#(they’d just make such good fanatical little guys)

[sacredvein]

you know what? fuck it. *sabbats your whole théâtre troupe*

[solarmorrigan]

“Hey.”

Eddie looks up from the inventory sheet he’s bent over (the new shipment of records isn’t going to record itself – Christ, that was awful, Henderson is contagious) to see his coworker Kyle poking his head into the back room.

“Someone left something for you at the counter.”

“Who?” Eddie asks, brows furrowed.

Most everyone in town seems to have let the murder accusations drop (embarrassed enough by their own fanatical reactions that they’d much rather forget the whole thing), but a few people still treat him like a felon walking free; it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.

“Uh, real normie-looking guy. Gives you a ride sometimes.”

Eddie blinks. “Steve?”

“Yeah, sure.” Kyle shrugs. “Says you left it in his car.”

Whatever Eddie is expecting to see when he follows Kyle back out to the front counter of the music shop, a brown bag lunch isn’t it. He most certainly hadn’t left that in Steve’s car this morning.

Steve hadn’t even given him a ride that morning.

But it’s got his name on it, sure enough, in Steve’s weirdly neat handwriting. The asshole even drew a little heart next to it.

Eddie can already feel a smile pulling across his face as he snatches up the bag. Maybe he hadn’t forgotten his lunch in Steve’s car, but he certainly hadn’t brought one in with him. He’d been planning to hit up the McDonald’s down the street if he got desperate, but whatever Steve’s brought him is bound to be better.

“Your girlfriend pack that for you?” Kyle asks.

Eddie lets out a little huff of a laugh, for a minute not quite sure how to answer.

Gender assumptions aside, Eddie doesn’t know what to call this thing with Steve – this thing where they’d started screwing and then they’d started falling asleep together without screwing and then they’d started spending all their free time together and now Steve does things like pack Eddie lunch and bring it to him at work.

“Sorta,” he finally settles on.

“Dude, if she’s making you lunch and writing little hearts next to your name, she’s more than ‘sorta’ your girlfriend,” Kyle says.

“Yeah… Maybe,” Eddie allows, because – well, because maybe.

“Pretty nice of your friend to drive it over, though,” Kyle says. “Pretty sure at least half of my friends would’ve just eaten it.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, warm and a little smug, “Steve’s a good dude.”

He digs into the lunch sack and finds an apple sitting on top (of course), a baggie of Keebler fudge cookies (score), and a Tupperware container filled with–

“Oh, fuck yes!” Eddie hugs the precious little tub full of macaroni and cheese to his chest like he’s doing his best Gollum impression. There is nothing in the world better than Steve’s mac and cheese.

It’s still warm.

“I’m taking my break!” Eddie declares, skittering off to the back room before Kyle can argue.

He sits himself down in the employee break area (a crappy folding table, two mismatched chairs, and a microwave so old he’s probably getting radiation poisoning just by sitting next to it) and digs in to the cheesy goodness that is Steve’s cooking.

He’ll eat the apple after, he reasons.

(No he won’t.)

As he eats, his eyes drift back to the crumpled brown bag, to the little heart drawn in bleeding black sharpie, and he thinks.

-

Steve’s house smells like chicken and herbs when Eddie lets himself in early in the evening, and oh, Steve must be in a good mood today.

Eddie feels spoiled.

He finds Steve in the kitchen, wrist-deep in sudsy water as he sways back and forth absently to the tune of the rock station coming from the radio on the windowsill. The room is warm, and something delicious-smelling in a covered pan is simmering on the stove, and the space behind Steve is invitingly empty, just waiting for Eddie to sidle up into it.

Eddie feels so, so spoiled.

Steve doesn’t startle when Eddie slides in behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, but Eddie isn’t really surprised anymore; it seems like Steve can always tell when someone is there.

He does glance over his shoulder, though, just long enough for Eddie to see the smile on his face before he turns back to the dishes. “Hi.”

Eddie’s pretty sure the smile on his own face is softer and infinitely more besotted. “Hi.”

“Good day at work?” Steve asks.

Eddie hums, pressing a kiss to the top of Steve’s shoulder. “You brought me lunch.”

“I’m glad Kyle actually gave it to you,” Steve says. “Wasn’t sure someone else wouldn’t eat it.”

“I got it,” Eddie says, as if there was any doubt with the way he’s still smiling in between trailing little kisses up Steve’s neck.

Steve shuts the water off and dries his hands on the towel hanging off the cupboard door before turning in Eddie’s arms to give him a proper kiss. “It was good?”

Eddie hums again. “You brought me lunch.”

“We’ve established that, yeah,” Steve laughs, allowing Eddie another kiss as he grins.

“You made me lunch,” Eddie says, pecking another kiss to Steve’s lips, still smiling like an idiot. “And you drove it up to the store for me.”

Steve shrugs, a little coy. “It’s my day off. I had time to kill.”

“Kyle says that makes you more than sorta my girlfriend,” Eddie replies, as if that will make any sense at all to Steve.

Whether it makes sense or not, it does make him laugh, and Eddie peppers kisses all over his face while he does.

“So it was good?” Steve asks again, when he’s caught his breath.

“You made me lunch and then you drove it over to me,” Eddie stresses. “It could’ve tasted like ass, and it still would’ve been the best thing ever.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but is more than obliging to the deep kiss Eddie pulls him into after that.

“But just so we’re clear,” Steve says when they break apart, “it didn’t taste like ass, right?”

“Oh my god, no,” Eddie finally relents. “It was literally the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I’m going to marry you so you can make that mac and cheese for me every day.”

“Every day, huh?” There’s a funny little smile climbing back over Steve’s face. “You sure you won’t get sick of it?”

“Nah,” Eddie replies confidently. “Never.”

They’re both smiling a little too much now to really kiss, but they make a good go of it anyway.

[Prompt: Smiling between kisses]

[wolfjackle-creates]

Behind the Fortress Walls Chapter 2

Chapter two of my fic for the @dpxdcbigbang has been released!

Fic Summary

Jazz is in love with Dick. He’s kind, considerate, and caring. Far and away the nicest person she’s ever dated. But she’s lying to him. About so, so much. And he’ll hate her once he learns the truth. Assuming he doesn't get tired of her canceling all their dates first. When Danny and Ellie go missing, the latest in a series of ghostly disappearances, she's forced to cancel another date. Going to Elmerton to meet up with Tucker and Sam, she will get Danny and Ellie back from the GIW no matter what it takes. Only…they aren't the only ones breaking in.

Chapter word count: ~6k. Full word count for both chapters 14141 which was totally unplanned. But what a fun number????

-----

“What’s taking so long, Pharaoh?” asked Jazz.

“I…don’t know. It looks like communications are down. I’m struggling to connect to the network here.”

Jazz stilled. “What does that mean?”

Tucker didn’t answer for a long minute as he continued to tap away at his tablet. “It means that even if we are seen breaking in, no one will be able to get an alarm raised off-base. Regrowth, have you seen any agents wandering around? Or lights turn on or off in the building?”

Sam jumped down from the tree. “I haven’t seen anyone.”

“I don’t like this,” said Jazz. “Something’s not right. There should be someone around. Growing up with my parents, I know all about experiments that drag on longer than expected. And the Guys in White are fanatics. They’d stay late to run another experiment.”

“Danny and Ellie are in there,” said Tucker.

Jazz closed her eyes. She hated unknowns. But Tucker was right. Danny and Ellie were in there.

“I’m going in anyway,” said Sam after a long moment. “If communications are down, they won’t be able to request back up.”

“Anyone we find is more likely to be on edge, though,” said Tucker.

Sam snorted. “And we can take them.”

“I have the zip ties I stole from my boyfriend,” said Jazz. “And a few things I’d taken from my parents before moving out. It’s all in working condition.”

“We go in,” agreed Tucker. “Maybe once we get to the security office, I’ll be able to figure out what’s going on.”

“Regrowth, you ready?” asked Jazz.

“Yep. Let’s go.”

All three made their way to the fence. A good six to ten feet of land on their side of the fence had been cleared, leaving them in plain view. But they had chosen an area of the fence that was in shadow where the light from two floodlights didn’t quite overlap.

They’d still be seen instantly if anyone decided to come looking, but hopefully the dark would be enough to protect them from a distance. Jazz and Sam shrugged off their backpacks and left them on the ground. Then Jazz, using skills she learned in Blüdhaven rather than Amity, took a running jump and latched onto the fence two feet off the ground.

Within seconds she was at the top of the fence.

“Show off,” she heard Sam mutter.

Jazz grinned to herself. She was, a little bit. Carefully, she spread her legs out wider while Sam climbed up under her. When she reached Jazz’s level, Jazz flattened herself against the fence so Sam could climb up behind her. With Jazz’s legs spread, Sam was able to get her knees under Jazz’s.

Then Sam gripped the fence tight, using muscles she had earned working in a gardening center carrying stone and clay pots bigger than her torso. Jazz used Sam’s lap as a pseudo seat and leaned back, letting go of the fence.

“You okay?” she asked, making sure her weight wasn’t going to overbalance Sam.

“Yep. Just be quick.”

Jazz nodded and reached into her robes where she had a wire cutter and thick gardening gloves courtesy of Sam. She pulled on the gloves and quickly cut off a foot and a half wide section of wire. With the gloves, she picked them up, keeping them from falling and hooked them into the links of the fence.

Stripping her gloves, she dropped them to the ground and grabbed back onto the fence.

Sam let out a breath of relief and climbed back down to the ground, Jazz following. Once on the ground, she grabbed the gloves she’d dropped and slid them back into their pocket in her robes.

“All right, Pharaoh,” said Jazz as she grabbed her backpack and put it back on. “You first.”

-----

It was harder to pick a segment to share for this chapter! Hope you enjoy ^.^

[werezmastarbucks]

golden hour hill roll

pic credit

masterlist

word count: 1395

The police paid them a visit the next day. Tyler took Sam to the basement and showed him all his whimsical little musical instruments; he had a very old guitar and a shaky keyboard standing on three thin legs; had a set of drums with differently colored drumsticks. Sam despised all of that; the instruments were the opposite of what the boy craved, which was peace and quiet. Instruments produced music. Music was noise.

Kai spoke to the policemen who weren’t much concerned with their parents’ month-long absence. Kai held on to the door and listened to the two officers, both of them with protruding teeth, like they were brothers. They said the little boy’s body has been discovered in the sewage tunnel under the road, three houses away from where he lived. It took them two weeks to locate the body, and in the water, and in the company of rats, little Teddy became barely recognizable.

“Uh-huh”, Kai nodded, “awful. Who would’ve done anything like that to a child?”

“We’re only disclosing the circumstances of his discovery for you guys to be cautious. It’s the third body in the last two months in your neighborhood. You’ve seen anything concerning?”

“Officer, my two brothers are very special, I see concerning every day. They are… both… challenged”, Kai said and immediately started chewing his lip. He caught the smile at the very last second and instead pretended to be fully distressed.

“Be careful. If you see anything, call us immediately”.

“You think there’s a serial killer?”

Kai could see a neighbor, the bitch from the fourth house to the left, pacing the street behind their backs in the distance. She kept an eye on them all the time. Pretended to be looking out for the boys while the parents were away. Constantly judging them, the religious fucking fanatic. Her daughter though. Ruby Summers was, as they say, a real piece of ass. Aaand she liked Tyler.

He failed to hear the response to his own question and now stared at the cops with the same worried expression on his face.

“Is there any way we could chat with your brothers, mister Parker?”

“Samson is very ill…” he said slowly, “and Tyler is at work, so…”

They nodded with understanding. Sheer angels, these guys.

As they were leaving, Kai caught Mrs Summers’ eye. She turned away and started walking again as if she hadn’t been sniffing for the details. Will they grab him? Maybe she hoped they’d shoot him where he stood. Evil or not, Kai had to admit Summers suspected something. She couldn’t really put her finger to what. But, like an animal, she sensed something was off. Maybe she would be the first to finally figure out that he is trying to spell his name with bodies under the ground. But it would be too early. The five bodies he put in the sewer only made the bar in the first letter, K.

He shut the door with an energetic swing. Sam raced up the stairs back into the living.

“It’s a good thing. It’s a good thing Tyler took me down, because when I heard your guys’ voices, I started talking about Teddy out loud”, he nodded several times. “I heard the question, where have you been on the fourth, and started answering, because I knew you would lie to them. It’s a good thing Tyler took me away”.

Kai ruffled the youngest’s hair knowing full well Sam hated it.

“Keep low today, I also lied that you’re terribly ill”.

“Why?”

“So that they don’t want to question you”.

Sam went pale as if he immediately took to making himself ill.

Kai went down to Tyler’s room, also known as basement, and found the brother sitting on his little thrashed sofa prepped against the wall. His neck was all black. Tyler slowly tilted his head left and right. Kai could tell he was in pain even from just looking at him.

“Worse?”

Tyler was silent. They made peace yesterday with sandwiches and boardgames. Kai won by cheating which sent Sam into a crazy fit that lasted for thirty minutes. Tyler had such a strong headache he threw up in the living room. By all means the night went great.

He fell on the sofa next to Tyler confidently.

“Are they gone?” the middle one asked in hollow voice. When he was like that, he looked just a little dangerous which Kai liked.

“Yeah. Start getting concerned”.

“So maybe that means you should stop”.

“You know what else we should stop doing?”

Tyler had put up old towels, thrifted rugs and carpets on the walls of his so-called music studio. But nothing helped quieten his screams when he started recording. The shrieking was so blood-chilling that sometimes it seemed like he was being eaten alive.

Tyler was only able to turn his head a little. Kai could see the dry tear lines on his brother’s cheeks and didn’t like that. As opposed to earlier.

“What?”

“Stop lying to Sam about parents. Sooner or later his anxiety will take over and he’ll run to the neighbors or start shouting from the rooftops. Or just figure out himself”.

Tyler stood up and started walking towards the only holy place in the basement: industrial size refrigerator, always full of ice-cold soda. He would take out a can and press it hard against his aching head, and it would help a little. He wasn’t responding yet.

Pink, orange, neon blue, acid green, he had it all. Sprite, Pepsi, Fanta, Mountain Dew, Dr Pepper, Zima, A&W, it was Kai who stocked and restocked the wonder fridge of salvation.

“Which one do you want?” he asked.

“Dr Pepper”.

He took two cans: red and blue, and brought them back to the sofa.

Kai’s sly eyes were watching him. It was enough just to see that Tyler has registered what he said. That he started fidgeting around.

They drank sweet, gum collapsing soda in silence for some time. The fridge hummed its monotonous melody, Tyler’s black fingers were tightly wrapped around the cold thin metal of the can. The migraine subdued a little, and he could see colors again. He watched his black-and-white brother, so black-and-white that he was almost bloody. Kai’s face was so pale, you could take a tiny pin and prick him a little, and this skin would burst like a tightly strained balloon; and he would explode in blood. And the blood would be sugary sweet.

Wednesdays were the hill days. Samson needed to get out of the house at the golden hour once in a while. It was a little ritual of theirs; perhaps the only wholesome one. Three streets away, fifteen minutes far from home, the road suddenly dropped down off the majestic hill. The road was always empty on Wednesday evenings when they came rolling down, they didn’t know why; maybe it was luck. Empty cars parked neatly on the sides of the road, clenching on the asphalt at the steep angle with their tires. No people peeking out, it was like the street would become desolated for an hour that they spent there until the twilight came. They usually stood on the top of the hill; Tyler and Kai with their boards, and Sam, with his bicycle, and looked at the orange world getting ready for the night. The road went on and on, and beyond, an ugly world continued again. But here, on the tilted surface of the hill, their world was just the clean asphalt.

They would roll down in complete silence. Tyler sometimes undertook attempts at teaching Kai to lose speed in order not to let his board wiggle; but they were never fruitful. Sam always rode clenching the handlebars of his bike like his life depended on it. And still, he was always the impulse behind going there; he loved this golden hour hill roll. Shirts flapped around their waists, and Tyler’s migraine ceased just for an hour. They never fell on that hill, not a single time, and were perfectly happy there. The ride, and the wind, and the silence kept them satisfied. They would roll down in line, Kai always speeding up eventually, and then make their way back up the hill, and go down again, and repeated the process until the sun went down. And then the ugly world would overtake once again.

[thalys-artcorner]

Maybe I Just Wanna Be Yours (Sihtric x OC) Rockstar!AU

*Disclaimer: Number one, I’m embarrassed to post this. Number two, I don’t usually write smut. Number three, english is not my first language and there will probably be very dumb spelling mistakes. Number four, the lyrics are from Artic Monkeys’ song 505, probably taken out of context. Number six, this idea came thanks to the little community of TLK simps we are on TikTok. Number seven..Actually that’s it.

Warning: swearing, smut and everything it entails. Also spelling mistakes? Is that a trigger warning? I think it should be a trigger warning.

Context: He’s a indie rockstar (no sh*t Sherlock) and she’s kind of an indie folk singer, I guess? Also they’re neopagans cause I like making winks to the show.

Honestly, whoever had scheduled the order of the concerts for that Festival owned Freydis a new pair of lungs. Of course her own show would overlap with her boyfriend’s, meaning she had to run all the way to the other side of the park right after spending nearly two hours singing. Thank the gods some guys from security in a golf cart had taken pity on her and given her a ride. Still, the show had already started when she finally got backstage, half afraid she might have a heart attack. So much for being in shape.

Still, she wouldn’t miss Sihtric perform for anything else in the world. Seriously, was their anything sexier than a rockstar?

The grounds around the stage were swarming with fanatics who were there to see Ragnarök perform. Not for nothing, the band was the closing act.  Thousands of people who’d come to see the English band founded by Uthred Ragnarsson. To think they’d started off at the bar owned by Uthred’s father, now everybody knew their name. Finan at the drums, Uthred as the lead guitar, sweet Osferth at the keyboards, and Sihtric as the vocalist. Fortunately, because even though Uthred had started the band, he couldn’t hold a note to save his life. Sihtric could. He could hold various notes, in fact. And he looked damn good doing it. Freydis swore, little things could get her more hot-and-bothered than seeing her boyfriend on stage.

