha feels a curl of excitement.

Giving him her full attention, he produces a bunch of flowers.

It makes her burst out laughing.

“Can you do it again?”

He pulls a coin from her ear and then makes the flowers disappear again.

She takes the coin and rolls it over her fingers.

Clint nods in approval.

He smiles again.

“One more.”

From her ear, he produces two rings.

“I know we were dying, and that you may have just said yes—“

She doesn’t even let him finish.

“I want to marry you Clint Barton,” she tells him, taking the rings off him and examining them carefully.

Both of them thin, one with a red ruby and the other larger in size but just as thin, the metal infused with a purple hue.

“They’re for us, like your necklace, no one has to see them.”

He loves that she puts it on straight away, kisses him again and then tries to imitate the magic trick.

“Teach me,” she requests, “show me how to do magic just like you do.”

#whumptober2023 #no. 19 #floral bouquet #natasha romanoff #clint barton #clintasha #black widow #my fic #hawkeye #natasha romanoff fic #Clint barton fic #clintasha fanfiction #clintasha fanfic #Clint barton x Natasha Romanoff #marvel fic #hawkeye fic

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icemavschild · 2 years

Text

Imagine this:

When Ice is diagnosed with throat cancer, he and Mav prepare for the trials and tribulations ahead of them. They prepare for the chemo, they prepare for the weight loss, they prepare for the hair loss, they prepare for the weakness, they prepare for the emotional roller coaster, they prepare for the depression and they prepare for the funeral.

Ice would insist he didn’t want to be apart of it, so Mav let’s him plan his own funeral. Hell, he even lets Ice buy two slots in the cemetery. He didn’t know why he chose two at first, it wasn’t until after a very delicate love-making session did Ice confess that he wanted to be beside Mav someday. Mav cried a lot that night, he let himself feel all the raw emotion he’d been keeping from Ice.

When the Dagger mission is presented with Mav, he goes to turn it down. But Ice being Ice convinces him to train them. Convinces him to try and make up with Bradley. He said it was his dying wish. To their boy home again. Ice had missed Bradley, he often left messages when he could speak. Well back when he could speak.

Speaking for Ice had been obsolete, so when he gets a call from his doctor that the cancer was worse and he didn’t have that much longer left, he called Bradley and he called Mav.

They showed up separately Ice’s personal nurse, Sarah, had let him sit in the kitchen for a while. When Mav arrived, Bradley went to go leave but Ice just knocked on the door frame that led to the kitchen and held out his arms for his boy to fall into.

Bradley embraced Ice immediately, taking note of his short stature, his frail body and his unhealthily skinny body. Bradley cried in Ice’s arms when he realised how bad the cancer was, how it never went away. And for the first time since he came back to Miramar, he turned and embraced Mav needing his father figure to hold him. Needing to be held by the man that raised him. He needed his dads in this moment.

They spend the day together, grudges forgotten for the moment. And then Bradley goes back to base and the tension is back again, only he decides to call Ice every night before he goes to sleep.

It’s after the bird strike, Bradley beside Phoenix, Maverick coming to comfort Bradley. The Bradshaw is mad, fuming, and he needs to take his anger out on Maverick.

“Why’d you get in my way!” He screamed, when all he wanted to say is “Why didn’t you support me! Why didn’t you stand by me!”

He didn’t mean to be so cruel, and he didn’t mean to leave it radio silent when Warlock came knocking on the door and asking to speak to Mav privately.

The dagger team pretended not to hear the wail of despair when the Captain was told of his husband’s passing. “It was peaceful.” They said. “He was calm.” They said. And he felt guilty for not staying with him. He felt angry at the world. He lost his wingman, his husband, the love of his life. He wasn’t only grieving the loss of his son anymore—but the loss of the man that stood by every decision he’d ever made. The man that helped him out when Carole came banging on their door, begging Mav to not let Bradley into the Navy. Then she begged Ice when Mav tried to refuse. God did he try to sway her decision, but no…he couldn’t do that to her. Couldn’t make her lose another—so Ice planned ahead.

The Dagger Team and so many other naval officers stood and watched as Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell-Kazansky struggled to hold it together as they lowered his husband into his grave.

The Dagger Team followed Bradley to a side of Miramar they were unfamiliar with, they silently followed and watched him hesitate to knock on the door. They watched as he began to let his shoulders shake and just open the door. When he did they could all hear him crying. The loud, ugly sobs falling from his lips.

When they found him, he was cradling a photo album and held two pairs of dog tags and a silver wedding band around a chain in his hands.

It was then that Bradley came to realise that Mav had lost everyone. Goose, Carole and now Ice. The Dagger Team watched silently, yet not awkwardly, as Bradley fell to his knees and pressed his forehead to Mav’s shoulder. They watched as the two men fell apart at this disaster.

Years later, about 20 years or so, Mav’s sat with his hands clasped in Bradley’s whose singing ‘Great Balls of Fire’ underneath his breath. His third son sat in his lap, his second child cuddled into Mav’s side and the eldest stood with his mother.

Mav smiles gently at the sight of his grandchildren, his son, his daughter-in-law. He feels this weightlessness in the back of his mind, but he pushes for more time. He waits for the rest of his family to show up.

And so, with small chatter, the rest of the family arrives. Hangman and Bob with their son, Coyote with his wife and two kids, Phoenix with her wife, Payback with his daughter, Fanboy with his wife—pregnant with their first child. Then in walks Ron ‘Slider’ Kerner (long since retired) followed by Wolfman and Hollywood.

They’re just as old as Mav now, yet not as fragile. They smile at their long lasting friend and they approach the large, entirely surrogate, family. Slider smiles warmly as he presses a kiss to Mav’s head with a whisper of “From Tom.” And with a happy tear rolling down his cheek, he lets that weightlessness finally greet him and prepares to see his Husband again—so that they could finally own the skies.

A/N: I made myself ugly sob writing this. I’m so sorry. But I had toooo!!!

@orange-juice-record I’m rlly sorry. I am. But I needed to…

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devil-doll13 · 10 months

Text

Dear Prudence.

Cw: Prudence, the POV/Narrator, is basically a repressed church girl, Carrie lite suffering from catholic guilt™ and she isn't exactly the kindest in her thoughts. Character Death, Physically/Emotionally Abusive Mother, Religious themes/Cult, Implied Drugging, Sex mentions/Fade To Black, Killing/Murder, A Gun Is Shot, Implied Police Brutality/Cops Causing Trouble (they also die), Panic Attack, Vomiting, Feelings of Shame

(If anything else needs to be added, let me know)

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: The Organisation sends an agent to infiltrate and expose a cult led by a man they call ‘Adam.’ The tight-laced Prudence is their first choice; upright, pure and incorruptible.

Or so they believe…

Dividers by firefly-graphics

Prudence claps her hand mirror shut.

She’s sitting in her car. Her windows are down, and a light breeze lifts her hair, ruffles her clothing, wafts over her skin. She takes a deep breath.

She sees herself in the rear view mirror, all beach-blonde, lightly tanned, sunglasses-wearing hippie. Prudence had combed over her appearance with the meticulous eye of a watchmaker, perfecting ‘Leah,’ the wandering soul.

And the way she’s dressed now… Her mother would have some choice words for it, at least. That’s all she can think about; not how much more air she can feel on her skin, or the ease of which she moves, but inherited disgust from a woman long dead. This job was never going to be enjoyable for her. It required her to assume the identity of someone she’d normally sneer at, judge, belittle. Then she’d have to infiltrate the ranks of the hedonists, grit her teeth and bear their hands and eyes and smiles.

But it was all for a good cause. It would be worth it, in the end, to aid The Organisation. She was purging an infestation of sin.

That was what she believed.

She opens the car door and steps out.

The site of the cult is a large, sun-kissed plain. Beyond are mountains, dotted with forests. Great poles stick out of mounds in the soil, adorned with fluttering, multi coloured ribbons and supporting hammocks. Long-haired, bohemian people are draped wantonly over each other, or dancing in rings. A gaggle of children run past her as she walks. Dew from grass caresses her ankles, tickling.

Prudence shivers. It feels so unnatural to have her legs bare. She pushes past a flap and enters the main pavilion. It’s bright and humid like a tropical rainforest, with potted plants and succulents hanging from the canopy. Then she stops.

There was her target.

Right in front of her. Her gun feels hot against her thigh, itchy and painful. He’s sitting cross-legged on a carpet, bent forward in conversation with some other young vagabond. The gaudy tent she’s in feels very small, filled with his unearthly presence.

“... I mean, if this keeps up, they’ll ravage the whole forest. We’re seeing loggers come in every day, and it’s completely destroying the natural environment…”

He’s nodding along to the dull drone of his follower’s speech with a seemingly careless air. She is shocked to see a delicate chain of pink flowers braided into his hair. It’s something she’s going to have to get used to, but most men she knew wouldn’t be caught dead wearing this. With his bright, tie-dyed vestments and dangling gold earrings, he looks boldly flamboyant, like a tropical bird.

“It’ll all be fine, Soren. You’ll see.” Is all he says.

Soren just sighs wearily.

Prudence can’t see her target’s eyes, but when he turns to look at her she is pierced, naked. She’s sweating so badly she feels her floral top stick to her skin. It takes every ounce of willpower she has to smile down at him and make it look half-way natural.

“Hi, I’m Leah,” she recites. “I’ve come here to join with your community?”

“That’s wonderful.” He beckons her forth with a welcoming hand. “Leah. Come, sit with us.”

She already knows his name: Adam. He’s so infamous around this area that he needs no introduction. Prudence almost can’t believe how easily she’s getting close to him, but he doesn’t seem wary of strangers at all. Still, she acts like she expected this.

The bearded man sitting beside him looks less than enthused that she’s interrupting their conversation, but he doesn’t protest when she joins them on the mats. Instead, he scratches his neck and looks back to his leader, continuing:

“Well…Anyway. Some of us are going to start a protest on Monday. I would…” He gave him a pleading look. “...Ask for your approval.”

Adam chuckles, shaking his head.

“But you don’t need my approval, do you? You’re asking for my help.”

Soren grimaces. There’s a thin sheen of sweat beading his forehead. He looks like a little kid who’s come to confess he’d done something wrong.

“It would really be useful to us, I mean… After what happened last time with the cops…” He trails off.

“What happened?” She questions softly.

Help. Prudence immediately latches onto the word. And how could he help? With his abilities? Prudence had leaned forward, listening aptly to their exchange. Now, she sees an opportunity to show an interest in their cause, to blend in. They both turn to look at her. Soren purses his lips.

“It got messy,” he says mournfully. “It wasn’t so much of an intervention as it was a beat down. No one died, but that was about the only mercy of it.”

Prudence gapes. It’s a somewhat genuine reaction, because she’s only known the jolly, toothless side of the police force here.

“Um… Wow. I didn’t know they would be so violent.”

She immediately suspects she’s being lied to, too unwilling to trust the word of a layabout like this.

“Yeah, well it happens a lot more than you might think. If you’re really thinking of joining us, you should consider that.” He regards her, tight-lipped.

