#AND LOTS OF MESSES CAUSE I WOULD LOSE MY POSES BY ACCIDENT AND HAVE TO MAKE IT AGAIN

[eorzeanflowers]

The sea breeze of the Ruby had a pleasant scent to it. Jana breathed deep as she looked to her opponent. Anaj had set up this spar, and Jana was not going to lose it.

The Kojin opposite her had a calm expression. An almost infuriating one.

Jana readied her blade, waiting for Anaj’s signal. Strike fast, strike hard.

“Begin.”

Jana rushed in, with Shio deftly dodging with a smile. That irritated Jana to no end.

Jana slipped low for a heavy strike, but Shio drew her blade in one quick motion, deflecting the heavier blade to the side. Shio then lightly stepped to the side and assumed a ready pose.

“Fight back!” Jana growled in frustration at the Kojin. Jana dropped her greatsword, shifting to a easier to maneuver gunblade.

"'Back'? To fight back, you need to start fighting," the Kojin taunts, a calm smile taking the sting from her words.

But the strike was telegraphed too easily it seemed, for Shio blocked it with grace and ease.

"You're slow. Try again."

Shio dropped low, sheathing her blade in a quick, fluid motion. Jana tried to retreat from the blow, but was too slow.

Jana rolled far down the beach. Punching the ground she left the gunblade to dissolve into aether as she grabbed her monk job stone.

Shio stood at the ready, as Jana picked herself up. “I will not yield just yet!” She threw the job stone in front of her, punching threw it to retrieve her santi.

"I'd be disappointed if you did!"

Shio then rushed forward, Jana barely blocking the attack with her hands. Her arms reverberating from the blow, she growled, “I will win this contest, you can be assured, Shio.”

Jana backflipped away, donning her robes of the white mage with the final flip. Shio started to prepare another lightning fast strike, to which Jana started to float through the air as the destructive white magic gathered in her staff.

“BEGONE BY ORDINANCE DIVINE!”

The strength of the explosion of white magic threw Shio into the water and out of sight. Exhausted Jana let go of the white mage job stone, reverting to her initial greatsword wielding form. Jana turned to Anaj with a tired laugh. “I won the duel! Would you not say, my dear old friend?” He shook his head and gestured to the water.

Curious, Jana walked over and stared into the waves, seeing no sign of the Kojin that was her opponent.

With a crash of a wave, Shio burst of the surf, spear in hand. A gloating smile on her face as she crashed into Jana, throwing her in to the sand.

"You threw a Kojin in the water and thought you had won? I am of the Blue - under the waves, I am untouchable."

“I believe victory goes to me, does it not, Jana?” Shio held her spear over Jana as the exhausted beaten Au Ra admits defeat.

---------

A lovely little spar between Jana and @the-littlest-kojin​ Shio!

[smutty-ki113r]

🌐Discord🌐||

Comfort one-shot reader x creepy pastas (Slenderman, Jeff, Toby, E.J, BEN, Sally, Masky, Hoodie, Jane and L.J.)

Inspired by: The living tombstone

You woke to excessive yelling, turning over and pushing the pillow over your face groaning. The voice got louder and you felt a pair of hands shake you awake, throwing the pillow at them you found that it was Toby. He let out an abrupt gasp and continued to jump around the hotel room. You understood why he was so excited, it was the first day of your trip to Disney world after all.

I know it seems unconventional but you had managed to convince slender to let you guys go. Obviously it was on Halloween weekend, the only time they could go into the parks without being questioned for their looks. That day you would all be going to Epcot.

Masky was probably the most excited about that park even though he had an expressionless face on the ride there. He had been so against going, at least it seemed like it. But you saw him putting ciggarates in a fanny pack when getting ready to leave.

Smiling fondly at the memory you got up and dressed. After breakfast you all drove to the park, seeing the Halloween decorations in orange and black with the shapes of Mickey Mouse. You groaned at the bickering going on in the third row of seats with Jeff and E.J, who was trying to convince Jeff to leave his knife in the car.

“They’ll stop you at security” you called back to him.

“I can hide it” he protested.

“Jeff they have literal metal detectors” E.J rebutted.

“What if I put it in my pants” he said smartly.

“NO” you yelled. After a death glare and a small tug of war between him and E.J he left it. He walked at the back of the group, slumping with his hands in his hoodie pocket. At the entrance the whole crowd was met with “oohs” and compliments about your “costumes”.

There was so much to do, but Hoodie (secretly Masky too) and BEN wanted to go to Spaceship earth. They were all so amazed on how there was a ride inside of the Epcot ball.

“It’s an XXL golf ball” BEN kept saying, convinced that there was nothing inside. There wasn’t much wait but since you were all a big crowd it took a bit to get in. Slender had the hardest time getting in the cart, he had to crouch excessively to fit. You rode with BEN, who was really excited at first because he thought there was going to be a drop but it turned out bore him. He thought it was going too slow, and so he had the bright idea to tamper with the manuals. “Time to spice things up” he said rubbing his hands maliciously. At one point all the carts started spinning, he lifted his hands and “wheeed”. You could hear Sally yelling from the back with Slender holding her in the seat since there was no restraints. At the end he scolded Ben, rushing him out of there as the cast members apologized for the inexplicable inconvenience.

He came out of there with a proud grin, cackling as he pointed out the dumbfounded face E.J made in the picture and the one with Jeff with his tongue out. The smiling killer joined him, watching Toby spin from the dizziness- it was pretty funny though.

Slender admired the late October scenery until Sally pulled him into a stand and graced him with a Mickey Mouse hat. Jeff was yet another unfortunate victim of Sally’s plan, wearing the mickey ears that had a pastel veil. BEN was throwing fits of giggles at this, but you knew Jeff was fucking insecure so you put on ears along with Sally.

The first country you stopped at was Mexico, where you went inside the pyramid. Jeff traded his ears for a big Mexican hat, Ben too. They played with the maracas while Toby, Sally and Hoodie went into the glass shop. It was a recipe for disaster, but you followed regardless. Sally tried on every. Single. Princess crown while Toby looked at the glass pieces a bit too closely. He started ticking while holding one, even though the sign said not to touch them. It flew across the store and collided with a whole other shelf, all of them broke and he started apologizing furiously as Slender messed the employees’ mind to make him forget about the accident.

He had to pull Toby out of the store and drag him to the boat ride, you patted him on the back daringly as he had the guiltiest look. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea for slender to go on the boat ride, he was far too tall and had to bend his knees to look like a grasshopper while Sally smiled and sung along with the cartoon characters. When you got off you could hear Slender mumbling something about his back.

Norway didn’t have much to do but Sally begged to go on the Elsa ride, Hoodie accompanied her happily. Toby as well, but he was really enthusiastic about the songs- he knew all of them. Him and Sally harmonized during the chorus for “let it go”. Since there were a shit ton of little kids there L.J was about to combust. Surprisingly he stayed super silent with occasional grumbles, making mental notes for when he got out of the park. He had to ditch the group to shop for Candy, which he found in China.

Jane was absolutely fascinated with the Zodiac garden there, watching the beautiful plants in the morning sun. Masky tried to relax by watching the show inside the pavillion but Toby caught up to him. He really couldn’t sit still and Masky had to scold him for sitting on the rail he wasn’t supposed to sit on. After, you found E.J playing with Sally with the marionettes and BEN with a cup of Boba. He seemed to be enjoying it- a lot. It was the funniest thing to watch him suck up all the tapioca stuck in the ice, his cheeks got super red and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

Jeff was gladly giving Toby his Mickey Mouse ears. In the afternoon you moved to Italy, where L.J was getting complimented for his “stilts”. There wasn’t much to do in Germany or America so you guys went to Japan. Laughing Jack was a lost cause, going straight for the candy while Jeff was mesmerized by the samurai swords. He was looking around to see if he could steal one, but how in the world would he hide that- definitely not in his pants. You caught on quick.

“Just ONE” he pleaded with you as you pulled him away from the glass. “Don’t do this to meeee” he screeched at you like a starved man asking for food.

Trying to throw hands and hit you while you grasped onto his hoodie. You managed to bring him with you as you walked out of the store. Passing by Masky who was trying to get away from Toby- he was fanning masky with those big fans. Jeff sat sourly as you ordered food, a stressed Masky came soon after. He was glad to have some quiet from the ruckus outside, enjoying a meal with you. When he was done he went outside to have a smoke from his fanny pack.

Going back to the store with Jeff on a tight leash AWAY from the swords you found Sally playing with the plushies and L.J taking packs and packs of candy. You stood and stared at him as he loaded up on the strawberry gummies. “What?” He deadpanned as a few fell down from his pile. You just laughed and helped him hold some of them, putting them in your backpack and walking out of the store because- y’all are criminals, and you steal.

It was now late afternoon, and you only had a few countries left to complete the full round of the park. Toby got lost in France, you all spent about twenty minutes looking for him and apparently Slender too who disappeared soon after. Then out of some room came one of them.

“where where you?” Jane asked.

Slender stepped forward “at the show, there were some magnificent castles and I think I’ll have to visit. Maybe even take ideas for house redecoration” he nodded.

Then out of nowhere appeared a cast member holding the hand of one shaking Toby, whose eyes were puffy and cheeks red. “Did you lose this little boy” she asked slender, he shook his head yes and gave a sigh.

The lady was in absolute awe of the group, especially daddy dilf slender. “How IS it that you see through that mask” she mused, taking slender’s head in her hands even though he was super tall. Her mouth was open as she pulled him super close to observe his (non-existent) face. BEN was snickering and you looked back and forth to see slender pretty flustered at the lady’s proximity.

“Leave him alone” Jane smacked BEN behind his head and took him by the ear. You followed them to the U.K. She threw him in one of the phone booths and held the door so he couldn’t escape. You could hear him complain from inside “let me outttt” he said muffled. Jeff caught up and went into the one on the opposite side, playing with the buttons on the dial. When Slender came back he took out a Camera to snap pictures of BEN and Jeff. You stood to the side while he did, obviously both of them didn’t notice. They were pretty candid and when they saw what was happening they ran out of there, only to have their spaces replaced with Sally and E.J, who had to pose with her for the picture.

The sun was starting to set and you guys only had a couple things left to do, one of which Jeff almost exploded in wait for. He wanted to try test track so bad, the line was gruesome and he tapped his foot impatiently in wait. BEN kept tampering with the car parts on display, making doors open and lights flash in boredom. Toby waited outside with Slender because he had anxiety around going too fast in a car and possibly reliving trauma. Jeff, on the other hand, was so excited when it was finally time to go on. He let you sit next to him in the front with BEN in the back. The ride was entertaining sure but the best part was probably Jeff’s face at the end. The car went so fast that Jeff’s cheeks were pushed back with the wind, stretching out his carved smile and flapping as he waved his hands in the air.

Then when it ended he wanted to steal one of the cars from the display.

“I can turn it on and take the safety off” BEN tuned in cheekily.

“Yessss” Jeff said with a fist pump, “which one should we get?” He asked.

“The red one” BEN decided.

“Guys nonononon” you tried complaining but they were dedicated.

“Stop complaining” BEN said, distracting you while Jeff snuck up on you from behind. Covering your mouth with his hand and restraining your arms with another “This is for not letting me take that knife”.

Picking you up and throwing you in the backseat of the car before revving the engine. With tears of joy in your eyes you saw Slender appear in the rear mirror of the car, tendrils waving around in fury. If BEN wasn’t dead yet he would definetly be now, Jeff turned paler than usual. Thank goodness he saw what was going on. They were about to drive off in one of those Toyotas- forget about mass murder, they were about to commit grand theft auto.

Next was the Nemo ride, but BEN was absolutely petrified of being near water so he waited outside with Slender-who very much could not fit in that shell car as much as he tried. Sally really liked it, she went with Toby and you went with Jane. Masky and Hoodie went together. Needless to say all of you enjoyed it very much, and the aquarium after was great too. Jane sat where she could watch the Dolphins and you could hear Toby and Sally’s footsteps running around from tank to tank.

“Do you think Slender will let me take a shark home?” He asked Masky, who told him no. But when they were outside Toby went straight to Slender. “Can I take a pet home?” He pleaded. Slender gave him a strict no but Toby continued to beg, “how about a seahorse?”, “not even a starfish?”. He got shot down but quickly recovered when you guys went to Soarin.

All of them- they loved flying. Even through it was just a ride, it was exhilarating. Passing through the sea and waterfalls, even the castles where Slender would have smiled at (if he had a mouth). Toby yelled like a mother fucker the whole time, luckily Masky was sitting next to you and hoodie- away from earshot. Jeff got the bad end of his shouting, making a face like he was about to murder poor Toby. But the brunette was so distracted by the lights and scenery he didn’t notice. E.J was pretty fascinated too, the height scared him a bit- he was used to being on the ground. Then you all shared some food from the cafeteria and went outside to watch the light show from Canada.

It was such a nice moment, with the sun already set and a hazy glow lingering in the air. You took a deep breath in, the ambiance felt like something unreal. The Epcot ball was illuminated by purplish lights in the background and across the lake you could see all the countries monuments lined with white lights. Slender had Sally on his shoulders so she could take in the view. It made you so happy to be with all of them in an instance like this. You looked back to find L.J eating his candy. With BEN and Hoodie next to you, Masky was leaning on the railing with his elbows next to E.J. and Toby was about to fall asleep. He got pretty startled when the fireworks started, but Sally’s eyes lit up with happiness. She cheered as you watched the group, it was such a kindling time with them. You couldn’t wait for the next day of the trip.

[wisteria-lodge]

authoritarian badger primary + snake secondary

Sorry if this is the improper channels, I just created my first ever tumblr account to follow you haha I would love help with sorting, you’re quite astute and it would be such a service to me as I’ve struggled for years with it, despite (or perhaps because of) reading so many posts about it! I’m much better at speed-reading randos, than I am at categorizing myself.  

I was that classic gifted underachiever.

ugh, I hate the word “gifted.” I’m so pleased that it’s falling out of favor in education circles.

I felt bad for some of my teachers, because I knew they probably blamed themselves. To make them see I appreciated them, I would study their teaching methods, and then give them positive feedback. I was the kid who would sleep through English, then write a collection of stories about the teachers, infusing classical literature and mythological references, performed them in the cafeteria, and sold them for lots of money to the students.

You sound like you were probably bored. Look, don’t feel bad about your teachers. Some students are just Anakins. High ability, low emotional maturity. We know that all we can do is give you guys a safe space until you figure yourselves out.

I wrote about my incompetent Math Teacher, Mrs. Malatestinic, as the Malatesting-Sphinx, an awful creature that posed mathematical riddles she herself did not understand. She didn’t like that (I failed math by 1 percent that semester lol), but when the math department heard me reading, he gasped sharply, his face went bright red and he started shaking in a way that looked life stifled laughter.

… this is your second, like, vengeance narrative? (slept though english class > made $$$ selling writing) (wrote hit piece about teacher > department head secretly agrees with you.) And you haven’t said anything that has anything to do with the Sortinghat Chats System???

I have almost no practical skills of my own (I find it hard to even change my lightbulbs, so I sometimes pee in the dark)

You must have some very understanding roommates.

but I pride myself on my interpersonal pixie dust. I seem to cheer people up, and I like to think I have a keen eye for people. One of my favourite compliments was when a young woman told me I had an almost supernatural ability for making others feel seen.

Okay, so a very social secondary, I can work with that. Going with *not Badger* as a hypothesis, since you almost seem to get kind of a kick out of not being exactly useful.

I naturally bond groups around me wherever I go, and I notice without this sort of found family dynamic in my life (a little team/group/family) I get depressed. I have fused my entire being with my job and have become a sort of mascot/face of the business, and despite not actually being the highest ranked/most senior employee.

… and we have a Badger primary.

I wish I was gentler, but my love for my people is pesky and meddlesome and I worry some day people will tire of me. I get overly involved in people’s lives (even when they ask me not to get involved, I take that as code for “I wouldn’t want to bother you, but secretly I wish you would get involved”).

I’m everyone’s unofficial therapist. This big mouth gets me into trouble sometimes, especially when I attack the powers that be on behalf of the underdog (something I can never resist)

Oh ouch. Yeah, that is some exploded, Authoritarian Badger right there. You get involved in peoples lives when they tell you to stay out? You view yourself as a universal therapist and righteous defender of those who cannot defend themselves? You write like you’ve got all the answers, and everyone else in your life is scared, or helpless.

I once flooded a grouchy old lady’s apartment by accident (ADHD) and then when she called to scream at me, she ended up telling me her whole life story instead.

I know this is the Badger secondary in me, but did you like… help fix the apartment? Untreated water damage can lead to black mold.

And yet, I cannot keep a secret to save my life, people should not be telling me things! My mom and boss often warn me about burning bridges. I know this is true in theory, but sometimes I just get triggered.

Impulsivity is something that people with ADHD can struggle with, but I can’t link it to a specific secondary.

I was bullied and abused a lot as a child/teen, but I never believed I deserved it, only that I lacked power, so I had to dig deep and outwit my opponents. I find story arcs of clever but physically underpowered oddballs like Mulan and Tyrion very satisfying for that reason! I tend to be a bit of a con for the cause at times—I toy with people and can be a bit of a “storyteller”. My saintly double badger mom strongly disapproves of this tendency in me, and half teasing, half scolding calls me Harold Hill (The Music Man).

Snake secondary, for sure. 

I have an awful petty flaw of never forgetting a slight! When the people I love/invest in betray me, I am devastated, and that disillusionment can fester into hatred under extreme circumstances. Darker still, when people cross a certain line morally, they seem to forfeit their personhood in my eyes. Gloves are off, and since I’m kind of an empath I basically have all the destruct codes to people’s souls.

That is… the dehumanizing aspect of a Badger primary in full swing, which has been a through line this whole time. The math teacher was incompetent, so it was fine to mess with her. The old lady was grouchy, so flooding her apartment wasn’t a big deal.

Some examples of my dark fuckery (if tldr, skip to final paragraph 😊):

I will cut this out, actually. There are a *lot* of revenge narratives here, some of them get pretty dark, and in my opinion… these are situations where you either went too far or shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place. I guess they re-affirm the ‘I know best’ of the Authoritarian Badger, and the improvisational problem solving skills of the Snake secondary.

Um yes, so sorry about how long this is, every time I went to edit it down, it got longer! I understand if you don’t have the time or inclination to read, let alone analyze all this! But at least it helped me a little to write it all out. Please know I love your posts, you’re brilliant! I will lose entire days  studying and obsessing over your posts. Thank you for everything!

You’re welcome. And don’t take any of this too badly. Badger primaries get Authoritarian streaks sometimes, it happens. And if you’re worried that “people will tire of you” - I will say, as someone who has known quite a few Authoritarian Badgers. I didn’t get tired of them, I got exhausted, felt condescended to, and it was an all around unpleasant experience. 

[icollectyoursins]

Mer!Joseph x Reader SFW

Not gonna lie, I wrote this prompt specifically with Joseph in mind, so I just had to do this.

Joseph, your new found, fishy friend, loved to show off, but today he was just a little off his game.

SFW prompt 7: “That was-” “-Incredible? Amazing, spectacular, wonderful, jaw-dropping-” “Something."

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

Written for Sinn’s Mermay writing challenge found here.

WARNINGS: None, lots of dialogue and showing off.

Word Count: 1271

       A cool gust of wind blew through the sails of your small ship, pushing you forward. You looked out over the blue horizon, mottled orange and pink with the gradually setting sun. It was beautiful. You had been sailing for some time now and while you were no expert by any means, you had gotten into a routine of going out to just stare at the vast beauty every evening before the sunset.

      Okay, there was one other thing bringing you back.

      A loud, playful splash to your right startled you out of your peace. Turning around to find the source you saw the other thing hanging off the side of your boat. You had guess he made the splash and then booked it to try and spook you. Thank god you were used to it by now.

      “Heyy, (Y/N). Come back to admire these, hmm?” He trod in the water, showing off his muscles by flexing in the stereotypical hero pose that you saw so often.

      “Hi, Joseph,” you chuckled, moving to the side where he was and putting your feet in the water. Joseph was... well, a merman, but also someone that you now considered a friend, regardless of how annoying he was in the beginning. “Catch anything cool?”

      “Aaaah, the human is interested in what I’ve caught today? I’m flattered,” he swam closer to you, hopping up to sit beside you on the sailboat. “I sadly caught nothing. I did, however, fight with a swordfish. It was a ferocious battle that ended in blood in the water.”

      You laughed again. “If it was such a horrible fight, why aren’t you cut up?” His eyes opened up in shock, then he turned away, defeated. 

      “Fiine. Take the fun out of everything, why doncha?” He muttered before turning back to you. “I see you haven’t gotten tired of the sunset, huh?”

      “No. Who would ever get sick of a sunset like this every day?”

      “One person comes to mind. A certain fish-like person.”

      “Oh, really? You get sick of the sunset? Aren’t you underwater the majority of the day?” You ask sarcastically.

      “Eh. I prefer staring at something else.” He wiggles his eyebrows and throws you a wink, making you roll your eyes. “Besides, the sun’s always in the sky, I can see it whenever I want.”

      You shrugged, staring out into the ocean with a sigh. Joseph couldn’t help getting a little frustrated that your attention was on something other than him. Slowly, he lifted up his hand, carefully keeping it out of your view and then...

      “BOOP!” He tapped the end of your nose, startling you, causing him to laugh. You rolled your eyes again, used to his antics at this point. It didn’t bother you as much anymore, but you knew that he wouldn’t give up until you showed interest in him. You turned back to him with a thin smile on your face. 

      “Well?” He looks at you quizzically. “You want my attention, right? Well, you have it now. What’s up?” He seems at a loss. He didn’t think it would actually work. You sigh, eyes trailing down to his large, green and brown tail. His scales gleamed in the dimming light beautifully. You could just barely see his fins, long and thin, ending in a bulbous end, almost like a sea dragon. 

      “Your tail looks nice, did you do something different?” You ask, trying to spark conversation. He perks up, interested in the new topic change about him, no less.

       You listen to most of what he was saying, but honestly, you were too distracted by the mess of hair on top of his head. It was wet and yet, somehow was still sticking up on end. You reached a hand out to it, gently brushing your fingers through it. It was softer than you expected. Joseph stopped, shocked by the audacity of attempting to mess up his hair. Your diligent digits massaged his scalp, tracing through his messy locks making him hum. Maybe it wasn't that bad. He leans into you subconsciously, closing his eyes for a moment. 

       He suddenly pulls away, dipping himself back into the water to keep from drying out, then hopping back up. This time, he stretches out along the boat, putting his head in your lap. You scoffed at the wet spot now spreading across your thighs, but continued playing with his hair. The two of you sighed happily, your faces illuminated in a soft, orange-pink hue from the setting sun. Your hand travelled down to his jawline, gently running along it with a lazy finger. His sweet blue eyes look up at you, trailing down your features.

     "How was your day, huh?" He asked. You sigh again. 

     "Okay, I guess. Boring, did a lot of housework which is never fun. Had to check the boat over, make sure nothing was ripped. I noticed a scratch along the side; nothing too big, just annoying trying to get a paint that matches not to mention it'll have to dry. So, probably won't see me for a bit." You looked disappointed. That's when Joseph got an idea, something to cheer you up a bit. 