He could also make her reach unspeakable notes too, all though that was an entirely different and private kind of performance.

Something about watching Sihtric perform was just...hypnotic and breathtakingly hot. His mismatched colored eyes acquired an intensity as if he could see right through your skin and peel off your clothes with his stare alone. He became completely immersed into the song, the stage, the rhythm, all of it. He had the ability to make everyone in the audience feel like he was singing to them and them alone. But every so often, he would steal a quick glance to the side of the backstage and look straight at her with a devilish smirk. Because he knew, he knew damn well how much it turned her on to see him on stage.

I'm going back to 505 If it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive In my imagination, you're waitin' lyin' on your side With your hands between your thighs

Again he was looking at her. The show was near the end, and his skin was shiny with a layer of sweat that made the cropped top he wore cling to his well-toned body, naturally making her think of the way that body pressed against hers, hovering, covering her completely, practically driving into her as if they could merge together into one. Freydis’s breath caught in her throat as she did her best to keep it together. She had started to ache about five songs ago, and started to feel the wetness between her thighs long before that.

That’s when she saw it. The handkerchief peeking out of his pocket, that he always wore half because of aesthetic and half because of superstition. Except it was not a handkerchief this time.

It was her fucking thong.

Freydis felt her cheeks heat up. She was fairly certain no one else had noticed, you couldn’t ready tell it was underwear unless you saw it up close. The only reason she realized was because, well, it was her underwear, she’d put it on that morning. And Sihtric had taken it off when they’d had a very brief but heated make-out session in between shows that was very rudely interrupted by her manager right after her boyfriend had taken the thong off.

He caught her looking this time and knew by her expression that she’d realized about the underwear too. His smirk only became naughtier as he dipped his hand into his pocket. Freydis’s eyes widened.

You fucking wouldn’t she thought.

Of course he didn’t, even though for a split second she had actually panicked. No, he simply took his hand off after a moment and then gripped the microphone with it before pressing it against his lips. From where she was standing, she could clearly see his tongue poke out between his lips and lick his fingers, even though the audience wouldn’t be able to tell since he was gripping the microphone.

Freydis swallowed hard. She couldn’t take it anymore. She turned on her heels and bolted off backstage. She navigated the people circulating through the hallway almost as if she was made of thin air, driven only by the need to find Sihtric’s room backstage. He’d given her the key before her own show had started. As soon as she found it, she let herself in, shut the door behind her and ran her hands through her long blonde hair.

She paced the room a couple of times, trying to cool off, but Sihtric’s eyes were still lingering on her in her head, her panties in his pocket, sweat down his forehead, the abs peeking from under the hem of his top. His husky voice singing about her hands between her thighs.

They were there before she’d even registered it. She stopped to rest her back against the nearest wall, closed her eyes and simply gave in and touched herself.

Fuck, she hadn’t actually registered how wet she was. As her fingers skimmed up the inner side of her thigh, she could feel a faint trail running down without the underwear to stop it. Her hips jerked forward when she first graced her sensitive folds.

“Shit” she whispered into the empty room. She started to rub just above her pussy in small circles, trying to keep quiet so as to not draw the attention of anyone at the other side of the door. Then, she dared to dip one finger inside, and had to bite her lip from crying out loud before inserting a second one. She brushed over her clit, the dull ache sending a shock through her entire body.

“Huh, decided to start without me, did you?”

Freydis gasped, hand falling limply to her side as she opened her eyes and found Sihtric smirking, leaning against the closed door behind him.

“I…” she felt her mouth dry “How…?”

“You forgot to lock the door, love”.

“I…did?”

Sihtric nodded. His smirk slowly disappeared as he took in her disheveled appearance. His eyes darkened “Must’ve wanted it real bad to let that slip from you mind”.

Freydis wetted her lips and slowly nodded, before raising the hand she’d been using to touch herself and extending it towards him. A small smile crossed her lips “Come kiss it better?”

Sihtric growled and covered the distance between them in two long strides, taking her hand and immediately holding it to his mouth kissing each one of her fingertips. Freydis’s breath hitched when he pressed her against the wall, his hot, sweaty body completely covering her. She gripped his side mullet and pulled it to make him lean down and kissed him hard, biting his lower lip. Sihtric groaned against his mouth, lips immediately opening to play with her tongue as if air was but a minor inconvenience. He gripped the hand that was pulling at his hair, and the one that was digging into his bicep and pinned them both above her head, holding her by her wrists with one hand. With the other, he pulled out the thong that was tugged inside his pocket and grinned naughtily.

“These…weren’t wet enough” he observed “Guess I’ve gotta be more thorough at my job”. He traced the outline of her lower lip with his thumb “Eyes on me, all right?”.

Freydis nodded, turning her face slightly to press her lips briefly against the rings around his fingers.

Slowly, he parted her skirt to the side by the opening that ran along her thigh. Freydis bit her lower lip and fought the urge to flutter her eyes close as she felt the soft fabric of her underwear against her skin. Sihtric was staring at her with that intensity that bore into her soul while he slowly started rubbing his fingers between her folds, the thong wrapped around them too. Freydis whimpered at the friction of the lace against her sensitive skin, her nails digging into the hand that was holding her wrists together. “Babe, I-Oh fuck, that feels good” she moaned.

“That’s a good girl” Sihtric praised her with a smirk “Hey, eyes on me, remember? There we go, so wet for me”.

“Mmmhm!” Freydis whimpered “Sihtric…”

“I know…I know…” he pulled his hand away, kissing her to muffle her protests as he tossed the underwear over his shoulder and this time simply started rubbing tight circles over her clit with his bare fingers.

Freydis cried out weakly “Yess” she hissed, as he slipped one finger, and then a second one inside her, starting to curl them inside her. Her hips started grinding against his hands, and this time she couldn’t help it, she closed her eyes. But Sihtric didn’t mind, he was too focused on pulling pleasure out of her while grinding his own crotch against her leg slowly, releasing small, quiet grunts.

“Let me touch you, babe” she whispered, tugging softly at her wrists “I bet that’s starting to feel painful”.

“I started to get hard when I noticed you’d left the stage” he confessed, chest heaving “I knew what you were doing”. Slowly, he let go of her hands, though not before taking them to his lips and placing butterfly kisses over each of her wrists.

It was Freydis’s turn to smirk wickedly, all though she did not keep the expression for long when Sihtric managed to squeeze a third finger inside her. Her back arched away from the wall, pressing her body against her boyfriend’s. “Ah!” she cried out weakly, resting her cheek against his shoulder “Gods...Keep going” she encouraged before dipping her own hand inside his pants and rubbing over his hard on. Sihtric growled and buckled against his hand.

“Fuck, Freydis”.

The air in the room had started to get heavy with their pants and moans that slowly increased in volume. Freydis could feel her walls started to contract on the verge of an orgasm, her cries becoming louder. Almost there…But before she had the chance to reach her orgasm, Sihtric pulled his fingers out, causing her to cry out at the lost of fullness and friction and glare at him furiously. Before she had the chance to protest, however, Sihtric kneeled in front of her. She swore each time he kneeled in front of her she got wet all over again, there was something so erotic about the way he stared up at her while he delicately picked up one of her ankles as if it was made of glass and slowly draped it over his shoulder before launching forward and closing his mouth over her flesh like a starving man.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Freydis whimpered hurriedly, her leg wrapping around his shoulders as if to pull him closer, her hand back on his hair as he pressed the flat of his tongue against her core and licked her from bottom to top before sucking on her clit. The woman tossed her head to the side, her breath becoming ragged and irregular, each one ending in a small whimper that slowly started to turn into a moan. Her boyfriend’s name rolled repeatedly from her lips like a prayer to the gods, like she had forgotten every other word she had ever spoken. Sihtric took his sweet time bringing her higher and higher, closer and closer to her release, and just when Freydis thought she couldn’t take it anymore, that she might actually pass out, his fingers joined his tongue, rubbing tight circles over her pussy and she came hard, a hoarse cry escaping her lips as Sihtric kept sucking, licking and kissing her all the way through her climax.

“Shit…You’re almost unfairly good at that, you know” she managed to gasp when he finally got back on his feet, wrapping her arm behind his neck and pulling him close for a kiss, tasting herself on his lips.

Sihtric chuckled, licking his lips to savor the trace of her on them “I am, aren’t I?” he smirked in a rare display of cockiness, as he was usually rather shy. Except when he was with her.

Freydis raised an eyebrow “Cocky, aren’t we?” she observed, before looking into his eyes with a playful pout “How about you put your cock where your mouth was?”

Sihtric growled “You greedy little thing”.

There wasn’t any lead up this time, both already too impatient, too horny to keep waiting any longer. He didn’t even lower his pants all the way through, just enough to pull himself out. Sihtric’s hands settled on her ass and picked her up so she could wrap her legs around his wrist and then he simply slammed into her, hoarse groans escaping from both of them when they were finally joined.

He began to thrust into her, starting slow but eventually speeding up as he drove deep into her. Freydis rested her hands on his shoulders to support herself and helping him by moving her own hips in sync with his. One of Sihtric’s hands was cradling the back of her neck, the other curled into a fist against the wall just above her head. Freydis angled her head to kiss him, hot and desperate. They stayed with their mouths pressed together, her moans and his groans mixing together as slowly, the tension started to build inside them.

The small orgasm took Freydis almost by surprise, especially when she realized Sihtric wasn’t stopping, chasing after his own release. She cried out louder than before in both pleasure and shock, her walls clenching around him, which caused Sihtric to growl and bury his face into her neck while Freydis tried to recover, but her hips felt weak.

“Sihtric, I…” she warned, whimpering because she was suddenly oversensitive as her boyfriend kept driving into her.

“One more” he whispered into her ear “I know you’ve got one more in you” he cursed under his breath “Fuck, I’m almost there, baby. Just one more for me”.

“I…Oh gods, babe” it was too much, but her body was already building up for another orgasm, not the small shock of pleasure she’d just had, but a real, proper orgasm. And even though her entire body felt like it was on its last nerve, it just felt too good. She whimpered, curling around him as if she wanted to melt into him. “Hold my neck” she asked “And go harder”.

“Fuuuuuck” Sihtric groaned, his hand closing softly around her neck but without really cutting her breath, as he drove into her at a brutal pace.

They both came hard, calling out for each other, chests heaving, nails digging desperately into each other’s flesh. Sihtric sunk his teeth into her shoulder, hips lurching forward before going completely still. Freydis scratched her nails down his back, leaving a red trail over his skin. Her toes curled inside her boots and she felt a couple of tears on the corner of her eyes before her sweaty body finally collapsed against the wall, Sihtric’s against her as they both went through their high, shaking with little aftershocks. They were both gasping for air, still moaning and clinging desperately to each other.

A couple of minutes went by in which they simply stayed like that until their breaths somewhat calmed down and they were finally able to open their eyes and look at each other with loving puppy eyes.

“Hi” Sihtric whispered with a sweet, dopey smile on his face.

“Hi” Freydis whispered back, nuzzling the end of her nose softly against his.

Sihtric pecked her lips “Sorry I missed your show” he rested his sweaty forehead against hers and kissed her temple.

“That’s all right. You had to prepare for yours” she assured him, pushing away some strayed locks from his face. Truly, this part was as much her favorite as the actual sex. When they both came down from their high and immediately became the softest, weakest for each other and just wanted to stay as close as possible “Sorry I missed the finale”.

Sihtric shook his head “I prefer our finale anyways, with the cute face you make when you come and your tight little-Ow!” he chuckled when Freydis hit him playfully on the shaved side of his head.

“Arse” she giggled before pecking his lips fondly “I love you”.

“I love you too” he kissed her back, running a thumb over her cheek with absolute adoration. He still marveled at times, how he had found such an extraordinary love that seemed to be made just right for him. He’d been through some really fucked up stuff growing up. Life with her, however, gave him hope that he could actually break the cycle. “I wrote a new song, you know”.

Freydis gaped at him “Already? You guys just released an album!”

Sihtric shrugged “You know how inspiration works” he grinned before his face went back to its soft, loving expression and he kissed her again before adding “It’s for you”.

“For me?”

“All my songs are for you” he smiled “Wanna hear it?”

Freydis cupped his face and pressed a deep kiss over his mouth. “Always” she whispered against his lips “All though…Can I have my underwear back first?”

“No” Sihtric grinned, smirk full or mirth “I think I’ll be keeping these as a souvenir”.

“Again!? At this rate, I’ll have none left to wear!” she protested.

“Mmm…I rather like that thought”.

“Sihtric!”

“I’m joking” he laughed, finally pulling out of her with a quiet groan and fetching something so they could clean themselves up before he returned her panties.

In that very moment, someone banged a fist against the door, and then Finan’s voice followed through the wood “Oi! If ya two lovebirds are done fucking, we’re driving to the city for drinks!”

Freydis laughed “We’ll be out in a minute!” she raised her voice.

“Hurry up! I want to get drunk!”

“You always do” Sihtric replied, shaking his head before grabbing his jacket and starting to pack his things. Freydis stepped into the small bathroom stall to splash some water on her face and fix her hair, and when she came out, her boyfriend laced his fingers with her “Let’s go. I’ll show you the song later”.

Freydis stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek “What’s it about, anyways?”

Sihtric grinned down at her, wrapping his arms around her waist resting her forehead against hers “Well, if you must know, it’s about a guy asking his girl to marry him”.

[cosmicjoke]

Alright, I’m gonna’ get a little critical here.  I am starting to see why a lot of people... don’t like these later books after “QotD”.  I really loved “TotBT”, but I feel like a lot of the complexity of Lestat’s character in that book is almost being undermined here in “Memnoch the Devil”, along with a lot of his complexity in “TVL” too, and I’m not sure why.  If Anne Rice really just intended to make Lestat this kind of shallow, self-destructive being who never learns and really is just a bad guy.  That seems nonsensical to me, and I have a really hard time believing that was the intention behind any of it, simply for the fact it’s just a waste.  A waste of what to me seemed an incredibly complex and nuanced look at the legacies left by trauma, by the continuing impact of trauma on a person’s psyche and emotional state, etc...

There’s this part I got to in this book, when Lestat meets up with Armand for the first time, and he implies that Armand’s own bitter anger and cruelty from “TVL” was all in Lestat’s own head.  He says, after asking Armand about what he thinks he should do with Memnoch,

“There was no envy in him, or old grudge against me; there was no hurt, or trickery, or anything.  He was past all these things, if ever they had obsessed him.  Perhaps they’d been fantasies of mine.”

And I’m just like, really?  Was it a fantasy when Armand attacked you and drank your blood without your permission?  Was it fantasy when he imprisoned and starved you so he could force you to confess it was Claudia who tried to kill you?  Was it a fantasy that Armand wanted Claudia dead so he could have Louis to himself?  Was it a fantasy when he pushed you off the roof of that tower and almost killed you in the process?  Like, really man, Lestat has plenty of REAL REASONS for being upset with Armand, or for feeling wronged by him.  But you get the impression here that he thinks he has no real, or good reasons at all.

And then this part, in which Lestat seems fully convinced that the destruction of Armand’s coven and belief system really was his fault.  When he asks Armand

“Why do you care about me?  After all the bad things I did to you?  Why?”

This just kind of confuses me, because I’m sitting here thinking, what bad things did Lestat DO to Armand, really?  He didn’t take him with him when Armand asked?  Okay, that was understandable, considering everything Armand had done to Lestat up to that point, and considering the unhealthy obsession and need Armand felt towards Lestat, and what he wanted Lestat to be to him at that point.  But that feels like the implication here, that Lestat really was to blame for all the bad shit that happened way back when between them, that Armand was never to blame for any of it.  It was always just Lestat’s impulsive and reckless selfishness that caused all the problems.  I’m only getting that impression here because of Lestat’s insistence in the same moment as this scene is taking place that he’s going to go to Dora and tell her about Memnoch, against the background of David’s indignant horror and disgust at Lestat’s stated intentions.  The thing is, Armand blamed Lestat for destroying his coven and his world view, and so did Nicki, but their accusations towards Lestat always struck me as ridiculous and unfounded.  Because it was Armand himself initially attacking and trying to kill both Lestat and Gabrielle that spurred Lestat to defend himself in the first place, to defend himself against their fanatical beliefs and behavior, and to defend Nicki too, who’s life was also in danger.  Armand and his coven took issue with Lestat... being himself.  To him hunting out in the open, to him mingling among mortals, to him basically living the high life while they remained in the squalid abstinence of a devil worshiping cult.  They attacked him, and further, Lestat received exactly zero instruction whatsoever from Mangus, zero information about Armand and his coven, zero warning about any of them and what they might think and do when they learned Lestat had been made into a vampire.  There was no way Lestat could have or should have known that doing what he was doing was going to invoke the wrath of other vampires.  He didn’t even know there were other vampires, at that point.  Yet somehow, we’re being given the impression here that Lestat really was to blame for all this bad shit going down.  I don’t buy that.  I really have a hard time believing this is what Anne Rice intended, because it unravels her own, brilliant psychological explorations of Lestat’s trauma and the lasting effects of it in his life.  And hell, maybe I’m guilty of simply reading too much into that exploration, imbuing it with a depth and meaning that was never intended.  But I feel like that can’t be either, because it’s there, it’s absolutely there, and Anne Rice was a very smart woman. 

It just feels very strange to me, because we’re seeing Lestat very deliberately repeating the mistake he made with Gretchen, here with Dora, with the implication that the tragedy that went down between Lestat and Gretchen was, again, all down to Lestat’s selfishness and greed, rather than what I took it as, which was simply a manifestation of Lestat’s loneliness and continual quest for understanding and love.  We’re getting this vibe off of Lestat here of not giving a shit.  David’s reprimanding words can be taken as a plain condemnation of Lestat’s evilness, when he says

“You are perverse, stubborn, and innately destructive!” said David.  It had the tone of a curse.  “You will do what you will!”  He was furious.  I could see it.  All his reasons for despising me were being heated from within, and there really was nothing I could say in my defense.”