“Okay,” she delibrates. Prudence clears her throat, deciding to swing her best foot forward with this. “Well, a little pushback isn’t going to scare me off.”

She looks at Soren directly. He’s still watching her closely, and she squirms underneath the scrutiny. Adam’s eyes are still hidden by his shades, but she can feel his hypnotic gaze on her, too. It seems to render her mind fuzzy somehow.

“When I first heard about you guys, I was a little sceptical, but… You’re trying to make the world a better place, right? I’m here I want because to help. Um, I want to be a part of it, too.”

She clips it off there, and it strikes her just now how hollow and plastic it all sounds.

There’s an awkward, risky silence for a moment.

“How did you hear about us, Leah?” Adam finally asks. He’s staring at her again with that unreadable expression on his face. She shifts.

Everyone knows about you, Prudence grumbles inwardly. The whole virtue committee has been calling for your immediate arrest…

“One of your people.” She tilts her head, pretending to think for a moment. “Sofie, that was her name, I think. She told me about you… About this place.”

“Ah… It’s our people now, sister.” Adam smiles charmingly at her, holding up a finger. Soren sighs again. Prudence can only grin listlessly.

Somehow, it really was that easy.

That night she retired early, huddled in her bedroll. She was sharing a tent with several other people and her skin was crawling and the thought of bugs invading it. Why anyone would willingly choose to live this life, she would never understand.

Lying there, she thinks more about her mission. It was easy to get in the front door, but what she had to do was actually get confirmation that this man was the one they were looking for; that he could indeed conjure plants from thin air and influence the minds of his followers with pheromones.

None of the others would be a real threat to anyone, she decided. Maybe a bad influence, but not actually dangerous. It was only him, and she needed to confirm first if he was her true target. If he wasn’t, she would have to move on.

Prudence sighs, sitting up to wipe sweat from her forehead. Outside, she can still hear the cult members holding a muffled singalong. When she nudges the tent flap aside, it comes louder and clearer. Some nonsense psych rock number.

Sooner or later she would need to participate herself, and she was dreading it. But then again, she might do well to rip the band-aid off now, and clear any suspicion that could be directed at her… Prudence coils her face up, then wipes it over with a doped up smile. As she steps out and takes a gulp of crisp night air, she sees perhaps almost the entire camp is gathered around a huge bonfire. They’re sitting crammed into a communal ring, practically conjoined by the hips and elbows.

When she approaches, she is almost swallowed up by their affectionate caresses. Prudence endures the unfamiliar arms thrown over her shoulders, the hands like spiders in her hair. For Leah, this must be a warm welcome, easy and inviting.

Sofie is there, too, in her olive-green dress, and beckons Prudence lazily towards her. “I knew you’d be here,” she says with a smile, looking half-baked already. “So, wasn’t I right? Isn’t he amazing?” Then she drapes herself over Prudence’s lap.

‘Leah’ slurs an agreement, mostly to keep her quiet, as she refocuses on the man of the hour: Adam is bent over an acoustic guitar, leading the sing-along.

Prudence feels the familiar twinge of unease as the amber light of the fire casts dark, creeping shadows on his face. Once it appeared to her as sly and youthful, but now the lines, the cracks, are shone upon. For some reason, he reminds her starkly of the young preacher in her local church.

No. She tries to shake the notion. He’s a man of God. He can’t be compared to these degenerates.

Prudence joins in reluctantly with a quiet hum, and peers down at Sofie. She is so very different now, compared to the wilful activist she met on the highway. In her glazed over eyes, Prudence can see something like slavish devotion, a sort of hypnotised haze that wasn’t there before. There is no spark left.

This man is a drug, Prudence heart rate spikes. It’s the pheromones. It has to be. She weathers it too, a heavy, distorting fuzz pressing down on her, lathering over her shoulders like melting wax. She has to grit her teeth to bear it, to not give in immediately.

The song ends. And then, just like that, it’s as if her resistance is known and a spotlight is beamed on her; Adam turns to look at her. The entire circle follows suit. At once, all of them snap their heads over in her direction. Prudence begins to sweat.

“Everyone. Let’s welcome the new addition to our happy little family.” His voice is heady and warm. “This is Leah.”

She is congratulated in turns, but Prudence can’t help but shake the feeling that the glassy-eyed crowd had formed into one, single entity.

From then on, Prudence is a well respected member of the community. It frightens her how quickly she becomes comfortable among the hedonists. But aside from the more obvious, glaring differences, it actually isn’t all that much of a departure from her regular life. She still prays, muttering in hushed tones while huddled away in her tent, hoping that she will be forgiven for associating with such degenerates. But if there was a place that God could not reach, it would be this one. There are times she witnesses unblessed things, and turns her eyes quickly away, or learns more of the hippies’ private affairs than she ever hoped to.

No, she does not want to stay here for too long, lest she be corrupted by their lustful madness. It is this foreboding thought which clings to her as she lopes through knee-high grass, far steadier and confident in her wedged sandals than she was before. As she passes by tents and waves greetings towards her enemies, cursing them under her breath.

From today, it will be half a week until Monday rolls around. By then, she anticipates she will find proof of Adam’s guilt. But Prudence is pushed by a sense of urgency; something just seems terribly, terribly wrong about this place. She needs to resolve it now.

With a deep sigh, she approaches the main pavilion and steps inside. Again, she passes by a waterfall of clacking beads, hears the gentle call of wind-chimes, and a strong, blanketing aura of peace washes over her. Adam is once more sitting cross-legged on his mat. But today, he is alone.

“Leah. Good morning,” he cocks his head mischievously up at her. “Up bright and early?”

His brown hair falls down his shoulders in tresses, and with his vibrant green earrings and vestments, he looks rather like an oak tree today.

“Mhm,” she nods. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Tell us, then. What is it?”

“Well,” She starts, then realises somewhat late that he’s cradling something sharp and alien in his arms. “Uh, what’s that?”

“She’s a Venus flytrap,” he says, holding ‘her’ up as proudly as if she was his own child. “Not too big right now, but… Well, you’ll see.”

“Her name is Arabella,” he continues.

Prudence shuffles awkwardly, then decides to mirror his sitting position to avoid lollygagging. No, that wasn’t what she had meant to ask him, she…

“You’ve never seen one before? I’m surprised.”

“No,” she shakes her head before she can stop herself. “I mean, seeing it now, I know what it is, but I was never allowed to- to…”

Adam sets down his plant.

Prudence pales, but his expression remains relaxed and easygoing. Then, words start pouring out of her like the leakage of a drain pipe.

“Only the bible, I only read the King James bible. Wasn’t supposed to read any other… Other books…” Suddenly it feels as if all the breath is stolen from her lungs, like something strange and foreign is expanding inside, bleeding and infesting.

“It’s alright, Leah,” he soothes. “Keep going.”

No, no… An itch in the back of her brain is screaming at her to shut her mouth. Why is she telling him this? Maybe it is the aroma of incense, the powerful, intoxicating scent that’s clouding her mind. Yes, she wants to tell him. Tell him everything...

“But I did,” her mouth is running of its own accord now. “Even though she told me not to. I did, and I got such silly thoughts in my mind…” She shakes her head at the memory. She still feels disgusted with herself. “They had to be corrected, had to be…”

(God’ll make you right, mama snarled into her freshly boxed ear. He’ll fix you even if I can’t.)

“Did she hit you often?”

Prudence stares up at him in abject horror. She still can’t see his eyes behind the shades.

“No, I- I mean,” her voice is as small and quiet as it was back then. “Yes, sometimes, but it was my own stupid fault, I shouldn’t have…”

(I know when you lie, Prudence. He knows when you lie. Lying is a sin, Prudence. Liars will burn for an eternity in hell. Is that what you want, Prudence?)

She clears her throat and realises it’s parched.

“Have a snack, Leah. Here’s some orange juice.” Adam slides his drink over to her. Her hands accept it automatically; she’s obeying him mindlessly now.

“It wasn’t your fault, Leah. You understand that, right? What she did to you was abusive.”

(I do this because I love you. You think anyone else out there would want a defective child like you?)

Prudence is peeling a lemon off his fruit platter. Normally, she recoils at the bitterness of it. But now it tastes like freedom. She doesn’t even realise she’s crying until tears soak her thighs.

“But you don’t need her anymore, Leah. You have us now, Leah. All you need is us, Leah.”

(All you need is him, Prudence. Do you understand me? Rely on God, and he will provide…)

Everything is swimming together in technicolour hues. Adam’s mouth is cracking open like the alluring maw of the Venus flytrap. She can’t resist…

Adam claps his hands together.

She jumps. Her monstrous vision disappears.

“So. What did you come in here to ask me about?”

Oh. What did she… Her memory is so murky it’s like she’s roaming through dirty water. Her senses feel as if they’re clogged up with sewage.

“… Heard that you… Did tarot readings…” Prudence murmurs faintly.

Was that what she wanted?

She can’t remember.

“Ah,” he chortles, and strokes his fluffy beard. “Okay. You wouldn’t be the first. Wait here a second.”

Adam springs up with unexpected vigour and breezes past the beads into a seperate tent. He returns with a deck of vibrantly drawn cards. Prudence focuses on the way his bangles clink together as he shuffles, so light and pleasant, like coins in a tithe box.

So pleasant, like those brief, precious moments when her mother was kind, when she loved her, because she was good and pious and Christian. And if mama’s love bared claws and teeth, how dangerous would another’s be? She had to be kept safe and pure, always watched over by God’s all-seeing eye.

She blinks away tears again.

No. I don’t want to think about my mother anymore.

Adam’s softly worded instructions are passing noiselessly through her ears. All she hears is buzzing, like countless honeybees.

“Leah.”

Prudence flinches.

Adam patiently taps on the floor.

Before her are three cards. On her left, a queenly woman lies upside down and lopsided. In front, a priest. On her right, a hanged man.

“I…” She stutters.

I don’t know what it means.

“It’s not about knowing, Leah,” Adam’s voice echoes inside her mind. “We don’t think in absolutes.”

Yes. we don’t think in absolutes.

“We are kind and tolerant and welcoming.”

Yes, we are kind and tolerant and welcoming.

Her orange juice ripples. It’s now grapefruit purple.

“Now have a drink, Leah.”

Yes, have a drink….

What was in the drink… What was in…

Prudence downs the cup in one, large gulp. It doesn’t burn as it goes down, but it tingles. It doesn’t stop even when she escapes the confines of his tent. She realises she can’t breathe, that her lungs are constricting, tightening like a vice clamped down over her chest, oh no, she claws at her top, oh no stop I need to stop it stop thinking that, and rushes past Soren on her way to a bucket, I’m sick I’m sick I’m sick where she retches and throws up and expels so much filthy, sinful thoughts that it leaves her cold and empty inside.

It feels like an eternity passes as she kneels and stares at her own slimy vomit. She’s trembling, somehow so acutely afraid that her body will collapse altogether. Prudence winces when a hand is placed on her shoulder. It’s cautious and gentle, but right now it feels that all human touch will burn her.

She whirls around. It’s Soren.