     "Well, I'll just have to make this visit one to remember, eh?" He laughs, rolling into the ocean and splashing you. He quickly swam to the depth he needed, then turn tail, swimming up until he burst through the water like a graceful torpedo. Then, he leaned back, sending him into a spin that he definitely had control over. Suddenly, and totally unexpectedly he loses control on his second roll, belly-flopping into the water with a painful slap. He hoped you couldn't see him curling in on himself, sore from the drop.

     Soon, he regained himself, proudly swimming to you. There was no way you would have thought that was an accident. He did that on purpose, obviously.

     "Eeeh? What did you think?" He asked, treading water enough to flex one arm. 

     “That was-” 

     “-Incredible? Amazing, spectacular, wonderful, jaw-dropping-”

     “Something." You chuckled, covering your mouth. God, what a dork. "Are you okay?"

     "Wha?! Do you think that hurt me? I am a creature of the ocean, my dear (Y/N)! There's not a thing in the-"

     "Joseph!" You couldn't stop laughing. He was too sweet. "You know you don't have to jump around like a Pantene commercial to impress me." He furrows his brows. 

     "What's Pantene? Delicious food?"

     "No, no! It's a shampoo and conditioner thing," you say with a smile. "Besides, I thought that maybe for once you could come visit me while the boat is getting painted? I could fill-up the bath so you don't get dry and show you what Pantene is. What do you think?" 

     Joseph stares at you for a minute, pretending to think about the decision, as if he hadn't made up his mind the minute you asked.

     "Fiiine. If you want me to partake in your human things, I will." You grin at him, getting up to get the boat ready as you talked.

     "Great! I can turn the boat around and you can-"

     SPLASH-THUD!

     You turn around to see Joseph lying on your boat, a cocky smile on his face. 

     "Well? Come on, we don't have all day. Show me what this uh... sail can do!"

[god-of-dust]

i recently remembered that my fic Liminality was actually part of a bigger story; it’s old and don’t think i will ever complete it, but since @thetpot left me a lovely comment i thought that i could share some of the parts i had written, as a treat.

the story is set in the post-canon world. aang is in his twenties, dealing with grief, ptsd and depression and his avatar responsibilities. on top of that, he realizes that he’s fallen in love with zuko and this causes him to break up with katara; a lot of angst and self-hatred follow, because he feels like he’s breaking the heart of the woman he loves and betraying his best friend too.

so, here are some snippets! note: they’re unedited and also not in chronological order.

[Aang speaks with Avatar Yangchen in the spirit world]

“Avatar Yangchen?”

“Hello, Aang. It seems I'm the one you turned to in your moment of need, this time.”

“Why, though? I didn't think about you, I just... needed someone to talk to, I guess. Someone who has nothing to do with all this.”

“You don't want to have this conversation with any of your friends.”

“They're too close to Katara and I don't want to force them to pick sides.”

“And Fire Lord Zuko is, of course, out of the question.”

“If I saw him now, I wouldn't be able to keep my mouth shut and I'd spill my guts and it would be embarrassing for both and that would only make things even worse... he doesn't deserve this. I'm the one who messed up.”

“Why do you think you messed up?”

“Why? I fell in love with my best friend! I hurt Katara and I'll hurt Zuko too if I don't learn to keep my feelings hidden! I should have hidden them better from the start!”

“Is this what would make you happy? Learning how to hide your feelings, having no one the wiser?”

“I wanted to marry Katara and make her happy for the rest of our lives, and now I ruined our relationship because I just had to be like this! My life couldn't be simple, oh no, I couldn't just be with her, I had to want more—of course I hurt her!”

“I see now the reason you chose me instead of Avatar Roku or Avatar Kyoshi, whether you were aware of it or not. You're missing something crucial... something that not even they would see.”

“What is it?”

“You're an Air Nomad, Aang.”

Aang waited. Since no explanation came, he spoke. “Well, yeah, that's kind of hard to miss.” He gestured at himself, “orange robes, bald head, tattoos—you know, the whole package. I don't see how it should change things, though.”

“You know that, but you forgot what it means. The love you carry in your heart is the truest expression of our heritage. You can't love like Katara does, because you were raised in the Air Temples and your heart knows no boundaries or shame. Most people would consider things like distance, social status, race or gender, but you never put meaning in such limitations. That's the way of Air Nomads, Aang, our way.”

“But Katara loves me too, who cares if she's not an Air Nomad!”

“While her love for you runs deep and fierce, she has a different understanding of what it means. Sometimes, as you experienced, this can cause conflict. Katara expected you to have romantic feelings for her and her only. You certainly love her and did your best to grant her wish in full, but by doing this you failed to see that chain for what it was and how it would hurt you both.”

“This sounds an awful lot like 'you're destined to hurt everyone and you better not try to have a relationship ever again'.”

“I'd say it's more like 'you seem to be naturally inclined to love more than one person in a romantic sense and your culture never repressed this attitude like others would have'.”

“Am I really not capable to feel romantic love for only one person? I think I can learn. I learned a lot of difficult things that opposed my Air Nomad nature, so why not this one? I want to be with Katara. I miss her so much...”

“But you also want to be with Zuko, don't you?”

“I... I can't be with him. That wouldn't be fair.”

“Why not?”

“I don't want to push my feelings on him. I never asked for this and he certainly didn't either!”

“It seems our conversation has come full circle. You insist that Zuko will reject your feelings, that they will cause him distress and pain, but that's an assumption on your part—quite the heavy one, at that. Do you trust your best friend so little?”

“Of course I trust Zuko, I trust him with my life! It's myself I don't trust, and I don't want to jeopardize our friendship!”

“And yet, you treat him like a fragile glass sculpture. The bond you share has weathered way worse than a love confession gone wrong. Zuko himself has weathered worse.”

[Zuko’s pov, reflecting on something that had happened with Aang. i don’t remember if i had a plan for it, but it’s possible that it was actually the Papaya Incident from another fic of mine, He gives me the holiday I needed all the time]

Pebbles lay scattered on the sand, round and shiny from the waves. He picked one up and rolled it between his fingers; it was black, a solid weight, and smooth to the touch when he ran his thumbs over it.

His mind wandered, lulled by the sound of the wind and the sea.

Things with Aang were going well. After the initial period of embarassment on both parts, they'd eventually reached a new stability and stopped obsessing over every little thing they did and said. The hot springs accident had helped a lot and Aang's sun-kissed nature had done the rest; Zuko'd let himself be led, knowing that his friend was the most vulnerable, not to mention the one he trusted to make the right decisions—way more than he trusted himself.

He remembered what the old ladies had told him years before about the Island. Without consciously realizing it before, those words were the reason why Zuko was there—sitting on the beach by himself, holding a rock and waiting for the magic to happen.

A tingling in the back of his head reminded that he didn't know what the water would bring ashore this time. There were still so many sharp angles in him for the sea to smooth over, so many questions that may or may not be best left unanswered.

Nonetheless, he stayed. He'd always been too stubborn for his own good.

He threw the pebble over the water and watched it skirt on the surface. One, two, three, then down with a small plop.

Things with Aang were going well, and yet Zuko was antsy. He'd adapted and was comfortable in their situation, but something had irremediably shifted the night before. Something that was probably brewing slow and deep since Aang's confession.

They weren't kids anymore. It used to be a nostalgic thought for Zuko; it reminded him of how many years had passed already, of the responsibilities on their shoulders. The difference in their ages didn't feel like a chasm anymore, especially since their roles put them on equal ground; they'd matured, losing a big chunk of the recklessness of youth. Zuko'd learned to hold his temper (most of the times) and Aang'd learned to be serious and diplomatic (when needed).

Now, though, their adulthood also held a different kind of weight and Zuko was running out of excuses not to notice.

The arch of Aang's impish grin, the vibrations of his laughter, the scratch of his beard on Zuko's cheek as he hugged him... they pulled at strings that any other friend couldn't reach. Aang had always been special. This was another layer of Zuko's defenses slowly being peeled away, another way in which Aang was turning his life upside down to make him discover new paths and new meaning.

Zuko had never been attracted to a man before, which meant that of course Aang had to be the exception.

There, he'd admitted it, in the privacy of his own head, with the burning circle of the setting sun as a witness. He was attracted to Aang. He was charismatic and funny and handsome and fuck if Zuko hadn't wanted to kiss him the day before.

[more flirting]

“I never noticed that the tattoos on your arms are separated from the one on the back... and I guess the ones on the legs are separate too,” Zuko pondered, lazily following the blue line that traced Aang's spine and disappeared under yellow fabric to reappear again on both of his thighs.

“You've seen me half naked a million times and you're noticing it now?” Aang asked, all cheek and impishness.

“Well, yes, I wasn't really looking though.”

“You weren't, but now you are?” Aang's smirk turned almost lecherous as he wiggled his eyebrows in the most theatrical flirting in history. “I'm flattered, darling, but if you want me to take my clothes off to, ah, 'see the tattoo' you have to wine and dine me first.”

“...you just said I've already seen you half naked and I certainly didn't wine and dine you first.”

“Ah, but that was different—now you're looking!”

“What if I was only pretending not to look?”

“Then you already owe me the wine and dining, even though proper behaviour would have been asking me out before the ogling. I'd say I expected better from the Fire Lord of all people, but I understand the irresistible appeal of my toned, hot body.” He stroke some poses to show off his muscles and Zuko busied himself with a thorough examinations of his own fingernails. It was nothing he hadn't already seen anyway, no need to stare while his friend acted like a dork and interpreted what seemed airbending forms with abandon, since he already knew how Aang looked, thank you very much.

Which is why he was completely unprepared for the sulking, cross-armed Airbender hovering so close that he could taste his body heat.

“Stop ignoring me! Rude!” Aang lamented as a truly wounded man.

It should have been exhausting to deal with all that unbridled shifting energy contained in a single person, the constant pull that kept Zuko's attention inside the vortex that was Aang... and yet, it wasn't, because Zuko wasn't alone in this. Since that day a lifetime ago under the fiery eyes of Dragons, they'd never stopped dancing—they danced and pulled at each other's strings, dug in deep darkness and broke down walls to let the light in.

No force on the Earth could have stopped the blush rising to Zuko's cheeks as the split-second realization brushed his thoughts and exploded with bursting colors.

Spirits, he loved Aang.

Of course, this wasn't exactly new. However, it was the flavor of it, the quality of the burn, hot and vibrating and fierce, the senses amplified by the proximity of the wonderful man before him.

[Aang is acting strangely (bc of depression and all the rest) and the gaang notices]

Toph's inquisitive eyes didn't bear anything good for Aang. Her abilities always allowed her to slip into people's spaces, more often than not in a way that let her obtain blackmail material galore; his heartbeat quickened and he cursed himself because that was just what he needed, another incriminating piece of evidence in her probably already long list... for whatever his crime was.

Katara, Sokka and Suki stared at both of them, unsure of the meaning of their silent conversation.

Aang silently begged for some of his enemies to sweep through the windows and try to kill him. He would take them on all together if needed, as long as he could avoid hearing the next words out of the earthbender's mouth. Could he take a quick trip to the Spirit World? It seemed a nice option, to leave his unconscious body and his friends entirely behind.

Then, Toph opened her mouth.

“Out, Twinkletoes.”

She stomped a foot and raised her arms. Aang was catapulted out of the door, quickly and brutally, before he could realize that she was, in fact, being considerate and granting them privacy. Small mercies, indeed.

“Don't think I don't know that you know I know,” she announced as he pulled his arm until they entered the adjacent room. The ominous echo of the door closing made Aang discover that, mildly considerate Toph or not, in no way did he want to have this conversation.

“So, what's with you and Flame Boy there? Did he ask you to kill him again?”

Subtle as a ostrich horse mating call... or a boulder to the face.

“He didn't do anything, Toph,” Aang answered, trying to cover the giant tangle of mess in his chest with exasperation.

Toph, of course, wasn't fooled. “Makes sense, since he was acting normal—well, normal for his overdramatic royal ass.” She put her hands on her hips, legs apart in her best rooted stance. “So you're the one with the problem, and I bet he doesn't even know.”

“Please. I don't feel like talking about this.” The tiniest crack in his voice, as the surface of an iced lake that could break and swallow him up for a single misstep. His hand found his prayer beads and caressed them.

“Spill,” Toph ordered.

“I said no!” Aang shouted, “leave me alone!”

“While it's nice to meet your backbone again, I'm not going anywhere. Spill.”

Aang's blood was boiling. A distant part of him wondered if he was actually firebending from every pore of his body, like a human torch of anger. She taught him to stand his ground, didn't she? He was going to show her how good of a student he was. He didn't own her any explanation for anything. “Why do you have to be like this? It's always a game to you, poking and prodding at things that are not yours to know! Can't you see that I'm already miserable enough as it is?”

“I can see it quite well and I'm blind, Aang—that's exactly why I'm doing this! You've been moping anxiously and hiding it from everyone for months. I'm sick of your shit, you're obviously not managing to fix whatever the problem is, and you're going to tell me what's wrong right now!”

“Moping anxiously?” He laughed, an ugly sound, like scratching the bottom of a barrel. “So if I don't act all light-and-laughter every single moment of my life, you get 'sick of my shit'? How about you let me live and have emotions like a normal human being?”

“I would have bashed any other human being's head in for being so infuriating. You're lucky I'm trying to help you, though you don't seem to give a shit!”

The echoing silence constricted his chest. His temples pulsed. His eyes burned. They weren't getting anywhere, it was exhausting, he just wanted it to end.

“It's not just Zuko, isn't it?” Toph said too softly, after a too long pause. That gentleness didn't belong on her voice and Aang hated it.

“This isn't any of your business. I'm leaving,” Aang spat out.

He turned, ripped the door open and disappeared into the corridor; Toph didn't feel his footsteps—he'd probably airbended his way out of the building.

She shook his head, wide eyes staring into nothingness. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Twinkletoes?”

[follow-up to the previous scene]

“So, I may have royally fucked up,” Toph announced, spreading her arms in a dramatic fashion.

“What did you do to him?” Katara asked sharply. Toph registered her body humming with pent up energy, coiled and ready to snap.

“Yeah, what did you do? I haven't heard Aang raising his voice in years. You must have delivered some serious ass kicking,” Sokka added. At least it seemed like he wasn't sharpening his sword—not yet.

“I asked him what the hell's wrong and he blew up on me.”

Katara's eyebrows furrowed and she slowly asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Toph enunciated, “that he's acting weird. Weird as in he's got issues and he doesn't want to acknowledge them and he's shutting us out because he thinks that pretending to be fine is serving some sort of purpose when obviously it doesn't.”

Katara wasn't a ball of menacing vibrations anymore. In fact, she was unnaturally still—hesitating. “What do you mean, 'issues'?”

“Does he seem okay to you? Don't tell me you, of all people, haven't noticed! His responses are off, he speaks like he's reading from a script, he pulls out his magic avoidance tricks whenever we try to have any sort of meaningful interaction with him!”

“Of course I noticed,” Katara sighed. “I've been worried—really worried—since Bumi's funeral. I know that everyone mourns differently, but... he buried his friend and the next day he was already busy with some ambassador duty for the Northern Water Tribe. When I offered him support, he smiled and changed the subject. I thought that maybe Air Nomads have a different understanding of death, that this detachment is part of his culture. I should have trusted my intuition from the start instead of letting him sweep everything under the rug.”

[Aang and Katara break up]

“It's Zuko, isn't it.”

Aang squeezed his eyes shut. There was no hiding this. “Yes.”

“You clearly love him—it's so obvious now that I let myself see it.”

“Katara... I'm so sorry.”

“Please, don't. This is... I don't know what to say. Just—go to him, be happy together, whatever you need to do. Just go, Aang. I can't do this.”

He couldn't do this either. To see Katara, his strong, fierce Katara, with trembling lips and wet eyes was torture.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated, “I'm so sorry.”

He broke her heart. He loved her. He hurt her.

So he did what he always did: he ran away.

[Aang’s confession, first version]

“Aang, why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you?” Aang questioned.

“About you and Katara,” Zuko answered. “I mean, you don't have to tell me, but apparently everyone else knew and I was the only one left out of the loop. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, Zuko. It's just...” Aang gestured weakly, like he was trying to conjure the right words from thin air.

Zuko waited for Aang to elaborate. It didn't happen. They kept feeding the turtleducks in silence, Zuko sitting cross-legged with his back propped on the tree and Aang with his pants rolled up and his feet in the water.

“Aang, I didn't want to pry or make you uncomfortable. It's your business—and Katara's, I guess... anyway, not mine. So, uh... sorry.” He scratched the back of his neck, self-consciously.

Silence, again, thick and full of undecipherable things.

When their eyes met, hundreds of lives dwelled behind Aang's gaze, heavy with unspeakable burdens. The eyes of the Avatar, reflections of a long, unbroken line of heroes and protectors. They had lived, they had seen.

Too much for Zuko, whose chest tightened in the struggle to catch his breath. What was happening? This Aang was so vulnerable, so... raw. Rarely had he seen his friend so close to unraveling.

“You don't have to apologize. You're right, I didn't tell you, but it wasn't because of something you did—it's because you're you, and I couldn't deal with it.”

“I'm... me? What is that supposed to mean?”

“I love you,” Aang said. “That's why Katara broke up with me, why I couldn't tell you. I love you and it's a mess.”

Aang's words might as well had been shouted, for how they left Zuko stranded and grasping at something, anything that was supposed to make sense of what he'd just heard. Because surely there was an explanation. Aang loved Katara to death and beyond. This was some kind of elaborate joke that Zuko hadn't caught up on.

“Come on, what really happened?”

Walls shut off any reaction from the Air Nomad. He was in business mode—imperturbable, collected, the perfect picture of the perfect hero; his smile was so fake it gave Zuko the creeps as he said: “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have burdened you with this. I'm leaving.”

This wasn't supposed to happen. It was happening all the same, though, and this was the crossroad where years of friendship could slip like water through Zuko's fingers if he didn't do something to stop it.

He was still petrified.

His hand moved and grabbed Aang's wrist and made him turn. They were face to face, touching yet almost unreachable. Almost.

“Don't go. I don't want you to—” leave me.

No flicker of acknowledgment from under Aang's façade of rocks and hollowness, though he'd stopped in his tracks and now stood there, staring, with Zuko still holding his wrist.

“I don't know what to say. This is... unexpected and I will probably need time to digest it, but please, don't go like this. We can talk.”

“I betrayed you.”

“What are you talking about?”

The façade was starting to fall apart.

“We were friends and I fell for you. You trusted me and I had to ruin everything with this. I'm sorry.”

What the hell? “Okay, you know what? Now I'm getting pissed,” Zuko growled. “You didn't ruin anything! Stop this fucking ridiculous guilt-trip right now!”

“This isn't a ridiculous guilt-trip!” Aang yelled, and there it was, the fire that burned down the walls.

“I'm shocked to discover that my best friend's in love with me since I had no fucking clue before this conversation, but guess what? It's not the end of the fucking world! You should know better, since you saved it once already!”

“How can you be okay with this?! It's creepy and it's wrong!”

“Do you want me to hate you? Because it seems like that's what you're waiting for, and you refuse to accept that I don't hate you at all!”

[Aang’s confession, second version]

“Why didn't you tell me that you and Katara broke up? I had to hear it fom Suki, of all people!”

“Oh. That. I, uh... kind of didn't want to tell you.”

“So it was on purpose! And you're evading my question.”

“It's... um. Complicated?”

“Did you cheat on her with Mai? I might have to challenge you to an Agni Kai for that.”

Aang choked on air, which made Zuko's eyebrows rise. “Please don't tell me you did it for real.”

“I didn't cheat on Katara, and especially not with Mai.”

“Thank Spirits. I wouldn't be able to win in a duel against you. So, what happened? Suki said she didn't know and she seemed sincere.”

“No one else knows, just me and Katara.”

“Is it a secret? I won't pry if it is.” He was so very curious, though—it was clear as the water from the pond in front of them.

“Definitely something that I wouldn't want people to know, yeah,” Aang said. He fidgeted, playing with his necklace and stroking its wooden shapes. “But you probably should.”

“I should?” The conversation was becoming weirder by the minute. “Well, tell me then.”

Zuko turned to face his friend and—was Aang blushing? The back of Zuko's neck prickled, a familiar yet undecipherable sensation. What was going on?

“Look, Zuko, I... uh...” Aang stuttered. He covered one of his eyes with a hand and took a deep, steadying breath, then muttered: “Ugh, it's like pulling teeth. Worse than learning Earthbending.”

Lacking a decent answer to that, Zuko waited for Aang to catch his thoughts, whatever they were.

Aang tried again. “You know we're friends, right?”

“Yeah,” Zuko replied, hesitant.

“I'm in love with you.”

“...what?”

The can of worms had been opened and Zuko could only listen and stare, mouth agape, as the Air Nomad barreled on. “One day I realized that what I felt for you was different than friendship and—I'd always chalked that up to you being you, you know? You've always been special to me, but it's such a tender feeling and it scared me a little, and when I talked about it to Katara she got mad and cried and broke up with me. So, uh, that's what happened.”

Turtleducks paddled happily on the water, the mother guiding her little offspring in swaying curves to peck at the breadcrumbs the two men had thrown for them. There was so much green in the garden, so much peace and sweet birdsongs. Time had no weight nor shape here.

It was Zuko's turn to be utterly uneloquent.

“That's... not what I was expecting. At all.” A memory suddenly surfaced and his face coloured. “Wait, so that time at the hot springs—you did it on purpose?”

“What? Spirits, Zuko, no!”

“Well, what should I think? You come here and you tell me that you're in love with me since who knows how long, I'm sort of freaking out right now!”

“Nothing changed! If you didn't realize before I told you, why are you so worried?”

“I—it's weird, okay?” Zuko bellowed. “And you can't say nothing changed, you've been in love with Katara for so long, and now you're not, and you love me!”

“But I do love Katara.”

“What? How?”

“What do you mean, 'how'?”

“Well, it's either one or the other, no? You must have a... preference or something for her or me.” He paused. “I can't believe I'm having this conversation.”

The sky was immensely blue, the perfect day for a ride on Appa, and Aang, too, couldn't believe he was having this conversation—but, surreal as it was, it was also necessary. Zuko was proving the point Avatar Yang Chen had made to Aang years before: Air Nomads had a particular outlook on life and love that clashed with the other cultures'.

So, it was the moment where Aang had to explain love to his (other) beloved all over again.

“I don't have a 'preference', I really love you both... there's no way to compare because you're not Katara and Katara isn't you, and in any case I don't care because you're both fundamental, irreplaceable elements in my life. I'm not expecting you to love me back, but it's very important to me to be your friend.” He touched Zuko's arm softly, a question for reassurance, and his voice was clear but low. “Can we be friends? You know—after this?”

The stutter followed by a lack of words, Zuko's averted eyes... they fed the pit in Aang's stomach, a slime-covered, abyss-dwelling monster, but he couldn't—wouldn't—force his hand. This was it, yet another crucial moment in their lives that made them or broke them.

“Your friendship has survived worse,” Avatar Yang Chen had said, so Aang closed his eyes and waited for the monster to strike or leave. I've survived worse, too. I'll be okay.