But once again, I just have a very hard time accepting that all of Lestat’s complexity and depth as a character is just meant to be dismissed as either accidental, or as some sort of elaborate ruse played on the audience, and on Lestat himself, by himself, that he’s always just been deluded about his desire to be good and about his grief and depression, and we’re meant to just accept him as this basic, shallow, selfish being who loves being bad, and who we love because he’s “evil”.  The playing up, almost comical, satirical highlighting of Lestat’s tendency to cry over things in these last two books enhances that impression. 

I don’t want to be guilty of imbuing meaning into a story or character that was never intended by the author either, but I’m still deeply inclined to give Anne Rice the benefit of the doubt here in what she really was saying.

While you could read David’s angry scolding of Lestat here as a condemnation of Lestat’s wickedness, you could also just as easily read it as a reinforcement of the negative self-image Lestat has of himself, instilled in him by years of hearing the same, awful things from everyone he ever sought acceptance and love from.  He’s been told and shown he was a bad person his entire life, by everyone basically who ever mattered to him.  And David, tragically, continues that cycle here, badgering Lestat with cruel and condemning accusations of his own perversion and destructiveness.

I could also say that, and truly do feel like, Lestat’s acting out in these ways, his going to Dora, for example, and being so seemingly dismissive of David’s and Armand’s concerns and reprimands, is just another manifestation of Lestat’s uncertainty concerning the love of others.  He doesn’t believe himself worthy of love, and so he doesn’t understand why others seem to love him.  He’s always doing crazy and bad shit, just waiting to see what it’s going to take, finally, for everyone to admit he’s beyond hope, and give up on him.  Just waiting to see what it will be, at last, that confirms his own, self-loathing view of himself in the eyes of others.  And whether Anne Rice really intended that to be the case or not, that IS present in Lestat’s character.  This continual pushing of boundaries, trying to force some sort of affirmation of his own, negative view of himself.  And that absolutely is born out of trauma, out of a lifetime of abuse.  Being made to feel worthless and unloved, and by virtue of that, believing in it so thoroughly, that you try to manifest it as reality, by making yourself unlovable.

Anne Rice’s own statement about Lestat, that he’s “evil” and knows it, and knows he’s good at making people believe he’s not, is also an obvious point of contention when interpreting his character the way I and many others have.  I feel like, in some ways, it comes down to a difference in perspective of what evil actually is. 

Evil, of course, is a man made concept.  It doesn’t actually exist in the universe.  Morality doesn’t actually exist in the universe.  It’s a system of governance that helps simply to better ensure the species survival.  But looking at the concept of it from the point of view of a religious person like Anne herself was, or someone who struggled with the concept of faith, you could see how her own views might make her genuinely see Lestat’s actions as something inherently evil or bad, rather than what they REALLY ARE, which is just the result of years of awful abuse and trauma. 

Lestat’s insistence of breaking the rules, of not being told what to do, his love of luxury and material things, his self-indulgence and hedonism would be viewed by a religious person, particularly a Christian or a Catholic, who’s beliefs are so rooted in this idea of original sin and showing faith and goodness through self-denial, as “evil”.  As something inherently bad or wrong.  And maybe that’s what Anne Rice herself thought about Lestat.  That all these qualities in him, his self-expression, his self-indulgence, his love of the material and seeking out of self-fulfillment, are somehow inherently bad. 

I’m just speculating, and have no idea about any of it.

To me, though, Lestat can’t be called evil for the simple fact that he isn’t malicious.  He isn’t a malicious person.  He isn’t driven by or motivated by the desire to hurt others.  He’s in fact motivated by the exact opposite.  He’s motivated by love.  By a wish to both give and receive love.

What I also know is that Lestat’s self-blame and self-destructiveness is in reality the result of trauma and abuse suffered by him.  It isn’t and I don’t think ever should be seen as the result of some sort of inherent or inborn wickedness or evil in him, either by himself, or the reader.  That sends all kinds of the wrong message, imo.  Lestat’s negative self-image is nothing but a tragedy, and should be understood that way.

[renoxvated]

His S.P.E.C.I.A.L starts are as follows;

S 10 Hercules' Bigger Cousin

P 6 Alert Coyote

E 7 Tough-as-nails

C 1 Misanthrope

I 4 Knuckle Head

A 7 Knife Thrower

L 6 Stacked Deck

Roy’s worst stat is his charisma, he’s loud, brash, rude and messy, most of the time. He’s really only going to seem sort of charming, if you like dog brained men and loyalty is the biggest quality you look for in a person. His perception is one point lower before the events of lonesome road.

Roy’s best stat is his strength, he’s stupidly strong, mostly from years of picking fights as he got older and his fathers heavy hand. The Mojave elements played a factor as well. His endurance and agility are also high for the same reasons. Gotta be strong, hardy and quick if he wanted to survive the bad hand dealt to him.

His luck comes from being Courier Six, the deck is stacked in his favor, he might always come out on top but it’s not so high he won’t come out unscathed.

• Roy has this little quirk of biting at his lip and biting on his tongue sometimes, when he’s nervous or excited. He also tends to bounce on his feet and rock on his heels if he’s really antsy or amped up to fight. He’ll wriggle around his fingers and crack at his knuckles, just a really animated sort of guy.

• He likes the smell of oil and gasoline, makes him think of how he’d used to fix things up and take things apart around the abandoned motel where he grew up. He doesn’t like the smell of perfume, it’s too strong and hurts his nose, especially since getting shot in the head.

• There was a scrapyard and a Red Rocket nearby his home. He’d play with the wild mongrels there. He was lucky he never got seriously attacked (probably because he shared what little food he had with them, sometimes they’d just take it though). He often had dog bites and scratches on him regardless.

• Roy has frequent headaches and forgets things more often since getting shot in the head. He’s easily irritable when he gets in his moods from the pain. He has a pretty gnarly and sizable scar that’s covered up where his hair grows back to cover over it. He doesn’t like being touched there. He really doesn’t like being touched at all unless he’s the one initiating it.

• Roy hates mole rats and will kill them on sight. Snuffles has, to this day, been the only Mole Rat he hasn’t killed and it’s honestly a pretty uneasy alliance. He would have killed her like the rest but the way she looked at him upon meeting each other was the most…human look about her, it was unsettling to the courier. Reminded him of his niece, he doesn’t know how to explain that without sounding dumb.

• The reason Roy hates mole rats is because they killed his niece. His brother dropped her off with him and their mother one day, said it’d just be for a little while, he just had to figure out what he was going to do for work. His girlfriend, the girls mother had just recently died after all, what else could he do? Who else could he turn to?

Well that little while turned into a long while; three years. Roy was still just a teenager, one that had no business caring for a child. His mother was always too strung out, or not there at all to take care of the kid though, so Roy did his best to.

His best wasn’t good enough and his life path had started him on a downward spiral much like his parents. While he had his father’s rage, he didn’t have his heavy hand, choosing to take out his anger on himself and becoming more like his mother. Drowning his woes in a bottle or chemicals; sometimes both.

One day when he was too strung out on chems to realize his mother wasn’t there to watch the young girl, that’s when it happened; when those god forsaken rats killed her. In reality he bears the weight and pain knowing it was his negligence, his weakness that got her killed. Not the drugs, not his mother, not even the mole rats. It was him.

• Roy hated his father, the man was a mean, heavy handed— religious fanatic, obsessed with old biblical texts and scriptures from a bible he’d found in a dresser drawer of the abandoned motel they lived in (where Roy was born).

It’s part of why he doesn’t like religion now, why he thinks it’s a bunch of mumbo jumbo, if there had been a god, then the bombs wouldn’t have went off, right? If god wanted the bombs to go off, well then Roy thought he was a bigger jerk than his father. Even not accounting for the bombs back then, why did bad things happen to good people, like his niece, like him when he was a just a child he didn’t deserve the kind of punishment his father doled out in fits of fanatical rage.

• His mother killed his father sometime after his older brother left them. The abuse was fairly bad after that, since he was the only one left, it’s also why his mother delved worse into alcoholism.

Roy doesn’t know this. He just thinks his dad left them to go find god. His mother would tell him he found god alright, don’t worry. He wasn’t.

His mother would often talk to herself out in the Mojave desert late at night, drunk off her ass all those times that Roy couldn’t find her. He never knew that that little spot of grass in the sand was where his mother had buried his father all those years ago. He found here there dead from alcohol poisoning one day. Buried her near that spot, so close but never close enough to know.

• He has bad night terrors after the events of dead money.

�� If he was a companion his quest would be to help him find out what happened to his brother, who just never showed back up after dropping off his daughter and to come to terms with the death of his niece.

• Roy’s best friend is Rex and while he’s usually leery of Robots, Ed-E is also someone he’s very close with. He trusts his life to the two of them more than almost anyone else. He traveled with Boone a lot, getting along over their mutual hatred for the legion. Roy just doesn’t like them because he hates the notion of slavery. He thinks everyone deserves freedom, this is a belief only furthered after dead money. Roy also gets along with The King pretty well, bonding together over Rex.

• He thinks Primm Slim is hilarious because he’s never seen such a dumb robot in cowboy boots and a tiny hat, he helped make him sheriff, also because that makes him laugh. It’s like the equivalent of making a dog mayor to him, which honestly he’d probably laugh less about the dog and take it more seriously.

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

What things do you think people get wrong about Spinner's character in fics/fandom in general? Anything you've seen or felt was done right? Anything about him you'd like to see appreciated more?

Thanks! Love your posts about the LoV. ♥️

🥺🥺 I'm glad you like them, really.

AND OMG YES, SPINNER APPRECIATION POST. THAT WAS THE EXCUSE I WAS LOOKING FOR TO RANT ABOUT HIS CHARACTERIZATION. LET ME USE THE LIST FORMAT.

My opinion on Spinner's characterization:

I have several friends that used to hate Spinner or ignore him because they were fans of the anime but hadn't read the manga. They soon changed their opinion after my explanations about the matter.

I think the worst take I've seen so far is exactly that. He's not irrelevant or useless to the plot. It pains me when people portray him as such.

Also many people write Spinner like very passive? Like if he was easy to please and he would only follow others? That doesn't make sense at all. He found his way to the League just like the others. He stopped Magne from hurting Izuku on the Summer Camp attack, he confronted Tomura on the beginning of My Villain Academia and pressed him for answers, he participated in creating the name of the Paranormal Front and on recent arcs, he clearly told AFO to his face he never thought about following him, but Tomura.

So no, Spinner is not passive or a background character.

Horikoshi even emphasizes on this by allowing him to narrate part of the MVA arc. I can argue that Horikoshi wanted the audience to sympathize with Spinner, because he's the closest to being between the heroes and the villains, a real anti-hero. The author wanted us to see Spinner point of view and that shouldn't be dismissed.

I also think people downplay his relationship with Toga. We've seen him worrying about Toga since the MVA arc and later into the War arc. He is closer to being an older brother to Toga than Dabi is, we must accept that.

Spinner is very sentimental, but not a coward. Knowing his quirk is not enough to fight a bunch of people isn't fearing a fight. In fact, I really love how the League understand their limits and never push them too far. There's no shame in any of it.

Spinner is not a traitor. He's a really loyal man and his also not a blind fanatic. Once again, when compared to Dabi, Dabi keeps being a little obsessed with Stain and while Spinner still stands him, Spinner grew past Stain's legacy, he become something more.

Spinner is also a leader. On the late chapters, we have seen Spinner having followers. Please let's never forget he's main reason to be on the League is to fight racist people. He wants to change the system in order to give power to the minorities. Whether the League is a good place to do that or not, it doesn't change Spinner's goals.

He was worried about hurting children and civilians. Just like most members of the League, he wants to live, so he sees no point in ending the world. He wants to make a better society, not killing everyone.

On the other hand, I love when people portray him as someone who's well versed in politics and social movements. Yes, it's canon that he knows his things.

I love when people portray him as a very good friend and a general good person. Within the League, Spinner was the one who connected the most with Tomura, who was supposed to be the demon lord. Instead, Spinner saw past it, he saw the kid being worth following and protecting. That's why he didn't like what happened on the War arc. He knows it's wrong.

I love that the fandom agree about Spinner loving music. Yes, he was probably bullied when a kid, so I pretty enjoy when people create scenarios when he defends little kids or other people with animalistic quirks from bullies and racist people.

I think we can appreciate more his background and his presence within the League.

For example, Toga is partially rejected because her quirk reminds a wild animal, something brutal and barbarian. She could talk with Spinner about this, decided she can trust him and tell him about her crushes and stories.

Spinner had also work before, so he could complain with Twice about bosses and noisy clients and such.

He also enjoys a good cosplay, so why don't make him enjoy talking about clothes and costumes with Mr. Compress?

He could also relate to having specific skin conditions, just like Tomura. They share video games, that's right, but there's so much more than this. Tomura is pretty smart and I bet he'd enjoy talking about philosophy and academic stuff with Spinner. They'd obsess over Wikipedia articles at 3am.

Also Dabi could learn a lot about Spinner. Dabi needs to grow as a person, and Spinner can provide him with both a rival and a friend. They have similar taste, they both are really loyal and full of anger, but they deal different with it.

And if there's something I like how is portrayed in the fandom, it's Spinner friendship with Magne. I love those two.

I think many people with more basic beauty standards reject Spinner a lot. I personally think that's why the producers of the anime has decided he's not important for the plot and cut him from most part of the arcs. This is so wrong.

I mean, I want more people talking about how amazing is Spinner skin and his hair.

I want people talking about how adorable cute are the blue dots on his clothes, about how he's a strong guy ready to punch people without being an asshole, without being a bad friends or a bad person to kids and civilians.

AND HE'S OVER THERE FIGHTING POWERFUL QUIRKS WITH HIS SWORD. HE HASN'T BEEN BADLY INJURED YET. HE'S OVER THERE BEING THE BEST SUPPORTIVE MAN ON THE LEAGUE.

Also he's pure comedy and highly relatable. He's humor is pretty close to our online humor and I think that's amazing.

WE NEED MORE SPINNER META. ALL THE SPINNER META. GIVE ME SPINNER CONTENT.

So yeah, anon. I think Spinner is criminally underrated but I also think there's a loving side of the fandom that takes good care of him.

To all the Spinner fans reading this: keep the good work and tag me in it so I can see it and hype about it. 😌

[redrobin-detective]

The 101 Deaths of Danny Phantom

AO3 link

One of the first things people learned about dealing with ghosts, other than not to try and date them, is to never asks about their death or obsessions. That doesn’t mean the citizens of Amity Park aren’t curious though, especially about their resident ghostly hero and the confusing and concerning comments he sometimes makes.

“Are you okay?” Phantom asked Maisie as she shook and tried to hold back tears after that car had almost slammed into her. She sometimes joked about getting hit crossing the street of her college campus to pay her obnoxious loans but it was another thing entirely to almost experience it herself. Maisie was nearly twenty, she shouldn’t be comforted by someone younger than her little step sister but here she was, shaking like a lead and leaning into Phantom’s comforting, chilly touch. 

“Sorry,” she stuttered, “thank you, I’m sorry I’m just-”

“Hey, it’s okay to be upset that was very scary. The thought of dying is very scary.” Through her adrenaline and her tears, she took in the ghost’s unnatural glow, his faded, barely visible appearance and the fact that he was floating a foot off the ground. Maisie knows this ghost, this boy, knows more than she ever could about death. 

“And getting run over by a car sure is a bad way to go,” the ghost kid chuckled awkwardly, taking his cold hand off her shoulder to scratch at the back of his neck. “You should see how my dad drives or my mom or my sister if she’s running late enough,” Phantom paused in thought. “No one in my family should have a license now that I think about it. Anyway,” he dismissed with a wave. 

“My sister and I were getting ready to head out to school and my dad was backing out of driveway too fast and didn’t see us and uh, luckily I got my sister out of the way in time haha,” Phantom trailed off awkwardly. Was it because of the uncomfortable conversation or because he noticed her dawning horror.

Her best friend ran the community college’s Phan club so Maisie was a member by default. Phantom’s death was sometimes talked about late at night, everything from wrongful murder to a freak accident. She never in her worst nightmares imagined being him being runover in front of his own house by parental ignorance. It was so normal, a quick mistake and a life lost.

“Oh my god,” he said with an adorable little green blush. “Why am I babbling about that? You almost got hit by a car, I’m probably retraumatizing you or something. I should probably go get the jerk who almost hit you,” he said before disappearing into thin air. 

“Tia is not going to believe this,” she whispered to no one. All she knew is that for the rest of her damned life she was going to look both ways when crossing the street. She’d seen first hand what a single moment of reckless driving could cause.

XxX

Matthew, not Matt or Matty or Hughie, Matthew shivered from the cold. He was only in his boxers with little Pacman on them. It had been fine when he’d gone to bed considering it was mid-August but Phantom and this stupid flaming mecha ghost had tussled outside the summer camp he was working at. He could see some of the kids snickering at his state of undress though he was just extremely glad they were alive enough to disrespect him like this.

“Oh man, I’m sorry,” the ghost kid said with big, sad eyes that looked so human despite the fact that they were literally glowing. He looked around at all the snow and ice left over from his fight. “Jeez you guys must be freezing, I wish I could warm you all up but all I can do is make things colder.”

“S’okay,” Matthew said through his chattering teeth. “Teaching the kids how to start a fire was supposed to be next week but we can get a jump on it.” That got a smile out of the ghost and within a half hour, the other counselors were distributing blankets and hot beverages to the kids clustered around multiple fires. They didn’t seem particularly upset by the potentially fatal attack, Matthew will breakdown about that at a later time when he was alone. For now, he just smiled as the children chattered happily with the ghost while he cleaned up as much of the damage as possible.

“So you spend all day fighting ghosts?” Zoe asked with stars in her eyes.

“A lot of the nights too,” Phantom nodded, “I do other stuff but yeah it seems ghost fighting takes up most of my time.”

“Where’d you learn those cool powers?” Zuri asked, miming a punch.

“Comes with being a ghost,” Phantom shrugged, “my ice powers came in later though so I still struggle a bit with them but I’m getting better every day.”

“Why ice though?” Morris said with his cocked curiously to the side. “I see some ghosts use fire or shadows, why do you have ice?”

“Ah that’s a little personal,” Phantom chuckled but his posture was easy despite the invasive question. “Specialty powers like my ice require special circumstances and a certain uh connection to the ghost. Someone like me couldn’t use fire or electricity or plants, ice is in my soul, it’s who I am.”