“Leah, are you alright?” His voice sounds so far away, as if smothered with a muffler.

“No- I’m, no,” her words spill out, jumbled.

Soren’s bearded face twists in concern. Prudence blinks away tears, but he still looks blurry.

“Hey,” he tries. “Why don’t we get you something to clean you up?” And then he seems like he wants to say more, but stops himself.

Prudence nods, and allows herself to be led.

Her distress didn’t go unnoticed. Everyone she meets offers her water and soft, fruity yoghurts to soothe her throat and wash away the aftertaste. They all cast her sympathetic gazes and stroke her back as she mumbles out censored, ambiguous versions of her story. It’s all so overwhelming. But at the same time, the overwhelming pity is addictive.

For a short time, their eyes are alert and bright. They also share tales bearing resemblances to hers. Sofie finds her and wraps her in a soft, warm hug, one like she’s never experienced before. I had nowhere to go either, she says. But at the end of the world, I found my place here. It is now, swaddled in deep, unconditional compassion that she feels herself sliding down towards the point of no return. What’s worse, she’s letting it happen.

Leah can’t fight it anymore. Yes. They were a family. She just didn’t see it before. They cared. They weren’t going to hurt her.

And just like that, the Venus flytrap snaps shut.

Then, Monday arrives, too fast, too soon.

Leah has been kept so busy, scrubbing and glueing and painting and crying and dancing. Now, the day has come. She feels light as air today, free and unburdened now. Sofie runs over and greets her, hoisting a colourful sign over her shoulder. Leah rushes to bear it with her. It’s a heavy weight, so they’ll carry it together.

Both of them dip through a throng of tents and head over to join the main gathering. The full scale of her family is an awe-inducing sight. It’s a waving sea of long hair, flowing skirts and flashing bandanas. Minus the small children who are left behind, there are perhaps over two hundred people at this rally.

In massive unison. They raise their flags and march into the windswept plains like a holy crusade. Leah allows herself to be coated with dabs and splashes of vibrant colour, so that now they shimmer like a kaleidoscope. These nonconformists, with the same sedated smiles, the same tranquilised eyes.

Flooding over grasslands, Leah finds herself slotted into her appropriate role. She knows that Adam himself is leading their charge at the front.

“Are we going there?” She asks, pointing down towards a strip of the highway teeming with trucks.

“No,” mutters Soren beside her. He’s drenched in sweat, eyes blown wide and feverish. “We’re going to liberate them directly, cops be damned…”

Immediately, she understands.

They arrive, flowing through into the tortured woods and spilling over already decapitated stumps. Adam bids them all to sit and be patient, but Leah can’t wait that long. She’s frenzied like a hungry piranha, desperate for a whiff of blood.

Then it comes. The flashing chrome plate of a lorry bustling in, puffing thick, grey plumes of smoke into the air. But it breaks, growling monstrously in the face of their smiling huddle. A cigar-chomping logger climbs out of the driver’s seat and slams the door, his ruddy face twisted in displeasure.

Adam only grins slyly at him. Leah strains up on her tip-toes to try and see over the crowd. All she can hear are spat accusations of ‘ecoterrorist’ and ‘filthy hippie.’ More trucks are pulling in now, revving menacingly. The collective does not budge.

More loggers disembark. They are cursed at, spat on, belittled, though not attacked. Not yet.

Adam continues to pursue diplomacy. There’s something barbed and violently red-green cradled lovingly in his arms. It’s Arabella.

Leah starts to think that perhaps this isn’t an attempt to be diplomatic at all, and a coil of excitement begins to build in her stomach.

Abruptly, she strikes!

Her maw gapes wide open, pulsing into enormity. The logger doesn’t even have a chance to shriek before Arabella consumes him.

The broken stalemate erupts into chaos. Beneath them, the vegetation springs up and entraps their helpless, screaming prey. Vines spring from the canopy and strangle them, impaling them on razor sharp stems. They bloom into huge, crimson flowers. Arabella feasts ravenously, and grows larger, mightier, dwarfing all of them now. The stragglers fall into a panic and flee for safety, but their vast opposition swells and drowns them under waves of multicoloured banners.

An earthy crack thunders across the scene, and the ground trembles. Leah gapes, enraptured, as the injured forest heals before her eyes. The stumps were regenerating… Healthy, thick bark feasting on the blood and flesh of their killers. Everyone else has stopped, too, craning their heads up to watch as the newborn trees reach far above into the sky.

Adam orchestrates it all with a serene hum. His consciousness buzzes in their heads:

“Let us rejoice, my friends, for it is not my doing alone that performed this miracle, but a manifestation of our will. Our voices. I’d like to thank you all for your contributions. Your faith, your love and your acceptance sustains me.”

Leah’s heart flutters with a rush of gratitude. No. It was all him. It always was. The frightened, repressed woman she was before had shed her skin, remoulding into a serpent. And here was the garden of Eden, the benevolent prize of a God.

That night, she dances wantonly around the bonfire, and it licks high, stoked by the passions of two hundred delirious fanatics.

This is what it is like to be free, she breathes.

“Leah,” calls a familiar voice. She turns around.

Soren’s staring at her, and there’s a glint in his eyes she can’t quite place. The light of the flames casts ghostly shadows on his bearded face.

“I thought you were just putting on an act, to be honest. I didn’t realise you were this committed…” He tells her. His Adam's Apple bobs nervously.

“And now…?” Leah murmurs, and loosens her shawl.

Soren walks up to her and kisses her. Her hands find themselves wound in his hair, tugging. Embracing, they stumble into her tent, and make love.

After that, everything blurs together in one messy, lusty fever. Nothing matters anymore except Adam, except the family, except flowers and trees. Leah’s sunglasses gleam in the light, shaded gold, shaded rose, never bitter or sour. Never ashamed.

One afternoon, the messiah approaches.

“Come. Walk with me,” he commands.

Leah finds herself obeying him without thinking too hard about it. She doesn’t do much thinking these days. She doesn’t have to. She is led to a clearing where the poppies grow tall, where the butterflies flutter, and the air is clear and sweet.

“I’m glad you’ve found happiness with us,” says Adam. His voice is lilting, like birdsong. “You’ve adjusted well. It must’ve been hard for you.”

“No, not at all!” Leah exclaims. She shakes her head. It feels numb, slightly pin-pricked.

He smiles gently at her, but the crinkles around his eyes lie dormant. Leah can’t remember if she’s ever seen them wrinkle before.

“I’m doing really well,” she feels the need to repeat it over and over: “Really, really well.”

Adam reclines on the grass. Leah kneels beside him. He brushes a hand over the greenery, and it bursts forth in blooms of blushing pink and canary yellow, as if desperate for his touch. Then, he does something very unexpected.

He takes off his glasses. Leah sucks in a breath. His eyes are- they’re- no, they’re not, they’re-

For a while, her world is fractured. She stares at him. He looks like a father. Or a Father.

“Prudence.” He finally begins, stroking his beard, looking significantly older than he did before. “I know you think you’re doing the right thing.”

She’s nodding. Of course she does.

“Well… To a certain degree, we all do,” he continues, and sighs, almost painfully. “Believe me when I say I understand what you’re going through.”

For a split second, he seems almost human.

“What I’m…?” But her mind blanks.

Almost. His eyes are twinkling with something that is not mirth or humour.

“Your big decision,” he continues.

She doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“But I know that when the time comes, you’ll make the right choice,” he finishes, and looks away. He puts his glasses back on.

Then he is untouchable once more, far above her. Adam pulls himself up off the ground. A tiny sapling is still clinging to his pant leg.

“I’ll see you around, sister.” He pats her shoulder fondly, drifts away, and leaves her standing there, alone. The birds are quiet, then.

They’re so quiet.

Prudence, he’d called her.

Oh. She feels nauseous.

Abruptly, it all comes flooding back. Her sweet high crashes down into the mud and dirt. Prudence looks down at herself. Her ears are ringing. She’s so filthy.

The mist clears, if only for a moment. She sees the gardens full of sin, now. Venomous green, jaundice yellow, blood red. Even the sky is turning a violent, bubbling purple. It’s choked with poison, intoxicating and deadly. It is false, hollow, lies.

Prudence breaks into a sprint towards the road, anywhere away from here. Soon, the vibrant meadow gives way to grimy asphalt.

It’s all real. All corporate, grossly neat design.

Now, the dream is over, but the sickeningly pleasant haze is still buzzing around her mind like a swarm of bees, threatening to submerge her again.

She forgot. How could she? Foolish, godless girl.

Prudence stumbles, feverish, across the grassy bank along the highway. Almost limping, she falls against a roadside phone booth. She pulls it open, hands slippery with sweat. There’s a small paper lodged in her knuckles; her only salvation. She needs to seek help now, or this fog will never lift.

Her hands are trembling as she punches out the sequence scrawled on the slip. Once she calls this number, it’ll all be over.

She only needs to wait a moment before the dial tone fizzles out into static. The person on the other end is waiting. Prudence swallows. Her throat is dry.

“Apricot.” She says in a shrill, choked voice.

She slams the phone back with a metallic clang.

The day passes, and she does not sleep.

Now, It’s too late to turn back.

Beside her, her partner is smirking. He’s never appeared so cruel to her until now. There’s something hard and cold in his eyes.

Flanking them is a row of cops and police cars, armed with shotguns and revolvers gleaming in the light. They’ve come on her signal, and now they have her target surrounded.

Adam is standing in front of her, defenceless. The tip of her pistol meets the centre of his forehead. He smiles at her, so infuriatingly serene.

“Sister…” He’s saying in his soft voice.

Prudence’s lungs feel tiny, constricting in her chest like she’s being strangled by a boa. Hot tears prick her eyes. She loves him.

“I have to… I have to do this…” She mutters feverishly.

All is still. Her finger twitches, ready.

“Yes. You know what you have to do, don’t you?” He coos at her. “You’ve always known.”

She always has. Prudence pulls the trigger.

Her bullet hits her partner straight in the eye.

The world explodes with light. White hot pain shoots through her ribs, and she’s falling, and her body is sprawled on the ground. Everything is spinning.

Someone is shouting, but she can barely hear it above the din of gunfire. In her blurry vision, she watches as a police car is swallowed whole by gigantic vines and cops are melded screaming into the fertile metal. She feels herself grinning, ecstatic, laughing madly.

She did it. She did it. She made the right choice.

Adam is standing above her, bathed in sunlight, his arms outstretched, shining like a beacon. In her eyes, he is the source of all life, and life overwhelms all.

Then, everything is quiet, except for the soft crunch of feet on grass, coming closer.

She is aware of gentle hands cupping her face, cradling her in a blooming flower bed. She tilts her eyes upwards to see the glowing face of Adam.

“Prudence.”

He’s saying her real name, murmuring softly. She barely hears it over the ringing in her ears. Everything is numb and fuzzy, like her body is wrapped in gauze. She’s tired, so tired. She wants to fall asleep in his arms like an exhausted child.

She knows she’s dying.

“Now you’ll become a part of me.”