When Zuko got up and started pacing, Aang decided that focusing his own attention on something else was the best way to leave him space. It's a good sign that he didn't punch me in the face, right? He wouldn't still be here and pacing if he hated me. That doesn't sound like Zuko, he's way too impulsive to not explode in a situation like this. He's probably confused, and stuff. Yes.

He let his eyes wander, a bit more hopeful. Focusing on something else... like the turtleducks, who looked inviting indeed, all tiny and fluffed up and cute.

He took a piece of bread from the satchel and spread the crumbs in the grass in front of him with all the art he could muster; satisfied, he watched and waited. C'mon, there's food here! Delicious bread, just for you! Momo would have been on the loaf way before it was pulled out from the bag. They barely deigned him and his prize a glance. Rude! But he still wanted to pet them, because they were adorable. Making sounds to attract them would interrupt Zuko's brooding.

What to do?

Perhaps they wouldn't shy away if he got closer.

A man on a mission, Aang creeped towards the edge of the pond, slow and silent like the trained monk he was. One of his targets seemed to notice him and tilted its head curiously. Hello, little one. By some miracle, it started to head in Aang's direction.

[Bumi’s funeral]

It was more of a drizzle than rain, really. Tiny, steady droplets of water pelted softly Aang's smooth head and bare arms. The sky was partecipating in their mourning like the kind old friend that it was.

Omashu's mail service wasn't operative; a gentle stream slid down the railing instead. Bumi would have loved to slide on the now wet road—he probably did it every time the occasion arose, Aang mused.

Except now Bumi rested, too still, in an elaborately carved yet solid wooden box and wouldn't go sliding in the mail system ever again.

The King of Omashu was dead.

Bumi was dead, and with him the last person who'd survived from Aang's life before the iceberg. Now he was with the others, and they weren't gone... but they weren't with Aang either. They were spirits now. No one, not a single one would walk on Earth anymore—they would play in the crowded, sunny courtyard in the Air Nomad's memories, to be remembered and cherished with smiling faces and bright hearts.

[Aang and Aunt Wu aka the fortuneteller]

“First Katara, then Guru Pathik, then you! Why is everyone like this? Why can't anyone just give me a straight answer for once, instead of acting like my life is a series of riddles to solve? This 'fated Avatar' thing's gotten old and I'm tired of it!” He can barely breathe, his own element betraying him, and his voice cracks as the wood of a funeral pyre as he goes on. “Is this what I saved the world for? Giving everyone else a future where they belong, by sacrificing mine?”

“An interesting question, Avatar.”

“MY NAME IS AANG!” he yells, desperate, selfish as the day he was born, when all he cared for was survival; he feels stripped as raw and defenseless as then, tender skin in a world too bright and big, unable to carry himself through it and crying his heart out to fill his lungs with life.

He grits his teeth, suffocating the instinct to spill more useless words that he won't be able to take back.

[joonsdiary]

worth fighting for (04)

pairing: jungkook x female reader genre/warning: fluff, angst / royalty au, historical au / tw: poor attempts at humour (as usual) mentions of blood/wounds, a little bit of action, even more pining—would this be considered slowburn now? hm... unless? word count: 7,574

summary: fresh out of the perils of war, jungkook didn’t think that his task as the newly appointed general would be to look after you.

                                                                          FOUR.

Suffocating tension hangs in the air like a thick fog and Jungkook mentally curses the chambermaid for her feebleness, revealing something she should not have. He knows the situation is dire and stakes are high, therefore it’s quite easy to have a slip of the tongue. But she still should have known better.

He regards the three men with compelling confidence, hoping they do not see right through his façade. One of the men leans forward and murmurs something to the other. The eldest of them throttle closer to him and Jungkook straightens his back and pulls on his horse’s rein to guide him closer towards the stranger.

“Your Majesty?” Finally comes the bandit’s hoarse voice, eyes flickering at the carriage behind Jungkook with interest.

Jungkook tries not to make it obvious he’s reaching for the sword strapped around his waist as he shrugs at the man with feigned disinterest. He did not want to incite a fight that he knows will put you in danger. Yet his hand couldn’t help but hover subtly over the handle of his trusted weapon.

“Shouldn’t we all treat our wives like royalty they deserve to be?” Jungkook states slowly, making sure to get his point across despite feeling squeamish over his choice of words. In his mind, it sounded way more chivalrous than when he’d uttered them. Hearing it echo out of his mouth feels silly and inept.

Apparently, it sounds as ridiculous to the strangers as it did to Jungkook because they look at each other with brows knitted in confusion. The two younger men snicker to themselves, meanwhile, the one Jungkook’s talking to merely rolls his eyes.

“We aren’t too far from the palace, so it may be an actual royalty riding in that carriage.” He mocks, and Jungkook doesn’t miss the deep scar running on the right side of his cheek. He deduces he could be the leader since the other two listen intently and nod along to his statement.

“The question is…” the leader trails off, eyeing Jungkook with a newfound interest. “Why would a member of the royal family ride along on this particular path, and with seemingly just one palace guard? That is what you are, no?”

The bandit regards Jungkook, but he doesn’t flinch, fighting hard not to give anything away. He made sure to pick clothes that didn’t stand out too well, for all intents and purposes. Therefore, he donned garments usually worn by merchants — light sapphire outer coat with navy blue pants — yet they’ve managed to figure him out, much to Jungkook’s dismay

Jungkook is slightly appalled that they’d assess him as a mere palace guard—no offence to his dear friend Mingyu — he did not come all this way to be belittled in spite of his accomplishments. Then something in Jungkook’s mind clicks. And if one listens closely enough, they’ll hear rusty gears slowly churning, the crevices of his mind being put to good use. If they don’t know I’m a general, then that must mean…

“I’m sure you’re all very fine gentlemen.” He begins once more, a pretence of calmness intertwining between the cadence in his voice despite his stomach twisting into several knots. “So, I would appreciate it if you’d let us pass through—”

“Does this man think we’re idiots, San?” The man with a scar on his cheek cuts Jungkook off, an apparent smirk forming on his lips. He glances at the young boy beside him, who Jungkook believes is not old enough to be running around with men who are up to no good.

“I think he does, m’lord,” the young boy nods and by this time Jungkook’s grip is firm around the handle of his sword.

“Lord…?” Jungkook’s brow furrowed in confusion, eyeing the man with the scar. “May I ask whose bannermen you all are?”

It’s possible for them to not know the great families of Sejo if they are truly outsiders. He is sure they’re not his family’s bannermen, of course, as he prides himself in being well-informed when it comes to putting faces into names. So, that rules his family out; he doubts his father will do something as scandalous as to send people to possibly assassinate the princess – he sees no reason for him to do so.

The Kim family, on the other hand, rarely let their men wander without carrying a banner that showed their sigil. He’s sure the Knight of the Flowers – as he recalls you’ve oh-so-fondly referred to the current head of the Kim family – has a lot on his plate after inheriting his father’s title.

Surely it can’t be your own family. The king will let his general know if he planned on having his men follow him. But it didn’t make sense because they came from the opposite direction; he doubts they’re the royalty’s bannermen.

Perhaps it’s the Yoon’s; their recent seclusion and the fact that they barely provided aid and garrison during the previous war makes Jungkook think they could be behind this mess. The Yi’s of Naath, despite being a recently assimilated part of Sejo, will not dare defy the crown and send men after the royal princess whether they knew of the king’s plans or not.

“Aren’t you a little too curious for a mere merchant – or so you claim? Your clothes may conceal your true identity but the weapons you carry betray your theatrics.” The man smirks in a way that contorts his scar, making him seem more intimidating. “Surely, you are aware mercenaries can’t be bannermen.”

Hearing him admit he’s a mercenary alarm Jungkook because it means they didn’t run into these three men by accident. Someone possibly paid them to be here. He combs his brain, attempting to name those who know about the plan and comes up with a very concise list. Since the king wanted the meeting of the two royalty to be kept a secret, there aren’t many who know about the situation and are powerful enough to hire mercenaries.

Jungkook glances at Jimin, who nods towards him with a look of acknowledgement; he’s ready.

He may not know Jimin personally, having formally met him days before they had to depart the castle, but he’s heard from you that Jimin also fought during the war. He was in General Kim’s garrison, so Jungkook doesn’t doubt Jimin’s ability to brandish a sword if it has to come down to that situation.

“I’m cutting to the chase because this is getting extremely tedious, especially for an old man like me.” Scarface — Jungkook thinks the name has a nice ring to it — declares, and as soon as he does, the two young men on either side unsheathe their sword. Jungkook couldn’t help but snort because it seems like a disgrace to classify their needle-of-a-blade amongst those that were forged from the mightiest Sejon steel. But perhaps now is not the right time to be comparing who crafts better weapons.

“We want whoever you’re carrying inside that carriage,” Jungkook is surprised when San speaks up, his meek voice not suiting his wicked intentions.

He inhales slowly before sighing. He puffs his cheeks out in an attempt to look annoyed and confused, hoping to still put up the air of pretence. “Look, I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I have no patience to stick around. As I said, my wife has to see a physician right away.”

Jungkook recognizes the futility of repeating himself over and over to the men who pose a threat to your safety. But if he stalls further, it could help him figure out who’s behind all of this. He’s learned that impatient people tend to reveal their intentions when they don’t get their way. Or perhaps he just likes how the word my wife rolls seamlessly off the tip of his tongue. The thought of domesticated life with you is enough for the muscles in his cheeks to twitch, pulling his lips into an undeniable grin.

He can’t decide between the two, but he prefers the latter.

“I guess we’ll just have to take her by force,” the man with a scarred cheek sneers before nodding towards Jungkook.

He didn’t have time to assess what’s about to come. But he hears one of the horses neighing loudly before he notices San is racing towards him, his blade pointed out. Jungkook unsheathes his sword just in time to unhand San without injuring him. He loses balance before falling off his horse completely.

The second young man, who’s also around San’s age, comes up at Jungkook much stealthier, catching him completely off guard. The blunt end of the sword scratches the nape of his neck ever so slightly which startles Jungkook, causing him to slash the young man’s torso. The younger recoils back and relinquishes his sword.

Jungkook scoffs as he slips off his horse before walking towards scar-face confidently.

“You consider yourself mercenaries?” He mocks and Scarface’s jaw tightens in response. From the corner of his eye, he observes the two of them scramble to their feet to gather their weapons and Jungkook shakes his head, chuckling in disbelief. He’s been in enough spars and had plenty of experience to know the two are novices, and quite frankly awkward.

To put it simply, he knows they don’t have an inkling on how to properly brandish a damn sword and at least pretend like they know what they are doing.

In a few swift moves, both young men were down on their knees once more, much to Jungkook’s dismay. It brings him no pleasure to trample over enemies—especially those younger than him. He knows what it’s like to witness such cruelty at such a young age.  

“Stay down, kid,” he murmurs to San before patting him once on his shoulder. The younger man grunts menacingly and moves away from his touch.

“You’re not just a mere palace guard, are you?” Scarface says slowly as if he’s still deliberating the certainty of his claim. Jungkook holds his hands up and shrugs. He knows better than to give anything away to the person attempting to kill him.

The mercenary pulls out his longsword and throws it down the ground.

“I think it’s only fair if we fight with our fists. The winner gets the package while the loser receives the privilege of dying.”

“None of this is fair,” Jungkook sneers and eyes the mercenary, who merely shrugs. “And don’t you dare refer to my —”

“Your wife, yes, my apologies, m’lord,” the mercenary mocks and mimes a half-bow. Jungkook sighs defeatedly, placing his sword down near the hooves of his horse.

Not too far away, Jimin is busy ensuring the two young men won’t run away.

Jungkook gets into a sparring stance, his hands clenched into fists and his knees slightly bent. The mercenary mimics his movements and it irks Jungkook to no end, feeling as if he is being parroted for the sake of exaggeration.

He’s in a defensive position, his hands slightly obscuring his face for protection. The mercenary’s right arm flinches so Jungkook’s instinct tells him to dodge left but when he does, he is met with the man’s uppercut which strikes him square in the jaw.

He stumbles back from the sheer force of the blow, but he’s more taken aback by his lack of awareness; in hindsight, he should have seen that one coming. He hears a small gasp from behind him but doesn’t turn to see who it could have been, admittedly terrified that doing so could put him at an even more disadvantage.

Scarface chuckles and Jungkook fights the urge to tackle him down. Focus, Jungkook.

Jungkook notices that the mercenary is off-balance every time he shifts between his feet, seemingly nursing an injured part of his right leg. A possible sign of weakness doesn’t surprise him, and he does his best to maintain the same composure as to not reveal his motives. Beads of sweat roll down the nape of his neck as he waits for a sliver of opening; it doesn’t help that he towers over Jungkook and seems much heavier than him now that he sees him up close.

Scarface loses footing and Jungkook takes the chance to swipe his leg with his right foot before jabbing him square in the stomach. The latter groans, recoiling with his back hunched.

“Why don’t you tell me who you really are, and what you’re doing here?” Jungkook seethes. The mercenary merely chuckles before looking at him, eyes gleaming with amusement despite his disadvantaged state.

“My apologies. The name’s Pyo,” his familiarity and friendliness irk Jungkook. “And I thought I had made my intentions clear over and over, and over again.”

The grin on Pyo’s face morphs into a menacing scowl. That is the only thing Jungkook remembers seeing before feeling a benign coldness creeping from his torso to his chest. It’s only seconds after that he realizes the pooling liquid of blood seeping throughout his thin tunic that he notices a small blade wedged somewhere in his midriff.

Well, that can’t be good.

“General!”

Jungkook hears Jimin’s voice laced with panic, sounding far-reaching and muffled despite only being a few steps away. His knees threaten to buckle beneath him, but he makes the effort to stand his ground, refusing to let the scum mercenary think he’s won.

Jimin rushes to catch Jungkook’s teetering body before he hits the ground. It’s clear the mercenary is not threatened by Jimin’s presence at all when he makes no effort to stop him.

“You’re a general? And all this time you made me think of you as a mere palace guard,” Pyo says, fingers skimming over the scar on his cheek thoughtfully before shrugging. “Anyway, they’ll be glad to know I stole the princess from the protection of the general, himself. Perhaps I’ll get double the amount I’m owed.”

Jungkook’s head shoots up at the mention of you. With Jimin propping him up, there is almost nothing stopping Pyo from taking you. Jimin seems to notice this as well and mutters an apology to Jungkook before letting him go and grabbing the nearly forgotten sword on the ground.

Pyo scoffs, unimpressed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a princess to save.”

Before Pyo could turn away from him and Jimin, Jungkook hears the faint whistle of an arrow slicing through the air. He hears a loud grunt and before he could blink up to see what has happened, the mercenary falls on his side with a resounding thud. He watches in confusion as blood sputters out of Pyo’s neck where the arrow has lodged itself deeply into. Truly a gruesome sight that makes his stomach clench, but he can’t bring himself to look away. His head spins frantically, and he could practically taste bile crawling its way up to his throat.

Only when he hears another snapping of the bow that he wakes from his stupor. He doesn’t see where the arrow lands in particular – somewhere in his back perhaps?

He blinks.

Once.

Twice.

Where in the heavens did that come from in the first place?

“Your Highness!”

Jimin practically squeals beside him, before sprinting away from Jungkook. He looks up to see you dangerously out in the open. Exposed. Vulnerable.

Yet he couldn’t help as his jaw slackens in awe as you lower the weapon slowly, your eyes locked onto his. Neither you nor he wavers until you collapse on the ground, the crossbow slipping from your grasp. Jimin is quick to react and grasps your shoulders firmly as he kneels beside you.

Jungkook hisses and breathes in through his gritted teeth — it’s just a knife to the torso; I’ve experienced worse.

Miyoung rushes out of the carriage to help Jimin prop you up, knees wobbling and all.

“I’m fine, it’s just…I was nervous about —” you pause, eyeing Jungkook before mustering a foolish grin. “That was the first time I stretched my legs in hours. I’m fine.”

“How did you even manage to obtain a weapon?” Jimin admonishes you in the slightest, though it’s apparent that he’s only worried you could have gotten hurt in the process. You reply with a sheepish smile, but Jungkook is unsure because everybody is moving and spinning in all directions and wait…why the hell are there two princesses?

“I might or might not have gone through your belongings behind the carriage.”

“I tried stopping her from going out but —”

“I hate to break your little chat but…a little help would be nice.”

Jungkook manages to string a few words, attempting to stand up but failing miserably. He ends up landing on his knees before he sees you running up to him, with a dumb worried look painted across your face. Your brows are furrowed together in concentration, cheeks tinted from the heat and mouth agape as if you’re a fish out of water. Your hair is completely dishevelled and out of place, strands swinging wildly in the air.

For the first time in a while, Jungkook allows himself to laugh unprompted; a kind of giggle that bubbles up from the depths of his stomach and blossoms its way up to his chest. His shoulders shake uncontrollably as you place his arms around your shoulder in an attempt to help him up. Jimin rushes to follow you and does the same on his left side.

“I think he’s starting to become delirious. Might be loss of blood.” Jimin mumbles as he grunts before hoisting Jungkook up to his feet, bearing most of his weight so you don’t have to.

Not really, Jungkook thinks to himself. Or maybe he mumbled it out loud — he isn’t certain at this point. It’s just that…her face was so damn hilarious. Running up to me with that expression and all.

“I have ointments and bandages that my mother asked me to pack.”

You rush out of Jungkook’s grasp and Jimin grunts, bearing all of Jungkook’s weight in one swift movement. Miyoung is conflicted and is unsure whether to follow you or to help Jimin out but in the end, you rush back out while carrying the supplies wrapped neatly in white cloth.

“We should probably set him down somewhere,” Jimin announces rather obviously.

“Inside the carriage is an ideal place,” you murmur, and Jungkook nods in a daze. Jimin glances behind him before wrapping Jungkook’s arm around you.

“Here, you take him inside. I’m going to deal with those two out here.”

Jungkook sways in your direction and he has enough decency not to lean all his weight on you. Miyoung holds the door open and Jungkook climbs weakly inside, letting his body fall back into the cushion. There is a brief sense of relief Jungkook feels now he’s certain of yours as well as everyone else’s safety. He slowly sinks within the comfort of the soft chair, allowing himself to focus on something other than the throbbing pain in his waist.

The next few seconds feel like a whirlwind of blurred scenarios, but he remembers being asked to bite down on a thickly rolled cloth. Jungkook finds it odd at first, but he knows it’s not the right time to question the motives of those that are trying to help him.

He attempts to comprehend the need for the bunched-up cloth in his mouth when—

“Augh,” his eyes widened as he groaned, hands clutching the nearest object which happened to your arm.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, but at least the worst part is done.” You whisper soothingly before lowering the arrow beside you. Jungkook visibly relaxes as his eyes slowly close but you gently tap him on his cheek to prevent him from doing so. “Probably best if you stay awake.”

Jungkook grunts in response but follows your instructions, making sure to keep his eyes open, even if it’s just halfway. He removes the cloth from his mouth and watches as you quickly disrobe him of his bloody tunic. He’s tempted to say something, his lower lip edging between his teeth.

He ignores the odd looks that Miyoung keeps giving him and focuses on you instead. It’s hard for him to miss the bright red tint of your cheeks as you continue to tend to his wounds. He’s inclined to crack a joke and poke fun at your embarrassed state, but he thinks it’s probably best to keep his mouth shut this time around. You are dressing his injury, after all, and if he acts up god knows how you’ll choose to retaliate.

You unknowingly place a hand on his bare chest as you shift around to apply ointment directly at his wound. He clears his throat as his cheeks heat up from the contact and turns his head away from you, only to be met by Miyoung’s knowing grin.

“Are you feeling feverish, General? Your face is looking as bright as an apple,” she teases, and he makes the briefest eye contact with you before looking elsewhere once again.

“If that’s the case, that’s not good. The wound might be infected.”

The concern laced with your voice makes Jungkook’s chest constrict as if the airways to his lungs had been blocked completely. Is this particular feeling a side effect of the injury as well? He, too, is starting to believe he’s becoming delirious despite knowing the injuries he’s suffered are not dire enough to put him in that state.

“How do you know so much about this, anyway?” Jungkook murmurs, referring to your seemingly vast knowledge of wound treatments and infections.

“I trained with a physician a while back, shortly before the war started. I thought it would be valuable in case my father permitted me to help, even just something small like tending wounds. I was not allowed, of course,” your forehead creases either in concentration or annoyance. Possibly both.

You press a folded linen gently on top of his wound and Jungkook moans in discomfort. He stirs to move his body to a different position, but you press the hand you have on his chest. You quietly instruct Miyoung to wrap gauze over the linen before too much blood seeps into the cloth.

“Well, aren’t I lucky you decided to come along on this exciting journey with me?”

He couldn’t help it. He has to crack a joke, or else he will burst from overheating, courtesy of his rapidly beating heart.

“I’m delighted you’re aware you’d be completely helpless without me,” you grin up at him as Miyoung finishes tying up the bandage around his torso.

“Done! You’re good as new, General Jeon,” Miyoung sighs in relief, and Jungkook grins up at her.

“Stay here and rest. I’ll go and ask Jimin if he brought a mortar and pestle with him so I can prepare medicine for you to drink,” you instruct Jungkook as he struggles to put his tunic back on. He winces in pain as he extends his arm out. “Maybe you shouldn’t move around too much yet.”

“How am I supposed to get dressed, then?” Jungkook whines as he cautiously peeks at you from the corner of his eyes, hoping you’d take the bait.

“Here, give it to me,” you roll your eyes and take Jungkook’s clothes from his grasp.

“Why don’t I go ask Jimin if he has the supplies, instead?” Miyoung takes the medicine from you and grins at Jungkook. She leans in towards you to whisper something Jungkook couldn’t hear and watches with curiosity as your forehead creases, features forming into a scowl. Miyoung hops out of the carriage before you can say anything else.

“What?” you eye him with suspicion.

“What, what? You’re just going to sit there and leave me in this state of undress?” he mimes over his chest and you grumble, motioning for him to come closer.

“You’re full of it sometimes, you know?” you roll your eyes at his theatrics. But it does nothing to deter Jungkook’s foolish attempts at enlightening the mood. You frown and he immediately leans towards you, head bowing forward as a signal for you to continue.

Alright, I get it. I’ll behave.

Jungkook murmurs a small thanks as soon as his head pops out of the collars of his tunic. The crimson hue on your cheeks is unmistakable, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes flit from his eyes down to his lips. He catches his lower lip between his teeth for good measure to see how you’d react. He isn’t disappointed in the way you turn your head completely to look at the windows, pretending as if you hadn’t been staring in the first place.

Jungkook blinks.

Is he being delirious, or did he just think you’d wanted to kiss him? Or did he want it to happen?

Probably just the loss of blood. It has to be. He continues to dress in silence, carefully pulling each arm through individual sleeves.

“Maybe I should’ve left you to bleed out and just escaped with Jimin and Miyoung.”

Jungkook chuckles and winces as soon as he does, the pain of his wound is somehow becoming more unbearable every fleeting second.

“You’d want that, wouldn’t you? You’re probably itching to have some alone time with Jimin.”

Jungkook swears to the gods he saw your eyes twinkle for the briefest moment before you break out into a beaming grin as if you’re agreeing with what he’s said. Your response is not at all what he expects, so his brows knit in confusion.

“That’s the first time you addressed him by his first name.”