Matthew paused in drinking his lukewarm coffee as a horrible thought came to mind. He’s been an outdoorsman all his life, practically from the time he could walk. He’d been a deep woods camping guide for a decade before switching to working at summer camps. But the years working in the relative comfort of a stable camp didn’t erase his knowledge of how unforgiving and deadly the woods in the winter could be. A grown man, much less a young teen, would freeze to death in 20 minutes if it was cold enough. 

It made sense for ghosts to develop powers related to their deaths. Had Phantom been one of the dozens of unfortunate kids he read about every year who ran away in the middle of winter only to found later as a frozen corpse. He eyed the boy’s snow white hair and frigid aura he exuded with mournful trepidation. God, what a horrible way to die. 

“I’d get chilly with ice powers,” Tabby said with a shudder, she held out her cup of cocoa. “You want some of my cocoa to warm you up?”

“No thanks,” Phantom said with a soft smile that was warm despite everything. “The cold hasn’t bothered me for a while.”

XxX

Ghost attacks may be the norm but, if there was one good thing that came out of whole mess it was the fact that violent human crimes went down drastically. So when the rare murder did happen, the shock and fear rippled through the whole town. 

Stanford Newton had only been sheriff of Amity Park for eight months after the last guy had gone gray overnight and moved to Florida the next day. It was a daunting position but one he bore proudly. This wouldn’t be his first murder investigation having initially cut his teeth as a beat cop in Chicago but it would be the first in Amity. And it certainly was the first in which the dead served in an active capacity.

“Amanda Chastain, 27. Officially she was a waitress down at Spengler’s Diner but she’s been picked up for prostitution twice in the last year,” Stan said calmly, ignoring the cold, angry presence over his shoulder. “History of polysubstance abuse as well, not that either of those things mean she deserved this.” Used, beaten to death and then dumped in the trash like yesterday’s paper. 

He wondered if she’d come back a ghost or if she’d finally get some peace this world hadn’t offered her. “We don’t have many leads right now, I’m afraid. Acting illegally as they are, there’s not a lot of resources these poor girls have to turn to.”

“I’ll find them,” The Phantom said with blazing conviction, his voice thick and sharp as ice. “I’ll find and bring them to justice and make sure no one else is hurt again.”

“I believe you,” Stan nodded, shutting his notebook as he finally turned to face the teenage superhero haunting his town. He can’t say he liked what he saw. The Phantom looked even less human than usual, his aura flaring and flickering like the foggy mist before a heavy snowstorm. His unnatural green eyes glowered, painting his too young face in a terrifying light. 

The kid looked furious, clearly taking this death to heart. He’d read the Fenton’s memos about obsessions and such but this seemed beyond that. “But don’t hurt anyone to do it, or yourself while you’re at it.”

“I won’t, I’ll make sure they’ll face human justice and don’t worry,” Phantom gave a snarling smile. “No mortal can hurt me, not like this,” he growled causing the hairs on Stan’s arms and neck to stand on end. He flew off after that, presumably to track down Amanda’s killer.

“Not like this,” Stan mumbled to him, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his brow where a cold sweat had broken out. “Jesus Christ that poor kid.” Stan had seen plenty of murdered and mutilated bodies in his lifetime, some of them even kids. He just never got to talk to them after they’d had their life forcibly snatched away. It would explain the ghost’s near fanatical determination to save others, why he took a stranger’s murder so personally. 

“I hope your own murderer is behind bars,” Stan said as he tucked his handkerchief back into his coat pocket. “Or even six feet under, for killing a good kid like you.” Stan made his way back to his squad car so he could head back to the station and move forward with the official investigation. But he’d eat his hat if there wasn’t a stammering lowlife there by tomorrow ready to turn themselves in.

 Maybe after all this was settled down, he’d delve into some of the cold cases stacked in the cellar. Maybe in there he’ll find a picture of a smiling, carefree teen who’d disappeared and returned with the power now to ensure no one else suffered as he had.

XxX

“Yes, I know about the Phantom,” Luis Oliveira will say to anyone who so much as brings up the ghost kid. Locals know better by now but the tourists eat it up every time. He twists his finely combed mustache and gestures to the floor where his audience is standing. “He died right there oh ten or eleven years ago.”

Luis has worked his way all across the the United States since he emigrated from Brazil in the 70s. He finally settled in Amity Park about twelve years ago. He’d never intended to stay in the small Midwest town but the fatal shooting of a young customer kept his little corner market open.

“He was a nice kid, always said hi to me and paid in exact change. Was big fan of the snacks I made, would stop by after school and take half my inventory. He had big brown eyes and a crooked nose,” Luis would smile at the memory before closing his eyes and frowning sadly. “One day, he came late. His teacher made him stay after to go over a failed test, I remember he complained. He was pulling out his money when robber burst in, demanding my money. I fumbled for the register key, dropped it. I bent down to grab it and I hear shots going off. Two over my head, another right into the boy’s throat.”

Luis will hear the sound of that sweet boy’s guttural choking sounds as he drowned in his own blood until the day he himself died. The robber left after the shot, Luis called the police and held the young man’s hand as he died. The would be thief were never found and Luis never did learn anything about the boy who’d died on his floor for getting hungry after school.

“As soon as I saw Phantom on the TV,” Luis would say, perking up after his moment of somber grief, “I knew it was that boy come back. Those kind eyes, I’d recognize them anywhere. He’s never come here but one day he will and I will be able to pass on my regret on not being able to save his life that day.”

XxX

“I think he killed himself,” Mikey whispered to Lester during lunch period, angling his voice low. “The jocks may love Phantom for his powers but I just know he was one of us, an unwanted nerd. I’ve seen him chatting up a ghost I’m pretty sure is Poindexter, Casper’s suicide kid. They’re probably bonding over their similar deaths and the circumstances that led to it.”

“That’s pretty dark,” Lester whispered back. “I also get unpopular vibes from him but I don’t think he’s the time do uh do that to himself; he’s too stubborn and protective. But I bet he was the victim of a prank gone wrong. Dash locked Fenton in the Janitor’s closet last Wednesday, he got out okay somehow but maybe something like that happened to Phantom. He always looks kind of annoyed at the A-listers, maybe they remind him of old bullies.”

“Nuh-uh,” Clara said, pushing up her glasses with her middle finger. “The ghost kid totally got electrocuted or something. He was fighting that weather ghost and he sent lightning bolts his way and Phantom flinched. He fought the Ghost King and yet a little electricity scares him? It might not’ve even been a lightning strike but something manmade like a machine backfiring or something.”

“Get real,” Mikey scoffed, sipping his milk with an eyeroll. “I’m sure we’d have heard about some poor kid getting zapped to death; this town isn’t that big.”

“We’d have heard about a suicide too,” Lester noted with a wry grin.

“Shut up Mr. I base my theories around Fenton who’s a known weirdo”.

XxX

“I’m telling you, the ghost kid died of some debilitating illness,” Abbie McMillian, retired school teacher and three year reigning champ at the Tristate area’s Daylily Competition. She sipped her tea and spoke with as much confidence as she had back in the day wrangling Amity’s impressionable youths. “The superhero thing is clear wish childhood fulfillment, a chance to live and be free like he never got to in life. You see how happy and carefree that young man looks while flying? Clearly he spent his formative years sick and weak.”

“No way,” Greta von Martin frowned as she aggressively stirred her own tea to show her displeasure. “I worked in a hospital for close to 30 years and I know what chronically sick kids look like and Phantom doesn’t fit the bill. I will agree he’s carefree when he’s not battling spooks but he acts like a stupid teen. I’m telling you, the boy got into his parent’s liquor cabinet or took a few too many of whatever pill was going around his school. Tragic but something that happens every day.”

“Greta, dearie,” Abbie said with a pinched frown. “We’ve been friends since grade school and I love you like a sister but you are wrong and until you admit it, I won’t share anymore of my recipes.”

“You’re just being stubborn because you can’t see what’s right in front of you even after working with kids half of your life, Abbie, love,” Greta sniffed. “And you can kiss my grandson’s help weeding you garden goodbye until you relent.”

XxX

Perhaps one of the most human traits is curiosity, especially about what comes after death. Now the good people of Amity Park know a great deal about the dead so the lives before is what attracts their attention and none so more than the ghost boy. Maybe it’s because he’s their hero or maybe it’s because he’s so young. Or perhaps it’s because Phantom is such a mess of contradictions that it’s very hard to guess how the unfortunate boy met his end. But everyone has their own theories, from the mundane to the fantastic, some with evidence backing them up and others pure poppycock. 

But for all their curiosity, as much as it burns them to know, they’ll never ask. They don’t want to risk the powerful ghost’s wrath but, moreover, it seemed in poor taste. The boy risked his afterlife to keep them safe, they couldn’t ask what traumatic and miserable circumstances had led to this point.

And besides, it was so much more fun to look up at ghostly figure as he sped through the skies and wonder.

[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 3

Continuing the story of how you and Sirius became friends; as James and Remus grow closer to you, Sirius continues to treat you coldly until a late night encounter makes him question everything.

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2   CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 3 .:Resistance and Reconciliation:.

~Previously~

“I'm not going to bother making friends with someone whose family is so wrapped up in blood politics they forget to be human beings first. Trust me, I've met their mother enough times to know.”

“Did you ever ask them about it?” Remus pressed.

“I don't really need to, do I? They're a (L/n). Open your eyes, Moony!”

Remus' brow furrowed, a shine in his eyes akin to sympathy as he regarded Sirius.

“Perhaps it's you that needs to clear your vision, friend.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1974  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius sat on the stone ledge on the window of his dorm room, looking out towards the Black Lake. He could see the push and pull of the wind as the thin branches of the ash trees bowed gently with the rhythm. In the reflection of the glass he could see James and Peter behind him experimenting with an altered set of wizard's chess, complete with fire-breathing knights and bishops that threw daggers, while one of Remus' records spun in the background.

Despite everything he could have been thinking about at the moment, his thoughts, irritatingly enough, drifted to you. He frowned slightly as he leaned his shoulder against the window, annoyed that you occupied even a portion of his mind. He just couldn't understand you. Somehow you had turned James, who had once openly proclaimed you his sworn enemy, into something close to a friend in the span of a year. You had no qualms with pranks pulled on you, yet you were fiercely protective when they were directed at others. You were always smiling, yet your temper took no prisoners. If you weren't a Slytherin you might even be attractive.

The thought made him bolt upright. Where the hell did that come from? He almost laughed. No. Absolutely not. He was Sirius Black, he could get anyone he wanted in this bloody school, and he certainly wasn't going to busy his mind with you. What the hell was wrong with him? It's not like he noticed the way you smiled to yourself when you were reading, or the fact that the sound of your laugh got stuck in his head like a song—

No. Stop it. Get your head straight, they're evil.

Sirius exhaled deeply, rubbing his tired eyes with his hands. For some reason that thought didn't sit right in his brain, and the longer he sat with it he came to a horrifying conclusion:

Maybe Remus was right.

The only time you'd really been nasty to them was when they'd instigated it first, or whenever they had a go at Snivelus, which had become less and less frequent; Sirius suspected because of your tentative friendship with James. He'd always just assumed you were like the other Slytherins he'd come to know. There's been hearsay circulating around you, especially given your family's reputation, but you yourself hadn't really done anything to prove the rumors. Maybe you really weren't like your family at all. Maybe you were like him. . .

Suddenly, he caught movement in the corner of his eye, not from his friend's reflections but from outside the window itself. A figure emerged from the lamplight of the castle gate, making their way towards the edge of the forest. If the green lining of your school robes and (h/c) hair didn't peak his interest, the flash that he saw of your face as you shot a quick glance over your shoulder confirmed it was you.

Sirius' mind began racing as he watched you disappear into the foliage, and suddenly every thought that had given you the benefit of the doubt vanished. He'd heard the rumors about the gatherings in the forest, everyone had. He'd even caught Snape practicing dark magic there himself one of the first nights they'd used the Shrieking Shack passageway.

He jumped off his perch by the window and grabbed a sheet of parchment and a quill, drawing a rough outline of the perimeter of the forest. He labeled the Black Lake so his spell would have a going off point and pressed his wand to the still drying ink.

“Revelare Popularis,”

The enchantment was a work in progress— a technique he'd learned from a seventh year. It wasn't exact, but it was enough to tell him if anyone else was in the forest right now. His eyes darted across the paper as he scanned his makeshift map, and the color drained from his face as he saw names suddenly appear in a cluster by the lake: Mulciber, Wilkes, Avery, and Malfoy.

Was this it? Were you really one of them? 

James looked up from his game as he saw Sirius grab his leather jacket off where it hung from his bedpost.

“Going somewhere?”

“(L/n) just went into the forest,” Sirius said, “I'm following them.”

“Why, Sirius?” Remus said sardonically, having had enough of his unusual grudge against you, “We're not really ones to talk when it comes to sneaking around the forest at night, now are we?”

“He's got a point,” James said, “I mean, what do you think you're going to see?”

“What do I think?” Sirius scoffed, pushing the paper into Jame's hands, “what does it look like?”

James looked down at the parchment blankly.

“What am I looking at?”

“A variation on Revelio,” Sirius explained quickly, “if you have a location in mind it shows you who's there, but only at the time the charm is cast.”

“Are you kidding me?” James' jaw nearly dropped, “You're just now showing this to us? We could have been taking advantage of this spell to dodge Filch this whole time!”

“I'm serious.”

James had to fight hard not to make a joke out of that one.

“If (L/n)'s meeting up with those guys it can't be for anything good,” Sirius continued, “and I'm gonna find out exactly why.”

Before any of the boys could get another word in, Sirius took off running down the corridor. James groaned, rebelling against the urge to slam his head into the wall.  

“I've got to stop him before he does something stupid,” he said, pulling a coat on over his shoulders, “You with me, Remus?”

“Probably not the best idea,” Lupin reminded him, “the moon's full tomorrow. I won't turn, but in the direct moonlight I may get a bit. . . well, you know.”

“Right,” James sighed, running a hand through his hair in distress, “Peter?”

The boy jolted as he was addressed, his eyes quickly cast down to his twiddling fingers.

“I. . . w-well. . .”

“Fine,” James said, waving them off in annoyance, “I'll go at him alone.”

___________________________________________________

You took a grateful breath of the crisp night air, letting the wind whistle through your hair and clothes. You loved your common room, but it could feel constricting at times, especially when there were nights as beautiful as this taking place.

Your eyes drifted up to the moon, smiling at the sight of it. It was nearly full, only a sliver of white missing from the very edge of the sphere. The sight alone was enough to make you feel more at home in your own skin, an inexplicable sense of comfort washing over you. You hadn't been able to really let loose and just run in so long. You'd made doubly sure no one had followed you into the forest, but you still gave your surroundings a quick once over. You jumped as the sound of leaves crunching suddenly asserted itself behind you and you lit your wand quickly, turning to see who it was.

“. . . Black?”

“Sorry, were you expecting someone else? One of your pureblood friends, maybe?”

The confused look on your face only made his anger flare.

“Don't act coy,” he asked harshly, “just what are you playing at?”

Your back straightened in surprise, taken aback by his words.

“Excuse me?”

“I've seen you talking to my brother, Rosier, Snivelus, and all those other Slytherins. Don't think I don't know what you're doing,” the words flew out of his mouth before they had time to pass through his brain, every irrational irritation he had regarding you spewing out of him at once, “I've had to sit through it, you know. All those dinners where my parents talk blood politics with all the fanatics who think just like them. I've listened to your mother brag all about your pure blood line and how her child is 'so eager to carry on the family traditions'. So whatever you're planning by getting close to James, I'm not going to let it happen.”

You felt like you were frozen in place, staring at him as your throat tightened into knots.

“My mom?” you said, voice suddenly small, “Sirius. . . my mom passed away when I was little.”

Your words hit the Gryffindor like a truck.

“. . . what?” he asked dumbly, his brain delaying slightly in processing what you'd just said.

“She got sick. . . an experimental spell gone wrong. If you met someone with my family's name that spoke like that, it was probably my aunt. My cousin goes to Ilvermorny. That's the child she's talking about, not me. The divide between purebloods and muggleborns is even more severe in America, if you can believe it. . . ”

Sirius faltered, this new information going against everything he'd heard and thought he knew about you and your family.

“But,” he hesitated, “your father—”

“Put up the image he had to in order to keep me safe,” you said. You knew he was documented as being very open about his pureblood pride and distaste towards muggles, but it was a cover more than anything, “Since he stopped speaking with my aunt and moved us both away from the estate, she's acted as the new head of the (L/n) House, and that was years ago. . .”

You trailed off awkwardly, not feeling very self-righteous in your explanation.

“I know my family doesn't have the best reputation. . . that's probably why you hate me, huh?” you chuckled humorlessly, wincing at how harsh the words came out. But if you were honest, you were hurt that out of everyone in their group, Sirius was the one that didn't even seem to want to give you a chance. You were the one who had extended the olive branch in the first place on the condition that they ease up on Severus.

“Hate you?” Sirius echoed hollowly, feeling guilt creep up on him like a shadow, “that's. . . shit, no, that's not—”

“Everte Statum!”

You gasped as Sirius was suddenly shot backwards, his body flipping wildly through the air from the force before being slammed against the trunk of a nearby tree. His head spun, heavily disoriented as his vision shifted in shades.

You had drawn your wand on instinct, looking around for your attackers when you saw a black-clad figure lift their hood, revealing a long mane of white hair that stood out starkly in the night.  

Malfoy.

“Well, looky here,” Mulciber taunted, revealing himself behind you, “we've caught the two biggest blood traitors of the last century having a touching little moment together.”

Laughter echoed from the trees, Wilkes emerging from the shadows. You took up a defensive position as their group surrounded you.

“Now, let's not be hasty, Mulciber,” Lucius said, “their father may have disgraced their house, yes, but they didn't have a choice. It's not too late for them to make the right one now.” His lips turned up into a snarl as he regarded Sirius, “get away from that blood traitor, (L/n), he'll rub off on you.”