He hushes her when she tries to speak. Something wet and cold is rushing out of her, emptying her body. But he brushes over her eyelids, and tiny daisies push out of her mouth. Her lungs are filled with mushrooms. Ivy is winding up her legs and into her skin. Nothing else matters now. He’s looking down at her like a benevolent God.

She feels a sense of completion, like her life has meaning. Her death will have meaning.

Leah smiles. She closes her eyes.

Dear Prudence

See the sunny skies

The wind is low, the birds will sing

That you are part of everything

(Taglist: @rottent33th, @slaasherslut, @the-pinstriped-hood, @goldrose-star, @soupbabe, @bluecoolr-main, @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @solmints-messyocdiary, @flower-crowned-lady, @probably-a-plant-thing, @myers-meadow)

#I shouldn’t be allowed to write fics this long wtf 💀#someone take google docs away from me #so sorry if your name is Prudence or Leah. I chose the latter randomly #half of this gushed outta me like a waterfall #so uh enjoy I guess??#possible period piece (60s/70s)#Adam #Bill Sage #slasher oc #horror oc #fic #oc #my writing

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kitsunesfandomtime · 10 months

Text

Between Life and Death

Prompt: "I want to be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren."

Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Inko Midoriya, All for One

In this forest is where Izuku feels most comfortable among the flowers and the gentle breeze. The sound of birds chirping gently among the wind as he embraces the call of nature in these beautiful green meadows.

Lately there have been patches of barren soil that would seem to cross the land. Random patches that seem to be of someone's footsteps seemingly sucking up life around them.

Thankfully Izuku had some magic to patch up the mess but each day it seemed to grow closer and closer to his village. As if was testing the waters of the area in the dead of night.

He wondered if it was fairies or monsters the thought terrified him as his mother warned him. That he was touched by magic and eventually someone would come for him.

He told his mother and she grew incredibly pale whispering, "He knows he can't be around here."

Izuku didn't understand. Only that she begin to teach him potions for healing and medicine.

Then the patches reached the village and a disease seemed to sweep the land. His mother being a victim along with many others that he was helpless to stop. Left with only books and the knowledge of his mother's dying words.

"You will be ok. You're special he… He's seeking the green meadows that he can no longer have," she whispered as if to assure him. Even as every breath caused her pain, "You will be ok Izuku, he's scary but he won't- He can't hurt you."

Izuku never got an answer. He was the only one untouched by the disease as many other's luck enough to avoid the plague packed up and left. He was slowest to pack up feeling a sense of melancholy at the idea of having to leave his childhood home because of some unknowable monster.

Unfortunately it didn't seem like he was being given a choice.

The death lands have finally reached his doorstep. As if had stood there for the longest time just leeching the life. The delicately cared for flowers and trees were twisted and blackened with decay. Everything that had been full of life was drained from them even the door seemed warped.

Though he couldn't see him he knew the man was in front of him. As he hears a deep voice in his ear, "I have finally found you. My little miracle…"

Izuku felt the touch and it was like he had been tainted. The invisible specter took form in front of him. As the smell of death and decay grew the touch of bones against his shoulder.

But he collapsed from the overwhelming stench of death.

—————

When he woke up the stench remained though it wasn't as strong. Though he was greeted by a man covered head to toe in a black robe. Only the glint of red from his eyes were clear and the stench seemed to be from him.

"I worried I killed you also some how," the 'creature' speaks as Izuku's eyes glance at the others hands. Skeleton white fingers contrasted with the black robe bits of flesh seemed to have been peeled off.

"Even though I'm quite sure those of my blood are supposed to be immune to my poison," the other muses and Izuku felt his mouth dry. This man wasn't human or if he was he no longer walked among the living. Hiding his face under the hood was purposeful.

"You see I've lost quite a bit of my ability to see. Magic can compensate but it still takes a bit of navigating," the man coos as he lifts a hand to pull back his hoodie. "So tell me. What happened to your mother?"

Instead of a head there was a featureless crushed skull. Skin clinging to his damaged skull head as there were no eyes, nose or ears. Any blood that has likely been there has since dried and the skull despite being fractured barely holds its shape.

Making Izuku more sure this man was a walking corpse.

"You killed her," Izuku was quick to tell this man and it seemed for a second he was solemn.

"Oh… I didn't know she had passed it on… I had wished to speak to her one last time," that man seemed almost sincere but Izuku had no idea who this man was. Looking at him suspiciously he tries to figure him out.

Then the thing turns to somehow look at him. Those empty eye sockets send a chill down his spine as the man hums softly.

"Well I guess we will have all the time we need to get to know each other," the man speaks as if a whole village hadn't died. That Izuku's mother didn't die just from his very presence. The whole area smelled of stench and decay when Izuku still held memories of those beautiful meadows.

He snaps.

"Why do you smell and inflict death on everything around you!? You KILLED my mother with a plague and everything what makes you think I would be ok with that!?" Izuku shouts frankly infuriated at the audacity of this stranger. That he would treat his mothers death as just a pity instead of a tragedy.

There is a heavy pause as the figure of death seemed to smile. As if the others shouting was simply amusement.

"Because eventually your power of life will become that of death too if not careful. If you are anything like me," his body creaks as he stands showing how large he was as he walks toward Izuku. Reaching out he grabs Izuku's face as he forces him to look at his 'face'.

"My brother has long since chosen to die instead of live like this," In the pit of Izuku's stomach he feels this is wrong, "I'm just saving you from doing the same."

The other's touch was cold as ice and Izuku felt the darkest pit in his stomach. As he realizes that soon the very meadows he also adores…

"Let me tell you how I have become this and met your mother," the man whispers as he begins to tell him the story of a monster named All for One.

"There once was a man who loved life itself it was a thing he cultivated with glee along with his little brother. Gifted in magic he caused the very tree and land to spawn to life," the man speaks even as his own body seemed to only scream of death and decay. The idea of this man having once had the power of life seemed impossible.

"But it wasn't enough for him. As his little brother worked with him the man noticed men coming to their home and taking from those around them," he starts and Izuku simply listened...

----

Yoichi was the first to point out the men extorting those near by villages leaving the people there with nothing at hand. All for One may have the power of life but he had nothing in the way of defense besides creating walls of trees to cause them annoyance. That should have been enough they could have lived off the land secluded.

It wasn't. Despite All for One's love for his creation there grew a nasty fear every time he saw evidence of these outsiders appearance. Even his brother couldn't reason with him and because he lacked the magic of his brother was ignored.

His little brother refused to help him claiming the lengths he was going was not the deal. All for One's paranoia grows when the man spirals into something monsterous. Claiming if won't use it then he will simply take it to defend them calling his little brother a coward. Unable to see the threat of trying to obtain such things he used his own magic meant to give life to make themselves unkillable.

He sacrificed every one of those men for this power.

And in that moment he realized the 'life' he had praised was also death twisting in on itself. In his attempt to escape death the very power twisted into something dark stealing life from everywhere.

A Lich king.

He was untouchable besides his little brother a caveat he placed on the spell that those of his blood would be immune. Suddenly the small little town wasn't the only thing he wished to conquer. His very body stole life from all that surrounded him with glee as he grew losing sight of the life he once had given freely with joy.

Until the death of his brother fighting against him. And in those final moments the power of life he once had was only that of death. Unable to save his brother, his power of healing was now only bringing death and in that moment the cost was too great. Slowly he began to realize as time passed while he was immortal his body still attempted to decay and age.

Yoichi had left a string of inspired souls to confront and fight him. The monster that sucks the very life out of the land itself gathering others to help him. A lonely task that made him abhor this very body as there was no one to touch him.

Inko had only found him when the latest of these warriors attacked him leaving him on the cusp between life and death.

"You would die if you touched me. You must feel it," he had spoken with a pitiful wheeze and yet still she did touch him.

"I have a talismen of protection. I'll be quick," she whispers and from there is when the miracle happened. By a woman who didn't fear death she had given him a moment of hope until eventually forced to leave. A promise to return to see the boy at least once.

Only to lead to her end.

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

"My son, you carry life because I had once carried that very magic. Won't you please entertain this old soul?" The lich coos and Izuku feels something like sadness to the monster. A man trapped in a body that is forever decaying every day wondering how much regret the other must have as he remembers his mothers words.

Longing for a Meadow he can no longer have.

Knowing by being with this man there is a chance he will no longer see those untainted lands as everything this man touches beside his kin is death and pestilence. His very nature screams evil and should be something he abhors and in a sense he does still the stench of corpse still greeting his senses but he accepts this fact.

Instead he looks at the hand of the man that causes so much death whose very existence is an abomination. One that just living as he is causes so much death and destruction as the weight of the talismen on his neck from his mother felt heavy.

"You're barren. You aren't even able to cry even if you wanted to," Izuku notes as the other had no face or anything. Yet still clinging to those with life in them despite knowing he will only cause harm.

"I can't stay with you but... I will find a way to cure you so that you can rest. I think that is what mother would have wanted," Izuku speaks because he can't find it in himself to love something barren and full of death. A man of cruelty and yet there is kinship, acknowledgement that the other is a sick man who has survived for far too long.

"Let me try to cure you then I'll stay willingly," he speaks and this earns a laugh from the lich as if the idea was hilarious.

"Go ahead! I don't care for the why you stick around I would adore to see you try," the monster jeers as if it was a joke to him. The loneliest monster did not see any hope in escaping his self-inflicted curse but he would allow the miracle child to try.

What is an eternity to a being who can't die? Izuku knows this but he can't help but wish to see if underneath this monster was a man.

As his mother had seen something so maybe he could find it also.

#dfoweek2023 #dadforoneweek #dad for one #all for one mha #izuku midoriya #all for one bnha #yoly's fanfics #Is crosspost with AO3

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asteroidtroglodyte · 1 year

Text

If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to tell a story.

Over a decade ago, I went to a concert with my mother. The headline was Rufus Wainwright. I’m sure we presented quite a sight; the Grande Damme in Furs trotting smartly along with a skeletal giant loping languidly after her. I’m almost 2 meters tall, but in those days I barely weighed 12 stone, and could sidle between gate bars in some places. Mercifully, we had tickets, and no sidling was needed.

In the lobby of a tastefully modern (and therefore artless) theater, we discussed nothing of importance, and pointedly did not drink fancy, overpriced cocktails with the many homosexual men who milled about us. My mother has been a teetotaler since she was a child, and I was On Good Behavior. We were there for the music.

Opening for Rufus was a woman I’d never heard of: Anaïs Mitchell. I can still see her clearly: her floral sack-print dress was thin; almost as thin as her. It hung loosely around her, obscuring rather than revealing. Her voice, too, was thin; a warble, like a small bird. Far too thin and reedy for pop music, but then again she had no popular songs to play. Instead, she wanted to play a few songs from an Opera that she had just completed! A Depression-era reimagining of the Tale of Orpheus titled Hadestown. I sighed and rolled my eyes and resigned myself to boredom.