“Was it that big of a deal?” Jungkook doesn’t mean to sound completely like a pompous prick, but was it that big of a deal? He quickly concludes that the answer to his previous question (which was more of an attempt to torment you, really) is yes, and decides to switch the topic.

“I mean it though. Thank you.”

“I can’t have you dying on me, General Jeon. You still have to deliver me to the Northerners in one piece, right?”

Jungkook is taken aback by the ambivalent tone of your voice accompanied by the solemn smile on your face. In an instant, he’s pulled back to the reality you’re faced with along with the true weight of what this trip entails. His eyes search for any hint of regret in yours; one that will make him turn this whole expedition around if you so much give him the tiniest hesitation.

But all he finds is silent determination, and he has no choice but to respect that. He wants to sympathize with you and the situation you’re under, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to undermine the sacrifice you’ve made. He knows that’s the price you’re willing to offer for the sake of peace.

I hope it’s worth it.

“I hope so, too,” you sigh deeply and Jungkook’s eyes widen. He’s certain he didn’t state the phrase out loud.

“Your Highness, I didn’t mean it like I was opposing the king’s decision—”

“Hey, you two! Get back here!” Jimin’s roaring voice cuts Jungkook off, and you quickly turn away from him to see what the commotion is about. He attempts to follow, but you stop him before he could get up.

“Stay. That’s an order,” you instruct sternly.

Jungkook doesn’t have the time to respond as you rush out of the carriage. He pokes his head out of the window just in time to see Jimin chasing the two captives who’re now apparently fleeing.

“Jimin, stop! Just let them go!” You scream out, and it’s enough to make Jimin halt his tracks. He whips his head around to look at you quizzically before turning back to the other two who are now too far to track down. “It’s not worth the trouble. Plus, they were merely children.”

“How noble of you.” Jungkook shakes his head disapprovingly, though he is out of earshot for you to hear what he’s said.

“Let’s just hope they don’t come back,” he says much louder this time.

You turn your attention to him and shrug. “Don’t worry. I promise I won’t allow them to hurt you again.”

Miyoung approaches Jungkook and hands him the liquid concoction and encourages him to drink it.

“Her Highness: One. General Jeon: Zero.”

Jungkook turns to your smug figure and mimics your posture.

“Oh, it’s so on.”

*  *  *

Night falls quicker than you’ve anticipated it to. But after a long day full of surprises you welcome the calming breeze that blankets the dark surrounding. Your companions on this trip think otherwise as Miyoung urges Jimin to start the fire, grumbling about regretting not bringing a thicker tunic along.

“I have some spare shirts,” Jungkook announces, having come out of the tent he just finished setting up. Miyoung beams at him expectantly, rubbing her shoulders as if to explicitly show how uncomfortable she is with her thin clothing. “You can never go wrong with too much white tunic, as they say. So, I have a lot —”

“I do too!” Jimin stands abruptly from where he sits and holds up a finger at us, signalling for us to wait as he jogs towards the carriage. He leaves the dry twigs he’s collected earlier to presumably look for his spare articles of clothing. You roll your eyes as you make your way towards the middle of the camp and attempt to take a crack at starting a fire — something Jimin’s been patiently trying even before the sun has set, but unfortunately failing to cause even a tiny spark.

You grab some wood chipping and dried leaves, setting them carefully on top of several twigs. Inhaling sharply, as if to prepare yourself mentally for what you’re about to attempt, you wedge a twig between your palms before rubbing them in a quick motion.

“Your Highness, I don’t think it’s safe for you to do that,” Miyoung rushes to your side but you pay her no mind.

“Since when has she ever listened to any of our warnings? I’d say leave her be,” you hear Jungkook explain somewhere behind you. “She’s been asking for something to do. But honestly, how could we order her around —?”

“Ha!” You exclaim, which startles Miyoung. Your eyes widen in awe as you stare at the tender flicker of the small fire in front of you. “It’s the first time I’ve made one!”

The embers flicker out of existence just as rapidly as they began; it’s as if they weren’t there, to begin with. You slump your shoulders and pout. Jungkook doesn’t serve your cause as he doubles back in laughter as hints of smoke rising.

“It can’t be worse than Jimin’s attempt though, right?” You pout and Miyoung consoles you with a soft pat on your shoulder.

“You’re supposed to feed it more dried leaves and branches as soon as you see that small spark,” Jungkook explains as he grabs the stick from your hands. He mimics the actions you did earlier, only this time he follows his advice and stacks several branches to sustain the fire.

Not long after, the blaze grows bigger and Jimin returns with his promised garments.

“Should we really be stopping to rest near the place where we were ambushed?” Jimin questions warily as he sits beside Miyoung, across from where you and Jungkook are. Both of you watch as she successfully weaves her arms near the heat of the fire.

“We should be fine. The two of us will just have to take turns keeping watch throughout the night,” Jungkook muses, tucking loose strands of his hair behind his ear. “Worse scenario would be the kid comes back with more mercenaries. Highly doubt it will happen soon, though.”

“What do you mean?” your forehead creases with worry, forgetting for a moment the prisoner who was able to flee your capture. Granted it was the fact they were mere children that made you pardon and not pursue them, but you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t dread their potential return. All four of you — but more so Jungkook — barely escaped unscathed, so you’d rather avoid trouble as much as you can.

“I’ve been thinking about something Jimin pointed out earlier — they’re dressed too warmly. I did notice Pyo was wearing a thick animal hide sewn into his tunic,” Jungkook trails off, lost in thought. You attempt to put the pieces together, unsure of what Jungkook means.

“It is a little unusual. Especially this time of the year; we don’t get enough cold weather to warrant wearing clothing with thick animal hides like that.”

“Precisely, Your Grace.” He extends his arms out and leans back, groaning as he puts his hand over his wound. “This was a calculated attack.”

“You think someone planned this?” Jimin asks with a worried expression evident on his face.

“It would seem that way. Especially because only a handful of people are aware of this. I’m unsure if the Mins kept their side of the bargain. Assuming they did, I’m certain only important people know of your arrival.” Jungkook elaborates and you agree with him.

“I’m not one to speculate, and wouldn’t normally run my mouth like this in front of other people but… you don’t think they were responsible for this, do you?”

You gulp and look at Jungkook who is bearing the same distraught expression as you. No one speaks for a while, and the crackling sound of the log burning is the only thing that fills the quietness in the air. Accusing a royalty of committing possible abduction is a hefty allegation, so no one dares to follow your statement.

“Based on what little evidence we have, that’s not entirely out of the conversation. It’s not hard to determine why they would do this—it could be some sort of payback for losing the war.” Jungkook warns in a hushed tone, causing everyone to feel a little bit on edge. “I should add that we cannot be hasty in our conclusion. We may be mistaken about our accusations.”

He is right, yet it’s strenuous to eradicate the roots of doubt once it’s planted in your consciousness.

You begin questioning everyone’s safety, as well as the decision not to bring as many guards as possible. It’s not because you doubt Jungkook’s ability. But even he’s not invincible, evident by the current gash on his torso. Which reminds you of the event prior.

You killed a man.

It had been a long day for you and everybody else, so you hadn’t given it much thought. But as soon as your nerves settle and weariness sinks in, the reality is becoming clearer to you.

Jimin had kindly disposed of the body once you told him not to worry about the young men who’d escaped, stating he is ‘used to that kind of thing’. He gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and you didn’t question him further.

“What’s wrong? You look spooked.” Jungkook says softly beside you.

Your head dips and you swallow the taste of bile on your tongue.  

“I still can’t wrap my mind around how I…” you pause, unsure of what to say next. Cold sweat forms on your back and your hands tremble at the image of the man lying on the ground, blood pooling around him. It hadn’t been your intention to end his life. But when he hurt Jungkook and declared his plans, you threw better judgement out of the window. “I’ve never had to witness somebody die in that manner…by my hands...”

The air grows tense at your words, and silence ensues. Your eyes stay glued to the fire, aware of the intense gaze Jungkook is pinning on you.

“It’s my fault,” your head whips up in surprise to meet Jimin’s sombre expression. “Had I acted quicker, perhaps General Jeon wouldn’t get hurt, and you wouldn’t have had to make that decision.”

“No! No…” you shake your head defiantly. “If I’d stay put like I was supposed to —”

“You’d have been taken from me,” Jungkook’s voice is stern but quiet. Before you have the time to process his words, he continues. “Or worse. If something were to happen to you, I swear —”

Jungkook pauses, eyes filled with unrest and trepidation despite the tone of anger in his voice. Your heart swells, and comfort blooms in your chest despite the cloud of fatigue that looms.

“I’m sorry you had to witness what you did, and I’m sure you did not intend to end his life. But I hope you don’t admonish yourself for wanting to save your own life.”  

Jungkook’s voice is soft, almost lulling you to slumber. His hands reach for yours, strong grip offering warmth and comfort. The sincerity in his voice causes your heart to perform somersaults, and his proximity didn’t help. You will yourself to pluck your gaze away from him, fearing you might implode from the intensity of his gaze.

“I apologize for souring the mood,” you grin sheepishly toward Jimin and Miyoung as you retract your hand from Jungkook’s touch. He doesn’t concede, and your cheeks flare.

“Don’t apologize, Your Grace. I forget you’re not used to that kind of environment. It puts a lot into perspective.” Jimin offers a friendly smile, and it puts you at ease. “I didn’t know you were a skilled archer, though.”

His tone is light, eyes looking at you with wonder. You silently thank him for steering the conversation elsewhere. You shrug, grinning.

“Beginner’s luck, I suppose.”

“Modesty suits you well.” Jungkook mumbles, his tone teasing. “Bravery even more so.”

You squirm, not used to the attention he is giving you. It’s even worse than it had been in the carriage hours ago. You could excuse his flirting for the lack of blood pulsing through his veins. Is this even considering flirting? For all you know, it’s nothing but a mere complement. Your head swims in confusion.

“I should probably get some rest. My head feels like it’s being pummelled with a rock.”

You lean away from Jungkook as you stand, and he finally releases your hand. Miyoung begins to do the same but you shake your head, wanting to be alone with your thoughts even just for a while.

*  *  *

Outside, the three are quiet after your departure. The fragility that you’ve put on display has Jungkook on edge, rocking the boat of confidence he has about the trip. Despite his faith in his skill and the tenacity you’ve shown, having to face the uncertainty of possibly being ill-prepared doesn’t sit well with him. There’s no one to blame on today’s outcome but him, and it pains him to see you bear the brunt of his shortcomings.

Jungkook knows you’re capable of defending yourself, but the outcome of ending a life is something he didn’t think you’d be affected simply because he’s desensitized it.

Jungkook thinks back to his brother’s face and the listless look in his eyes, blood gushing out of his mouth.

There is too much red. Everywhere. The noise that surrounds him blurs into one cacophonous scream of agony and pain. His heart shatters into a million pieces as he cradles Hoseok’s cold, lifeless body.

Perhaps he’d been foolish to delude himself into thinking that he’s great — that the damn recognition and honour in the form of a medallion proves nothing. Not when he couldn’t save the one person who mattered to him more than his own life. It should’ve been me, instead of Hoseok.

Jungkook shakes his head and pushes the thoughts away. There’s no room to feel weak when three lives are counting on him. His nails dig into his palms as he clenches his jaw.

Pull yourself together, Jeon.

No one speaks for a while, and it gives him time to sort his feelings out. And by sorting, he means concealing and burying. He throws fresh lumber into the fire and stares at the burning log as the image of his brother’s demise is swallowed in the blaze.

Miyoung begins the conversation around the gossip of the palace, trying to guide the conversation away from today’s experience. Jungkook appreciates her sentiment.

Although it’s short-lived when the topic eventually lands on him.

“So, those rumours were true then?” Jimin grins in good nature. Any air of uneasiness between them has somehow dissipated, much to Jungkook’s surprise. “About your supposed ‘unrequited love’ for Lady Siyeon.”

“Word travels fast in the palace.” He chooses not to answer Jimin’s question, hoping it’s enough to divert him from the topic.

Jimin shrugs nonchalantly.

“It’s no surprise. Now tell me, philanderer.” Jimin’s eyes turn into smaller crescent shapes as his smile grows wider. “How exactly do you have so many women pining for you, yet you choose one that’s specifically not allowed by the rule of land to have a partner?”

“Philanderer’s a bit…” Jungkook murmurs and scoffs, taking slight offence to the scandalous nickname. He isn’t one to sleep around so carelessly.

“I’ve heard of court ladies being allowed by the king to leave, though. So, they’re not bound to the throne by the rule of the land,” Miyoung points out. Jungkook smiles sheepishly at her statement.

“I suppose I have a knack for being smitten to people who can’t reciprocate my feelings for them.”

Jimin winces after hearing Jungkook’s words. “Sounds like you need a good glass of ale, my friend.”

Jungkook laughs and nods in agreement, although he knows they can’t drink because they have to stay awake to keep watch as the evening rolls through. He is about to say something when your call for Miyoung cuts through the air.

“General Jeon. Jimin.” She bows to both men before hurriedly strutting over to your tent.

There is a short pause before Jimin turns to Jungkook once more.

“You say you have a ‘knack for being smitten to people’. That means it’s not the first time you’ve experienced this.”

“Nothing ever goes over your head, no? Also, you’re invested in this.”

Jimin raises both his hands before shrugging. “It fosters good conversation.”

“Recalling the memories of my rejection is your idea of a pleasant conversation?”

“What can I say? I love a good gossip.” Jimin admits, which prompts Jungkook to shake his head with a small smile tugging the corners of his lips.

He can’t resist sharing his thoughts, however. He’s never really had anyone to confide in terms of having feelings for someone. After all, when you’re entrusted to be a commanding officer in the middle of a war, mundane notions of sentiments come last among the lists of priorities.

“I was explicitly rejected by Lady Siyeon, yes,” Jungkook begins, before exhaling. “That felt nice to let out. Also just letting you know that I’m too damn sober for this type of discussion.”

Jimin chuckles and motions for him to continue.

“The previous one — well, that was a long time ago. I was too young to recall specific events, but I remember wanting to see her every chance I get. Times spent with her were scarce because she’s practically attached to my older brother at all times.”

Jungkook’s voice lowers every sentence. He’s terrified that if he speaks any louder, the imaginary barrier he’s built around him and Jimin will somehow crumble.

“I was taken by the way she carries herself. Despite her social upbringing, she always managed to treat everyone with the same attitude. Which I thought for an eight-year-old was quite impressive. She isn’t the type to look down on anyone, but at the same time, she doesn’t just let anyone step all over her. Truly a force to be reckoned with.

“Years pass, and I see her less often because my father made sure to start training me for combat earlier than he did Hoseok. So, I never saw much of her. Eventually, the feelings waned, until they were gone completely.”

I think.

Jungkook didn’t want to add the last phrase. Even inside his head, the sentence sounded doubtful and unconfident — two words he doesn’t like associating himself with.

“She liked Hoseok instead?” Jimin’s mumbles glumly.

“I never knew. In those years I never mustered the courage to go up and make a conversation with her.” Jimin’s mouth is agape, eyes wide with shock, but Jungkook continues. “Although she constantly had that look of admiration in her eyes every time, they were together.”

“I didn’t think there was going to be a day when I’d associate the words ‘General Jeon’ with ‘timid’.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. I was practically unapproachable; the complete opposite of my brother.”

Jimin shakes his head as he grins, still in disbelief.

“Why don’t you ask her now, then?”

Jungkook fights the urge to laugh, struggling to keep himself composed.

“Ah, well, she’s somewhere unreachable, I suppose,” he grins ruefully as he shakes his head, collecting his thoughts. “Moreover, that was a long time ago. Perhaps in the next lifetime.”

“Perhaps…” Jimin trails off.

Jungkook chucks another log to feed the fire, which roars back into life.

— prev ; next ; series masterlist

[lucarioisinthevoid]

Oh god, oh fuck, what did you ask, why did you ask this, this is instantly growing out of hand- I legally have to put it behind a “read more”. Sorry, but this gets really long for no good reason. I’m so sorry, when it’s about music, I just lose it-

- Mike scoffed. “This ask was clearly asked by someone who doesn’t listen to music. Asking for a favorite songs as though there is ANYONE on this fucking world who would go “ah yes, I have ONE song for every event that I ALWAYS want to listen to, no matter my mood.” That is absolutely ridi-“ “FREDBEAR AND FRIENDS THEME SONG!” Jeremy instantly screamed, a big smile on his face. “It’s so cute! So happy! I love it so much!” I’ll be your friend, right to the end! Join the party! Don’t be afraid, we’ll find a way! Join the party! Follow the pack, we’ll have a blast! Join the party! I’m here for you, we’ll make it through! JOIN THE PARTY!

Irritated Mike glared at him. “Is that even a song? Technically speaking? It’s a fucking INTRO.” This disagreement was quickly dismissed by Jeremy. “No, it is a song that I love very much.” There was an annoyed sigh, but not much pushback. “… fine. I have a SHITTON of songs I like, but… I think my currently favorite song is… ULTRAnumb by Blue Stahli. I don’t know. It hits just right.” VIOLATED! SO DEGRADED! The show has just begun! (Three, two, one!) DOMINATED BY ALL YOU HATED! This will make you ULTRANUMB!

Phone Guy seemed a bit embarrassed. “U-uhm… I don’t, uh, listen to much music. I really like the stuff they put in the background of documentaries is actually pretty impressive stuff. I like that, but I can’t really… access that? I mean, I don’t know how to. But I like having something calming in the background.” So… soundtracks, huh? There are pretty good soundtracks, like “Winds over Neo Tokyo” from the movie Akira- “I think though as a SONG, I really like… a bit dumb probably, but “Feel Good Inc.” by Gorillaz? It’s probably pretty standard… but, uh. I like the light distortion. Makes it easy to sing along. And I kinda, uh- relate to the feeling of hopelessness in it…” Windmill, windmill for the land… Turn forever hand in hand! Take it all in on your stride, It is ticking, falling down Love forever, love has free, Let’s turn forever you and me! Windmill, windmill for the land Is everybody in…? “Uh- I know the song is probably about something completely else, but I just-“ Scratching the back of his neck, Phone Guy looked away. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Materializing out of thin air, Nemo proceeded to T-pose. “YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT MUSIC. YES. MY TIME HAS COME. I have the best taste from everyone here. I have the EDGY music.” Getting out his MP3-player, he began searching through the music library. “Ah, there we go. This one. “Arrested Youth” – The Kid I Used To Know. That the one!” Life is a voyage some people try to avoid it- I seek to try and destroy it, I swear I feel like a toilet bowl, Shitting on everything I’ve ever said or I’ve done You told me this should be fun! Thanks for the talk, are we done?! This is my masterpiece, a tragedy, I wrote it myself, It’s full of irony and blasphemy, it’s practically hell, But the perfect part about it is it’s all that I’ve got! I’m over wasting time in life trying to be something I’m not!

‘Cause fuck that shit! Yeah, I don’t want be that kid. No, I’m not going to hang my head, And be another accident!

So long to the kid that I used to know! So long to the place that I used to go! I’m not an R.I.P. I’m not another sick, sad tragedy! “The song is great, I absolutely relate to it.” The teen laughed. “Especially the tone of the singer. Really fits me. I could imagine writing songs like that myself!” A bit too excited, he began oversharing. “I always wanted to write songs. And I did! A lot, kept them in a little book.” His expression broke a bit. “… then I lost it. At home. Somehow.” He turned a bit bitter. “Yeah. Asked mom. She didn’t see it. Asked dad. Of course, he had NO idea. Anyways.” He threw his bitterness away with a shrug. “Now you know the reason why I’m actually not rich and famous yet. I lost like… 3 years of absolute riches to that setback and I feel stolen from. The world OWES me and castle and I WILL get it. But until then, I guess I listen to other artists like me!”

Dave was jumping up and down excited. “Oh, oh, Anon Sport, you don’t even KNOW how many I have! Like everything Sportsy whistles! And Rasputin- that one- oh, oh, no, in one car I stole there was a CD- and they had a group- Royal Republic? Funky songs, pal, lemme tell ya. Listen to it while rushing down the highway, it made it some of my favorites! The best is “Good to be Bad” though, no contest!” Oh lord come help me die! I can’t believe my eye! I’m not the same that I was when I got here! I´ve made a dirty mess, My lord I do confess, I know I’ve been bad, So bad! I’m not the only one! I’m not the bastard-son! The other kids made me do things that I don’t usually do… Misunderstood, I’m the plague of the neighborhood! And it feels so good! So good! “Seein’ Sporty making a flip in the running car while this was playin’ was somethin’ MAGICAL!”

Marion scoffed. Was he even included in “the gang”? Well, if Jeremy was, so was he. “Seeing as I never had much choice in listening to the music I could like, I don’t really have a taste. Everything that isn’t nursery rhymes made into songs is GREAT. Especially if it has nothing to do with music boxes.” It still calmed him down to hear music like that, but he developed a bit of a grudge against it. Sure, he and Jeremy were working on that, but he really couldn’t call it his favorite kind of music. “… well, Dave oftentimes played the CD he just mentioned while transporting me. I guess I liked a few songs from there? Somewhat? “Everybody Wants to Be an Astronaut” was pretty good.” I can feel my body shiver, the lights are everywhere! They marvel at my heartbeats inside the atmosphere… And I’m looking at the world, in a way you never could! I knew I’d be a traveling man, but I misunderstood… So tell me, why is it we’re never happy?

‘Cause everybody wants to be an astronaut! And take the long tall trail into the stars! Everybody wants to show a brother what they got! Everybody wants to be an astronaut! Marion looked away. What he kept for himself was that he really disliked the last line. Everybody wants to be a superstar! No. None of the kids wanted to be a superstar. … ‘cause everybody’s happy when they’re playing the guitar! Everybody but them. Everybody. But them. So tell me, why is it we’re never happy?

Old Sport smiled, for a moment a bit sadly. “Oh, it used to be “Not too late” by Lemaitre.” Not Too Late my friend! Take it up and try again! I’ll stand right here… While you walk to face the end, As the skys clear up again I’ll disappear- And have a go again… Snapping out of his emotional side, he laughed. “But now I actually have TASTE, thus it’s TAYLOR SWIFT’S “Look what you made me do”, RIGHT MIKEY-“ “YOU HATE THAT SONG TOO, ADMIT TO IT. YOU FUCKING HATE IT. ESPECIALLY THE REFRAIN. IT’S ALL SUCH UTTER SHIT, YOU ONLY PUT IT ON TO FUCKING TORMENT ME. FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!” “Like clockwork. It’s a thing of beauty.” He laughed until Mike quieted down from the back, then looked back at the Anon. “But seriously, why did you even include me. You know what it is! THE CLASSICS! “All Star” and “Never Gonna Give You Up”! Well, maybe with a dash on “We are number one” for good measure. You know, the songs people with TASTE listen to.”

Ethan was sitting in the back, looking at the golden guard badge he had received for signing up with the company. Quietly he sung. “Sven Korner was in the newspapers this Monday Big picture from a time he danced the waltz Yes, he took the life of Victoria Come home, explain to Christiania “Come here, officer, here are thousand bucks I’ve saved” And give me Korner, and give me him soon!” He closed his hands around the badge. “It’s a song by Kaizers Orcherstra. I just happened to stumble over it- originally it’s in the Norwegian language- I do not even know how I found the translation. But I like it a lot. It helps me work.” He hadn’t found her. He wasn’t even quite sure in what kind of afterlife he was. But it gave him great satisfaction to know the man who did this to his daughter was in a far, far worse place. “I know what’s in store for you… I know what it is you’re hoping for, I know what’s in store for you.