You grit your teeth hard, preparing to cast a spell when Malfoy put his hand up in a silencing gesture, the pretentious little prat.

“Ah, you don't want to make any rash moves either, (L/n),” he said, looking to your left. You followed his gaze to see Avery coming out of the foliage, grappling with someone under his arm.

“Potter?!”

James smiled weakly as Avery held him in a choke hold, a bit of blood dripping down the side of his head.

“Hey,” he said, humor still light in his voice, “So, this didn't exactly work out as planned.” He groaned as Avery's elbow was driven into his stomach, effectively silencing him.

As soon as you tried to move towards him, Lucius had his wand pointed at you.

“Let him go and get lost, Malfoy,” you said lowly, “you've taken this far enough.”

“You've been avoiding us, (L/n),” Lucius said, ignoring you entirely, “Snape may have come up with some rubbish excuses for you earlier, but you can't keep running from this.”

“If practicing curses on first years and terrorizing other people is how you plan on using magic, then I don't want any part of your little cult,” you spat, “face it, Malfoy— you lot need me, but I don't need you.”

Lucius exhaled sharply, his genuine surprise at your resistance replaced quickly with anger.

“Think about what you're doing, (L/n),” he said, his eyes narrowing dangerously, “don't be a fool like your father.”

That did it.

With a growl you unleashed an orange bolt of energy from your wand, your Stupefy hitting Lucius square in the chest. Mulciber was quick to retaliate with a jinx of his own, which you quickly nullified with a shield charm. Shock flashed across his expression at your casual use of nonverbal magic, and he recovered one second too late.

Sirius was back on his feet, petrifying Mulciber and swatting Wilkes away like a fly with the knockback jinx before either could cast a spell at you. You and Sirius found yourselves back to back, fending off Lucius as he continued to direct a steady stream of curses in your direction. Sirius managed to create an opening for you and you turned to where James was being held.

“Evanossa!”

A flash of blue hit Avery, who shrieked in horror when he saw that the arm he was using to hold Potter had turned gelatinous, fingers drooping down like melting ice cream. James wasted no time paying him back in kind for roughing him up earlier, sending him flying into the oak tree and using the water from the Black Lake to freeze him there before joining you in the fray.

“Expelliarmus!” he called out, sending Wilke's wand spinning out of his reach and leaving only Malfoy against the three of you.

Lucius faltered for a moment as he stared down your group of three, but held fast.

“Leave it, Malfoy,” you said, “it's over.”

He growled under his breath, taking up an obvious offensive stance, but you were too quick.

“Ebublio!”

Lucius gasped as he suddenly found himself encased in a giant bubble, his knockback jinx ricocheting off the inside and hitting him in the back of the head. He pounded against the bubble in frustration but found it to be thick as Plexiglas and just as strong, unable to pop it. Suddenly, he was hoisted into the air as you raised your wand higher, directing him farther and farther away until he was hovering directly over the Black Lake.

“Let me go this instant!” he growled.

A devilish smile graced your features.

“You got it.”

“No, wait, don't you dar—AHH!!”

You turned your back on him, your breaking eye contact promptly bursting the bubble and sending him flailing into the water a few feet below.

You chuckled as you sent a few quick counter-jinxes out from your wand, restoring Mulciber's range of motion and liquefying the ice that trapped Avery.

As soon as Mulciber was unpetrified he took off running towards the Lake where Lucius was furiously treading water, tripping over his feet as he dragged Wilkes along with him. Avery limped after them, defrosted but still chilled to his bones (which you had been so kind to also restore).

“I'd fish him out quickly if I were you,” you called after them, “the giant squid is more active at night.”

“You're out of your mind, (L/n)!” Avery turned around and yelled, but with fear evident in his eyes, “You'll live to regret this, mark my words. The Headmaster—”

“Would love to know who cast the first spell, I'm sure,” you said darkly.

Avery stammered out some lame response under his breath before turning around and running after the rest of group, retreating.

Sirius turned to look at you, awestruck and chocked full of adrenaline. Maybe you really weren't so bad after all.

“That was. . .” James trailed off, grasping for the words and blurting them out as soon as he found them, “Brilliant, (Y/n). You're bloody brilliant.”

You felt your face heat up, not expecting that. You and James had stopped trading insults and threats (serious ones, anyways) and your teasing had become well meant, but neither of you had crossed the threshold of actually paying the other a compliment before.

“Thanks, Potter,” you said, unable to fight the smile on your face. You turned to Sirius briefly. “I hope this cleared some things up for us,” you said, “I'd really like to try and be friends, so. . .”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, wanting to kick himself at the way you turned him into a monosyllabic neanderthal with just a look. You gave him a small smile before turning back to James who was trying desperately to hide his limp and aching rib cage.

“Alright, let's get you to the hospital wing, Potter,” you sighed, “you look like a cheap action star in a muggle movie.”

“Uh,” James said nervously, “better we not. If I go to Madame Pomfrey three times in one day she'll never let me hear the end of it.”

“And who's fault is that?” You huffed, slinging an arm over his shoulder and helping him walk, “at least let me patch you up, then.”

Sirius followed some distance behind you, watching as you walked James back towards the castle and laughed at his occasional jokes. This one night had just turned everything upside down for Sirius. This whole time he was sure that he didn't like you because you were a blood-purist Slytherin and he was jealous that you were taking his best friend away from him; but the way you had stood up to Lucius and his goons made your position on blood politics very clear, and the tight feeling that struck Sirius' chest as he watched you cozy up with James made him reevaluate just which one of you he was jealous of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sirius?”

The man blinked, slowly coming back to reality. You were looking up at him in concern, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. It took an embarrassing amount of his willpower to keep from leaning forward just a few inches and kissing you.

Could you pick a worse time, you numbskull? He thought, mentally smacking himself for even thinking about it.

“Are you okay?” you asked hesitantly after he stayed silent.

“I'm alright,” he insisted, giving you a reassuring smile, “just. . . thinking about how far we've come.”

His answer surprised you, though not in a bad way.

“I suppose we have,” you smiled back, “this is a far cry from you scowling at me from across the Great Hall over your breakfast.”

“I did not scowl,” Sirius scoffed playfully, nudging you away with his shoulder.

“Right,” you grinned, “scowling, glaring, glowering, whichever you prefer.”

“I said I was sorry,” he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender, although you both knew you weren't really upset about it. You'd long since forgiven him for his initial misjudgment.

When your light laughter died down, your head found itself lulling to the side again, tiredness taking over your mind as you rested against Sirius once more. When you tilted your head up to look at him he had a surprisingly pensive look on his face. Your eyes traveled across his expression, his gray eyes almost taking on a deep shade of blue in the shadows of his room. You noticed how much younger he looked when he was smiling; it was in moments like these when it really set in how long you had known each other, because you could see the years in his eyes.

Your own flickered down to his lips in spite of yourself and Sirius' heart skipped a beat, fearing you could feel it racing in his rib cage. When had you turned him so soft? He chuckled inwardly. Long before he had fully come to terms with how he felt about you was the answer. Even when he was in Azkaban, with two of his closest friends dead and the world convinced he was at fault, even if he had to live with the fact that he would never see you again, he still thought of you, and that kept him alive, sane— himself. But now you were here in front of him, and he was terrified that at any moment you would vanish into thin air and he would find himself back in that horrible cinder block cell, face to face with a dementor as it took his last memories of you away from him.

Your hand squeezed his, almost as if you had read his thoughts— as if you were assuring him that you were real, and you weren't going anywhere. You noticed him leaning in closer, even if he didn't, possessed by some invisible force. You were nearly about to meet him halfway when you were suddenly startled apart by the sound of quick, heavy-footed steps bounding down the stairs.

You both looked at each other as if you had just awoken from some sort of trance, instinctively putting some distance between yourselves as you shifted away awkwardly.

“I. . . I should probably get to bed,” you said, your face warm.

“Right,” Sirius said, reluctantly getting up from his seat at the edge of his bed, “I've kept you up long enough, I'm sure you're tired. . .”

Before you left his room you turned over your shoulder, a small smile on your face.

“It's really good to see you again, Sirius,” you said earnestly, “we should catch up for real later.”

“Definitely,” he said, a bit of his old self reflected in that smirk of his, albeit forced.

You steeled yourself, turning the doorknob and closing the door behind you gently before you did something to ruin the friendship you had just gotten back after over a decade. You shook the thought aside, your head hurting. You really did need to sleep after today.

You were about to head into your room, but something in you didn't feel quite right. You'd definitely heard someone go down the stairs, but you hadn't heard the front door open or close. Dread pooled in your stomach at your gut feeling, and you found yourself inexplicably making your way back down the stairs.

The house was eerily silent now that its residents had either gone off to bed or disapparated until the next meeting in a few days time. You'd left Sirius upstairs, and you knew Harry was staying here for the time being until school began, but everyone else had gone home. So then why did you still feel someone else's presence so acutely?

You stared at the empty hallway leading to the front door, taking a cautious step forward; the image in front of you didn't feel real. The colors were too saturated, the edges too sharp, and the surfaces too smooth. And that's when it hit you. The smell of rain. Leather-bound books. Lavender.

You froze, staring at the seemingly empty space in front of you.

“Severus?”

The potions master didn't dare make a sound, thinly veiled behind his invisibility charm but clearly not well enough. He was standing not three feet in front of you, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last thing he would ever see.

He panicked slightly as he felt you reach out to him with your mind, shutting himself off expertly. Your hurt expression as you were unable to detect anything pained him, but he wouldn't dare think that he deserved to say anything to you. What was there to say after everything he'd done?

Your gaze roamed the empty hall, and for a moment he could have sworn you stared him right in the eyes.

You knew he was there.

The moment lasted no longer than a second before you looked away, turning to go back up the stairs. As soon as your back was facing the front door you heard it open then close gently, and the tears you had been fighting to hold back finally spilled over.

Read chapter 4 here !

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[sunder-soul]

𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖛𝖊

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

Chapter One: There's just something about those Riddle murders that doesn't quite make sense... Wordcount: 2.3k Content warning: language, allusions to bigotry.

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Name: MORFIN GORMLAITH GAUNT

Age: 46

Wand: fir, 10 ¾ inches, dragon heartstring

Residence: Gaunt Estate, Little Hangleton, Yorkshire

Marital status: -

Offense charge: three counts of murder in the primary degree

Date of charged offense: 1st July, 1943

Offense Detail: prisoner entered the residence of the Riddle family (Muggle, IM-00) and inflicting the Killing Curse (UC-001-1717) upon the three members of the Riddle family present; Thomas Riddle (63), Mary Riddle (60), and their son Tom Riddle (37). Use of the Killing Curse has been confirmed by Prior Incantato (see report DMLE-619-1951-BLE, SA: Robert Odgen).

Date of Testimony: 3rd July, 1943

Prisoner plea: guilty

Sentence: Azkaban, 360 years

Date of Sentence: 3rd July, 1943

You frown.

It’s very late, the candle your desk is barely a stub, the little flame hovering nervously on the surface of a broad pool of wax, and you’ve been copying over these stupid reports to the new, tamper-proof parchment forms for seven hours now – but something is extremely odd about these dates.

“McCollin,” you say slowly. “Did you work this case?”

“Hmm?” McCollin doesn’t look up at the desk beside you, head resting heavily on one hand and his spine curled into a perfect and truly concerning C-shape over his own stack of files. He looks close to passing out right there and then, salt-and-pepper hair a little greasy, scruffy five o’clock shadow, eyes bleary and shadowed.

“Gaunt,” you read, “1943. You were working with Odgen then, right?”

He snorts. “Yeah, I remember that nutter.”

“What happened?”

“Guy was from one of those ancient pure-blooded clans, you know, one of the real fanatical ones, inbreeding and liquidated assets and all,” McCollin yawns, dragging his hand down his face and smearing ink across his whiskered cheek. “Hated Muggles like nobody’s business."

“Yeah he killed three Muggles, right?” you peer at the report.

McCollin nods at the form he's copying. “Went off the deep end one day. Walked right up to their house and murdered ‘em. When they brought him in he was ranting and raving about how they’d had it coming for years.”

“He was arrested, charged, and sentenced within three days,” you say slowly.

He finally looks up at you. “So?”

“That’s the fasted processing I’ve ever seen.”

“The guy admitted to it, kiddo,” McCollin says in deadpan, “he had snakes nailed to his door and his family tree was basically a Christmas wreath.”

“Yeah, but… what made he snap?”

He laughs again, shaking his head despondently as he returns to his form. “You got a lot to learn.”

His tone wants to be fond but it just strikes you as patronising, especially considering the amount of times people have said that exact same stupid line to you. It’s like half the bloody department think being Muggle-born makes you incapable of understanding the subtle and unique intricacies of wizarding culture – as if bigotry and supremacists and assholes are exclusive to the magical world. “What?” you say a little too defensively.

“Families like that… guys like that… they’re not right in the head. Hate Muggles just to hate ‘em, reckon they’re all that’s wrong with the world. Honestly it’s a miracle he didn’t do it sooner.”

You look back down at the report, suspicions anything but assuaged. “Yeah,” you say quietly, “it is.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“Did you ever watch Gaunt’s testimony?”

“You’re still going on about that?” McCollin drawls, heaving the towering box of finished files up a bit as he heads for the lifts.

“I looked him up in Records and the memory’s only available with supervisor permission,” you push, following him quickly. “If you signed me off then I could get Owler to –”

He slams the button and stares at the little golden arrow above the elevator grate slowly sliding towards the basement floor. “And why in Merlin’s name do you want to watch the Gaunt trial?”

You slip your hands into the pockets of your purple Ministry robes. “I’m interested.”

“Interested,” he echoes, shooting you a look. “Is that so?”

“He was processed in three days, McCollin. If it was that obvious he was guilty, it must have been one hell of a trial.”

“It was,” he scoffs as the lift dings and the grate grinds to a noisy open. “Fine, but only if you finish Johan’s quota by five.”

The triumph is impossible to keep off your face and McCollin rolls his eyes at your immediate glee. “I’m on it,” you grin, spinning around and racing back to your desk to get started.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“Merlin’s beard,” McCollin mutters, shaking his head at the stack of completed transcripts. “I gotta hold stuff over your head more often.”

“Just sign the slip, McCollin,” you smirk.

He sighs and grabs the quill from your hand, and you hold your breath as he scribbles his initials on the slip. “You’re obsessed,” he drawls.

You seize the slip and round on the lift, heart racing with excitement. “I’m interested.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

The trial is absolutely insane.

Morfin Gaunt looks like a Witch Weekly cartoon caricature of a fanatical blood-purist and he rambles in a manic-edged, ceaseless torrent about how much he enjoyed murdering the Riddles as the Wizengamot mutters and blithers disapprovingly for about three hours – but something catches your attention right near the end. Something you can’t help but ask Owler about the second the memory ends and you’re thrown back into the Records Room.

“Who’s Merope?”

Owler’s sallow face looks about as thrilled at your question as he was at your request for the memory in the first place. “Merope Gaunt,” he says in a flat, nasally voice, waving his wand at the Pensieve and sending the memory swirling back into its phial.

“Merope Gaunt?”

Owler’s thin, anaemic lips downturn even more. “His sister.”

You stare at him. It is not at all what you’d expected. “And why did he call his sister a mud-soused, scumsucking slut?”

“Ask your supervisor.”

“He seemed to be saying he killed those people because of Merope, why on earth would his sister be why he –”

“I keep the records, I don’t conduct the investigations,” Owler interrupts with not inconsiderable disdain. “Now if you could please –”

“Did they bring Merope in for testimony?”

Owler gives your continuing presence a very dirty look. “No.”

“Why not?”

He pushes the door to the Records room open and stares at you.

You try to hold your ground but Owler is unrelenting, and you're forced to step past him with a curt sigh. “Right, well, good afternoon, Owler, thanks for –”

The door slams shut behind you.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“Get what you wanted?” McCollin smirks as you collapse stony-faced into your chair.

“I forgot how impressively unpleasant it is to talk to Owler,” you mutter, resting your head in your hands. “Did you know about Merope?”

“Merope?”

“Yeah, Morfin’s sister.”

“Didn’t know he had one,” McCollin says disinterestedly.

“He was saying some stuff that made it sound like she’s why he killed those Muggles.”

“Uh huh.”

You lift your head, giving him an incredulous look. “He said she’s why he murdered three people, McCollin. How does that not interest you?”

McCollin throws down his quill and sighs sharply. “Look kiddo, the guy’s rotting in Azkaban, he admitted to the murders, they found the curses in his wand, and he had a memory of the whole thing. What exactly are you hoping to achieve here?”

You can barely believe it. “Why isn’t Merope Gaunt mentioned in any of his trial documents?” you say sharply.

“Either she wasn't relevant to the proceedings, or she's dead, or he made her up,” McCollin shrugs, “like I said, the guy went off the deep end.”

“But why doesn’t it say –”

“Just drop it,” he sighs impatiently, “you have work to do, and I won’t have you wasting clocked time on some case from nearly a decade ago.”

“Come on, McCollin, can’t you admit that it’s weird that –”

“I said drop it,” he says sharply, “don’t make me be the big mean supervisor here, you know I hate it.”

You glare at him. “Fine,” you say through gritted teeth.

It’s almost too easy to pull Morfin’s old file from where it’s still sitting in the refuse pile and subtly charm a copy of it that evening.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

Merope Gaunt, as far as you can tell, fucking vanished off the face of the earth in 1925.

There’s nothing, no addresses, no marriage or death notice, no registered Floo connections, no DRC calls for gnomes or doxies or even the odd kappa, not a single trace of her after Morfin and their father Marvolo had a stint in Azkaban for assaulting Bob Odgen back in the 20s.

It seems like the second they were locked up, she scarpered.

You sit back in the Archives Hall and let out a long breath, flipping the folder shut dejectedly. Morfin’s file is a thick wad of anti-Muggle hate crimes rivalled only by his father’s, and closer inspection had revealed that the Gaunt family estate sat a cool twenty minutes' walk from Riddle House where the murders had occurred. If Morfin had lived so close to some of the Muggles he hated so much, he’d been sitting on a clear motive for murder for years.

So why suddenly snap?

What had pushed him over the edge?