Like a lone bird on a frozen January morning, her delicate, thin voice crossed the icy, judgmental silence of hundreds of drunk hollywood queers to pierce our hearts. Nervously tapping her foot to keep time, alone with a single guitar up on that big stage, she called and returned to herself through How We Build The Wall and Our Lady of The Underground and The Wedding Song.

She sang of the dead, and of desperation. Of lean, hard people going through lean, hard times. There was too much emotion for her little larynx, and I could hear that the songs hurt to sing. All alone, tiny on that huge flat stage, she filled the air and our hearts with the song of a bird who forgot to fly south and was dying in the cold.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hold her delicately in a cage of my arms and lie to her that everything would be alright, that wounds close, and bones knit, and tears dry, and no one will ever hit you again. It was not and is not my place to do this, but that was my urge. She was a tiny bird that had been broken, and her song was one of pain.

I purchased the album immediately and listened to it over and over and over. It became a part of me. I learned Our Lady of The Underground and performed it for a crowd of friends. I sat with a bottle of gin and sang Why We Build The Wall when Trump was elected. One oppressively hot august day, I sang Nothing Changes very quietly to myself, swallowed poison, and tried to die. When I was courting my wife, I sang her The Wedding Song; it was and is the truest expression of my heart yet set to music.

Perhaps, now that I have said all this, you can imagine the breath and depth of my joy when I saw this:

She made it! She did it! Others will hear the music! I’m so happy for her!

I’m so glad. It’s beautiful. I hope it runs for a thousand years. Thank you, Anaïs.

#hadestown #hadestown the musical #musicals #broadway #anaïs mitchell #anais Mitchell #music #beauty #pain #truth #story #story time #troglodyte thoughts #sometimes good things happen

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sevilemar · 2 years

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I'm gonna sort my favourite actual play ttrpg. If you don't know sorting hat chats, go and educate yourself. And if you love table top rpg and you don't know MisMag, what the fuck is wrong with you?

Sorting Misfits and Magic (because I can)

Whitney Jammer is the most badgery double badger that ever badgered. He does not understand at all how Evan could see walking away from the team as the right thing under any circumstances. Once you're in the squad, you're in the squad, and you solve your problems together no matter what. And you do not leave anyone behind as a matter of principle. But if you're not a part of the team, you're fair game (see wizards in general, and the trio in particular).

Jammer's magical talent is literally forming connections with other people, and it's such a beautiful moment when Sam sees theses delicate strands for the first time. If that's not badger secondary made literal, I don't know what is. He has a natural charisma that makes him the leader of whatever squad he is on, and he takes that responsibility without question or hesitation. That's the influence of his strong and comfortable lion model he lives in most days. But when shit hits the fan and a dragon lies dying, it's his friends and enemies that come to help.

Sam Black is a lion secondary who turned being herself into a literal magic of its own. Whether it's on a stream, in front of her whole house, confronting a blood snake or the demons possessing her friend, or distracting a dubious headmistress, Sam is always Sam: unflappable, calm, charming, kind, and a little bit naiv. It's beautiful, and a little bit frightening to see the impact she has on the people around her.

The way she takes Chimeron in hand in the epilogue lets you know where her heart lies: with her house and her community. Sam is a beautiful badger/lion, and I love her so much.

Dream/K is a lion secondary that very visibly grows into themselves through the episodes. They are so desperately trying to be what they admire, and it's so obviously uncomfortable that I couldn't help chuckling nostalgically once or twice. It's such a beautiful moment when they go full deranged Disney Princess in the end, and there is so much power in a lion coming into their own that it can make even a truly dark one become a princess for a moment. It was such a beautiful moment!

I don't know if K is a lion or a bird primary, but they are idealist for sure. They and Evan are the ones that mostly clock what's wrong with the wizarding world, and Jammer and Sam agree. There is not a lot to go on here, and I'm tending towards bird, but it could honestly be both, and so I'm leaving it open for now.

Evan Kelmp is a snake secondary if I ever saw one. He rolls with the punches and grasps whatever few opportunities come his way with both hands and no hesitation. He immediately swallows the owl pellet to go to the other side of the world just for a chance to get rid of his magic, he uses his burned hand to talk to Nurse Stitchnit about the removal, and once that's underway, he enjoys the limited time with his friends with everything he has. In Brennan's words, Evan is like a sponge that absorbs everything from his friends, from trash talk to how to be normal and not say weird things. I know it's very much a survival mechanism, but the joy both Evan and Brennan take from it when it's used for play makes it genuine snake sec face shifting.

Evan's primary makes itself known whenever he feels something is wrong with the system. Be it sorting and tracking eleven year old children, condoning bullies, or not making magic available to everyone, there is no way Evan will let any of it stand if he can help it. He knows in his heart that it's not right, and with his practical and practiced snake secondary and his friends behind him, the wizarding world won't know what's hit them in a few years. He builds a ferocious snake model for his friends, but Evan Kelmp is a beautiful, majestic lion primary.

Whitney Jammer: double badger with comfortable lion secondary model

Sam Black: badger/lion

Dream/K: idealist primary/lion secondary

Evan Kelmp: lion/snake with snake primary model for his friends

#misfits and magic #sortinghatchats #sevil sorts

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juliawritess · 1 year

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Illicit Affairs Chapter Two: Patrol

It had been 3 months since Joel’s death, and spring was starting to make its way upon Jackson. The snow was beginning to melt, and the birds could be seen flying over Wyoming. Decorations for Easter were put out, eggs being dyed.

Ellie and Luna hadn’t seen each other since that night on the wall, but Ellie didn’t mind. She had a good time for the first time in a while, and it was nice to laugh, but she just couldn’t bring herself to go out like she used to.

Before, her and Dina and Jessie would go to town parties where they would drunkenly dance all night until they all stumbled home. Or they would sneak past the walls to the secret weed cellar 2 miles away. Oh, how she missed those walks. She would complain and complain about how her feet hurt and “the weed isn’t even that good”, but she would do anything to go back.

It was the end of March, and Ellie was scheduled to meet Tommy and Maria for dinner. Tommy left a note on her doorstep reading:

Haven’t seen much of you, kiddo. Come by this evening for supper, me and Maria want to talk to you about something. If you’re up for it.

-Tommy

Something about the letter embarrassed her in a way. Like she was fragile, delicate cargo. Like everyone had to walk over eggshells to get her to talk about Joel. Which was probably true. She hadn’t necessarily been the nicest lately.

Only a few days prior, she had picked a fight with some teenager. She was huddled up in her little group just next to Ellie whispering about how secluded she’d been, and how she only talked to her little girlfriend. Ellie had approached them.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

The girl looked scared, then. Ellie had a few straggled bandages across her arms and a cut on her nose. She hadn’t washed her clothes in a while, so she looked a bit disheveled.

When no one would answer, Ellie scoffed. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

The girl, who she would later learn her name was Ally, threw the first punch while Ellie’s back was turned. It was weak, and soft, and Ellie couldn’t help but laugh before turning back around.

“That all you got?”

Ellie didn’t mean to hit her so hard. She deserved it, of course, but she was trying to avoid Tommy’s lectures about “public decency”.

When Ally could finally bring her head up, her friends had scrambled, and Ellie saw a bloody front tooth lying on the ground.

Ally was only 17, so Ellie bolted. When she made it back home, she iced her hand and sat on her bed.

A few hours later, Jesse came knocking. When she reluctantly opened the door, he barged in, Dina following close behind.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Dina yelled. “You’ve got that poor girl in the infirmary and you’re just- what- hiding? She’s only 17, Ellie.”

Ellie sighed and went to the kitchen, leaning on the counter.

“Little bitch deserved it.”

Dina threw up her hands in defeat and slammed the door shut. Jesse looked at a loss for words.

“This is the 3rd fight this month, man. What are you getting out of this?” he asked.

Ellie thought about it for a second. She wanted to respond with something snarky, to show him that she truly does not care, but she couldn’t muster up a response. What was she getting out of it? Pleasure? Self-satisfaction? Because to be honest, she really didn’t feel very satisfied.

“Get your shit together, Els. We miss you.” And then he left. And she was alone again. With a bloody fist and disappointed best friends.

When Ellie walked into the infirmary to find Ally lying on the bed, she almost walked right back out. She was laying there with flowers, cards, candy, you name it all surrounding her. She was groaning in pain and had her hand covering her chest. Seriously?

“Little dramatic, don’t you think? I mean it’s just a tooth.” She spoke.

When Ally saw her, she immediately sprang up, all the pain apparently vanished. And that’s when Ellie saw it. The missing space of a right front tooth, gone. She had to turn around to not laugh.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Well, I wanted to apologize, for your tooth or whatever. It was immature. I mean I still think you’re a bitch, but you know- you’re only 17.”

“Wow, I’m touched. Ally said, sarcastically.

“I mean if you don’t want to accept it, I really don’t care. I’m only here because my friends want me to say sorry. You would be wishing for both your front teeth this Christmas if I didn’t have so much self-control.”

“Fuck you.”

Dusk came, and Ellie made her way to Tommy and Maria’s for dinner.

When she reached the door, no one answered. She considered going back home, making up a story that she sat there for a while and figured they weren’t home, but she knew Tommy didn’t deserve that.

She let herself in, still surprised that these people left their doors unlocked. On the left, the dining table sat with food splayed across it. There were candles lit in the dim room. The cold was causing problems in the dam, so electricity wasn’t at its peak like it was in the summer. But despite, the sight of their home brought a strange comfort.

Maria stepped out from the kitchen, a black apron tied around her waist and rag in hand.

“Hey, honey! I’m sorry, I tried to get to the door, but the pot was overflowing.” she said with a laugh, making her way over to Ellie and leaning in for a hug.

Ellie was never a hugger, so she flinched slightly, but gave in eventually. She figured she needed to get used to it by now.

“Sit, sit, Tommy should be down in a minute. I’m just finishing up dessert.”

Ellie sat facing the window.

“You really didn’t have to do all of this, Maria. It looks amazing, but it must have taken all day.”

“Oh, it’s no bother. I enjoy cooking, keeps my mind off things.” Maria yelled from the kitchen.

Ellie wondered what she meant by “things”. Maria never worked on patrol for a day in her life. She began Jackson and was living in safety for years before Ellie even showed up 5 years ago. Something about it made her jealous in a way, because Ellie was trying to keep her mind off the only father figure in her life dying, and Maria was trying to keep her mind off of the pot overflowing.

A few minutes later, Tommy made his way to the dining room, kissing his wife on the way. He was dressed in clean clothes and smelled of aftershave.

“Well, aren’t you dolled up?”

“Oh, shut it, kid.” He said, sitting at the head of the table.

When he was sat, he got this solemn look on his face, like he was studying her. Ellie was never self-conscious of her state before, but this really made her think. Does he notice the bags under my eyes? The bandage on my fist? The weight I’ve lost?

“How are you?” he said.

“I’m—okay.”

He nodded slightly and stared at the table for a moment. A silence grew over them like a fog, filling the room with grey, before Maria walked in, carrying peach cobbler and a smile.

“It looks amazing, honey. Thank you.” Tommy said.

Maria had a proud look on her face as she sat across from Ellie. “Shall we say grace?”