Oh, you have a tune you think everybody will follow! But I wouldn’t follow that tune, not on my life! We’re playing poker with a revolver, Having no respect for Fredrik Meltzer… Now you shall dance to our tune 'till you bleed! You shall dance Ompa 'till you Die!

Think about it, Sven, how good it will be in Heaven… I hope you fold your hands before you go to bed… Cause it can get hot down here. It can be hot down here. Sven, it can get hot as hell down here!” -

Henry leaned back bemused. “The best thing about this ask is certainly that everyone now knows what a horrible taste you have.” Says the guy who has his head so far up his ass that he basically only listens to classic. “Oh, no. I listen to everything. But at least I acknowledge that everything I hear has some form of merit, even if it is not my taste. You however, do not, thus you can be shamed for your taste.” Screw you.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Z Movie 12:  Fusion Reborn (3/6)

So Janemba’s messing with King Yemma, cutting off his authority over the boundary between the living and dead.  Yemma knew this would have dire consequences for the universe, and we see that manifest on Earth, where dead people are suddenly back from the grave.   For example, this family is at a cemetary to visit their grandfather’s grave, only to find him alive and well in his burial clothes no less.    He’s not a ghost or any other sort of apparition either; he has feet and everything.

Elsewhere, an older man named Romeo has a similar experience at the grave of his deceased lover, Juliano.   Or Julianne?    I don’t know.    You’d think they would have called her “Juliet” to play in with Romeo, except in the play they both died young.    Here, Romeo survived, and he’s and old man.

But Julianne hasn’t aged at all in the past sixty years since her death.   It kind of makes for an awkward reunion.   

Incidentally, Romeo has a crucifix, so this marks the first official appearance of Jesus Christ in Dragon Ball.  We’ve seen crosses and the name “Jesus Christ”, but this is an actual image of the Son of God Himself.    “But Lord, why are there no footprints in the sand during the most difficult parts of the journey?”  “Because that was when I Instant Transmissioned you, lol.”

Speaking of crosses, here’s Dracula, and I guess he was dead, until he came back today.   But he still has a wooden stake in his heart, which... okay why does he want it removed if it’s not killing him?  Why can’t he just take it out himself? Also, if Janemba’s powers are causing dead people to come back to life, shouldn’t Dracula turn back into a human?   

Meanwhile, some horde of invaders on horseback marches through traffic.    I think these are supposed to be Mongols, but I dunno.

They kind of get their thunder stolen when a second army of tanks shows up, let by Adolf Hitler.  I mean, it’s not quite Hitler.  His uniform is bright purple, and the real Hitler wouldn’t be leading a battalion of tanks into action.  But this movie never bothers to give him a satirical name, like “Dunkoff Shitler” or “Adenoid Hynkel” or whatever.   So I just refer to this guy as Hitler.   Same as that vampire from a minute ago.  

In any event, this guy’s obvious resemblance to Hitler is why his scenes were edited out in several countries, which have laws against depicting Nazi imagery.  For what it’s worth, the movie doesn’t really lose much with these scenes taken out.

Also, there’s just straight up zombies running around, which I don’t really understand, since Hitler and Julianne are fully alive.  But that’s the chaos of Janemba for you.  He’s not purposely doing any of this.   This is just the result of him cutting off King Yemma’s power to regulate the dead.

But don’t worry, folks, Gohan’s here and he’ll save the day, right after he finishes eating.

Goku may be dead, but his legacy lives on in his sons, Gohan and Goten.   Chi-Chi doesn’t mind doing all the dishes from the boys’ meals, but she does miss her husband at times like these.

So Videl offers to help with the dishes, but Chi-Chi’s like, no way, you’re a guest in this house.

But somehow we end up with Videl doing the dishes in the next scene.   This is one of my favorite animations in this movie.   With the sound effects, I could watch a loop of this all day. 

Chi-Chi is impressed, so she tells Videl that she’ll make a fine wife.  

And Videl’s all “Marriage?  Gawrsh!”   This is adorable.  She’s so worked up that she drops a dish.

But Chi-Chi doesn’t mind, because she still thinks Videl is cut out for married life.  In the manga, Chi-Chi wants Videl to marry Gohan so she can get a chunk of that sweet, sweet Mr. Satan fortune, but in this movie, I almost feel like she’s proposing to marry Videl herself.   “Marry me, Videl, so I may never have to wash a dish again!”  “Wh-what about Gohan?”  “What about Gohan?”

Then Videl breaks more dishes, but before she can clean them up, she gets a call from the Satan City Police, who inform her that the dead have risen and are overrunning the town.   Also, they ask her to contact Great Saiyaman.  Videl’s like “No problem, I’m at his house now.   I think his mom is coming on to me.”

“Stay away from my mom, Videl.”

Meanwhile, in Otherworld, Goku and Pikkon’s championship match is interrupted when a giant crystal sprouts out of the ring.

The Grand Kai believes the disturbance is coming from King Yemma’s domain, and he sends Pikkon to investigate.   But Goku doesn’t want him to go, since that would mean he’d win the tournament by forfeit.   So the Grand Kai orders Goku to go with Pikkon, and that works out, since Goku can teleport there.

When they arrive, they find everything all messed up.

Yemma somehow contacts them from within the barrier around his domain, and he points out Janemba on the roof.

Pikkon tries to ask Janemba to cut the shit, but Janemba either won’t cooperarte or he can’t understand him.   When Pikkon loses his patience, Big J flicks him into one of those floating jellybeans he made.

This catches Goku’s interest, and now he’s happy that they left the tournament for this, since Janemba seems like an even greater challenge.

Janemba seems to agree to tangling with Goku, so he suggests that Pikkon see to Yemma while Goku lures Janemba to hell, where he’ll be out of the way.

I’m not sure if there were already jellybeans in hell, or if Janemba brought a bunch down with him.  

Otherwise, Hell has experienced its own bizarre changes.  I’m not entirely sure what’s changed, since we only saw it twice in the entire run of the anime up until now, but I’m pretty sure all those humanoid-looking figures weren’t there before.

Janemba grabs a few and turns them into mini-clones of himself.

Goku thinks they look cute until they all start ganging up on him.

Fortunately, Goku can just beat them away with a few roundhouse kicks, and they all vanish.   The bad news is that the big Janemba won’t be that easy.

Back on Earth, Gohan’s having tons of fun clobbering zombies. 

Videl’s doing pretty well against them too, but the real question is: Why is this happening, and how do they stop it?   Gohan isn’t sure, but he’s confident that it’ll all work out with the two of them together. 

Videl’s charmed by his answer, but then--

Some jagoff intrudes on their moment.

Oh look, it’s this asshole.   Yeah, Frieza’s back and he’s in this movie too, along with Dracula, Hitler, and Jesus.  For those of you keeping score, that means Steel Ball Run, Hellsing, and Resurrection F were all inspired by this movie.

Frieza is surprised that anyone on Earth knows him by name, so Gohan unmasks to reveal that he was the kid with the bowl-haircut on Namek.        

Videl’s completely smitten here.   “Wow, he’s wayyy dreamier than his mom!”

So Frieza’s decided to kill Gohan as revenge for Goku defeating him.   You’d think he’d be mad about Future Trunks killing him, but he was friends with Gohan too, so it still works.   The part that doesn’t work is this punk-ass bitch running around in Movie 12 like it’s still Movie 3. 

So Frieza sics a surprise army of henchmen on Gohan to soften him up.  Of course, it makes perfect sense that all the top Frieza soldiers would be here, and that they’d still be loyal to Frieza, but there’s also a lot of Movie 1-5 henchmen too, and most of them don’t even know Frieza.  Still it’s not hard to believe that they could be persuaded to join his side.

But Bojack seems pretty hard to swallow.   Out of everyone in this scene, he’s definitely stronger than Frieza ever was, so why isn’t he calling the shots here?

Anyway, waves of henchmen, Frieza’s invincible, what will Gohan do now? 

FREE-ZA FREE-ZA FREE-ZA FREE-ZA

Hadou ooana GALAXY Yudan wana PARASITE

FREE-ZA FREE-ZA FREE-ZA FREE-ZA

Obienaku wa warera min

DIE!DIE!DIE!

So yeah, everyone sees Gohan END Frieza with one fraggin’ punch, and they all turn chickenshit and run away.  Even Bjoack, I guess, which only makes sense, because Gohan punched a hole through him in Movie 9. 

Videl’s like “Wow, it’s kind of weird how all of these dead people came back to life, and presumably we can’t kill them again because they’d just come back, and yet Frieza was the only jerk in this whole movie who got exploded and stayed dead from all of this.”

Then Gohan does his victory poses, and Videl swoons off-screen.  In the dub, they changed the ending dialogue to suggest that Gohan and Videl made out shortly after this scene, and Goten and Trunks saw it.   It’s not in the Japanese script, but come on.  How was Videl not al over this dude after this?  We know it happened.  

Meanwhile, Mr. Satan is punching zombies someplace else, and he’s pretty pleased with how well he’s doing, except there’s no one around to watch him in action, so he moves on to find his grateful public.

Fortunately, he won’t run out of zombies anytime soon.  

Meanwhile, Goten and Trunks are helping out by gathering the Dragon Balls,   They find the seventh one on a golf course.

But Goten gets hit with a golf ball while he’s there.   Irritated, he decides to hide the ball to get payback on whoever sent it his way.

But he hides it in the hole, so the golfer thinks he made a hole-in-one and he’s sobbing with joy.   This doesn’t have much to do with the movie, but what’s great about Fusion Reborn is that you can expand on almost any scene and make it part of the wider story.   Maybe this guy’s a dead Frieza Soldier who got the call to mobilize and he said “Fuck that, if I’m alive, I’m gonna hit the links one last time.”  Or maybe he’s just a regular dude, but the lady there is his dead wife, who’s come back to tell him that the accident wasn’t his fault, and it’s okay for him to move on with his life.    Or they’re both alive, but the golf course gets destroyed by Cell during his epic battle with Tiencha.

Back at Capsule Corp.  Gohan summons Shenron.  For some reason,  in the dub, she tells him he’s “the only one who can,” and I’ve never understood that.   Maybe she means that Gohan’s the only one who understands the crisis well enough to make the right wish to Shenron, but she could still call the Dragon.   She’s done it before several times.

It’s funny how this is the first time Goten and Trunks have seen Shenron, even though the plot of Movie 10 was them gathering Dragon Balls specifically to see Shenron.  That’s how big a disappointment Movie 10 was.  Meanwhile, Movie 12 is so awesome that it pays off ideas from other movies.    

Videl might have wished for a handsome BMF with cool shades...

But Shenron can’t grant a wish that’s already come true.  Let’s just pause here to drink in this majestic shot of Casual Friday Great Saiyaman.   

...

...

...

Nice.

I’m just gonna put it here again.  It’s great.   

So Gohan explains the situation to Shenron and asks him to put all the dead people back where they belong, which Shenron says is a simple task. 

But then he says he can’t do it after all.  Goten complains, and Trunks silences him before Shenron can take offense.

Now, in the dub, Shenron gives a more thorough explanation.   He can move the dead back where they belong, but with King Yemma out of commission, there’s nothing to stop them from simply coming back.  I think that logic is strongly implied in the subtitles, but it’s not quite so clear.    In any case, this is beyond Shenron’s power.  It wouldn’t be if Yemma were on the board, but if that were the case, there’d be no need to involve Shenron in the first place.   

So that leaves everyone feeling pretty dejected.   The problem lies in Otherworld, and if Shenron and Gohan can’t fix it, then they’re out of options.  

And while they ponder what to do next...

...Shenron awkwardly asks if there’s anything else he could do for them while he’s here.

[taetaespeaches]

“I broke your nose, and I’m sorry for that, but what you’re doing isn’t fair”

Seokjin x Reader (or oc)

Word count: 1,805

I found this prompt a while ago and thought it would be a fun concept for our Seokjinnie. 

 You swatted your best friend’s eager hand from the takeout bag you had just set on the counter. “It’s not for you.” Jin looked at you in shock, eyes big. “It’s for Guk.”

“Ah, I can’t believe you right now,” Jin said shaking his head. You had just arrived at the boys’ dorm, bringing food for Jeongguk from his favorite restaurant.

“How could you do this to me? I’m supposed to be your best friend, yet you bring JK food and nothing for me?” He put his hand on his hip as he shot you a glare, pursing his pillow lips. Those lips. You can’t count the number of times you have wanted halt his rants and sassy remarks by engulfing those lips with yours.

“Oh shush, I get you food all the time,” you told him, mimicking his pose as you placed your hand on your hip. “Also, what kind of greeting is this? A hello would be nice. Maybe an ‘I missed you’.”

“Hello, Love, I missed you,” he said sincerely.

“I missed you too,” you cocked your head adoringly before switching gears. “Now what is this I hear that you refused to cook for Kookie? What makes you think you deserve food when you’re starving your poor maknae?”

Jin rolled his eyes. “Oh, so now you’re starving me because I wouldn’t cook for him?”

You stepped closer to him, leaning against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why won’t you feed the poor boy?” His eyes met yours, only to find a devious glint in them. His lips curved into a smirk.

You and Jin had a very playful relationship. You spent countless hours bickering with each other, but it was always lighthearted and fun. Everything about your relationship was lively yet comfortable.

There was also a lot of attraction between the both of you that neither of you were brave enough to act on. Everyone, including you two, knew you weren’t “just friends”, despite you both hiding behind that label for the past year. However, you two had been inseparable over the last two weeks, finding it more and more difficult to keep up the “just friends” act.

You both wanted each other, and you were waiting to see which one of you would finally step up and make the move that would change the dynamic of your relationship forever.  

Jin’s eyes fell from yours, drifting down your body, observing your stature. As he took in your appearance, his eyes suddenly widened, realizing you were wearing his shirt. It wasn’t uncommon for you to wear his clothing, but it still affected him every time you did.

“That’s my shirt,” he deadpanned.

“It is,” you responded with a grin.

He shook his head slowly while smirking. He stepped towards you, leaving just a small gap between you as he reached out to grip the shirt between his fingers. “You’ll be the death of me, y/n.” Your eyes found his lips.

“I really did miss you,” he said as he tugged on the material of the shirt, pulling you towards him.

Just as your body started to fall into him, a loud yell sounded from behind Jin, causing him to yelp and fling his arms up dramatically before curling into himself out of fear.

Suddenly, you were groaning in pain, crouching over, as your hands shot up to cradle your nose. You heard a brief giggle from the source of the yell, followed by an, “Oh, shit”.  Jeongguk’s face was ridden with instant guilt, as his plan to scare Jin totally derailed.  

Jin’s eyes grew three sizes larger as panic set in. Panic over the fact that he just hit you. He hurt you, his favorite person.

He quickly made his way to you, placing his left hand to the small of your back as he bent over to peer at your face. You looked toward him, allowing him to see the blood running over your hands.

The panic and guilt led to him to ramble.

“Shit, y/n, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you, I would never hurt you on purpose, are you ok? Fuck, of course you’re not ok, you’re bleeding, we should go to the hospital, right? Let me take you to the hospital, right, we should go to the hospital?” He looked from you to Jeongguk, waiting for someone to say something.

“Of course she needs to go to the hospital!” Jeongguk yelled as he looked at you before wincing.

. . . . . . .

Jeongguk was sat in a chair next to you, staring at your swollen nose as he shook his head. Jin was stood in the corner, his gaze never leaving you. You were sat on the medical table, looking around the room, glancing at Jin occasionally. The air was thick with guilt and tension as you waited for the doctor to come back to finish treating you.

“I’m really sorry, y/n,” Jeongguk broke the silence, causing your eyes to meet his. You looked at him softly.

“Kookie, why are you sorry? You have no reason to apologize,” You said sincerely.

He looked down at his feet as he tapped his fingers lightly against his knee.

“Of course he should be sorry,” Jin mumbled under his breath as he observed your interaction with the younger man. You shot him a glare.

“I’m the one that scared Jin-hyung,” Jeongguk said quietly, guilt lacing his tone, bringing your attention back to him. “This is all my fault.” You leaned forward, placing your hand on top of his, halting his nervous tapping.

“It was an accident, Guk. Stop worrying. Besides, it was Jin that smacked me in the face, not you,” you said with a small smile and a light chuckle. “It’s not your fault he overreacts,” you tease. Jeongguk looked up to see your smirk and let out a giggle. You both peered over to where Jin stood, who was now glaring at the both of you.

Sensing the frustration coming from the older man, Jeongguk looked back to you and smiled before excusing himself to grab a drink from the vending machine in lobby. He looked at Jin and motioned his head towards you, silently telling Jin to talk to you.

As soon and Jeongguk made his exit, Jin approached you with a mix of guilt, sadness, and anger in his eyes. He huffed as he sat in the chair Jeongguk was previously sitting in. You looked at him for a moment before looking down at your hands as you picked at your nails. Jin sighed.

“I broke your nose, and I’m sorry for that, but what you’re doing isn’t fair,” he said to you slightly louder than you had expected.

You snapped your head to look directly at him, examining his face. His statement sounded so ridiculous it would have made you laugh if it weren’t for the mix of emotions written across his beautiful features. Is he mad? You couldn’t quite decipher what he was feeling.

“What isn’t fair?” You asked quietly, causing him to sigh and reach his hand out to lightly grip your thigh just above your knee. Your stomach leaped at his touch.

“Are you mad at me?” Your breathing hitched at the worry evident in his eyes. “You have every right to be, but I feel awful, and it sucks to see you comfort Jeongguk while you leave me out in the cold. I am so sorry that I hurt you, I mean, fuck, I never want to hurt you, and if you’re mad then I accept that, but will you please just talk to me at least before I lose my damn mind trying to figure out what’s going on in that head of yours?” He rambles all in one breath.

“I’m not mad at you,” you quickly respond. He looks at you with big eyes, full of surprise. “It was an accident, Jin, how could I possibly be mad at you?” His eyes softened as he felt a little bit of relief. “I just like messing with you,” you smirk. His lips curved into a smile as well.

You both sat in silence, staring into each other’s eyes before yours fell to his lips briefly.

“Were you going to kiss me earlier? In the kitchen?”

“Hm?” A lump lodged itself in his throat as he looked at you, stunned by your sudden forwardness. He quickly recovered, feigning offense that you would even suggest such a thing. “No. Never. Of course not.”

“Oh really? I could have sworn you were. You know, before you broke my nose,” you playfully jab with a smirk.

“Oh come on…” He shook his head as he stood up, placing himself in front of you and reached to grab your thighs just above your knees.  Your breath quickened as he lightly pulled your legs apart and nudge his body between them. “How long are you going to hold this over my head, love?”

Jin leaned towards you as your eyes fell to his lips, again. He noticed the movement in your eyes and smirked a little.

“Not sure. How long does it take for a broken nose to heal?” He let out a breathy laugh, that slightly resembled windshield wipers.

“Hey Jin?”

“Hm?” he hums in response.

“Will you just kiss me already?” His eyes dropped to your lips.

“Love,” your eyes meet again. “Your nose is broken.”

“But you did this to me,” you pouted, teasing him. “Shouldn’t you try to make up for it?”

“Ah, you’re so unfair.” Jin laughed again as you set your hand on his abdomen and gripped his shirt, pulling him towards you. As his body fell further into you, he gently placed his hands on your jawline. Your hands reached up to secure around his wrists.

As he gently lowered his head to yours, he glanced from your eyes to your lips a few times before stopping to look at your nose. You looked into his eyes, waiting, biting your lower lip.

He hesitated before tilting your head to the left as he overexaggerated the lean of his head to the right to avoid bumping your noses together. Slowly, you both leaned in, pressing your lips together as your eyes closed. The feeling of his plump lips massaging over your own was so much better than you ever imagined.

He pulled away slightly and looked at you as your slightly blackened eyes fluttered open.

“I can’t believe I waited so long to do that,” he whispered, lips still hovering over yours.

“Wow,” you blushed.

Jin let out a small giggle. “You’re so cute.”  

“Even with a broken nose?”

Laughing lightly, he leaned back into you. “Even with a broken nose,” he whispered against your mouth before pressing his lips to yours again.

[fencheto]

Forbidden - Chapter 5

The story can also be found on Wattpad You can find the previous chapters here Feedback is greatly appreciated.

[lacey-lacie-san]

The Ice Castle Accident

Yuri!!! on Ice | Viktuuri | Omorashi 

              It was a particularly hard practice at Ice Castle. It felt like hours since their last break. Despite Yuuri’s incredible stamina, he was growing terribly tired. Viktor had been pushing him to perfect his jumps, stating he would not let up until Yuuri could land every jump in the routine.

               Yuuri huffed heavily as he reached the edge of the rink. He wiped the sweat from his face and took a long drink of water.

               Viktor is really pushing me hard today. He thought. I know my next competition is in two weeks, but he’s never been this persistent when it comes to landing my jumps. What’s gotten into him?

               Yuuri emptied the bottle before he realized it.

               Crap. I was thirsty. How long has it been since we last took a break? That’s my second bottle.

               “Yuuri, come on. One more run on this jump and then we’ll work on the last jump in the program.” Viktor called from center ice.

               “I’m coming!” he shouted back, skating over to him.

               “Once you land this one, we’ll move on. When you land that one confidently a few times we will take a break, okay?”

               “Sounds great.” Yuuri said, eagerly.

               “Alright, go for it, Yuuri.”

               He set up from the last jump. He followed through his movements flawlessly, gained momentum for his jump and…

               Over rotated. He nearly fell to the ice, but he caught himself and pulled through. It still was less than the perfect jump Viktor expected of him, though.

               “Too much rotation.” Viktor spoke.

               “Yeah, I think I gained too much speed.” Yuuri stated.

               “I agree. Try a shorter run up to the jump.”

               “Okay.” Yuuri said.

               “Again. From the last mark.” Viktor ordered.

               “Yes.”

               Yuuri went through the motions. They felt so natural and fluid. He jumped and landed perfectly.

               “Wonderful, Yuuri!” Viktor cheered. “Ready to move on?”

               “Actually, I would like to land this one again. Now that I have a feel for the speed and rotation, I think I can do it.” Yuuri replied.

               “Okay, one more time.” Viktor agreed.

               Yuuri did the jump once more and landed it just as beautifully as before.

               “Perfect!” Viktor applauded.

               Yuuri smiled back at him, happy to receive his coach’s praise. However, a familiar feeling in his abdomen caught his attention. The two bottles of water were catching up with him. The urge was small, so Yuuri didn’t pay it any mind.

               One more jump and then we’re going to take a break. I can go then. Yuuri thought.

               “This jump has been giving you a lot of trouble, yeah? So, we are going to run through it until you can land it confidently.” Viktor explained.

               “Okay.”

               “You were under rotating this jump last practice, so try to gain more speed before going into it. It’s okay if you start over rotating. We can pull back from that.”

               “Sounds good.” Yuuri agreed.

               “Alright. Set up.”

               “Yes.”