Why did he cite Merope in his deranged testimony?

Why talk about her in that way?

Where the hell did she go?

There are endless questions and zero answers. Plus, you kind of get the feeling that if McCollin saw you hunched in the Archives after-hours trying to find those answers, you’d get your pay docked.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

That night, you sit bolt upright in bed with a surge of electric realisation.

Mud-soused… scumsucker…

You’ve heard that language before. You’ve processed about four hundred case files of harassment with that language.

“Idiot,” you breathe, smacking your forehead and falling back onto your pillows with a thump. “Idiot, of course…”

Because that’s the way Pure-blood extremists talk about witches and wizards who've fallen in love with Muggles.

Suddenly, you have a pretty good idea where Merope might have disappeared to the moment her blood-obsessed brother and father were out of the picture, and a pretty good idea of where you might be able to look to find her. Because you’ve been looking in the wrong place.

You’ve been looking for her in the wizarding world.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“I have the craziest news for you,” you grin, slamming a silver Sickle on the counter and taking your seat at the bar.

“You say that twice a month,” Mori grumbles, setting your drink down and sliding the coin into his huge, calloused hand.

“It’s true twice a month.”

“It’s true half as much as you think.”

“I found her.”

Mori’s dark brows raise. It makes his gruff face look slightly less intimidating. “The lady from that old case you're into?”

“Yeah,” you beam, seizing your drink and leaning forward. “Started going through marriage certificates, and –”

“You’re telling me that your big-shot Ministry intern arse has been working this thing for a month and you didn’t even check marriage certificates?”

“Not Muggle ones,” you smirk.

Mori takes a glass off the bar and starts to clean it as he peers at you. “Go on.”

“She married the same guy her brother murdered, Mori,” you breathe, glancing around to make sure none of the shady denizens of Moribund’s are listening – it’s not like the bar's regular patrons are so welcoming to your big-shot Ministry intern arse on the best of days considering you’re half-way down Knockturn Alley in the dead of night. “They fucking ran away together!”

“Well, that explains a lot,” Mori mutters.

“Exactly!”

“What are you going to do about it?”

You shrug, taking a sip of your drink and feeling supremely pleased with yourself.

“What, you spent that much time investigating this thing for no reason?”

“Nah,” you say quietly, lips still in a smile. “I have a feeling there’s more to it than this. I still have to find out what happened to her after they got married and her brother murdered his new in-laws.”

“And what’s this guy’s name again?”

You give him a dry look. “You know I can’t tell you names, Mori, I’m pushing the bounds of my contract telling you this much already.”

He shrugs his massive shoulders, casting a wary look around the dark bar. “If you’re looking for people who might know a thing or two about murderers and Muggle-haters, you’ve come to the right place.”

“I’m here to talk to you, Mori, not the murderers and Muggle-haters.”

“You’re here to drink cheap and rant to someone who won’t rat you out to your boss,” he growls.

You give him another grin. “Cheers to that.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

You find Merope’s name in a record tome of an old church parish almost by accident. There’s barely any information there, just one name on a huge list of those buried in the pauper’s graveyard less than ten blocks from where you’re sat amongst the looming shelves of the Muggle public archives at that exact moment.

But there is something.

It says she died in a place called 'Wool’s Orphanage' on New Year’s Eve in 1926. It’s not hard to guess why she might have been there, and how she probably died.

Merope Gaunt had a child.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

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[zintranslations]

Kaleidoscope of Death, Extra 3

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Extra: Shameless Couple (2)

Ruan Nanzhu's stint as an actor was purely for fun, so nobody took the matter very seriously. But months later, as Ruan Nanzhu sat around bored at home with nothing to do, he got a call from Zhang Yiqing. The movie was premiering, and Zhang Yiqing sent him two free tickets for him to go have a look.

Tickets in hand, Ruan Nanzhu invited Lin Qiushi to go see the movie together. The two arrived happily at the theater, Lin Qiushi bought a bucket of popcorn, and they sat down in the audience.

The movie was a hundred minutes total; Lin Qiushi didn't have high expectations coming in, but afterwards, he was completely blown away. Though Zhang Yiqing had been an actor and had never gone through an official director’s program, he obviously had quite a lot of talent in the realm of directing. At least, the techniques he used to shoot this wuxia film that Ruan Nanzhu got a cameo in were good enough to provoke cheers and applause.

Ruan Nanzhu, playing the prince in the movie, was also exceptional.

But after they watched it, that was that. Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu went home without thinking too much on the matter, until the next day when Lin Qiushi opened up his social media and saw that Ruan Nanzhu's character was trending…He didn't understand such things very well. He clicked into the tag and found many people gushing about Ruan Nanzhu's acting and good looks, and asking how come they'd not seen this new actor before. No one thought that this new guy with so few lines would be so eye-catching.

Lin Qiushi woke the bleary-eyed Ruan Nanzhu and pushed the phone in front of his face.

"Nanzhu, are you famous?"

Ruan Nanzhu opened his eyes and peered once at the phone screen before pushing Lin Qiushi down into bed again. He kissed Lin Qiushi's chin and said, "forget about that…"

Lin Qiushi, "oh…"

Ruan Nanzhu had little actual concept of himself going viral, so when he was having lunch with Lin Qiushi one day, he was actually pretty irritated to get Zhang Yiqing's phone call.

"I'm just a minor side character," he said, "why should I go on your publicity tour? What? Blacklist me? Did you take the wrong meds this morning? I'm not even in the industry, blacklist me all you want—"

Lin Qiushi listened at the side and found it funny, but then Zhang Yiqing said something at the end, and Ruan Nanzhu actually stopped refusing. Brows furrowing, he looked up once at Lin Qiushi before agreeing to Zhang Yiqing's request to go on a publicity tour with him and the cast.

After hanging up, Ruan Nanzhu said that Zhang Yiqing wanted him to go do publicity for a bit of time.

"Go," Lin Qiushi said. "But if you really dislike it, don't force yourself. We lack for nothing."

"Mh." Ruan Nanzhu nodded, taking Lin Qiushi's words to heart.

After that, Lin Qiushi's projects got busy as well, and he didn't have the time to pay attention to developments around Ruan Nanzhu's movie. The point at which he realized Ruan Nanzhu was well and truly famous was when he discovered that a young employee had switched her desktop screensaver to a picture of Ruan Nanzhu. Lin Qiushi had even thought he'd been seeing things at first, pointing at the screensaver and asking the girl, "who's this?"

The girl turned to Lin Qiushi with an expression of excitement and began a fanatic recommendation of Ruan Nanzhu, saying how this was a super popular newcomer named Yu Qiuqiu, and not only was he good looking but is acting was also amazing!

Lin Qiushi, "…" Alright alright, enough already. I know exactly how amazing his acting is.

That night, Lin Qiushi stared thoughtfully at Ruan Nanzhu, who was in his pajamas in the kitchen, watching TV.

Ruan Nanzhu noticed Lin Qiushi's gaze. He turned around to ask, "what is it?"

Lin Qiushi, "Nanzhu…"

Ruan Nanzhu, "hm?"

Lin Qiushi, "are you famous?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "famous? What do you mean?"

Seeing his bewildered expression, Lin Qiushi had no choice but to change his wording: "Is Yu Qiuqiu famous?" And this bastard even debuted with his pseudonym.

Ruan Nanzhu slapped a hand to his thigh. "Yeah! Our Qiuqiu is super famous! Zhang Yiqing recommended me to his friends trying to make me the main character—"

Lin Qiushi, "isn't that a good thing?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "how is it a good thing? If I'm making movies I have to run around all the time. I can't keep you company like that."

Lin Qiushi thought about it.

"But you're just doing it for fun, so you don't have to worry about all that. You don't have to film if you don't want to. If you're tired you can just take a break." Other stars may have burdens, but Ruan Nanzhu didn't.

"Okay then," Ruan Nanzhu agreed. Then he seemed to recall something. "Right. The newcomer from Obsidian came to set a couple of times. I ignored him, but tell Ye Niao that if he keeps coming, I might not be able to handle it."

It took Lin Qiushi a long while to remember the existence of this person—it seemed to be the newcomer coveting Ruan Nanzhu for his good looks, who was under the impression that Lin Qiushi had taken Ruan Nanzhu by force.

He asked, "what do you mean by not being able to handle it?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "I might not be able to handle it and end up decking him, of course."

Lin Qiushi, "…"

The facts were, after being baptized by the doors, their bodies had all become stronger than those of normal people. This was the case for Lin Qiushi. He'd thought at first that he would be around Ruan Nanzhu's level, but then one evening, he’d discovered that he wasn't Ruan Nanzhu's opponent at all. Ruan Nanzhu, who'd wanted to try some fun little technique, restrained Lin Qiushi with ease; a single hand was all it took to pressed both of Lin Qiushi's above their heads. That hand that looked as pale and delicate as jade had felt just like a metal shackle, and no matter how Lin Qiushi struggled, it hadn’t budge an inch.

Also, every time he picked Lin Qiushi up to go wash, Ruan Nanzhu could lift him, a healthy grown adult male, in one arm.

Afterthis discovery, Lin Qiushi had laughed at himself for worrying about Ruan Nanzhu getting mistreated outside—Lin Qiushi counted all of them lucky that Ruan Nanzhu wasn’t mistreating people.

"Don't worry about it." For the above reasons, Lin Qiushi said as much. "If he really annoys you, do what you must."

Ruan Nanzhu nodded.

Just a few days after they'd discussed the matter, Lin Qiushi went to check in on Ruan Nanzhu at work. Ruan Nanzhu was filming a modern movie this time, and played a handsome serial killer in the script. Lin Qiushi thought this character setting rather suited Ruan Nanzhu.

He was waiting on the curbside at first. But then his ears caught onto a strange noise. It sounded like a person…keening. Lin Qiushi heard this, and his brows puckered. He turned and looked into a small, dark alley. The film was being shot in the studio backlot, which was complicated and filled with architecture of various styles. So naturally, there were plenty of out-of-the-way spots that the cameras can't capture.

Just as Lin Qiushi was wondering if he ought to take a look, he heard Ruan Nanzhu's voice.

And Ruan Nanzhu sounded a bit dark, a bit scratchy, when he said, "feels good?"

Lin Qiushi, "…"

He padded silently to the entrance of the alley and saw Ruan Nanzhu standing inside. There was another person kneeling in front of Ruan Nanzhu. Though it was dark enough that Lin Qiushi couldn't really make out the other person's face, the scene before him wasn't anywhere as raunchy as he'd imagined.

That person was lying on the ground like a dead dog. Ruan Nanzhu heard his footsteps and turned around, and when he saw Lin Qiushi, he hung a faint smile up where a cold expression had previously been. His motions were natural as he rolled down his sleeves, approaching Lin Qiushi.

"What brings you here?"

Lin Qiushi glanced at the man hanging on his last breath lying on the floor.

"He's not dead, is he?"

"Of course not, I know when to stop." Ruan Nanzhu came over, seeming like a sweet and adorable big kitty, as if the icy ruthlessness from before had all been an illusion. "We'll call him an ambulance. He'll be fine."

"I…I'm calling the cops…" The person's call from the ground was as faint as a mosquito's. "You…you hit me…"

It was only then that Lin Qiushi identified this person. Wasn't this the newcomer from Obsidian that Ruan Nanzhu had mentioned only a few days ago? Lin Qiushi hadn't expected the guy to still be harassing Ruan Nanzhu, and had apparently pissed Ruan Nanzhu off enough to get beaten up so badly that not even his own mother could recognize him.

Man, how complicated his feelings must have been when a single slap from Ruan Nanzhu, who’d seemed like nothing more than a little white bunny, was enough to take him down.

Lin Qiushi said, "if he still has the strength to threaten us, then we probably don't need to call an ambulance."

Ruan Nanzhu, "no need. I avoided all the vital areas—'tis all just flesh wounds."

Lin Qiushi nodded, fished out his phone, and gave Ye Niao a call. Ye Niao was furious. He said he was on his way and urged Lin Qiushi not to be angry.

After Lin Qiushi hung up he lifted Ruan Nanzhu's hand.

"You're not hurt, are you?"

"I am," Ruan Nanzhu pouted. "Look, it's injured."

Lin Qiushi searched the hand all over at this, and finally found a single patch of broken skin no bigger than his pinky. He looked back at the man beaten to a pulp beside them, then back at the wound on the back of Ruan Nanzhu's hand. Finally, he couldn't hold in his laughter anymore.

"You're so…"

Laughter also surfaced in Ruan Nanzhu's eyes.

Ye Niao came quickly and dragged that person off like he was dragging out the trash. Before he left he even apologized to Lin Qiushi for his poor judgment and for choosing such a person…

Lin Qiushi said, "don't worry about it. Everybody makes mistakes."

The matter pretty much ended there. Lin Qiushi never saw that person again, and no police ever came to bother them. Ye Niao took neat care of the matter.

"They didn't give you a hard time, did they?" This was what Lin Qiushi asked Ruan Nanzhu after they got home.

Ruan Nanzhu, in response, "who's they?"

Lin Qiushi, "the cast and crew, of course."

Ruan Nanzhu slid off in thought. "They think I'm being kept by some heavy hitter, and mess around with the mob…"

Lin Qiushi, "…"

Ruan Nanzhu, "so, they're actually pretty respectful?"

At this, Lin Qiushi didn't know for a moment whether he ought to laugh or cry. Ruan Nanzhu himself was the heaviest hitter—why would he possibly be the kept boy of one? But since he liked to act so much, there was no harm in Lin Qiushi playing along. They still had a long time together, after all. There were plenty of things for them to try.

Ruan Nanzhu scooted close to Lin Qiushi, setting his chin on Lin Qiushi's shoulder and mumbling something about being sleepy. Lin Qiushi stroked his hair like he was petting a giant cat. This animal, when tamed, seemed just like an overgrown kitty, but if you actually pissed him off, he was actually a ruthless beast.

But this was a beast that would never extend its claws at Lin Qiushi, was all.

Translator’s Note:

The term translated as “heavy hitter” here, 大佬, has actually appeared often in the text. It’s a slang term that kind of means “the big guy,” as in the boss, the one with the most experience, etc. RNZ gets called this a lot, especially in the Hako Onna door.

[Extra: Shameless Couple(1)] | [Extra: Twin Lives, Twin Deaths(1)]

[may-day-voice]

Prom Night Lights | The Middle

Shouto Todoroki Timeline | 172732014

please do not repost, but you have permission to reblog :)

• Watch/ Listen on YouTube: https://youtu.be/7lymhRiqtrA

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Seasons come and go - summer to winter, hot to cold, and we all adapt to the smallest changes. We strip off when the heat gets unbearable, and rug up when the chill bores to the bones. But every small change can affect us - past pains and injuries being the most sensitive to these things, and between these extremes, the smallest change could be the greatest and most powerful experience that could change you.

It could even break you.

A yawn escaped your lips while you stretched your arms up above your head, pulling at every fiber across your shoulders and chest. The graduation ceremony was long and arduous, despite you sitting in a chair for hours. Well, at least three hours, but who was counting?

You glanced around Heights Alliance, watching students walk to and fro. The atmosphere was a reminder of the hardships and the hard work put into your studies on and off campus. You recalled the training sessions, the Joint Training Exercise, the constant rivalry between the classes, which made you chuckle a little at the thought. And then there were the harder times - the War being one of a few. One that you could not assist, could not dive into the front lines, and especially, if not importantly, one that you couldn’t be beside-

“Can you believe we graduated?” piped Awase with a grin plastered on his face.

You wondered how he was doing now; what he must be thinking; how his family was going. You smiled while recalling the times you rendezvoused between dormitories worrying over the smallest things, mostly over studies. And then you remembered the radio silence when the War happened, including the slow days reconnecting with him again afterwards. It was a tough road paved with difficulties, only compounded by the fact that you were in a different class from him, constantly worrying and checking your phone.

“Hey, you okay?” asked Awase, concerned.

“Yeah, of course,” you piped, snapping out of your reverie. “Just wondering how 3-A must be doing.”

“So much has happened to them, huh?”

Yes, so much has happened, and you have been confused over the years. But you couldn’t tell if it was his aloofness or his sudden shift in behavior since the War, having to deal with the aftermath. Ever since the commencement of your second year in UA there was this tension in your gut; a heavy solid feeling that grew with anxiety outside of the times you had spent with him. On top of this, days leading up to graduation felt odd and a little strained. You had noticed a flock of students following him around campus, most likely those keen on inviting him as their date to the prom the academy decided to plan to celebrate the graduating year. The amount of students who fluttered around him left you hollow, feeling hapless to the hope of being his for the night.

You hoped he would have-

“Excuse me, hi!” Called a voice from behind you and Awase, finding another student walking up to you with an awkward smile. “You don’t know me but I wanted to ask, if you weren’t too busy that I could, I mean, I would like to take you out tonight, to the prom tonight.”

You stared, shocked at the proposal from a random student out of the blue. He looked a little rough around the edges, but you didn’t recognize him until you spotted his shoulders, his blazer adorned with buttons akin to the Support classes.

“They’d love to,” answered Awase, bringing you back to speed.

“What?” you exclaimed.

“That’s great, thanks,” piped the student with a beaming smile. “I’ll pick you up at six?”

“Six is perfect,” continued Awase with a smile of his own. “We’ll make sure they’re ready.”

The student smiled wider, happy to hear the answer before he walked away, returning back to his band of friends in the distance. All you did was stare at them before turning your eye onto Awase, still with that smile on his face.

“You’re welcome,” he said before continuing on his walk through Heights Alliance.

“Why did you do that?” You questioned while catching up to him. “I could answer for myself.”

“You stood there like a deer in headlights, so I stepped in as your proxy.”

You deeply sighed before you shoved Awase playfully by the shoulder, silent with your smile but still with a heavy weight on your own.

“Hey, Monoma’s been teasing you lately about not having a date for tonight,” explained Awase. “I just helped you secure no more embarrassment.”

“I don’t even know the guy, and besides, it’s easy for Monoma to say those things,” you muttered with a sceptical brow. “He’s got that fanatic that trails behind. Where are they from? General Studies?”