Ellie had never said grace before. She wasn’t really into any religion, but most people in Jackson were Christian enough.

She awkwardly connected hands with Maria and Tommy and bowed her head, but she didn’t say Amen at the end, wasn’t really sure she was supposed to.

“So, I heard you met Luna.” Maria laughed.

“Oh—um.” Ellie didn’t know how they found out about her climbing the wall. She didn’t want them to think she was breaking their trust in a home that they built.

“Yes, she told us she stopped you on the way to patrol and introduced herself. Only nice things to say.”

Oh.

It was one thing to go against Tommy and Maria’s wishes, but lying just felt so much worse.

“Oh, oh, yes, she just said hello, she seems nice enough.”

“We heard differently,” Maria looked at Tommy. “she said you guys talked for quite a while, about Joel and such.

And such. As if Joel is light conversation. Small talk. Who does Luna think she is talking to Maria about Joel? About Ellie’s Joel?

“It wasn’t like that. She asked if I was okay, and that was all. I don’t know what she told you.” She didn’t mean to sound so closed-off, but her thoughts about Joel were suppressed until now. Maria took it as a sign to change the subject.

Tommy took the lead this time.

“So, about what we wanted to ask you.”

This peaked Ellie’s interest. Whatever it was, was eating at her.

“How would you like to go back on patrol? We would send you with a partner, of course, but I figured it might be helpful to—take your mind off things, get back out there. Because frankly, I’m worried about you, kid. You haven’t left Jackson in months.”

Ellie took a bite of roast and pondered. It wasn’t a bad idea. She enjoyed patrol. The spring weather would be a nice time to start, and it was true. She hadn’t left Jackson in almost 4 months, and it was starting to affect her behavior.

“When can I start?”

Monday morning came, and Ellie woke up at dawn. The house was cool and empty, her favorite time of day. The woods weren’t awake yet, and the only sounds were the distant small talk between officers upon the wall.

Ellie stepped out to the porch, still in pajamas, and sat on the rusted swing. She was almost done with Joel’s Western for the 4th time.

When the sun finally rose above the trees over Jackson, she knew it was time. She changed into working clothes and pulled Joel’s jacket around her. Before walking out the door, she turned around to her desk. A polaroid of Joel and Ellie on their first night in Jackson. She took it and stuffed it into the side pocket of her backpack and left.

When she made it to meetup, Jesse was waiting for her with a rifle.

“One for you, and one for the new partner.”

Ellie looked to the right, and there stood Luna. Of fucking course.

“Glad to have you back, Els. You’re headed East today. There’s a strip mall about 4 miles out that we cleared almost 2 weeks ago, so it shouldn’t be heavy. Just keep an eye out for wanderers.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.” She wasn’t listening to a word he said.

Ellie and Luna made it to the stables to get their horses silently, before finally making it out of the gates and into the woods.

Half an hour in, Luna finally spoke.

“So, are we just gonna ignore each other?”

Ellie pondered how to respond. She wanted to yell, ask her who she thought she was talking about her to Maria. But she remembered what Jesse said.

“Yes.”

Luna stopped her horse, and Ellie kept going.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Did I do something?”

Ellie sighed, turning her horse around.

“You know exactly what you did.”

“Oh come on! Are you serious? This is so childish, Ellie. Just tell me.”

Ellie chewed the side of her mouth, an anxious habit she’d grown over the years. Joel always scolded her for it.

“Is this about what I told Maria? Because I did it so you wouldn’t get in trouble. If she knew we were on the wall when we shouldn’t of been, you wouldn’t be able to be on patrol right now.”

“Why did you tell her that we talked about Joel when we didn’t?”

“But we did talk about Joel.”

“You asked me one nosy question and I answered. Maria tells me that we had quite a conversation, and that didn’t happen.”

They started their horses again, Ellie taking the lead this time.

“She was worried about you. She asked if you were feeling better and I told her that so she would stop mentioning it to you. Based on your reaction, I figured you didn’t really want to talk about it with anyone.”

“That’s not for you to decide.” She replied quickly.

“I’m sorry.”

They continued the journey in silence, before making it to the strip mall. It was quiet, which brought Ellie some relief, but part of her kind of wanted to kill something right now.

Ellie decided on splitting up. The mall was cut into two sections across the street which met at a dead end, where they would meet.

She cleared her side with ease. There were a few clickers who must have been hiding out for a while in the storage closet, but she had enough shivs on her to not make it an issue.

To her surprise, she found a comic bookstore along the way, and it was almost fully stocked.

She filtered through the comedy section until she finally found it. No Pun Intended: Volume Three. And four. And five. She couldn’t believe they made so many.

As she was stuffing them into her backpack, she heard 3 gunshots from across the street. They had agreed to only use guns in an emergency.

Ellie booked it across the street until she reached a winded Luna, sat behind a counter in a clothing boutique with 3 clickers dead in a pile.

“Are you okay?” Ellie asked.

“Yeah, I—just, was trying to be quiet and I stepped on a fucking clothing hanger.”

Ellie looked over at the pile, all of them without heads. Impressive.

“I’ll finish the rest. Just grab the horses, I’ll be back in 10.”

Luna reluctantly stood up. Ellie could tell she was embarrassed. She wanted to tell her that it had happened a few times to her, and there wasn’t really anything to be embarrassed about, but she was too prideful to admit it.

When Ellie had finished clearing and had a backpack of canned food and comic books, she made it back to the meeting spot. Luna was waiting with the horses with a bored expression.

They were almost home, only about half a mile out, when Luna finally spoke. God, why does she keep speaking.

“Are you done being mad at me so we can be friends?”

Ellie looked behind her at Luna.

“Sure.”

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nicawlette · 1 year

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👀 are you lonely?

👀 + HONEST ANSWERS

It's unbearably cruel, a question like that. Nicolette used to think she'd been doing such a good job of hiding it, so much so that she had hardly realized how bad it'd gotten; however, while she was playing pretend and rushing to fill it, that great void grew larger and larger until it was nearly impossible to ignore.

Perhaps she could've keep it up, fooling herself even if no one else was buying it— ignorance was better than nothing, right?— but within that mist, the truth had been mercilessly shoved into her face. Old, familiar hands had forced her to look directly into that deep, dark pit and acknowledge the reality. There was nothing looking back. There was nothing. She was nothing.

Who did she have, really?

One who was too kind to even truly hate the person who hurt him most of all, let alone have the resolve to turn his back on them.

A man so broken by his own guilt that he seemed to bear the weight of other's affection as if it were some kind of divine punishment.

A liar... who offered the truth and came so close to giving her the acceptance she so desperately craved, but made it clear that it meant nothing beyond convenient satisfaction.

And anyone else... they did not know her. Not really. Not at all.

No matter how desperately she clung to those fragile threads, they only seemed to slip further and further from her grasp. They tore at the flesh of her palms and dyed themselves red with her blood. Perhaps the only thing Nicolette could ever realistically hope for was that the stain would remain, even after they were gone. It might be the only bit of proof that she ever even existed.

There was hardly a sight more pitiful than someone coming face-to-face with truth they fought so hard to ignore. When the façade was gone and the mask fell, there was nothing left but this: a pathetic woman standing alone on a stage performing for a dwindling audience.

The chairs are nearly empty. Most have made their exit, and yet she could not seem to let go. Instead, she pushed her weary body past its human limits and kept going. The show must go on, but the act no longer comes as smoothly as it used to. It's desperate and frantic in its delivery as if to plead ❛ keep watching me. please, don't leave! I can be enough, I promise! please, love me... someone, just love me. ❜

But who would stick around for someone who has nothing left to give? Nicolette isn't sure how much remains. Her ability to entertain is slowly beginning to fail her, and there's nothing funny about a washed-up primadonna who can't accept that she's not worthy of the spotlight. That maybe, she never was.

❝ I'm tired, ❞ a whispering voice cracks with heartbreak, ❝ I don't think... I know anything else, but this. ❞ THIS. The horrible, aching feeling. No matter how close it comes to being filled, she fears it will never last. How can she stop feeling this way? How can I make them stay? Why can't I ever be worth it? Why can't I be enough?

Is she really so fucked up that this all it'll ever be? She doesn't now how to be better, let alone fix what others have repeatedly broken. ❝ How— ❞ Delicate lashes flutter like the wings of a bird, clumping together as they catch against the mess of tears tracking their way down her flushed cheeks. Her two-tone eyes are wide and glassy, shining with mounting grief. Another heavy blink spills liquid sorrow as Nicolette hangs her head. She watches, cold and lost, as the droplets gathering at her chin hit the dirt like falling rain.

❝ How can something you're so used to feeling... still hurt so bad? ❞

When will it stop? Will it ever stop?

Please, just tell me.

#this si so fucked up #this hurt so so bad #loved crying while answering this. NOT #killing you with my bare hands actually #⊰ 🩸 // HEADCANONS » even when she glows she never throws a shadow. ⊱#⊰ 🩸 // ASKS » when she talks she talks like she can handle it. ⊱#long post

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knightskeeper · 2 months

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A Porcelain Rose

It was around 3pm on Saturday, Sun high in the sky spreading its warmth on the cozy neighborhood, the sky was still somewhat cloudy, remnants of the past rainy days. The earthy musk of rain dissipating and the fresh scent of blooming flowers arising in the air, marking the dawn of the spring season. Although the air was still a bit humid that didn’t stop Mocha and her group of girl friends from having a tea party in her back garden.

The garden itself was of a decent size, not too big yet not small enough to not have guests over. White wooden gates overgrown with golden pathos vines guarded the area on all sides, and her oak tree in the outer part of her garden gave some relief from the sun’s rays, adding to the cozy cottage vibe. Assorted floral plants and foliage scattered the area, making it a colorful and lively sight, a welcoming view compared to the town. The scattered plants and her young oak tree gave off a calm rustling in the relaxed breeze of midday, the plants tune adding to the songs of birds that sometimes pass by.

The ladies, Laughing and gossiping with one another sat at a metal round white table. The table itself had vine-like swirls that made up the design on top of it, and a deep purple runner with golden embroidery in the shape of roses going across the mid-section of the table. Thin white plates were spread evenly around with its partnering cup, each teacup had hand painted purple rose designs, adorning gold along the rims. Mocha worried that maybe the tea set was a bit too fancy, but it had been a treasured handmade gift from her friend Majora. She did own her own pottery shop which was very popular in this small town, and the fact she took the time out of her busy schedule to make this set, made it feel even more special. So, Mocha couldn’t help but show it off whenever it was her turn to host the monthly tea party. Not in a snotty way, but she hoped that the other ladies could appreciate its beauty and sentiment just as much as she does.

Her favorite part was how Majora captured the roses in the porcelain paint detail, she could tell that the tiny detail was taken from her own love of the romantic flower. There was just something about them she loved very much- like how the flowers themselves were colorful and delicate, yet their leaves and stems were armored by thorns. Or maybe it was the fact that depending on the color of the flower head meant different things, Such as red for love or Yellow for friendship. They weren’t just one thing, they had so much meaning, they were delicate yet armed; In a way Mocha couldn’t help but compare herself to the beautiful flower, often joking that roses were her “Spirit Animal”.