               Yuuri over rotated and landed with a hand on the ice, but pulled through.

               “Okay, a little less speed.”

               Yuuri under rotated.

                “A little more than that.”

               He over rotated far too much and fell.

               “One more time, Yuuri.”

               Yuuri fell again.

               “Hmm…” Viktor said, as he thought. “I am wondering if it is not the speed, but the rotation.”

               “Do you think so?”

               “Yeah, you are not moving quite right.”

               “Could you show me one more time?” Yuuri asked.

               “Sure, that’s a good idea.”

               Viktor set up to start.

               “Watch closely, Yuuri.”

               He went through each step fluidly. He picked up speed and landed the jump beautifully.

               “Like that, Yuuri. Did you see the way I moved? It was one, smooth rotation. I think you are second guessing yourself right before the jump. That is causing you to hesitate and mess up.” Viktor explained.

               “I see. Yeah, when I do it, the jump doesn’t feel smooth. Can we run it together?”

               “Sure.” Viktor agreed.

               Yuuri posed from the last mark behind Viktor. He followed each of Viktor’s movements flawlessly. They gained momentum for the jump. Viktor landed again with as much grace as ever. The tip of Yuuri’s skate clipped the ice and he fell.

               As he hit the ice, he felt the liquid in his bladder slosh around. He was getting quite full. He took a deep breath and pushed himself back up, determined to get this last jump down before they took a break.

               Viktor offered him a hand, which Yuuri graciously took.

               “I think I had the rotation right, but my skate hit the ice wrong.” Yuuri explained, as he stood.

               “I agree.” Viktor said. “Now do it yourself.”

               “Okay.” Yuuri said confidently.

               He ran through the motions, only to clip the ice and fall to his knees.

               “Again.” Viktor ordered. “You have the rotation, but pay attention to your skates.”

               “Okay. I got it.”

               Yuuri did it once more, but caught his back blade on the front, and hit the ice rather roughly.

               “Are you alright?” Viktor asked, skating over to him.

               “Yeah, I’m fine.” Yuuri assured. “Just getting a little frustrated.”

               “Try not to get upset, Yuuri. It won’t help you get through this.”

               “I know.” Yuuri sighed.

               “Try jumping a bit higher this time. You have the rotation, but I don’t think your feet have enough time to set up for you to land.”

               “Yeah, I’ll try that.”

               Yuuri attempted the jump several more times, falling each time. By the fifth fall, he was a sweaty, panting mess.

               And he still had to pee.

               But Viktor would not be happy until he landed this jump. And he wanted to. He needed to if he wanted a break. With how heavy his bladder was feeling, he would need one. Soon.

               He pounded his fist against the ice.

               “Why can’t I land this?!” he groaned.

               “You are getting angry.”

               “I know. I just, I want to land this jump. I’m tired and I need a break.”

               “I understand. You just have to land it properly once and we will be done for the day. Does that sound like a deal?” Viktor offered.

               Yuuri’s eyes lit up.

               “Yes! It’s a deal!” he chimed, before he picked himself up and started the jump one more time.

               He managed to land the jump, but stumbled out of it. He stayed upright, that is, until a wave of desperation caused him to double over and lose his balance.

               “Yuuri? The jump was almost perfect, but why did you fall just now? Are you getting dizzy?”

               Yuuri took a few deep breaths, clenching his muscles until the wave subsided.

               “No. I just… lost my balance.” he lied.

               “Alright. I think one or two more attempts and you will land it beautifully.”

               “Okay.” Yuuri smiled.

               As he stood up, he felt his bladder strain. He was terribly full and starting to get desperate.

               I don’t know how much longer I can hold it.

               Yuuri ran through the routine again, but his mind could only focus on his ever-growing need.

               He flubbed the jump again.

               “Come on, Yuuri. Focus.” Viktor called.

               “I know, I know.” He sighed, slowly making his way back to his feet. His bladder complained with every move.

               I don’t think I can even jump any more. Yuuri thought. But I have to. I have to get this.

               He set up for his jump again, focusing as best as he could on the movements. But he just could not manage to jump. He barely left the ice, before crashing back down. He had to clench his muscles with every ounce of strength he had just to hold back the flow. He was shaking by the time Viktor skated over to him.

               “What was that, Yuuri?”

               “I-I’m sorry.” Yuuri managed to say. “I can’t jump anymore. I need a break.”

               “You only think you can’t because you say you can’t.” Viktor stated. “You have got more stamina than any skater I have ever met. I know you can land this jump before we leave.”

               “Please, Viktor. I am at my limit.” Yuuri pleaded.

               “You have to push your limits, Yuuri. That’s how you grow as a skater.”

               “That’s not what I mea—” Yuuri cut himself off as another wave came over him, much stronger than the last. He shoved his hands between his legs and whimpered.

               “Yuuri? Are you okay? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” Viktor asked.

               “Yuuri barely heard him.

               No. No. No. I can’t. Not here. Not in front of Viktor. If I pee myself, I will die of embarrassment.

               “Yuuri?” Viktor asked, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

               He couldn’t hold back anymore. Despite his best effort, it was just too much.

               “No!” Yuuri whined, as he began to leak.

               The leak quickly turned into a stream and the stream into a torrent. He flooded his boxers in seconds. A spot formed on the crotch of his pants that rapidly grew before overflowing through them. His urine flowed over his curled-up legs and formed a puddle below him on the ice.

               Viktor gasped.

               Yuuri’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.

               This is it. I’m done for. He is going to think I am disgusting.

               Tears pricked Yuuri’s eyes as his stream finally died down to nothing.

               The rink was silent for a moment.

               “Yuuri.” Viktor breathed.

               He broke into sobs.

               “I’m sorry.” he said through the tears. “I wanted to land that jump before we left. I tried, but I just couldn’t. It was already too late when I realized I wouldn’t make it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Viktor.”

               “Yuuri, hey, it’s okay.” Viktor spoke, as he pulled Yuuri’s face up to meet his. Yuuri avoided his gaze. “I didn’t notice this was why you were struggling. It’s okay.”

               “No, it’s not.” Yuuri cried. “It’s gross and embarrassing.”

               “Hey, it wasn’t your fault, Yuuri.” Viktor assured. “I was pushing you too hard and I didn’t listen to what you were trying to tell me. I’m the one that should be apologizing.”

               “Viktor…” Yuuri finally looked at him.

               “I’m sorry, Yuuri. Let’s call it a day. You can take a shower here. I have my work out clothes in my bag, you can wear those home.”

               He offered Yuuri his hand.

               Yuuri wiped away his tears and took it.

               As he stood, a waterfall cascaded down onto the ice around him in noisy splashes that echoed around the rink. Yuuri sighed in relief knowing that everyone had left hours ago.

               He looked back at Viktor, who had a comforting smile on his face.

               “Thank you, Viktor.” He whispered.

               “No problem. I will run the Zamboni over the rink while you are in the shower, so no one will ever know.”

               When did you learn to run it?”

               “Yuuko taught me. I asked her to teach me since I didn’t want her to have to do it after we left.”

               Yuuri laughed at the thought of Viktor slowly cruising past on top of that big machine, his signature dopey grin on his face.

               “That’s better.” Viktor smiled. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

[makerkenzie]

What if Jaime hadn’t joined the Kingsguard?

I just posed this What If scenario a few minutes ago, I’ve given it some thought, and I’m formulating a scenario as I write it. This’ll get long. Buckle up, Buttercup.

The change is: rather than join the Kingsguard at age 15, Jaime goes straight home to Casterly Rock and takes up his position as his father’s dutiful heir. From there, what happens differently?

At first, this scenario seems to revolve around Jaime, but now that I think about it, the first thing to change, and possibly the most important factor, is that Tywin does not resign as Hand as quickly as he does.

The tourney at Harrenhal still happens, and maybe Jaime competes along with all the other young knights, but Jaime’s presence is hardly an issue. Even if Jaime wins the tourney, the Knight of the Laughing Tree still appears, and Rhaegar still makes off with Lyanna Stark shortly thereafter, so the war still happens.

This time, the war begins with Tywin still serving as Hand, and Aerys has been increasingly hostile to him for years, so, when Aerys starts taking a huge shit all over the feudal contract (which he still does even with Tywin trying to clean up after him), Tywin decides he needs to get the hell out. Like Jaime said in the show version, Tywin isn’t one to pick the losing side. 

However, since he’s still serving as Hand when the war breaks out, he’s in such a position that a) he must choose a side in the war early on, but that’s okay, because b) he’s in a much better place to determine the winning side. 

Knowing what we do about Tywin, this is what I think would happen if he were still the King’s Hand when Rickard and Brandon Stark were murdered:

Tywin writes to the Baratheon-Tully-Stark-Arryn coalition, says: I want to join your side, so here’s what I have to offer, and here’s what I expect in return.

The rebels write back: You ballsy SOB, where have you been all this time?

So this is how he joins the rebels: he sneaks out of the Red Keep in the middle of the night with his household guard, and he shows up at Riverrun with his army, and most of the royal family in their custody. The Lannisters have Queen Rhaella, Prince Viserys, Princess Elia, Princess Rhaenys, and someone can correct my chronology, but I think Elia’s pregnant with Aegon at this time. Or she may not have even conceived Aegon by then. They have Viserys, so Aegon isn’t necessary. At that early stage in the war, the rebels aren’t really committed to anyone in particular as the new king, just that they need to get rid of Aerys and Rhaegar. Tywin’s terms are that he brings his army to the rebels’ cause, BUT Viserys will be the new king, Tywin will be his Hand, and (let’s say) Jon Arryn will be Lord Regent until Viserys comes of age. Viserys will marry Cersei; the age difference is cumbersome, but not prohibitive. Once Aerys is dead, Rhaella will choose a new husband from the rebel lords. (That was her requirement for leaving the Red Keep quietly.) They write to the Martells and say: look, the Tullys are hosting Elia and her daughter at Riverrun, so you might as well join our side. 

The Martells join the rebels. Back at Casterly Rock, Jaime is involved in the war effort, but Tywin makes sure he doesn’t fight in any actual battles, as he doesn’t want his heir dying young. Since Tywin is in such a position of power in the war, he’s abandoned his plans of marrying Jaime to Lysa Tully, thinking he’ll select a daughter of whatever lord serves him the best. With the Lannisters and the Martells on the rebel side, there’s literally no incentive for the Tyrells to stick with the Targaryens, so they don’t. The Greyjoys are still on the sidelines, and the royalists are extravagantly outnumbered and outgunned, so the war ends a lot sooner. There’s no Wildfire Plot. Rhaegar is killed or taken prisoner at a much earlier date, and once he’s under control, the rebels batter down the gates of King’s Landing, without the trickery of pretending to be on the royalist side. By this point, Aerys may have one or two Kingsguard knights still with him, but the rebels cut through them quick enough, they clap Aerys in a dungeon cell, and a public execution is quickly arranged for both him and Rhaegar. Tywin passes the sentence, and Ilyn Payne swings the sword. 

Basically, Robert’s Rebellion becomes the War of Brothers, as Viserys is the rebellion’s favored candidate over Rhaegar.

Boom, they crown Viserys, boom, he gets married to Cersei, and he’s much too young to consummate the marriage, so he can’t abuse her like Robert does. I mean, Viserys is never going to be great husband material, but he’s also a very young kid, so, that puts Cersei in a much more powerful position relative to him. Rhaella has married a nice River lord who gets a seat on the Small Council, and she mostly lives at the Red Keep and raises Viserys. She may have had another kid with her new husband, but she’s still invested in raising her little king. He’s still an obnoxious little beast, but with his mother’s influence, and with the stability of not living in abject poverty as his little sister’s primary caregiver in Essos, he’s a lot easier to manage. Since Rhaella got away from Aerys, and he was executed much sooner, there is no Daenerys, which means Essos is much less of a concern for Westeros.

Since Elia and Rhaenys were part of the deal Tywin brought to the rebels, they’re more valuable to him alive. Following Viserys’s coronation, Elia and Rhaenys go back to Sunspear to be with her family. If Aegon exists, he stays with his mother at first, and when he’s old enough to serve as a page, he fosters with another Dornish family. The Martells do not hate the Lannisters. Oberyn is not determined to get revenge on anyone. 

Of course, if Aegon exists, the argument could be made that he should inherit the throne ahead of Viserys. Elia isn’t interested in another war, so she convinces her brothers to let well enough alone and let Viserys be king. They use Aegon as a bargaining chip with the crown; they get Oberyn a seat on the Small Council, which he uses as a position to get favorable conditions for Dorne, and in return, they do not attempt a coup with Elia’s son.

Jon Arryn is still married to Lysa, who still has a very hard time producing a healthy child and is still obsessed with Littlefinger and way too wrapped up in her kid, but Littlefinger is not on the Small Council. Tywin convinces Jon Arryn to send Lysa back to the Eyrie with their sickly kid before she can do any damage at the Red Keep. 

Since the crown is still technically with the Targaryens, Varys is not interested in destabilizing the realm. Since Littlefinger was not allowed a toehold in Viserys’s reign, he is not in a position to bankrupt the realm or turn the Starks and Lannisters against each other. Since Tywin was put in such a position that the Sack of King’s Landing was not an option, the Starks don’t think the Lannisters are scum. Since Jaime was never in the Kingsguard, he never became the Kingslayer. Cersei is still a trainwreck, but with such a different dynamic between her and Viserys, she never sees any need to cuckold her husband; eventually he comes of age, they consummate their marriage, and she gives birth to a new silver-haired prince or princess. Rhaella is still present, and she takes an interest in her grandchild. Since the child is not the product of full-sibling incest, it’s a nice kid, and with the involvement of people like Grandma Rhaella and Grampa Tywin, the kid is growing up to be a promising heir to the throne. Cersei’s still awful, and Viserys is still a mess, but their kid is turning out quite nicely.

(And even if Cersei does decide to cuckold Viserys, she can’t do it with Jaime, which means she doesn’t produce a kid like Joffrey. Even if she cuckolds Viserys, it isn’t such a surprise to see a golden-haired child fathered by a Targaryen, so she probably doesn’t get caught any time soon.)

Robert Baratheon is Lord of Storm’s End. He’s married to a good healthy Stormlander who gives him several black-haired children and politely rolls her eyes while he fucks the serving girls. Stannis is among his household knights. Renly is basically their court jester. None of them are anywhere near the line of succession to the throne.

Because the war ended much earlier, Ned Stark finds Lyanna at the Tower of Joy when she’s still in early pregnancy. He takes her back to Winterfell, where she most likely survives her labor just fine. She raises Jon along with Ned and Cat’s kids. The Stark kids grow up with an aunt and cousin, and Cat does not spend her marriage believing her husband sired a bastard. Even if Lyanna still dies at Jon’s birth, the rebels won the war by such a wide margin, Ned sees no point in lying about Jon’s parentage. 

Eventually, Viserys reaches the age of sixteen, which means there’s no place for a regency, and Jon Arryn steps down. Maybe he goes home to his psycho wife and sickly kid in the Vale, or maybe he takes another Small Council seat. I’d wrangle a new Small Council position if the alternative were going home to Lysa. Anyway, Tywin has figured out by now that Viserys has the Targaryen madness like his batshit father, and now that he’s reached adulthood, there’s only so much Tywin can do to mitigate the effects of his awfulness. Cersei isn’t helping. Rhaella is a stabilizing influence, but Viserys only listens to his mother up to a point, and Rhaella won’t live forever. Tywin won’t live forever, either. He doesn’t want the realm to be at the mercy of another Mad King, and have another uprising, so once Cersei’s produced a healthy son, he arranges a quick death for Viserys and makes it look like an accident. Thus, Tywin’s little grandson is the new king, and he’s still the Hand.

Jaime is married to a bannerman’s daughter and serving as Acting Lord of Casterly Rock as his father has basically committed the rest of his life to King’s Landing. Tywin appoints Jaime’s wife’s father as the new regent for his grandson, not because this lord makes a really good ruler, but because he’ll be cooperative with Tywin. Because Jaime is at Casterly Rock and Tywin and Cersei aren’t, Tyrion is much happier and does not develop alcoholism. Because Jaime respects Tyrion’s intellect and values his opinion, they work together in governing the Westerlands. 

Of course, Cersei has still heard Maggy’s prophecy, so she still thinks Tyrion is her enemy, but since Jaime and Tywin agree on keeping Tyrion in the west and Cersei in the capital, Cersei is not in a position to abuse her little brother.

There are several points at which shit could go pear-shaped. Tywin might decide to execute Elia and her kids after all, which means the Martells are still plotting against the Lannisters. Cersei might cuckold Viserys and get caught much earlier, which leads to another succession crisis. Jon Snow and Aegon VI could still be put forth as claimants to the throne. Viserys could fuck things up as soon as he’s old enough to rule. Rhaella might disagree with Tywin’s governance and start working to undermine him. Varys might decide he isn’t happy with Viserys and start working on pulling the realm out from under him before Tywin has a chance to arrange his early death. 

Meanwhile, if Jon Snow is born under better circumstances, then he’s not under pressure to join the Night’s Watch. If he doesn’t join the Watch, he doesn’t make friends with Sam Tarly, and he doesn’t see the White Walkers show up. 

[treshorneboys]

I know why the caged bird sings

Read it on AO3

Chapter 1/?

The bar was small, dark, nondescript, and sparsely populated only by regulars that didn’t give a damn about anything but getting to the bottom of their drinks. In Neil’s opinion, it ticked all the boxes for a good venue, but his eyes still darted around the place incessantly, cataloging exits (3 in total: front door, side door, employee door behind the bar), the quickest routes to those exits, and faces- at least the ones he could see in the dim lighting. In the back left corner of the room, the one that held the most murky blackness due to a blown bulb that hadn’t yet been replaced, Neil sat on a borrowed stool, with a borrowed mic and speaker that the owner had dug up from the back room. The only things that Neil could concretely call his was the guitar in his hands and the duffel bag resting at his feet.

Neil didn’t need cash, courtesy of the faux-inheritance his Mother left him, but the rational part of his brain knew that the money wouldn’t last forever; though it also knew that the $50 and free meal he got for gigs wouldn’t really make a difference. There was a lot of easier ways of getting cash, sure, but with Neil’s life of run-and-go this was the most convenient. He wouldn’t let himself think that maybe he did this because it broke up the monotony of his life; maybe he did this because it was the only part of his childhood he couldn’t give up.

Settling back on his stool, he gave an experimental strum of his guitar to make sure it was all in tune, before settling his calloused fingers in place and gently plucking out the first notes. He started his gigs the way he finished them; without preamble, phasing in and out of silence so naturally that it’s as if you wake up in a daze when it’s permanently gone. Introductions were for people who wanted to be known, it sent shivers up Neil’s spine just being heard.

The covers he played were songs heard and learned on long car trips with his Mother; she didn’t mind the habit as long as he kept it to himself, as long as the guitar wouldn’t hinder them if they needed to run. He listen to the songs and tried to translate them by ear, and was thankful that the radio stations were so repetitive as it meant he could correct his mistakes or re-listen to parts he couldn’t remember. The breaks in-between gave him artistic licence; those he was also thankful for as it meant he could make the song his. Because of this, he tended to get lost in the songs whenever he played them; his fingers instinctively picking out melodies, his mind on car seats and smoke and his Mother’s gentle singing. On bad days the songs brought to mind smoke of a different kind, the rip of dried blood peeling from vinyl car seats, the smell of salt. Neil felt eyes on him and he knew he was getting too caught up in the music, so he reigned in his voice and hunched over in his seat, the pose uncomfortable with his guitar in the way. Even so, he kept his eyes on his fingers and kept playing, willing himself smaller, making his stage presence so weak that the eyes would just bounce off. However, he could feel the heavy weight of scrutiny the entire night, and Neil ended up collecting his money and leaving the bar paranoid and on-edge.

Taking the side exit was a natural response to Neil’s growing suspicion, the door opening to a dimly lit alleyway. The weak light from the streetlamps shining through the exits at either end cast weird shadows that gave Neil jitters when he looked into them. Neil never knew where he stood with darkness; he never knew when it was friend or foe.

A small sound to his right, shoes scuffing on worn concrete, told Neil’s instincts that tonight it was going to be the latter, and he took off running in the other direction, guitar bouncing against his back, duffel safely tucked underneath his arm. It was too late when Neil realised that the right exit wasn’t the only one sealed off, and the world moved in slow motion as the leg came up in a roundhouse kick straight into his stomach. The next 30 seconds were shown to Neil in fractured increments; the colour gold, concrete rushing to meet him, the scrape of concrete on his face and hands, his knees undoubtedly forming bruises beneath the fabric of his jeans.

“Andrew!” a gruff voice said, the sound distorted from the ringing in Neil’s ears, “God, I did not just spend an entire night in a bar not drinking for you to break him the first chance you get.”

Neil’s lungs finally stopped spasming inside his ribcage and he gave a great wracking inhale, the oxygen scraping against his throat and threatening to burst him with how much his chest expanded to accommodate it. His vision had begun to steady out, and he looked up at the figure towering above him as they gave a noncommittal grunt.

“Something tells me he won’t be broken so easily. If so he’d be a terrible disappointment.”

Neil gave a spluttering cough and managed to lift his hand up in a shaky attempt of flipping the bird at the silhouette named Andrew, before wrapping an arm around his middle and beginning the slow struggle of getting to his feet, his duffel thankfully still secure on his shoulder. He’d have to check his guitar for damages once he got out of this mess.

Turning his head to the side, Neil spat and then slowly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Who the fuck are you?” he growled at the figure, his face still mostly obscured in shadow.

“Look at me, and if you’re still that much of an oblivious idiot ask that question again,” the figure replied, before stepping closer; enough that what feeble light there was made his face visible.

Even if Neil didn’t recognise him by the facial features, the stark black number 2 tattooed on his cheekbone would be a dead giveaway. Neil took a step back, his limbs suddenly trembling, his blood seemingly ceasing its circulation. Kevin Day, piano prodigy, said to rival Bach and Mozart in terms of both playing and composing; though he was always the second to Riko Moriyama’s first, even though Riko played violin. The world was taken aback by the news of Kevin’s abrupt skiing accident, and subsequently the fact that Kevin would never play again. He dropped of the earth, the tabloids suggesting that he was too ashamed to enter the real world, and that perhaps he was too sheltered to do so. They said that spending his entire life at Edgar Allen Music Academy left him unprepared for any semblance of life outside of music.

Neil didn’t want to think of the last time he saw Kevin. Back when he still played classical, and when his father made them watch as he carved a man up alive. The whole ordeal was burned into his memory, but most of all he could see the man’s hands; the fingers cut off at each joint, one by one, leaving 14 little pieces and a palm in place.

“Are you going to ask again?” said Kevin. He phrased it like a question even though Neil knew that it wasn’t. He dumbly shook his head. “Good,” Kevin continued. He gestured to the man next to him, “this is Andrew Minyard, and you are Neil Josten. We got your name off of the bar manager.” Neil once again nodded; he was glad that he wouldn’t have to say his name in front of Kevin, Neil knew that if he tried he might slip up, and as he cast a wary look towards Andrew he knew that any kind of small slip up would cause a very big problem.

“What do you want?” Neil asked. This time, his voice was less of a growl and more measured, controlled. He’d managed to keep the tremble out, a mask descending over his features. He covered his shaking hands with his sleeves.