“Hey come on, not his fault there’s someone out there who tolerates him, let alone idolizes him.”

You still stared ahead with a distant look in your eye, your mind elsewhere. You had hoped otherwise. You hoped you would have heard from him about this special day, but after these weeks leading up to graduation, you hadn’t heard a word. Perhaps he wasn’t ready, still dealing with the War and his family, and having to deal with school on top of that. Conversations with him outside of it all were far and few between. Perhaps he already had a date, seeing those that flocked to him wanting to garner attention or his affection for the prom. Perhaps Awase intervening with that proposal out of the blue was a good thing.

“Look, now you have a date to the prom tonight,” he continued. “So you can’t go back against your word.”

“It’s not my word. You agreed to it,” you reiterated. “Maybe you can take him out, seems like a fair trade.”

Awase laughed at your retort, only causing you to smile in return. The plan was that Class 3-B was going as a whole group to the prom, date or no date, thanks to Monoma. He was extremely teasing towards you, knowing of your connections with Class 3-A and ignoring any other follies, such as Tetsutetsu and his bromance with Kirishima, or even Awase and his growing attachment with Yaoyoruzu. But you had not heard a word, and now with a proposed date to this prom, it would be unkind to reject it now. You rolled your eyes at the thought, recalling Monoma’s haughty tone and his ever-present need to show up Class 3-A, even after all of these years.

DING

Still, plans were made to go off the rails.

“Have you heard from any agencies?” Asked Awase, curious while his eye was on you. “Any takers?”

“No,” you trailed while you looked at your phone screen, replying back. “Have you?”

“A couple, but it’s still up in the air. Heard Class 3-A already have their responses.”

No surprise there, you thought. They were the leading class of Heroes to turnover in Musatafu, and gaining a reply from any agency was becoming a pipe dream. Hearing Awase already receiving offers only made your stomach drop a little. You’ve heard nothing, wondering if your Quirk was looking more like a liability than anything else.

As if by instinct, you began parting ways from Awase, your feet taking you away from your dormitories and onto another path, leaving him behind.

“Where are you going?” He called out as you parted ways.

“Off to see a friend,” you chirped while you pocketed your phone.

You ignored Awase’s few words behind you, something akin to Monoma’s plan for the prom before jogging across Heights Alliance towards Class 3-A’s dorms, now filled with its graduating class. Years of hopping between dorms had given you a reputation amongst your class, especially Monoma of all people. But the text message was undeniably from the one person you hoped to hear from:

Would you like to come over?

Graduation was officially over, at least the formalities, but hearing from Shouto Todoroki was a blessing in disguise. After all, you both agreed to see each other before the presumptuous prom of the night.

I’ll be there in a few minutes.

----

Reaching the large doors, you cautiously walked through to find a few of the students already relaxing in the lounge and foyer. A few were in mid-conversation, while others held up their phones in cheer. Awase was right to believe that the students of Class 3-A had already received offers to agencies once they stepped out into the world. You wouldn’t think anything less, seeing their smiles beam with joy, but your eyes glanced around with no luck locating Todoroki, until you spotted a certain brunette chiding away with friends in the foyer.

“Graduated at last, congratulations,” you chirped cheerfully while you walked your way towards Uraraka.

“You too,” she piped with a smile, turning to you. “Have you figured out what agency you’ll be placed in?”

“Not a word actually. I’m sure I’ll hear something.”

“Where have you applied?”

“Genius Office, Fat Gum, Fourth Kind, Oki Mariner…”

“Oh, that’s a good one! They could be taking their time. I only heard from a few five minutes ago.”

Well, there was hope yet if students were only receiving news just now, especially those from Class 3-A. A wash of relief swept through you, knowing that there was still time to hear any news of your residencies in Musatafu before you returned back to the task at hand.

“Have you seen Todoroki?” You asked, still looking around the foyer.

“I think he’s been cooped up in his dorm ever since we got back from Gym Gamma,” informed Uraraka thoughtfully. “He’s been awfully quiet. More than usual.”

Odd. For all you knew, Todoroki was becoming despondent over graduation, wondering if the event made him so. It was a big deal for everybody in UA, now stepping forward into another world, one that had transformed in and out of the school’s grounds.

“Thanks!” You quickly piped while you made your way towards the elevators. “See you tonight?”

Uraraka only smiled and waved, seeing you off before you entered the elevators. It was like every other day when you visited his dormitory. You recalled the floor and his door, even cringing at the thought when you arrived one too many times in the middle of the night, fretting over studies and non-existent practical exams. In fact, it was the only way to speak to him after all that he had been put through. And Todoroki had been nothing but supportive and attentive to your own worries.

A light tap on his door left you standing there by the hallways again, wondering what your response would be. It’s been a while since you actually talked with him, let alone heard any invitation to visit. You assumed the graduation was a big event for his family, always referring back to the War in your mind. Was it a good idea to visit him now that the official graduation ceremony was over? You hovered your hand above the door, wanting to knock again in case he missed the first time, but you began to wonder how he must be feeling. Already with a career in Hero Society paved for him, under his father’s name, in an established agency which by all accounts would be under question because of the family drama and his-

“This is stupid,” you mumbled, turning heel to leave before the click of his door caught your ear. You spotted him by the door, dressed casually and out of uniform, but not yet dressed for the night.

Of course, this prom was hours away.

“Oh, you made it,” he remarked, his aloof eyes staring at your almost-departed form.

“Of course, is everything okay?” You asked, returning back to his dorm door.

“I just wanted to say congratulations.”

“Oh no, all the congratulations goes to you, really.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

You smirked at him, a little embarrassed and a little nervous at his almost compliments, until you lightly punched him in the arm. “You asked me here to congratulate me?”

“I would be happy to meet you at your dorm if you wanted,” replied Todoroki before he stepped out from his door, shutting it behind him.

“Oh no, I would not hear the end of it from Monoma if you did.”

Todoroki chuckled while you spotted a sneaky smile from him. It was a pleasure to see him smile, even if it was brief. They were always hard to come by, and for a moment, you felt that only you could see them outside of everybody else. It made them special.

“So, have you heard from agencies?” You asked, catching Todoroki off guard. “I mean, it seems like everybody else has, and I was just curious.”

“I’m off to my father’s when I leave UA,” he replied bluntly.

“… oh.”

“And you?”

You gulped, a little paralyzed after realizing after the fact that he would ask the same question himself. “I’m… still waiting to hear back. I mean, everyone seemed to have received news not too long ago, so it shouldn’t be long now.”

“I hope so,” he replied with a smile. “You’ll do good out there.”

“You think so?”

All you saw was that smile, a larger one than the last unhidden from the world. It only made you feel warm inside, to know that he was in your corner, and open to express himself. It had been a long journey while he worked out what to do with his family and his future, tormented by the fact that-

“I asked you here because I wanted to ask you something,” he announced, catching your smiling eyes staring at him. “I know I’ve been quiet over the past few weeks. I needed to work some things out.”

“Oh, of course,” you replied. “Graduation is pretty big.”

“Yes, I needed to work out what I wanted to do and what my path was going to be once we all left here.”

He trailed a little, silent while he tried to put together the words he wanted to say. You saw it in his eyes, calculating what to do, as if he were training with you. Ever since being put together by your own choices to train one another, you had come to notice his little quirks, no pun intended. How he processed the situation, how he reacted, how he would assess his next move. It felt like that now, watching his eyes dart in thought, wondering what to say.

With all that was said, you wondered if he was trying to say farewell, even though the both of you would most likely see each other at this prom night for the graduating year. Yet he had clearly stated he wanted to ask you something on such a big occasion. And then it hit you, wondering if he was going to ask about the prom tonight. Just as he was deducing his next words, you tried to guess what they were.

Was he going to ask you-

“Would you like me to put in a word for you at my father’s agency?” He asked calmly.

“… what?”

“If you haven’t heard from any agencies by now, maybe you might not.”

That stung. You swallowed and processed his words, a little offended, but a little perplexed over the situation. Did he ask you to visit him so that he could-

“Are you offering me a place?” You asked back.

“Yes.”

“Out of pity?”

“No, I’m saying that I can get you a residency if other places don’t work out.”

“So I’ll do good but no other place would have me,” you stated, hurt.

“That’s not what I said.”

“It sounded like it.”

“I thought you’d be happy.”

“Yes, if I got in on my own merit, not because you’re able to pull some strings.”

It felt like there was a fire in your gut, the worst kind that seared so severely you felt nauseous with anger. You wanted nothing more than to leave, but something kept you here, still standing before Todoroki despite what he had called you over for. Did he truly believe that you weren’t ready or capable? Did those late study nights not prove how hard you wanted to put in the work? Or did he only see you for your faults all this time?

It was unfathomable.

“Todoroki, I appreciate your offer, I do, but you’re giving me something that I didn’t work for,” you explained, keeping calm and keeping your anger at bay.

“I wanted to say thank you for being there for me,” explained Todoroki, his eyes searching in yours. “You still reached out to me after everything that has happened, and I wanted to return the favor in any way I can. Please understand.”

Your mind trailed away for a moment, seeing the genuine look in Todoroki’s eyes. Despite his aloofness, you could see how much he saw in you, but the way he said it was-

“I can’t accept that,” you answered, looking into Todoroki’s eyes with sadness. “I can’t accept your offer. I'm sorry Todoroki.” You turned towards the elevator, leaving Todoroki behind before you realized the floor numbers were counting downwards.

“Where are you going?” Asked Todoroki, following after you.

“Back to my dorm to get ready for my date,” you informed him while you decided to head down the flight of stairs, despite being on the top floor of the dormitory. Todoroki stopped for a moment, ingesting your words in his head before he trailed after you, hopping down the stairs while he continued to question.

“You have a date?” he asked aloud.

“Yes, yes I do,” you immediately replied.

“Who are they?”

“He... is from Support.”

“What’s he like?”

“Nice guy? A little awkward.”

“So you don’t know him?”

You had only reached the fourth floor before turning to find Todoroki on your trail, his feet still on the stairs while he eyed you for an answer. You saw them searching, waiting for your breath, for you to speak.

“Why do you want to know?” You asked, part curious, part annoyed by his questioning.

The bell of the elevator took both of you out from the tension that grew in-between, finding Bakugou exiting the doors with a friend trailing behind him. It was a well-timed interruption, turning back onto Todoroki now calmer than he was moments ago.

“Nothing,” he answered in a low whisper.

“I’ll see you later,” you whispered to yourself, feeling eyes on you from the stairs other than his. All you were met with was a nod from Todoroki before you left him by the stairs, leaving with a bitter taste in your mouth.

Todoroki only stood by the stair railings, confused by your reaction, but more so his insistence. It was like a bout of energy surged through him all at once. Where did all of that come from? All of those questions interrogating you about a guy who asked you out as his date. It confounded him further about what he felt about you with somebody else. You were a friend, finding an affinity with each other despite you being in the other Hero class. But those nights studying and those days training were the closest he had ever grown to work with someone outside of his class. He even recalled how elated he felt when the classes could mix to find compatibility working together, having ever since worked alongside you.

Todoroki shook his head, wondering what this feeling was that was mixed in with his confusion until the sight of a familiar well-dressed student made their way to the elevators, immediately being able to board before they waved quickly towards him.

“See you tonight Todoroki,” they exclaimed before disappearing into the box.

He waved back, being met by a smile by the student and soon spotting Bakugou’s door still ajar to see how he was doing. A few words were exchanged between himself and the irate blond, noticing the frustrated look on his scowl, most likely from the student who had just left from his dorm. Todoroki knew too well of Bakugou’s dilemma for the past couple of years, only ever chatting in passing about the situation and also advising him.

“We all know he’s bad news. Nepotism at its best,” informed Todoroki.

“Look who’s talking Half-and-Half, son of the Number One,” spat Bakugou with disdain.

Todoroki felt the sting from his words, realizing his folly earlier. He should have realized how much of a hard-working person you were. It showed in your studies and your training, always pushing yourself to the best of your abilities despite the drawbacks, the flaws, and your failures. He loved that part of you. It left him perplexed after speaking with Bakugou, while he decided to make his way downstairs to where most of the class still spent their day.

Did he truly say something wrong? All he ever wanted was to help you in any way he could. And perhaps, after much reflection on the fact, he had only insulted you on an important day. Yet he thought he was giving you something you would have wanted. Or, was he wanting you instead?

——

Todoroki went about his day speaking to his classmates and hearing some good news between them all. Many of them were offered a residency into some fairly well-known agencies, either one or a few or a handful. And though they were primarily from their work studies, it was the best fit for many of them. Todoroki ignored some of the more exasperatedly whinier comments about his placement, but it was a given despite his own feelings about the situation. Soon, the entire class readied themselves for the night, including Todoroki who was interrogated a few times about being date-less for the prom. A simple shrug was all they received, explaining that he had declined all invitations, which almost broke Kaminari’s heart hearing that. Still, with the night early to begin the celebrations, Todoroki joined in with his classmates and friends alike, making their way to Gym Gamma.

He wondered about your date, this mysterious man who asked you out so suddenly. You had never been a liar, or at least you were a bad one for him to know. He deduced it must’ve been recent, no earlier than yesterday at least when you were asked. It still made him wonder why he chose you. Has he always admired you? Were you friends? Did you know more than you were letting him on? At the end, Todoroki began to wonder how different this man was to him.

Gym Gamma was in sight while all of his classmates made their way inside. Todoroki trailed behind until something caught his ear a distance away, drowned by the music that thumped against the walls of the auditorium. He strayed from the pack of students, walking along the side to find you with your wrist held tightly by a very inebriated man before the both of you disappeared around the auditorium. His feet suddenly flew, chasing after the both of you after spotting the concerned look on your face, even briefly around the corner. Todoroki soon laid eyes on your date, gripping your wrist with a wide grin on his face, drunkenly swaying with you and handling you carelessly while you tried to pull away.

“You’re my date, so let me be your date,” he cooed slovenly, his grip tightening on your wrist.

“Stop it, you’re drunk,” you yelled, pulling away from him, tugging at your wrist to no avail.

“I’m having fun,” he retorted, his grin wide and his breath lingering over your skin. “Don’t you want to have fun with me?”

“I’m not some toy, or some prize to show off to your friends, whoever they are!”

“They’re just teasing, come on.”

He pulled you in, closing the gap between the both of you before his breath washed onto your face, smelling the bitter and rancid smell of alcohol. You pushed against his chest, pulling your face away from his, his strength overwhelming until-

“No, let go of me!” you cried before you pulled back your hand, slapping his face hard. The slap pulled him out of his drunken reverie, but not without releasing you from his grip, finding a disdained look on his face, chuckling to himself from the assault before being refueled by rage.

“Who wants you anyway?!” he yelled back, pulling his own hand to return the favour.

Suddenly, his own wrist was gripped by another’s, pushing against a strength that overpowered his own. Todoroki stood beside you, his fingers gripping onto your date while he stared into his eyes, disapproving and venomous.

“I suggest you walk away,” he warned, watching your date flinch from the fractals of ice that began to frost across his skin and sleeve, prickling like needles. He pulled away violently, releasing his grip on you as well, walking away with a contempt scoff and affixing his attire before he stomped towards the auditorium. Todoroki kept an eye on him until he disappeared around the corner, most likely returning to the prom before he turned to you, standing there, ashamed and hurt.

The smell of alcohol still lingered, but now it no longer pervaded your senses while you fixed your own formal wear and hopped towards the wall of the auditorium outside, leaning against it, your eyes drawn towards the pavement. Throughout the mess of it all, you realised one of your shoes had fallen off, now missing part of the pair a short distance away. You felt Todoroki’s presence next to you, following after and standing by your side, leaning against the wall as well in an uncomfortable silence.

“Nice guy,” he commented.

“Shut up,” you retorted weakly, refusing to look him in the eye.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

“Are you okay?”

A moment passed when it all fell silent, at least to you, still listening and feeling the vibrations of the music that echoed and reverberated through the walls. You felt like you drowned in it, washed in the overwhelming feeling of sadness that you couldn’t hold in. You breathed deeply, hoping that could staive the storm, but your tears burst from your eyes out of your volition.

“No, no I’m not,” you finally answered. “He’s right. No one wants me.”

Todoroki turned to you, watching your tears fall and holding in the hiccups that escaped your throat once or twice. He couldn’t explain it, but he hated that look on you.

“I’ve not heard back from anyone at all today. I don’t know why,” you continued, your mind elsewhere. “And, he only invited me to impress his friends, and we met up when he’s really drunk and, well, you saw what happened.”

With all that was going on for graduation, Todoroki watched and listened to your words, realising and processing his feelings over the matter. It wasn’t true. He wanted you, more than anything, comprehending his feelings and how he interpreted them all the same. Graduation was weighing on his mind just as much as any other student had all day, yet he realised now, in this moment despite what his future may hold, that this moment mattered. He eyed your shoe from afar, walking towards it to collect it from the ground until he stood before you, his eyes waiting for you to meet his.

“No, I don’t want to go inside. Not yet anyway,” you reasoned while you tried to wipe away the tears from your face, spotting the shoe in his hand.

“May I?” asked Todoroki as if he had ignored your request.

You turned to him with tear-stained eyes, only seeing him hold your shoe. It dawned on you that it was only the both of you outside the auditorium with no one else around.

“What about your date?” you asked, confused.

“They’re right here in front of me,” he stated calmly, straight-forward without flinching. “Please.”

He lifted your shoe once more, warranting a nod from you, permitting him to kneel and slip the shoe back onto your feet. He was gentle while he maneuvered it with ease, lifting himself close to you before he opened his hand, gesturing to take yours. With a calm breath, you accepted his hand before he led you into his arms, swaying to and fro despite the music that played inside Gym Gamma beside you. Underneath the stars, you began to waltz, glancing up into Todoroki’s eyes that only smiled down at you, that same smile that he expressed while you were with him.

“Thank you Todoroki,” you whispered. “I’m sorry-“

“No, I’m sorry,” he interrupted, still keeping to the rhythm of his feet. “I didn’t think about how strongly you felt about the career and the life you wanted. I was selfish.”

“You can be selfish. You’d be doing yourself a disservice if you weren’t. Now I feel like an idiot.”