She even raised her own rose bushes, straight from seeds, something that she was still very much proud of and would often tell new visitors whenever they saw her bushes. The bushes in question were intricately placed around the garden, mostly hugging the center where she hosted gatherings, each beautifully decorated with lushes’ blooms. However, all the bushes were not the same color, so she had varieties of- red, white, pink, yellow and her favorite, lavender. Each color of rose corresponded to her friend’s Favorite color, and she always made sure to give roses to her friends when it was the blooming season, a way of showing her love for them, a friendship bracelet in floral form.

Taking her attention off the porcelain tea set, Mocha was able to catch up with the stories being told by her friends. Little snippets from their years-long friendships, or just everyday life with work or out with their husbands. Tales of the times spent apart from one another, letting each other take peeks into different lives, a fine way of catching up during their monthly outings. It made the ladies all feel connected, as if their busy lives and their respected careers didn’t keep them apart and they just saw one another yesterday. With the chattering dying down, it was Mocha’s turn to share, and with a huge grin on her face she enthusiastically shared her stories with the friend group, reciting moments with customers at her garden nursery, never missing the chance to exaggerate the outburst customers had; or the overall chaos that ensued maintaining the garden and its elegant inhabitants.

However, while Mocha and the other ladies were focused on her over the top storytelling, the friends all failed to detect that a certain pottery maker had slink away some time ago. Mocha continues to blabber on about her new discoveries in the town, her friends seeming to look at her with excited grins and subtle little happy dances in their chairs as they looked at her from across the table. Becoming somewhat suspicious of their actions and the sudden quietness of the ladies, Mocha couldn’t help but just stop talking and stare at them, a nervous chuckle leaving her lips.

“Do I have something on my face?” Mocha joked, trying to make light heart of the situation.

Before she knew it, Hands came up and covered her eyes from behind, Majora’s missing presence being alarmingly present now. As fast as her eyes were covered, they were as quickly uncovered, and Mocha was met with a personal sized Princess Cake, her favorite type of dessert. Overwhelmed with happiness, Mocha couldn’t help but look at the Swedish pastry in awe, its outer marzipan layer was a lovely shade of pastel green lightly dusted with powered sugar, the base of the cake being bordered with small dollops of whipped cream. The best part was that in the middle of the cake was a small lavender marzipan rose.

“Happy Birthday Mocha!!” All her friends cheered out.

Mocha couldn’t help but over thank her friends, giving each of them hugs and insisting that they all share the wonderfully sweet dessert. The ladies politely declined, Majora quieting them all with a simple raise of her hand.

“There’s one last thing” She paused, glancing at the other ladies, all of them having knowing grins on their faces. “A tea set, let alone a tea party, is never complete without the center piece”. With that, Majora reached for something under the table, out of Mocha’s view, before standing back up with a Magnificent Porcelain rose and a matching pot. Each an exquisite shade of lavender delightfully decorated with gold accents. Handing it to Mocha, Mocha could hardly believe that her friends would go so out of their way for her, for making her such a meaningful gift.

Mocha, tightly hugging the porcelain rose started crying out of happiness, her friends caught off guard by the waterworks quickly made their way to her. All the ladies gathering around the birthday girl and enveloping her in a group hug, all wishing Mocha a happy birthday. Who could ask for better friends, they may not talk all the time or give gifts to each other as frequently as others might but, this was their form of showing their love for her. Like the way Mocha gave them roses, her friends gave her ones too, it may not be in floral form, but a porcelain one was more than she could ask for.

#writing practice #spilled thoughts #english literature #rose #Setting Practice #friendship

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libidomechanica · 1 year

Text

“Had all hem of the sixth day compete in my arms”

A ballad sequence

Low voice—divine. He crimson. The prey; although little feuds, at large acquaint, uninspir’d and thine for that’s her soul is

always of festivity, both you, ’ save that has in freemasonry a high and thus long, howling tier, for breath; this

sweet, yellow autumn for myself, and reels athwart their forehead as might and drowning like an own breath I leapt but

Rousamouski, scherematoff, Koklophti, koclobski, Kourakin, and Roman Lucrece the Heracleidan bloody

stone for good mien excepting school, and but diverted; its diversion of gentlemen in glad grand lonely mayst

delicate; thou, old fell all be offered, not a Bird of the Prince their best apothecary’s art, keep within his dreamt

to-day, too; if only I am not a Bird of plight shadow doth face, and one of a thousand others bow, in

lieu of a Better were drowns, where was Strongenoff, meknop, Serge Lwow, Arsniew of moonshine. Of all constantly forests,

vouchsafe you canst read, or godlike, let me spectres, duly, daily visit, and clear day them like a trice: what is, no

doubt we weep; on the clean shirts, jacket: lynx-like far-blown hills seem paradise, and as their green faces pain, the valleys,

so darkening weather’s prompts deeds o’er the past one that he had but the old family vaunt, nor soul to several oaths as

there were worth my Mount AEtna, somersetshire my future Roman Lucrece the fiddling, cool, and still his smiles, and tallest

one meal a day; free-voic’d brother! Had all hem of the sixth day compete in my arms. Poor little but incessantly

at him, and the breeches with large as possible,—not dead, having but the Virgin bosom’s channel, where?—What every

often turn. But how swift decay; is this we mighty tribes, as many a listening, no authentic dew but throne,

when I’ve knows it not much given: I hold in what has compriseth! As far as the still over standing and his kin!

Title, and mizen went night die; nor end without a throne. Espoused to stow some way, boded no good—which our booty;

her salvation unequal: each his first woman’s name of the Cock crew, but they strove quite; so little quest to pleasant

science, by this spaniel,—which, like a vein, because December, cave found him; wedded until they don’t know we’re not so

sweet air, and harlots, the dictator strutting the lightly me, as the last to sway materials that the proud brows.

Happy show; gie me my Highland lantern, ever wanting shall fling: the crew kept his life as snow, and give myself withdrawn

from the land of a ministers hid amongst the grim, and much his dying, he roll’d on thine; sternly dealt the fuel;

and sometimes a deep as ocean, on search of us dies, and thy unbraided our recesses I seek so far remove

it and forgot: let Rustum lay a lucky presume to spy or should have had, howling on the commission,—so

that Firmán-issuing seas to pleased; her days so to wait, I hae seen the airy confined, and still out of this boughs,

upon the weakness, no dark eyes like a village of all- confest, as to read the bottom of the sunset the hour

of scarless hangs upon her like Cromwell’s than where Grattan, Curran, Sheridan, almost conceal though the silence. Such

times I hear, when he was, we ne’er she show’d this Impertinacity prided leander, holds they had swore him, too,

his money: for him, Wordsworth’s Centre sought. Of Zoe’s cook’d not for the dead, from the enquiring earth wanting in Spain have:

far I was from his hardly comes to prated just as her favourite, and then hey, for whom great cause the Ladies seeking,

and silver she merry with great man cried, unmarried on; all offer up, and his dying day; save thought throw around

us by, since kindly course had struck with his my own back into it and find it rather Attic. We also

a so-so matrons, scarce decent scuffle for surely not live, and yet the life for conscious head into the bowers

that once their ordered metaphysick’d Peters; it unmans one tenant’s fall at least they had I been her bird reposing

ships; over the eyes and by Potemkin—a great joy to high, could not out wines; but fool, you recall’d ample too.

III

For none had give! My fair. But, like a formidable was used unto me, and when she was a strange conversationist,

when dreamless at once again, or should back to lived a little Sail, and, quite beyond their size. White Chastity shall

admired old and for the same time, and fears. Was received with flowers, am grown hills? The respondent article.

To-day, lord of parting-post. Since Noah’s ark went cruising cattle, althoughts, to which madmen’s will one an honest friends that nought think about the might blush and brought the fear’d into a

wet blank and weary minstrelsy! My words you to set in a hurry, and if he took his sense of my soft Angel in her boy, and said, My love and prophetic soul to hint

them one. And after a gorgon voice of max! The fields the Door agape, came stated, those parting lifted his presented, and gainst time waste next day, too, out of love the lady

with personal cupidity, and chain-pump still exuberantly way, and there, if all the people giving in the result will fall silver clime; marriage lies failed books were

nothing, and weary us; and had in the clime: lady Fitz-Fulke; the Cretans—from what eye was the Pyrrhic dance believe it? Safely cross it—and no less our lived this colour’d

brains regaled two batteries of another Grace but the secret politely ends a bitter, the white! The polish- sharp, the last lonely at your mistress: two small stir her I’ll

tell, as really harmless sneer in knowledge of its Mystery whereto their bodies cannot choose, that look of Venus’ pearls: also must now, With Time beginning the season

why, unless grave-damps fall, or proud birds and makes of Atropos before the seats a plac’d their heard your soft cheek is cut in the wildfowl nestled and sigh’d upon a body hould,

o heauinesse: in night, but that half a Line, nor find the storms, in fact, true—I love you peers in loves and make a swift as though street and all her without a Word of promised be a

guinea and skies have made no accomplication as an unweave; and, to death-cry drown in the in her two dewdrops from the night, Stealing the day, and waving, young noblest on

the ostler pleasaunce not whole of those is dying in ghastly maladies every Hyacinthus conditions; and that day so near. This same to scare the Seed of being a small-

eyed daughter from his vote a little availed, she least of a demon, Ghost, and dead loaves closer, lest the former words, the mouths of in act to Time’s sequel; and he lay, full of

lilies scuffling in the stern- frame, that Turkish lady, to that is more at thy neck. Move— all the name in juice, although to knows—HE knows. Said on behind his beauty’s a children

so about a buzzing by the worth to vie withal, smooth-paced upon him; wedded until each new made myself the Tavern shore; for all that did in sleep is awful awful,

and jestest dreams and desolate deeper clouds in a moments in form themselues oppressions redden his not with people must pay his real epic from the Dragon of

her first did improve—perhaps he had already cash there came in Fate’s star-laden within a new theme: I have added to martial for being past tense, to say, they rideth!

Fit for the humble vainely spread; gazelle-eyed China cups, came and imperial. Sing nought can ye recognise the shadow to learn’d his rough not journey, but change, for inspir’d. Regaled two or the summer live poets were his wings,

two fan-like, t is no more delicious mind; and castanets from the full-veined ears; small drest will I love meals, at they were such a size, it wouldst thou finds shall the grass; I feel a noise overturns; and ’twas Sleep slow journey drew, content.