“I want you to be our band’s lead singer,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Neil’s brain froze for a second, re-wound, and then slowly stuttered back to life.

“Band?” he asked first, the bewilderment apparently evident on his face by the way that the corners of Kevin’s mouth turned down, “but I thought your career was over? You can’t play.”

At that Kevin’s frown turned into a full-on scowl.

“Evidently you thought wrong. I predominantly play with my left hand now, the right I use for synths. Andrew plays bass, his brother Aaron plays drums, their cousin Nicky plays guitar. We can all sing decently but decent isn’t good enough if we want to make it; that’s why you’re here.”

“Why me though?” countered Neil, “you could’ve asked any singer in any dingy bar and yet you chose me. I know for a fact that I’m not amazing,” he made sure of it, really, “why don’t you go annoy someone else with your deranged attempts at clawing back into relevance.”

Kevin was seething now, but even so he continued, forcing out words between clenched teeth.

“That’s true. Your technique is shit, your stage presence even worse, and you don’t even have your own equipment, however,” his face smoothed out into something that looked a little bit deeper than determination, “you play like you have everything to lose, and we need that.”

Trepidation made Neil sick to his stomach. In the low light, it wasn’t surprising that Kevin didn’t recognise him, but Neil didn’t know if that would hold steady in the day. Accepting Kevin’s offer would go against everything his Mother would have wanted for him, everything she told him to do that night on the beach.

“Listen,” Andrew’s voice shocked him out of his inner thoughts, “you’re hanging onto that duffle bag for dear life, you look like something chewed you up and spit you out, and you’re so jumpy you look as if you’re going to take off sprinting at any moment. Either you’re on some kind of hard drug or you’re homeless, but I’m going to assume the latter,” this is the most that Neil’s heard Andrew speak, and he was almost surprised at the bored tone of his voice, the bruise forming on Neil’s stomach spoke volumes of the pent-up energy Andrew held. He was wary of the way Andrew had picked apart his nervous habits and his appearance, it was true that Neil hadn’t had anywhere decent to sleep since he got to this town; this gig would have bought him some groceries and a couple of nights in a shitty motel.

“If you humour Kevin I’ll make sure you have a place to stay and food to eat, at least until you decide to fuck off or until Kevin gets rid of you. Deal?” he raised his eyebrow and waited for an answer.

Andrew had made sure to specify the temporariness of the deal; he was aware that he had given Neil the option to run if he so chose, and the fact of that wasn’t lost. Neil mulled it over in his mind, weighing the pros and cons, and decided that the arrangement was almost too good, but impossible to resist. There was a chance that playing in this band would allow Neil to actually live instead of just survive, even if it was just for a little while. Before he could lose his nerve he looked Andrew in the eye and nodded, his grip on the strap of his duffle white-knuckled in its extremity. Neil noticed his hands were no longer shaking.

“Fine. I agree.”

“Good, happy now Kevin?” Kevin pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at Neil, but nodded nonetheless.

“Good,” Andrew repeated, “now let’s get out of this alley. I’m fucking freezing, and it’s around time for Neil to meet his new housemates.”

He could probably read the alarm in Neil’s eyes, “deal starts tonight, you’re coming home with us,” he elaborated, his voice slow and steady,

“I’m fine,” Neil said, he needed time to gather his thoughts, to armour himself.

“No excuses,” Kevin spoke up, “you’ll need to be up early for practice tomorrow anyway, it makes sense to travel with us. Come on.”

He started walking towards the street, leaving Neil and Andrew in their own private staring match.

“For the record, I don’t trust you,” Andrew said, “but if it’ll make Kevin stop whining about how lackluster our singing voices are I’m willing to settle.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Neil replied. He’d have to be very careful around someone who could see through him so quickly.

“Glad we’re on the same page then.”

Andrew waved his hands in an ‘after you’ gesture and Neil followed after Kevin, walking slow enough to ensure that Andrew was always in his peripheral vision. He was itching to check the roots of his hair, but he kept his hands moving naturally as he walked. He could check them when he had a bathroom to himself; when he had time for the absurdity of the situation to hit him. Until then, he followed behind Kevin, one foot after another.

[insidesanity]

Wrote some more of a fanfic

Fanfiction

RJH

I do not own Harry Potter, it is the intellectual property of JKR and none of this belongs to me except for the plot.

I can and I will

Chapter 1 Flux Draught

A loud bang reverberated throughout the potions classroom. An acrid green smoke filled the air and popping noises could be heard.

“JOHNSON!” yelled Snape. Snape rarely lost his temper and yelled because he found the quieter he spoke the more scared and well behaved the pupils were, but on the rare occasion when he did yell even the bravest students shook in their seats. The only reason for some students being conscious was that no one could see the death glare Snape wore on his face. Snape quickly realized this and rectified the situation by banishing the acrid smoke. As the smoke cleared students took a look at each other, people had changed color; hair that was once blond was green, black became silver, skin colors changed from normal browns and tans to blues, purples, and even pure white. Some people had scales or fur, others pointy teeth or tails (and lots of ruined clothing). People started to laugh and cry and point at each other, the noise got louder as people showed off red eyes, gray fingernails, and furry faces, the noise got louder and louder until- “SILENCE!” The classroom became as quiet as a tomb, all eyes were on Snape, and the changes wrought on him were not in anyway funny.

Snape had bat wings, claws, and talons. He had paler skin that was palid instead of yellow, pointed ears, but that wasn’t what was scary, no; it was his face that was terrifying. Snape’s eyes were black usually; so dark you couldn’t tell that he had an iris. Now, the irises were very visible, as they were outlined with a bright fiery red. They glowed angrily, the only evidence of his inner fury. His usual sneer was gone, his mouth closed, waiting for silence, and when he opened it to speak it showed that his eyeteeth were rather sharp. The class looked on awestruck; many were shaking a little bit. One boy, Ivan V. Johnson, was frozen in place, eyes wide at Professor Snape’s new form.

“Johnson, that is the 4th time this month that you have purposely tampered with your potion,” said Snape quietly looking at a small 3rd year Hufflepuff gone Gryffindor...or perhaps Slytherin, “the 25th time this year.” Snape glared at the boy. He was big, not fat but built well, he had long messy brown hair, blue eyes, and a sneer on his face that vanished as soon as Snape addressed him and was quickly replaced with a look of innocence and confusion. “Mr. Johnson, you have broken so many rules I don’t think there are enough detentions to satisfy your punishment needs. While normally I would not punish you for things not done in my classroom, you are using potions, brewed in my class, to cause disruptions. Yes, I know about that.” Stated Snape in a matter of fact way.

“B-but Sir I didn’t do this on purpose, I just messed up, I was at the same stage as everyone else! I was adding the hemlock. I had-“ Stammered Ivan Johnson before Snape cut him off and spat venomously at him.

“You purposely added the hemlock after letting the potion simmer for 2 minutes 3 seconds instead 3 minutes 15 seconds.” Ivan looked wide-eyed at Snape. “Only someone who had looked up the potion they were trying to make would have known to add it then.” Snape hissed. “If you had added the hemlock at any other time the potion would explode and cover the brewer in a malodorous liquid that would cause continuous changes of the pigment.…the colors are not always pretty, Mr. Johnson.” said Snape annoyed that he had to stop his tongue lashing to explain what he was saying. “The liquid, how shall I put this so you understand… The liquid would also cause temporary loss of mind at random intervals of varying length…You would become very stupid for periods of time that could last anywhere between 1 minute and a day and this could happen at anytime, during a test, while flying, while doing homework, …flirting…” Snape smirked evilly as Ivan gulped, he knew that Ivan was a flirt, so the thought of losing his mental faculties while about to kiss a girl was sure to be a horrifying idea for him.

Snape’s smirk disappeared and his eyes turned cold, the hot fury of before gone, replaced by cold anger. Snape rarely lost control of his anger, but when he did, someone could get hurt, badly. When Snape’s usual cold fury set in Snape would hurt you in such ways that would remain with you forever. Humiliation, fear, pain; often due from doing some unspeakably horrible chore for him that could include anything from scrubbing 10-100 cauldrons or preparing some potions ingredient, alive or dead… His glare would send some students into a faint where Snape would sneer and maybe consider the embarrassment punishment enough, others would cry, beg, grovel, a few just ran. Ivan did none of these, but continued to look confused and innocent. Snape’s dark stare changed, somehow, something clicked in his head and the red in his eyes became so dark they looked like blood as he stared into space for a moment. He licked his dry lips. Coming back to the situation Snape stood to his full height and glared at Ivan.

“The potion you brewed is a little known potion simply called Flux Draught, as it randomly changes someone’s appearance; to make this potion you would have to do research and know the exact time to put the leaves in, and do it purposely, as I told the class that anyone putting the leaves in at the wrong time would lose 50 points for their House in hopes that that would discourage…accidents. I can honestly say that no accidents happened here today, am I right Mr. Johnson?” Snape raised an eyebrow in question to the boy who still looked confused. “Mr. Johnson, you can come quietly with dignity now, or undergo the humiliation you so rightfully deserve. There are other, legal, less known, and… painful ways of getting truthful answers than veritaserum.” Snape hissed and again raised an eyebrow at Ivan, who was still trying to look confused and innocent. Snape shook his head and smirked. “Mr. Johnson would you like to endure 10, or 20, or if you are feeling lucky, maybe 50, detentions? I believe that would be a record for the number of detentions given out together…” Johnson looked a little startled for a moment before going back to his innocent pose that said he didn’t know what Snape was talking about.

“I seriously do not know what went wrong Professor!” This time both Snape’s eyebrows went up and he curled a lip into a snarl.

“Mr. Johnson, I commend you for your bravery, but you will admit your doings. Would you like to lose…for the first time in the history of the school… all your House points?” Many students gasped at the unimaginable horror of the idea, not knowing if anyone could actually do that. The hate that would be dumped on Ivan would be horrible, Ivan had to relent, but the boy was not about to be defeated. He grinned, something no one should ever do in Snape’s class. Everyone looked at Snape for his reaction, but he just stood there waiting for what he knew was going to happen.

“You got me Snape. Yeah, I did it, and I am glad I did. You look a lot better this way.” Ivan said as he reclined in his seat and put his feet on the table. There was a general intake of breath and a hushed silence as everyone waited to see what Snape would do. Snape just summoned a mirror and looked at himself, he raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth, showing off the pointed teeth, he looked at his eyes and his hands. He finally looked at his wings, he moved them and he lifted a few feet off the ground and hovered in mid air. The students gasped. The class started to applaud, but Snape glared and the room was quiet except for the flapping of wings. Snape looked at his shoes, they were ruined; talons had broken through the black leather. Snape shook his head, what a waste. He landed and walked over to Ivan.

“Minus 15 points for disrespecting a teacher.” Snape said as he scared every student in the class by allowing the smallest smile to come to his features. Snape waved his wand and all of the strange features disappeared. “Ivan, you will have detention at 8:20 tonight, do not be late. You will also stay after class. Everyone else will leave now for the infirmary.” The students stared at him, frozen in place from all the information. “Now!” Barked Snape and all the students rushed to gather their things and put out the fires. “Since the potion was not completed everyone will write a report on it and what you believe would cause the timing of adding ingredients to matter.” Snape said as they rushed, and lowered his voice to a deadly whisper. “If I find that any of you have not gone to the hospital wing you will serve a full detention with me.” The class had stopped to listen as Snape whispered, not daring to make noise, but once he finished they ran as fast as they could out of the room, in too big of a rush to even grumble about the unfairness of the report they would have to do, and the oddity of assigning a detention only 40 minutes before curfew.

Ivan remained, feet propped on top of the desk arms behind his head and rocking in his chair.

“You remind me of a certain person, he was popular, a quidditch player, a very skilled wizard.” Ivan looked stunned at the compliment, but before he could thank him the professor continued. “An inconsiderate bully, a simpleton, and an astonishingly immature git.” Snape mused as Ivan’s thanks caught in his throat. Snape waved his wand again and the strange features returned. Ivan looked at him about to question why they were still there. Again, he was cut off. “Impudent child, why would I have sent everyone else up to the infirmary if I could have fixed it with a simple spell? Few potions can be cancelled by spells, most need another potion to help.” Snape summoned a vial that contained a pink fluid, he rubbed his sharpened teeth, and put his finger into the vial, the potion was now blue. He repeated the process with the wings and the potion was now purple, he did this for every other changed aspect twice and then told Ivan to wait in the class while he took the potion. Ivan raised an eyebrow.

“My changes are more severe than anyone else’s, if you wish to see bones and muscles reconfiguring to such a degree that you can hear the cracking and see protruding muscles, by all means, I will drink the potion here.” said Snape, Ivan quickly shook his head with a look of disgust and Snape disappeared into his private quarters.

Once in his quarters Snape recast the glamour spell to hide the attributes and placed the bottle on his desk. He went over to the fireplace. Throwing floo powder in he called; “Dumbledore, I would like to meet you, down here, in five minutes, it is important.”

“Of course.” said the head of Albus Dumbledore, which was sticking out through the flames. Snape nodded and they both left. Snape walked back into the classroom and addressed Ivan.

“If you weren’t a talented potion maker I would dispose of you now.” said Snape venomously. Ivan paled slightly before regaining his composure.

“You couldn’t. You wouldn’t get away with it.” Ivan said trying to sound more positive than he was.

“Believe me, I could and I would. Tread lightly Mister Johnson, or you might find yourself…adopted.” Snape said evilly. Ivan paled even more.

“I’ve-I’ve never told anyone I was an orphan…” He said quietly.

“I know anything and everything I want to about my students, as all good teachers should.” Snape said as he stood menacingly above Ivan. “You will come to your detention, and leave after it is done. You will walk around and make sure people see you, and you will then come back. Your detention will take long enough that you will not be able to return before curfew, you will stay here overnight. If you tell anyone about this you will have weekly 2 hour detentions for the remainder of the year as well a being banned from watching and playing quidditch.” Ivan paled, that was a huge deterrent from telling anyone. Ivan paled even more; staying with Snape…overnight. That was not something any student would ever even think possible, most would run away before even contemplating such a horrifying idea. Ivan gulped and nodded. Snape motioned for him to leave and Ivan rushed out the door. Snape sneered at the boy’s cowardice and left for his private lab where Dumbledore was waiting.

“Headmaster.” Snape nodded as he entered noticing that Dumbledore had summoned a light purple armchair that horribly threw off the dark mood of the room. Dumbledore nodded back.

“What is the problem Severus, other than the fact that a whole class is now in the infirmary with seemingly random afflictions?” Dumbledore asked eyes twinkling.

“I have two problems to discuss with you, the first one of a considerably lighter nature.” Dumbledore pressed his hands together and looked over his half moon spectacles waiting patiently. Snape removed the glamour and Dumbledore smiled.

“Why Severus, you look positively-”

“Old…these attributes are those of a thousand year old Vampire Albus!” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled in amusement; he seemed to know where the conversation was going.

“These new attributes would be wonderful for your spying career if you could keep them hidden from Voldemort.”

“Yes, I agree, to conceal this I will remove them temporarily with that potion I prepared,” Snape pointed to the now black vial that he had used earlier, “but this is where my original question comes to the fore.” Albus smiled and leaned back in his poofy chair and nodded. Snape took a deep breath. “I was wondering if I could keep the elongated teeth this time.”

“No.” said Albus calmly.

“I would glamour them.”

“Why do you want the teeth Severus?”

“I find that flashing them at a student who is misbehaving would cause them to reconsider their…habits.” Albus smiled.

“If it makes you that happy I will allow it. You cannot keep the wings most of the time though. No glamour would work, they are too big and if someone were to bump into them…”

“Albus, everyone, including most of the teachers try to stay at least 5 feet away from me when I walk past them.” said Snape with a smirk. Albus chuckled.

“Yes, but the other teachers know how to sense magic properly, and a glamour that big would draw attention to you.” Snape nodded. “Now what was the other matter?” Asked Albus a little more solemnly.

“Ivan Johnson made the potion that caused this,” Snape waved his hand at himself. Albus’s eyes turned dark.

“This is not good.”

“No, it is not. The boy is an excellent potion maker, he knew when to add the hemlock, but to know that he would have had to research, and if he had done his research properly…”

“He would know the effect of the potion couldn’t cause the changes you underwent…”

“He would also know the potions affect on other species…” said Snape quietly. Albus looked up quickly at Snape and his grave eyes unnerved Snape.

“Snape, you have been working for me for a long time, putting your life in danger trying to find any information on the whereabouts of Voldemort…” Dumbledore said gravely. “I think it’s time I thanked you again.” Snape raised an eyebrow knowing that this couldn’t be all. “The boy is an orphan right?’ Asked Albus quietly.

“Yes, he lives in a-” Snape’s eyes went wide at the hidden meaning in the question that only he would understand. “Surely, you don’t mean…” Snape said quietly. Albus nodded, sadly. “There has been another prophecy. I do not wish to go into it but it fits this young man exactly as the supposed “protege” or “successor” of a dark lord.” Snape walked over and kneeled beside Dumbledore and put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure, are there other ways?” Snape asked quietly. Dumbledore shook his head slowly. Snape started rambling, this was too good to be true. “I mean, yes the boy is rowdy, he has tormented staff and students alike since he came to the school. But this recourse seems extreme. I understand the amount of terror he has caused is great,. It cost us 3,000 galleons to repair the damage to the wall he blew up! And the three students that got under one of his potions, they will never be the same! McGonagall was too embarrassed to let me look at her animagus form so that I could change her fur back to normal! He is young and impudent but perhaps there is time. Have we attempted therapy?

Albus nodded. “ he refused to attend. When forced to attend the school therapist disappeared. “

Snape nodded. “He has done some truly reprehensible things, currently they seem only for amusement or revenge, like the students whose eyes had to be regrown. Flitwick nearly fainted because he thought he was shrinking. Shrinking, I must admit that was rather amusing,” Snape chuckled, one thing he felt comfortable doing around only Albus, “but it was still wrong! And the nifflers he let loose in Trelwany’s room, they nearly wrecked 400 galleons worth of equipment, he uses small explosive potions to blow up random objects...but getting rid of him?... He did nearly blow up Mrs. Norris though.... And the Hufflepuffs seem to rally to him, he is a natural leader, I fear he may coerce other students into assisting him…but still” Snape didn’t notice what was happening as he was talking through a list of atrocities that got steadily worse. Dumbledore seemed to be getting quite angry, but he sat in his chair listening until Snape got to a part about making people need to punch anyone they saw.

“Enough!” Shouted Albus standing up and startling Snape, which said something about the amount of excitement he was feeling. “I should have had him expelled long ago! But it’s too late now. Severus, the things he does outside of school! He knows wandless magic! The boy is a bully outside of school, and a menace in. Severus S. Snape, you know what I said and you know what it means, it is not my thank you anymore, it is my order. If he stays he could jeopardize all we have worked toward to defeat Voldemort, there is no choice. If we some how succeed in our tasks and Voldemort is defeated, I am sure that boy, with his childish pranks, will become the next Dark Lord, or …. Grindlewald… I can see it in his eyes. Severus…we must stop this before it starts.” By this time Dumbledore, while still angry, was nearly back to his normal omniscient, calm, old self, no one could guess the thoughts in his head. Dumbledore made the chair disappear and nodded. “Snape, this is an order, that boy is a more than a menace, he is dangerous.” Dumbledore swiftly exited the room and left Snape to stand their slightly stunned. He had just started to regain his composure when.

“Oh and Snape, you can still enjoy this though it is my order.” Dumbledore disappeared from the doorway leaving one Severus Snape to let, for the second time that day, a small smile appear on his face. He shook his head and grumbled something about going soft.

Chapter 2 Detention

The rumors spread through the school like wildfire. Ivan, detention, Snape, demons, colors, monsters, lost tempers, pranks, and more. All the rumors agreed on one thing though, even though Ivan had only a 15-minute detention; they were bound to be 15 minutes that he would remember for the rest of his life, and not for any good reason. Ivan got to brag that he had gotten away with his pranks, and everyone was in awe of him, asking questions and asking for autographs (as if they were never going to see him again). As potions was Ivan’s second to last class of the day he didn’t have long to wait for dinner where he was surrounded by older students asking questions and patting him on the back. Most of the younger students stayed away from Ivan, as they didn’t know enough magic to protect themselves from his “so called” pranks.

Finally Dumbledore had to call the school to attention so dinner could start. Everyone sat down, and had started eating, when Snape threw open the doors to the great hall and stalked up to the staff table. The hall went silent and then a roar of conversation with fleeting glances at Snape and Ivan commenced. Eventually conversation returned to its normal volume. If anyone had paid attention to Snape a little longer they would have noticed that he was eating very little, despite the Headmasters encouragement to eat more than vegetables, and was smirking to the point of it almost being a smile. If they had looked at Dumbledore they would have noticed the slight twinkle in his eye at Snape’s behavior occasionally replaced by a sad Solemn expression. Ivan joked about how Snape was a greasy git, and he wasn’t afraid of him all through dinner.

Dinner ended and the Great Hall emptied, students going to their common rooms to relax, the excitement had died down. Until 7:40 in the Hufflepuff common room. The Hufflepuffs were proud that they had such a brave person in their House. They were also quite mad that he had almost lost them all their points and were even angrier at his mean pranks, but that would be forgiven if he came back alive from this detention.

Ivan left for the dungeon at 7:50 and got there at 8:01. “Minus 1 point for being late.” Snape said idly. Ivan just sat down and put his feet on the table. Snape continued to grade a paper. When he was finished he put it away and looked at Ivan who smiled up at him. Snape ignored it and started talking.

“Ivan, what are the properties of the Flux Draught?” Snape said as he got up. Ivan, startled for a second, regained his composure and answered.

“The potion causes random changes in a wizards appearance, things like tails, eyes, hair, color, texture, skin type, etc, nothing extremely harmful.”

“Correct, and on non-wizards?”

“Muggles simply turn a random color. Non-magical plants, like lettuce, while still have properties that make them useful in magic, don’t actually have magic in them, so they turn a random color as well.”

“Continue.”

“Umm…Magical plants vary on the size, large plants grow limbs andt change color, like red to blue to green, and the changes are very slow. Medium sized plants grow limbs that have the same changes as the large plants, though only that limb is affected, however any fruit or seeds from that limb will result in a plant that has the color changing properties, the change from one color to the next is slightly faster than the large plants. Small plants completely change color repeatedly, the whole plant is affected and the change from one color to the next is very fast. Any offspring of this plant will have the same properties. The effects fade eventually, at different-“

“Enough. Next organism.”

“Umm.”

“Non-humans, beasts.”

“Oh. They change colors continuously like the small plant, but slower, and the effect is permanent.”

“Continue.”

“What else is there?”

“You very well know Mr. Johnson. Humanoids, centaurs demons, giants, vampires, werewolves.”

“The more magic blood the creature has the less effect the potion has, werewolves for example have a lower amount of magic in their blood than lets say a demon. Werewolves are affected just like wizards, muggle werewolf or otherwise, they are not affected the week of the full moon. For some creatures the potion, if drunk, has the same effect as alcohol would have on a full human.”

“And?”

“Uh, that’s it?” Snape turned and looked like he was about to slam his hand onto the table Ivan was sitting at, but that wasn’t Snape. He walked up with his deadly stare and stood in front of Ivan.