The thought of your former date moments ago sprung in your mind, despite it being a last ditch effort by a classmate, even if it was innocent at first. However, you felt Todoroki clutch onto your waist tighter, hugging you into his chest while his fingers intertwined with yours.

“This is where you should be,” he motioned, his head laying on yours. “You deserve a good night.”

For the first time since arriving at this prom, you smiled, nestling into his chest and hearing the calm heartbeat that thrummed in your ear. His warmth, that familiar heat you had come to love, pervaded on your skin and kept you safe, here in his arms.

The sound of your phone broke you out from the moment, catching both Todoroki and yourself a little unguarded before you broke away a little to check it immediately. Todoroki still held you, not wanting to release you from his grip before he watched your eyes scan the screen, soon lighting up with excitement.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed. “I got in, I got in!” You hopped on the spot, still in his arms, bubbled with elation.

“Where?” he asked immediately, only to be met by a moment of spontaneity. A sudden kiss on his lips, pulled in by your hands while you deeply pressed onto him. The moment broke as you pulled away, realising what you had done within the moment and met by Todoroki’s perplexed stare.

“Oh god, I’m sorry-“

Your words were choked by Todoroki returning the favour, pulling you into him and kissing you instead. His arms held you close to him, feeling the waves of heat from his body and his kiss alone. A fire unlike any other filled you inside, not searing through with anger, but fueled by passion which was Todoroki. As he pulled away, you stared into his eyes, pools of silver and blue while you watched him smile, caressing your cheek tenderly. You smiled back warmly with words unspoken.

“I love every part of you, my Love,” he whispered close to your ear.

“I… I love you more,” you whispered back, growing more sure with your words.

“Exactly where did you get accepted?”

“Your father’s agency,” you quipped, suddenly taking him back by surprise. “What? You thought I never considered it a top priority?”

“Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

“Because I hadn’t heard anything,” you reasoned while you fixed his suit. “It made me wonder how many applications your father’s manager had to go through today.”

A small chuckle escaped from Todoroki, soon turning into laughter along with you while he held you in his arms under the night sky. He felt like twirling you in the air, feeling you next to him and knowing you were beside him. With the prom already under way, he offered his arm with that ever-present smile, warm and inviting.

Seasons come and go - summer and winter, hot to cold. But despite the change in weather, you’ve learnt to adapt slowly over time and nurture something new through the faults. It only continues to grow from here, stronger than before.

[featheredoutrage]

Serendipity (Ch 1)

Rating: K

Sasuhina Month Day 1: Beginning of Us

Read on FF.net

“Sunagakure was nice last time I visited, I never would have thought that a city in a desert would be so pleasant. Mayor Gaara really is exceeding all expectations...” Sasuke tried not to let the boredom show on his face. Unfortunately, Satoshi Nakada was an important supplier to Uchiha Corporations, and pissing off business partners would not help Sasuke convince his father to give him more responsibility.

Sasuke hated these corporate functions, hated being forced to rub elbows with people he couldn’t care less about. Everyone was boring, irritating, or loud -- usually all three -- and often became even more so after a couple of drinks. Even worse, it was so easy to get trapped in a boring story that went on and on, leaving Sasuke unable to extricate himself without looking rude.

Lucky for him, a young man wandered over, wine glass in hand, brimming with nervous confidence. He looked fresh out of school, and was probably desperate to develop some industry connections. The rookie introduced himself to Sasuke and Nakada, who looked like someone who had just woken up from a trance. Sasuke smiled and patted the newcomer on the shoulder. “Well, I have to, uh, get some more appetizers, so I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” Having found a suitable sacrifice, Sasuke made a beeline for the back door.

Sasuke’s father expected him to represent the family company, so Sasuke couldn’t just leave like he wanted to. He had, however, discovered that he could duck away to an empty corner and wait until the function was almost over before re-emerging and pretending he had been there the entire time with no one the wiser. Empty rooms were risky -- Sasuke learned the hard way that middle-aged adults could be just as horny as teenagers -- so he wandered around outside until he found the perfect spot: a slight bend in the building surrounded by tall hedges that could hide him from view while still providing good visibility to the guests passing by. The only problem with this hiding spot was that it was already occupied.

“Get out,” Sasuke said before he could stop himself. The girl stared at him with wide pale eyes that glowed in the moonlight. She had dark hair and pale skin and wore what looked like a light purple cocktail dress, though it was hard to distinguish the color in the dim light. Sasuke forced himself to soften his tone. “I mean, can you please leave.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “I-I was here first.”

Sasuke’s left eye twitched. “Surely a lovely lady like yourself has people looking for you. I can walk you back to the party if you want,” he said with a smile that had previously dazzled many other women into acquiescing to his demands.

“I-I could say the same to you,” the girl sniped back, her defiant words at odds with the way she nervously tapped her fingers together. “Why don’t you head back and I’ll stay here.”

Sasuke dropped all polite pretenses and scowled. If he couldn’t charm her into leaving, then he’d just have to chase her away. But before he could make a cutting comment about the girl’s looks or obvious awkwardness, they were interrupted by the sound of thunderous steps and of exuberant voices.

“That’s it Lee! Let the power of youth propel you to the finish line!” Sasuke hurriedly stepped into the alcove, squeezing himself between the girl and the wall. The girl squeaked at the sudden proximity, but Sasuke paid her no mind, more concerned about hiding himself from the new arrivals. Through the half cover of the hedges, Sasuke could see the twin forms of Might Guy and Rock Lee stampeding down the path on their hands. When they reached the birdbath, located right next to where Sasuke and the girl were hiding, the two leapt to their feet and clasped hands. “Amazing Lee. You’ve improved leagues since I last saw you.”

“It is only due to Guy-sensei’s support and dedication that I am where I am now. Guy-sensei’s coolness is a constant inspiration,” Lee exclaimed, his smile appearing to be a light source all on its own.

“Let us celebrate your achievement with another hundred laps!” The two green-suited fanatics dashed off down the path again, kicking up a trail of dust behind them.

Sasuke breathed a sigh of relief. “I can’t believe those two are still invited to these things,” he muttered.

“The mayor likes them, it would look bad if they weren’t invited. Besides, they’re very nice once you get to know them.” She was leaning awkwardly against the wall, her body angle away from him. Sasuke suddenly became painfully aware of how close they were. He could smell her lavender perfume and make out the silvery flowers stitched into her dress.

“I thought they were invited because Tsunade gets a kick out of watching them challenge people to push-up contests.”

“...Maybe that too,” she said with a smile, revealing small dimples on both sides of her mouth. She had a nice smile, Sasuke thought idly before frowning. Why had he thought that? He wanted her to leave after all.

“If you enjoy their company so much, why don’t you go join them when they come back around.”

“Alright,” she agreed, to his shock. “I’ll introduce you too. I’m sure they’d be thrilled to meet you.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” he said quickly. Watching the duo from a distance was already overwhelming, interacting with them up close might fry his green color receptors and a couple of brain cells along with it.

“Then I suppose we should just stay put then,” the girl said, and Sasuke grudgingly admitted defeat. There were worse people to be stuck behind a hedge with, he supposed. Just then, Satoshi Nakada stumbled down the path, gripping a poor waiter’s arm for support, slurring loudly about his younger days.

“Looks like this party might be starting to wrap up soon,” Sasuke commented once the old man and his hapless victim had passed.

“Nakada-san’s only started talking about his first business deal, there’s a few more hours to go I think,” the girl said. Sasuke chuckled, startling them both. He hadn’t expected that.

“He spent so much time talking about his recent Suna trip today, he might not have started drinking until later. The timeline’s probably pushed up.”

The girl inclined her head. “Maybe. But Shikamaru-kun is coming out for a smoke now.” She gestured at a faraway figure who was taking a drag on a lit cigarette. “If the event was wrapping up, his mother would have dragged him back in.”

“Nara’s more than capable of giving his mom the slip,” Sasuke argued. “This might be his second round.”

“Then what about Tsunade-sama? She’s still inside, so she hasn’t had the time to get drunk yet.”

“Everyone’s working double time to make sure we don’t get a repeat of last month’s fiasco. She might not even get trashed this time.”

And so their conversation went, with the girl raising one proposal after another for why it was still early, and Sasuke finding ways to shoot it down. It was comfortable, engaging, and even, dare he say it, fun. What a strange thought. These parties were formal, a way to make connections, an obligation that Sasuke had to go to whether he wanted to or not. At best it was satisfying to walk away with a new business partner. They were never fun.

The game was interrupted by a lone female figure walking down the path shouting “Nee-san! Stop hiding and come out. Father’s looking for you.” She was short, with brown hair and a silvery-white gown. They watched her walk past in silence. When she disappeared down the bend, the girl sighed.

“Looks like you were right, the party is wrapping up.” She moved to leave their little hiding spot, but glanced back at him, lips quirking upward in a small smile. “It was good to meet you, Uchiha-san.” She hurried down the path after her sister.

Sasuke stood there, by himself. He’d gotten his wish, the hiding spot was his. But it was darker and quieter than it was before. Sasuke stood there, annoyed that she had known who he was but he hadn’t even gotten a name. With a huff, Sasuke left the hedge too, and headed back towards the party. His father was probably looking for him.

[lcversquarrel]

soooo, while i’m waiting for inspiration to strike for opens, i might as well make use of my time by writing up some good ol’ wanted plots. without further ado! :

01. wait, did you hear that? - muse a is a horror movie fanatic. they watch anything under the sun classified as macabre, while their best friend (muse b) is someone who couldn’t hate them more. the two of them have been friends since childhood, so even if muse b is being tortured, at least they have a friendly hand to seek out in the dark. neither of them can quite admit one of the reasons they continue to pretend muse b isn’t practically suffering through these encounters is the excuse to hold hands under the guise of (still very real) fear of the dark. it’s the excuse for muse a to walk their best friend home at night, tucked safely into their arms with teasing laughter and sing-song mockery, whispers of the make-believe threats in the shadows. maybe if either of them were a bit more brave, they’d stop the charade and just tell one another how they felt. maybe one of them has a significant other they’ve been friends with for just as long, and a betrayal to them would ruin everything. maybe their excuses don’t hold up on a night muse b finds themselves particularly desperate for company as they fall asleep, only to realize too little, too late how hard it is to keep their mind from wandering in such close proximity to muse a.

02. at least you’re not from canada - this one’s a bit based off of free guy/the truman show/stranger than fiction. muse a is a character in a simulation. they live every day knowing exactly what’s going to happen next and precisely when, where and with whom it’s going to go occur. nothing is extraordinary, but considering they have no idea what they’re missing, they take it and go on and live to see another of the same day. it’s quite a mind-numbing, monotonous existence they’ve subscribed to. until, of course, enters muse b to wake them up. seeing them is new, in more ways than one. for the first time muse a can feel the place their heart was always said to be, fluttering and pounding and stopping all at once- an unfamiliar face, breaking through the nothingness and bringing in everything they’d been missing. nothing matters more to muse a than finding them again and following muse b to wherever it is they came from. but it’s not that simple- muse b knows they’re a program, a cog in a machine, and they’re assuming this is just some very strange glitch... until muse a finds them again and again, inquisitive and lost and oh-so charming in their earnestness. neither of them have any idea they’re literally from two different worlds until it’s too late to pretend the feelings aren’t there.

[sylvies-chen]

From Song to Storyline: Comparing Lorde’s “Melodrama” Album to Hailey Upton’s Upcoming Journey

Ok I couldn’t resist, I made a comment about how Hailey Upton is in her Melodrama era (because yes, I’m an absolute Lorde fanatic) and my loving soulmate @sylviebrettsey mentioned Taylor Swift’s Reputation too, but ALSO how she was unfamiliar with Melodrama so you can thank her for this analysis of why I picked Melodrama as Hailey’s season 9 mood! It’s going to be VERY long so I’ll put everything under the cut but I hope you guys like it! (And Sky, I hope you find this Lorde knowledge to be helpful lol. This is going to be very long but I hope it’s worth it and convinces someone out there to give the album a listen)

Reputation is an album that feels inherently vengeful in all the best ways. Songs like “Getaway Car” and “Don’t Blame Me” fit Hailey’s predicament at the end of season 8 very well, especially in relation to Jay. Those two songs as well as the album in general make for a very intense musical journey and Hailey’s been through a lot of intense things so naturally, it seems like they’d fit together. But based on what we’ve seen in interviews, I picked Melodrama for Hailey Upton’s season 9 era because that whole album plays with the idea of what happens after.

Lorde mostly talks about the crash that happens after a party when referencing this “after” but it acts a metaphor for being on a high note (a relationship, life, careers, etc.) and then crashing down. It’s a gritty, heart-wrenching album that holds so many similarities to what Hailey’s feeling. Coming into season 9, we know she isn’t sleeping, she can’t eat, there’s guilt eating away at her over what she’s done and over having to be around Kim constantly while keeping her secret. We know she’s clinging onto Jay with this proposal, know she’s going to have this internal torment because she can’t tell any of them what happened but Jay’s starting to notice something’s wrong with her and catching on to what happened. So, without further ado, lemme just give you snippets of lyrics from various songs on Lorde’s Melodrama album that fit with different parts of Hailey’s journey— as well as the unit’s journey— going into the new season!

1. “Sober”

In Sober, Lorde writes and sings about her experience of getting a panic attack at a party (Hence, the “Oh God, I’m clean out of air // In my lungs, it’s all gone” line) but then having to act normal because of social expectations and adds the “Played it nonchalant” line. In relation to Hailey, this represents her covering her ruse even though it’s killing her inside. Then, when we move further down these lyrics, it talks about being alone with the truth and dancing with the truth— again, Hailey struggling with the truth of what she did. Then, at the end of this first verse it could almost be seen from Jay’s perspective. “I’m acting like I don’t see // Every ribbon you used to tie yourself to me” is SO similar to what Jesse Lee Soffer’s been saying in interviews about Jay not knowing if Hailey’s proposal was genuine, and also what he and Tracy have said about Hailey’s proposal being genuine but also a product of her clinging on to the one good thing in her life.

2. “Liability”

Ah, yes, finally! The best song on the Melodrama album and arguably one of Lorde’s best songs ever! She wrote this in the back of a cab about the struggle of trying to love herself and worrying she’s too much for her friends. If that’s not a Hailey Upton sentiment going into this season, I don’t know what is! Not only is this applicable to Hailey with the Roy situation but it could also be applied to 8x11 when she was scared that her baggage and trauma around being abused by her father meant she couldn’t be with Jay. Also, now that she’s done this huge, massive thing that she has to live with, it’ll make it even harder for her to love herself— and for her to consider the fact that maybe, if she was truthful about that night, her friends would still love her anyway.

3. “Homemade Dynamite”

Homemade Dynamite, according to Lorde, describes “the moment when you meet someone at a party and an explosive night follows”. Again, right off the bat you see motifs of lies vs. truth when she’s saying let’s let things come out of the woodworks. It also technically talks about being blind to rules and dreams which is perfect for the finale: Hailey was blind to her dream (because let’s be real, thinking she could stop Voight was a fantasy), and Voight was blind to the rules. And just like the song says, it’s all bound to blow up on Hailey sooner or later, like homemade dynamite.

4. “Sober ll”

I feel like I don’t even need to explain my thought process behind this one. Trauma, melodrama, gun fights, terror, horror. ALL OF THESE are key words for what Hailey’s been through and will CONTINUE to go through. “They’ll talk about us, and discover // How we kissed and killed each other” is also applicable to the synopsis about how the FBI is potentially getting involved in discerning what happened to Roy. If they do, it could launch an investigation into the entire unit which could uncover a lot— “kisses each other” being the relationship drama that happens within the unit and “killed each other” being what happened with Roy and Voight’s general track record of murdering criminals and covering it up.

5. “Writer In The Dark”

Ok this first line is pretty much the entire reason I put this section of the song into this post. “I am my mother’s child, I’ll love you ‘til my breathing stops” is very strongly representative of Hailey’s past. She was raised in a household where her mother loved an abusive man and continued to love him even through the abuse of her and her children. It’s traumatizing, sure, but it also explains why Hailey’s reaction to shooting Roy was to go home and propose to Jay. She gets that loyalty from her mother, to the point where she could even stay in situations that hurt her (like refusing to leave Voight in the warehouse). But Jay doesn’t hurt her, he loves her unconditionally too which is why Hailey would love him until her breathing stops— or until, as it proceeds to say, “‘til you call the cops on me”, which is applicable in a much more literal sense.

6. “Supercut”

Supercut is probably my personal favourite of Lorde’s songs. The buildup is beautiful and the come-down is slow and gradual. It’s the epitome of pop in my opinion. But Hailey most definitely plays that moment over in her head and in her head, she would have done the right thing that night. And maybe she’s hoping the unit (Jay especially) will forgive her for shooting Roy instead of letting it cause a fight. This whole song is about replaying moments of a relationship in your head and changing the scenario so that it plays out as if you did everything right. You won’t always do everything right though, because we’re human and make mistakes, but it’s more than plausible that Hailey’s trying to capture that feeling.

7. Liability (Reprise)

Last but not least, we’ve got the reprise for Liability! This one’s a little more generic because it’s just the general vibe of the song that fits Hailey and this PD angst so well but honestly “And all of the shit that we harbour // Make all the kids in the choir sing, “Woo-hoo” is very applicable to Hailey because she’s got a lot of baggage going into this new season. “And maybe all this is the party // Maybe we just do it violently” is another line that fits her situation so well. In addition, since Liability is one of the last songs on this album the outro of the song is almost like the absolute rock bottom reached in the journey the album tells. It could easily be compared to if/when Jay finds out about what Hailey did. (Seriously, just imagine Jay saying “you’re not what you thought you were” to Hailey and tell me that wouldn’t make you cry! In a good way OR a bad way!)

Anyway, IN CONCLUSION: Melodrama is a twisted, heartbreaking album that fits into Hailey Upton’s upcoming journey in season 9 with the Roy storyline PERFECTLY! If you have time to listen to the album— or at least the songs I mentioned— then please do because it’s SO worth it. But until then, we’re going to be in for quite the angsty ride this season when it comes to Chicago PD and personally, I can’t wait to see what they do with it!