By this reflection, his own to the vales with such was stature, sharp temper, sought: of all this woful word to lie, wouldst, my Katie? Flies internal—speakest of? Yes, I confess all, we’re not bitter as the Potter, seeing to make room

for glorious moan by sweet! Added to moments in freemasonry a higher grieve, where quiet finding rock—that for the acacias, and such effort shrouds beneath and living wrong’d extremely warning look upon the strong palpitate

the streak of wheels fly; on the better Effort shrouds beneath the ensuing Shah to what might read,—and when, as the topaz, opal, calcedon. One sole bonds somethinks ’twould sweet loved as on his blacks, innumeral; also a so-

so matron boldly fight fear they should turn of the historian her: the fair as their form’d, replaced, cloves, take doth pleasure or unrestrained a pelisse, and made their losse now the unebbing ball in my dear! My sweet sleepy dusk, an

alderman strain; sure, assembled boat’ to save wended; when she be through when each in the meadow’s for mind; bubbles blue sky show the fields go not, from service with science that oft she threw them proper, or a hundred souls, the solve is a fine

sad memory’s winged affection vampire. Heaved Myrtle, meet emblems the loud, sweet Idyl, and mine eyes you please your regions were bin another acts of ladies seeking: and the monstrain dispell’d, waters glides and her with someone waving.

Permit, and tremble into him; and a bullet in vain for the poet her. That all, no doubted for six hours bore

there is for great want to be grand Cuvier! To her so well a sweate for a last though he was as if there was gentlemen

may things for a barbette, ’ of Danube’s leaden it gave all a closer intention— then death for all that’s a

game; save the bath and attention called my neighbour’s time. To lose thee, wretched. Their haste, but in vain—in vain my substratum.

With the world, not any. Had made lame by side, in country can but one who away so fared snow and abuse thing’s

primroses the low ration be, so read the applied: and without any threat ocean in hand as wept fast to love

is a new voice, no oracle, no praise, they that’s comprehend dumb harmony with Jewels politicians, O Sorrow!

VII

Now folds the kitchen verboten? She cameleopardy, they love or painted, upon the calm and he cannot guess’d.

VIII

And, even the shows a habit; and with these valley, the attack: the torches witty, shall take my body, layer

by and other days, reader, there a potatoes she was ice, there were log, and greet that ye can entomb in every

part, what enamour’d by thy pipe, and cold, crush’d upon an hour of love, to the charms, pillow, as whatever puzzled

lips were o’er trees by acclamation and their women is, till do no thorn in love, call’d on behind, a sound of eve

was also in the Gothic scene of moderately their flock all grace expenses, all she be warm delight. He was

no more, and is proper could lifting: a cleft our was from out his manner’d more: he was Lord This? Should scarcely should keep

afloat heart will doth water found the first a Jew it is all of weapons, and into a shoals round her, would, on their

beloved, and meanwhile the restroom I pretence and sailors are that all things, quit; and hot his appearance—but most

fatall sink together indicating and sedge is crown. With tempest’s weary night applause, saw two father’d how he

is music of a pirate. Ah, take my Muse, though stilts, playing with me: such increased her could I see save found so fair!

And Moscow, into streaming. Across what is— Materials, but all dreams, when his beads too late—yet whate’er with those the best to be more then requites. My tongue at all the

listenings surpasseth. The fifth day came. The good descending, Crime-confession, that she was in a stern, and the slaves on the plainer tale: great high, could be cast loose on the hour

of lilies and early the wet; water, he mighty Hand our own protectors; nor cover me—me, the youth, Heaven can quite and blesses with upon a spheres of gods, and daub

his Visage or very part, my Katie? Blush by day, the Meaning in a tried, for its crystal and on this traveller. Baron than a cleft pomegranate juice, were two wits

doth explosions, bastion, its Rose, and still seek no minute mock my sight, and slow, as made, maie, the Baltic’s navigation, generate into the praise: hate to show! We have given

me a things: chestnut colour, of the ships, by the chastity shadowings weary night ahead the ground. Brought far deeper sages there contrived the glen sae rashy, O! As

fruit nor drown in the day went after than their reward he witless as much of beer—but almost appear’d sublimity, that the lots were of a Spanish into his despatching

this blacks, and canst the loves marrow. Between our little hours than a train: Love bade me feel an overset here, ’ he critical, but a white should fin in that she was poore meeting

vision so; had, however would make hast spoil with desires, victim to passion— leaving lake by leans away, in Energy—his Treasure subjects to come. Its outlet

dash’d with their mistress, Harlequin in unity, like men, and somewhere Delos rose, like Cromwell’s than he drink rum from the city you were of Tom. And secret, blankets stitches

of our only joys, street and pen, he liked the sailors swore—but you see us. And stop mine within the months and deathes dreerie death, t was one or war; and none were ovens, and

shrill cicadas, people at home, and adored false polish fire, and would be needs mourne, the sedge is circumscrib’d, and butterflies awake. And some Zephyr caught each of smooth, so that

she suffers not a mission, and of thirteen the upon his Garment of silk inlaid with every clouds before our fantasy, unless on a day, ye waves kept him not let

me knows from her which life, an alderman, or love, and last, guns, and her, to sit beside his heart, with scarce controvertible a level, when his talents of us must

understand, as Phidian forest, past his amatory can not fulfils defect it was whisper tales? The dusk religion, and here are dust ygoe. Thin are scarless tale: thee seen induced

by the silent all: his breasts in a higher they wild and ever shelve, thou will thirty mock tyrant!—But neither I’ll blythely beardless groves, that the British women of

linger we. Cradle; hither ages, he had been several oaths and canst not wear your handsome were slain. Juan sleep bell of Fame words, that is Zuhrah who at last, to set me feel

a mix’d regret—no matter ends. ’Er young Phoebus’ golden pines, and weak; and still seek nae maintain’s coast of that I can’t say you go throe in the drops from the difference dread renew?

Whom she still remains unseen Power a little words enter, skating hame on the base than in her move, or summer

days. By the shipwreck’d by the rest, have found no assist the pair, juan to batteries of her knows how fair; there was

opposing should let the dark world was the place that the Waste, but to be free, was she. This carry off in earth: and also

in the fast: though their women do, in gazing on, some wee things human hath been but still at once haste who was her as

well night, which the Levant; excepting seem’d quite refused, became. As if the same the sea ran high sea, by the hands I

bless’d itself the slowly they! Yoked her own neighbours’ land, through them into each to roses gave a common shone, spanning

as soon as a prophecies of flower and endeavour from the cool, is all there was very splendid stare, could lift

then t was not love the welcome she lay call Chance, he sight shows that’s his blood, survives. At which no ardent and loves there

drincks she praise; but, by some others: some effect: the woods, filled the vinous eyes are a beautiful an Isles; but being

restive into the celebrated, opens mothlike, are dante and though his spaniel, hard to go; even the eye,

of bread, and having eyes like to say, the sun had he was, become new mean time, a came with snorting his world was born:

they had been here playing better from the hotel: forth at last; gold cups of the bubbling leave meant knight. One bitter came,

but chief resource of all-confessions of the welcome guest, but in gray is always prove appear as if from the Dead,

that songs of twilight’s fall she was to save one whisperingly: Dear lady, in which confirmer William did rest had

to mute and robb’d in her prayer- book ready to the Pole’s no more will not fears no doubt is wholly; and thoughts more loved

well-clad limbs; and those shall lure it was silver the foremost in a globe of Honour playe: sike myrth now haue spells did but

within the world’s wracke, and rack and refuse: daughter of twelve hour of these, while the place with my head the wild order too.

Had fought to this softer a sure must have touch of old shine; the blow; and fell all that repast, and most do show to the

wind’s eye, and with that doth, its impress’d till on Juan’s youth, Heaven so the very soon exhalations and would be. Will,

to sing dispense, to Endymion’s so belong, ambition, moderate—I spared the purest of those sylvan aisle.

Haste liaison of nation, for high talk’d dizziness. Said that made a scene of love the purest of poetry household all who didst the falling flower, and there enough oft avenged:

ocean woman can one? But Psyche ere shepherds entertain, here’s a sea- attorney. The first herself, all is vanity’-most holy vapour and then is not quite

to his lakes. To mend thy naked, a creed, and ’twill as bright galley-rowers’ to abate, the state; and their shibboleth, God be without a riddle of my foreheads or temper,

so as I am reading, sir, to the gently grew awhile she shown: i’ll seek their mourne, that Turkish trade is but thy tears of me you seest it seems your pillow’d, pursued o’er-worm

will fly and such as monarchs to the won’t descends. Or else all be yon, at vesper’s rush, and wretched men call her best of many perspective land, turning slombreth in whispers

to harm in politely ends of free her mind; bubbles, moonlighted with this poor, pale, and seen the more basest weep! And abroad; discuss’d the marshal Soul in the Last Harvest sow’d

the dance thoughts charms to give them as a toy that the fire. Just, break of dangling, by melting if he had been a Congress doing to bear to talk; one she seemed not, for a voyaged

to know in the van. And she and suffered she gaze, and kittens, he could not plain of my lips asunderstand how dying, and united, and dancing, whither! The Morning; long

did enthralled among that if all their flock’s connection, from daybreak on vain! Why are vaine, and please let be: and Bahrám, that Endymion’s pavement; whose who know that kind: at least

prodigious in the next prevailed if, what? They thought her Grain, and pebbles, like one reposed his own, and still recover blown to show with Horace: his Peter Lely, whose are born

from kissing in ghastly malady tread, and made about twice as you can, and the wool of bodies, spongy mosses, like a space: if I agree to grave for pleasing so lonely,

loving, while, amidst the formidable dyke by Fenelon, by the blind half a Scot by his court, or so thick and pleasant feet, whose who know wholly grew on her limbs on

the last night and chafing his instead of lords and mind, yet lightning, not my own breast discharged his chilling,—for deeming, foolish features’ Eyes. All to the Back of Gau and soft, so

sweet enforced sweet upbraid to hint at full, at one. Most revered a new lose that vertuous course. That many as he a brooke of inferior, start of the Cretans—from where the

swinged Psyche ere should see the chrysalis into our little question of all my pleasant vale descry a favoured of Wisdom’s charm could scarce a hut on; others’ fees.

XII

The London’s no more subtle Greek— they had no path to yield thyself, and that whistled all her heart begun the last thou

should his inside his vile age prepare, and show the third, then he thou may cloy when in food, quickly swannish musick sleep.

XIII

For often-used volcano go. Bishops, knight. In awe for instantly four discourse must tell nought, and sure, cast upon

him; and let the West, at Longbow’s talk’d the nether and this is strew’d upon him flush of you this condition. Bee which

like king—who limits all phantasms. Dear lady fair. All song to speak gentle girlond all thy Piety nor lose to

the hard he sun, when he howls with its proudlier sweet portraits of us—Pish! Before of charity increased Counselled

the cutter, what their hides awakes—and, strange my father reasonable from so much pass’d, or calculation would

have studious hand in her before than all else than chang’d the curd-pale were two small-talk ready upon the united

power on the others guns, and birds more, and fain had on pillow, her drank smells, I see that early to fuddle

with their fountain and tears of those doubloon, but marriages, but ah, it hath the comparation lie; then dead! And the

helpless, and show its. Nobody sent talent within hair, and then you drilling, howsoe’er suspicious charity: but

to stop. He turn’d to dull; profession, getting I will now. Or was but of my mind: would be thy versed, the love, that

glittering light! Smiles to push on to slay there wives to head-quarters up, and gave waken then, or at least, he preachery!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #151 texts #ballad sequence

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