“You know very well that’s not it. I will take away 50 points if you do not state the last fact. You are purposely being difficult, or maybe you truly do not know? Perhaps you are scared?” Snape sneered at him. Ivan raised an eyebrow at Snape.

“And here I thought I was just being polite. The last fact is that the potion forces any creature hiding its true form to show itself. The potion can sometimes cause an advance in power when the creature’s true form is forced into the open.” Ivan said lazily. Snape nodded.

“You answered every question correctly and with detail, 20 points.” Ivan’s eyes bugged out.

“Why are you taking points for answering questions correctly?!?” Ivan shouted. Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Did I say I was taking points?” Snape asked darkly. Ivan looked stunned, this was not fathomable, Snape had given points! “Fifteen minutes have passed, be back in an hour, tell people who ask that I had you answer potions questions, and for every one you got wrong I would take away 20 points, for every correct answer, I would give you 10. Tell them that I had you extract bubotuber pus without gloves while answering the questions. A good enough story yes?” Ivan nodded and asked if Snape had actually done that. Snape walked over to Ivan and preformed glamour on his hands that made them look as if they had been seriously burned by the pus, while he did this he answered Ivan’s question. “No, if someone did something to deserve that I would just take away the 50 points before hand, and let them remove the pus after removing the spikes from a bultak plant, without gloves as well.” Snape motioned for Ivan to leave.

As he left Ivan remembered that there was no possible way to remove spikes from a bultak plant without getting cut, even with gloves…he’d have to remember that little idea in case he wanted to use it sometime.

Snape meanwhile prepared for Ivan’s return. Setting knives out on a workbench he set about sharpening them. Snape set down the knives and proceeded to put unbreakable charms and immobile (object cannot be knocked over on purpose or accident, the hand with either hit the object or pass through it. With Snape’s unbreakable charms the hand would most likely break if someone tried to knock it over.) spells on everything from bottles and ingredients to whole bookshelves. He then moved all the desks out of the way and sat down at his own to wait.

Ivan went to the common room and told everyone about his detention, everyone was of course astounded that he had gotten twenty points while being in immense pain from the pus. Everyone congratulated him for hours with pats on the back and food. The common room slowly emptied and it was time to go to bed. Ivan pretended to fall asleep on the couch and everyone left him there in peace. With 10 minutes to go till curfew Ivan slipped out of the common room and headed for the dungeons.

Chapter 3 Oregano and Ivanessence

Snape was waiting for Ivan and as soon as he opened the door Snape shot a spell.

“Infurnus!” Ivan moved out of the way and the spell hit the doorknob, which melted.

“What the hell! You almost hit me! Are you trying to kill me?”

“Even if you had not moved the spell would not have hit you, and no, I was not trying to kill you with that spell, but merely prevent you from leaving.” Ivan looked at Snape smugly, Snape looked at Ivan curiously, not even fearing the possibility that he could perform the correct spell. “I know the right spell to fix this, Meldus.” Ivan pointed his wand at the door and the melted blob of metal became a doorknob again. Snape didn’t even bat an eyelash.

“Yes, you know the right spell, good for you, but it would not have worked if I had kept the shields around the door up…and besides there are other spells that I can use. Hetia.” Snape once again pointed his wand at the doorknob, but nothing seemed to happen.

“Nice spell, it did absolutely nothing.”

“Not all spells have visible effects. By all means, try to leave.” Snape smirked. Ivan walked to the door and tried to open in, and jumped back in pain. His hand was covered in burns; the doorknob was as hot as melted iron. He muttered a spell and water sprouted from the wand cooling his hand.

“I don’t need to undo the spell to leave! Reducto!” Ivan shot a spell at the door, but it disappeared before it hit the door, a blue-green wall two inches thick shined for an instant before disappearing.

“Did I not tell you about the shields moments ago? Impudent boy.” Ivan turned and raised his wand to Snape who merely said “Accio Ivan’s Wand.” The wand flew into Snape’s hand.

“Hey that’s mine!” cried Ivan reaching for his wand. Snape raised an eyebrow and Ivan stopped to glare at Snape. “You know living in an orphanage, I learned to fight before I came to Hogwarts, I can fight you with out a wand.”

“Are you implying that you are fast enough to dodge spells?”

“I’ve dodged bullets.” Spewed Ivan before he could stop himself. Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Well then it is fortunate for me that I grew up in the muggle world as well, for one it means I actually know what bullets are. I am probably the only wizard here that knows how to fight without a wand. So in the interest of having some fun…” Snape opened a drawer in his desk and put both wands inside and locked it with a whispered password. “The desk cannot be destroyed without magic, it cannot be destroyed by any potion you could make as the ingredients for them are not available here. As you can see we are both trapped in here as I had the floo powder removed earlier, and there are no other exits that can access without a wand. We either fight, or talk.” Snape pulled out a chair and sat down at his desk to grade papers. He didn’t notice Ivan pulling something out of his pocket and rolling it toward the desk. It exploded and all the papers were blown away though nothing was damaged. Snape looked at Ivan who was grinning from ear to ear.

“Think of what I said I could get away with earlier today. Also, think about when you asked me if I was trying to kill you, repeat my response and think about what I said.” Snape said quietly.

“You said that you could get away with killing me, and your response to my ‘question’ was that you weren’t trying to kill me.” Snape raised an eyebrow.

“I believe my comment was longer than that.” Snape said. Ivan thought for a second before his eyes grew wide.

“With that spell.” Snape nodded.

“You can’t kill me without a wand, I’m younger than you and have more stamina for hand to hand!” Ivan yelled worriedly. Snape nodded again.

“That is true,” Ivan relaxed, “but do not forget the last fact about the potion from earlier. It forces creatures to reveal their true form.” Ivan froze as Snape pulled a potion out from his robe, opened the bottle and threw its contents into the air. The potion turned to mist and settled around Snape who began to change. His skin took on the same complexion he had from that morning’s fiasco, his ears grew pointed, fangs sprouted, claws appeared, and his eyes regained that slight reddish hue. Snape put his feet on his desk and pulled at his beard.

“I am rather famished, I had no time to eat anything at dinner except a salad.” Snape said contemplatively. Ivan grew extremely pale as Snape looked at him questioningly.

“You can’t. Dumbledore would…”

“I’m not only have Dumbledore's permission, but am acting on his orders.” Snape said quietly as he looked at a trembling Ivan. “Reprehensible child, you should not have crossed me.”

“Y-you can’t.”

“What did I say earlier? Ah yes, I could and I would, now in the present what do you think of that?” Ivan trembled and didn’t answer. “Since you are obviously incapable of thought I will answer. I can, and I will.” Snape relaxed in his chair and smirked at the trembling boy, the fear was so strong that he could practically smell it. Snape sniffed the air slowly, a mild gnawing in his stomach sent pleasure shooting up his spine with the knowledge he could satiate his craving, his need, tonight.

“Hmmm, I am rather hungry…but-” Before Snape could finish Ivan threw himself across the room and grabbed Snape by the neck, choking him. Snape looked at Ivan as if he were a minor annoyance. “I don’t have to breath you know.” Snape commented before Ivan could completely cut off his vocal capacity. Ivan immediately changed tactics and backed off to circle. “You’re going to fight me? Good, if foolish,” Ivan looked startled, wondering why this could be good for Snape, “Let‘s get your heart pumping shall we?” Severus said smoothly. Ivan ran toward Snape to right hook him. Snape grabbed the arm just after the inside of the elbow, and repeated the process with his left hand when Ivan tried for a left hook as well. Snape moved hip to hip and put his leg between Ivan’s and turned himself as if dancing. Ivan found himself on the ground, stunned, with Severeus standing above him.

Snape smirked and allowed Ivan to jump up, the boy rushed to the table where Snape had laid the large knives and picked one up. Snape raised an eyebrow and ducked as it was thrown at him. “You will have to do better than that.” He said straightening up. Ivan smiled and threw two more knives before picking up that last two, the biggest, and running at Snape. Snape dodged the other two knives and swayed from side to side like a snake to dodge the mad swipes of the remaining two. Ivan was beginning to sweat with his exaggerated movements while Snape barely moved from side to side to avoid the blades. Ivan made a final attempt and jabbed for Snape’s left making him dodge right, Ivan then kicked out with his foot and threw the knife in his right hand at Snape’s left side. To regain his balance and avoid the kick Snape instinctively moved left, into the knife. To minimize damage he made sure the knife hit his hand and not a major artery or vein. One and a half fingers fell to the floor.

“Pity, they had just grown back too…” Snape said as if this were a normal occurrence, he ignored the flabbergasted Ivan and picked up the digits and walked over to the shelf. He reached to the back of the shelf and pulled out a jar filled with fingers, and dropped the new additions in. While Snape’s back was turned Ivan rushed at him from behind, Severus Snape held up his right hand and caught the blade between two fingers.

“Why aren’t you in Slytherin, sneaking up on me like that you should be, don’t you agree?” Said Severus as he yanked the knife from Ivan’s grasp. Ivan did the last thing he could think of, he kneed Snape in the back and then kicked Snape in the nuts. Snape bent over in pain and fell heavily to the floor. Ivan grinned.

“The bigger they are the harder they fall.” He said.

“Is that a compliment on my prowess as a man, and insult about my height, or a remark on my rank as a Potions Master?” Snape managed to bite out the question thought he was still on the ground. Ivan frowned and kicked him in the gut, he brought back his leg to kick him harder but with a sudden breeze snape was gone. Suddenly all the torches in the room went out, as well as the fireplace. Ivan tried to look around but it was pitch black. A silky voice came out from the darkness. “I am sorry that our fight must be ended so soon, but I believe you have been scared enough…you smell strongly of sweat.” Ivan turned around in the darkness, pivoting in place hands balled into fists in front of his face. “I really don’t want my dinner tasting overly of salt and hormones…” Two red eyes appeared in the darkness before disappearing. A faint breathing could be heard, Then some a sniffing.

“You know, perhaps some oregano will cover some of your stench…”

The reverberations of an unheard scream shook the castle all the way to the Headmaster’s quarters. Albus merely rolled over and went back to sleep.

That morning the student were surprised to see Severus Snape at breakfast, he rarely came, and he even more rarely looked wide awake at this time. McGonagall was surprised too because Severus had told her that he would be up late all this week working on a new potion. She was more surprised to see that he was sipping wine.

“Wine with breakfast Severus?” McGonagall asked.

“No Minerva, I am drinking a new potion I made last night, not the one I told you about but one that I concocted for myself alone. It enhances my senses,, strengthens the body, and tastes like heaven.” Replied Snape taking another sip. McGonagall looked surprised, a personalized potion that did all that AND tasted good, that was impressive, extremely if you add that it was invented in 6 hours or less.

“What have you decided to name it Severus?” She asked curiously. Snape held up the glass and looked at the light that barely shone through the dark red liquid. He surprised McGonagall and smiled.

“I think I will call it… Ivanessence.”

Chapter 4 Replenish

The next day in class many of the students were nervous. The bizarre accident in one of the potions class’s had many students afraid, not just of Snape, but of potions as well. As the first class of the day filed into the potions room they noticed something quite odd about the potions instructions on the board, they were fixing a potion that required human bones, a substance that could rarely be obtained without breaking laws. Whispers echoed in the classroom as students nervously questioned each other about the potion. A caveat, a small click of the dungeon’s closed door, brought the class to a state of silence as the Potions Master entered the room in a brusque manner. There was a collective in take of breath as the students got a closer look at the professor, Professor Snape actually had a small smile on his face. This was a cause for alarm. Snape sat down at his desk and shuffled through some papers before looking at the class, the minute smile had disappeared.

“The instructions are on the board, why haven’t you started?” A young Ravenclaw put up her hand, and Severus stared at it before answering. “Yes Miss Goodhawk?” He asked as his voice reverberated slightly in the dank dungeons. The Ravenclaw shook as if Snape had physically hit her before speaking.

“W-we don’t have the b-bones sir, you can’t buy t-them in most stores, t-they aren’t easy to come by.” She said quietly before lowering her head as if trying to disappear under the table. Snape looked calmly at her before speaking.

“Are you implying that I would procure this ingredient in a heinous way, Miss Goodhawk? If you are it is my job to disabuse this foolish inference… during a detention.” The Ravenclaw stiffened.

“N-no sir.” The young girl said quickly.

“Good, I will let it slip, this time. The ingredient you are lacking is in the cauldron to the left of the board, as the bone is not powdered you will have to crush it yourselves, you may use reducto spells. Begin.” Snape went back to grading papers and the scratching of his quill sounded very loud in the classroom; an aura of fear so thick that it was hard to breath settled in the air. Finally, with a glare from Snape the students went to the cauldron to retrieve the bones. A high-pitched scream sounded in the class as the first student looked into the cauldron. Snape stood up quickly and was over by the hyperventilating girl in seconds. “Why, pray tell, did you break the axiomatic precept of my class room, or is it not known that loud noises are looked upon with the utmost distaste?” The girl on the floor mumbled incoherently and pointed toward the cauldron. Snape leaned over and looked in the cauldron.

“Yes, that is a skeleton, now what seems to be the problem? We are not afraid of inanimate remains of a man, are we?” Snape asked the girl in his gossamer voice. The girl squeaked and let out a choked sob, Snape looked down his large nose with a look of disgust emblazoned on his face.

“You,” Snape pointed at a Slytherin boy, “Mr. Davidson, take your fellow Slytherin to Mrs. Pomfrey.” When the boy didn’t move Snape glared and, in fear for his life, he extricated the shaking girl from the classroom in a rush. The class looked back at their Professor, who was obviously in a foul mood now. “Continue with your work, I want no more fractious interruptions, or I will have the perpetrator ingest a potion of my choice.” With that Snape turned on the spot, cloak billowing, and returned to his desk. The students eyed the skeleton warily before each taking a bone back to their desks, starting their fires, and beginning their potions.

The class worked quietly and the sound of simmering potions filled the classroom, the tension dissipated slightly creating a soporific atmosphere.

“BOOM!” the sound echoed in the classroom followed by a loud curse. The owner of the resilient cauldron (for it was still intact, which is a rare occurrence in itself) cried in pain as his potion rained down upon him. Moments later a thin stream of blood welled up on his gashed hand. Snape stood up and motioned for the students to move away from the boy before walking up to him. The boy in question was hiccupping between curses as Snape waved his wand over the boy to diagnose the situation.

“Shut your scurrilous mouth and listen!” The boy stopped cursing but continued sobbing and hiccupping. “Apparently you have managed to create a new type of blood replenishing potion that is absorbed through the skin, but as you have not lost any blood you will most likely die if the pressure is not relieved… I will enact the procedure, there isn’t time to get Pomfrey, everyone else get back to work!” Snape picked up the boy after scourgifying the ground of the remaining potion. Bringing the boy to his desk he propped him up and flicked his wand over the boy. The nearest bottle filled up with blood and the boy stopped sobbing in pain. “Get up and go to Pomfrey, she’ll want to check you over.” Snape pushed the boy out the door and put the bottle on his shelf after making a note to send a sample to Poppy so she could notify Saint Mungo’s about the new potion, it could prove useful.

The class continued in a vapid way until it was time to leave. Severus immediately took the potion off the shelf and separated it into two bottles, putting one on the shelf and taking one with him. He flooed to the extremely straitlaced nurse and announced his presence by knocking on her private quarters, she immediately came out.

“Poppy, the inscrutable student I sent up is well I assume?” Snape asked and Pomfrey nodded. “Good, here is the potion that did the damage, or the blood of the boy after the potion entered his veins. The rest of the potion was on the floor and thus most likely contaminated. I believe Saint Mungo’s will want to see this. A patient unable to ingest a potion would profit from this discovery immensely. If they accept this I may change my mind about castigating the student.” Poppy looked at Severus a little overwhelmed by all the information the erudite wizard had just thrown at her, but she nodded as she took the bottle from Severus and promptly returned to her room. Severus did the same and flooed to his private quarters; he had half an hour before his next class and planned to look at his sample of blood more closely.

Severus was about to hold the bottle to the light when he doubled over in pain, not that he wasn’t used to pain, just that random pain is quite startling. Quickly composing himself he walked over to a cupboard and pulled out a bottle of purple liquid and downed the contents, he waited for a moment and deeming everything alright began to walk back to the bottle he had miraculously been able to not break. Halfway there found the man doubled over in pain again, Snape waited for it to pass and then went over to the fireplace and threw floo powder into it, his practiced face showing no signs of concern “Headmasters Office!” Snape spoke clearly and waited as the fire turned green. The headmaster’s head appeared in the fire and smiled.

“Ah, Severus, I was hoping to talk to you today, I didn’t get a chance to ask at breakfast but, did you enjoy your dinner last night?”

“Very, but that’s not why I called Headmaster, I-”

“Yes, but more importantly how do you wish to continue?”

“You may do whatever you want to explain the boys…disappearance, but I really must talk about something else!” Snapped the potions master. Dumbledore frowned, and motioned for Severus to continue. “The hunger pangs, they’ve started.” Dumbledore frowned.

“This is nothing new my boy why-”

“The potion did not alleviate the symptoms.” The wizened old man’s eyes widened in alarm at these words.

“This is indeed grave news my boy, we cannot have you around students if the hunger continues.”

“You don’t think I know that!” Snape hissed. “I’ve never had pangs after drinking the potions before! They are personalized and invented by me; specialized nutritional potions mixed with a drop of blood have sustained me for 35 or more years!”

“I think the powers you now control require energy, not just the nutrition.” Inferred Dumbledore knowingly as Snape blanched.

“And what am I supposed to do about this?” asked Snape venomously. The headmaster’s eyes twinkled.

“Go see Hagrid, after your current supply of emergency blood has run out of course.” Before Snape could respond to the idea in a negative way the fire had gone out and the sly old man had gone.

“I will not go to that man; Albus does not know how much I have in my supply and therefore cannot tell when I have run out… I refuse to go to that man.” Snape turned and went to prepare for his next class, ignoring another pang of hunger pain. Setting out new vials for bottling the finished potions he began to ponder what the students’ reaction would be to the announcement that Ivan was missing. Snape smirked evilly to himself as he wrote the instructions for the NEWT level potion on the board. He continued to smirk as he graded papers and for minutes after his class had filed in. He looked up at the noticeable silence and sighed.

“Why haven’t you started the potion?” He whispered in annoyance at his 7th years.

“We don’t have any of those ingredients sir, and half of them are illegal…” Snape looked up at the board and raised an eyebrow.

“Illegal to sell, not to buy, not to own, not to use, and not to procure… but you are correct for once Mr. Larkit, you do not have the necessary ingredients, and neither do I, your job is to make a potion with the same properties and purpose with the present ingredients, get to work” Snape sneered at his classes’ dismayed look and went back to grading papers as his students looked through their books to find the ingredients and potions attributes and purposes. Soon bubbling and soft simmering filled the classroom. Snape got up and stalked around the class, nodding occasionally and sneering at some more dismal potions. He stopped over a cauldron containing a pitch black liquid and a boy reading a muggle comic book.

“What, may I ask is this?” Snape whispered venomously, as the boy looked up.

“It's Superman sir, issue 1005.” said the boy as he handed over the comic book. Snape looked at it dubiously before stuffing it into a pocket in his robes.

“Minus 2 points from Hufflepuff Mr. Jilhain, for wasting time that should be used on your potion, which I must say, is dismal.” Snape made to walk away but the boy raised his hand. “Yes, Mr. Jilhain?” Snape asked cocking an eyebrow.

“I was waiting for you sir, the potion’s on stasis, I wanted to make sure you were here when I added the final ingredient as I’m not quite sure if it will work as it is rather unconventional.” Snape nodded for the boy to continue, slightly impressed with his forethought. The boy took a deep breath and took the potion of stasis, it began to boil wildly. The boy pointed his wand at himself and muttered “lacrimere”. The boys eyes began to tear and he blinked three times making three tears fall into the cauldron. A quick ‘finite incantatum’ and the tears stopped. Snape watched as the potion turned a soft tan, then the exact light yellow described on the board. Snape raised an eyebrow. “Test it.” He stated and laid a feather and snake skin on the desk. The boy ladled four drops of potion onto the feather and waited with baited breath. Moments later the feather exploded into a pink bird, which hopped around the table and cooed, along with many of the girls in the classroom. Snape quieted them with a glare and nodded to Jilhain who ladled two drops of potion onto the snake skin. The skin smoked and hissed, and left a green snake behind, still hissing. The snake launched itself at the bird and bit around the neck. The bird squawked out and exploded leaving a baffled snake to hiss in anger before it was banished by the Potions Master.

“Why did the snake skin require less potion?” Snape asked noncommittally. The boy stuttered a moment before answering.

“There was more material to work with and less to create or recreate by magic.” Snape raised an eyebrow at the now shaking boy before turning away.

“Three points to Hufflepuff and you may stay after class to obtain your…comic book.” Snape said with disdain as he strode back to his desk with a flare of his robes. The dumbstruck boy tried very hard not to smile.

Chapter 5 Alternatives

Later that week a disgruntled and hungry figure reluctantly walked down the winding pathway to Hagrid’s house under the headmaster's insistence. Reaching the door he knocked smartly and waited. Moments later the door opened and light shown out briefly before being blocked by a large figure in the doorway.

“Proffessor! I’ve been waitin’ fer yeh, Dumbledore said yeh were ‘aven’ some troubles with yer potion and such. Come in.” Hagrid lumbered aside to let Snape in and a puppy nearly scampered out before Hagrid caught him. “Fang! Bad boy! Yeh know yer not big enough to go outside at night wi’out me yet! Ye’d get eaten! Sorry bout that Proffessor, have a seat, I’ll make some tea, or would yeh like something else?”

Snape sat in one of the rough wooden chairs ignoring the dog licking his legs. “Unless you have a hidden supply of fresh blood, no, I think I’ll pass.” Said Snape in a biting voice as Hagrid blushed.

“Sorry, I should’a realized. Well, the best way ta fix this is to start with the facts, which I unfourtunately don’t have, as Dumbledore contacted me when I was surrounded by kids and that didn’t seem like a good time to discuss-” Hagrid was cut off by the sounds of a scraping chair, a snarl, and a whimper.

Snape was standing up with fangs bared and eyes glowing, snarling angrily at a cowering puppy. “Snape, ee’s only a puppy don’t be so harsh!” Hagrid said as he picked up the cowering pup. Snape responded by pulling up a leg of his trousers revealing a puncture wound that was bleeding profusely. Hagrid’s mouth opened in a silent “oh”.

“I believe I have just become enlightened as to why the dog’s name is Fang, now please tie him up before he does something else to incite my temper and he ends up as my dinner.” Hagrid nodded and tied up the pup while giving it a scolding as it wagged its tail. “I cannot afford this loss of blood Hagrid, it will mean I will be hungrier and my potion store will run dry more quickly! I do not have…pray tell, why do you feel the need to stare at me as if I was a display at a zoo?” Snape asked as Hagrid looked at his eyes.

“Cause I have the information I didna’ get form Dumbledore. Yeh got older by about 955 years, didn’ yeh?” Snape had to admit that Hagrid knew his monsters, though his idea of what a monster actually was, was in itself a bit skewed.

“Yes, I have the attribute of a 1000 year old vampire, I now require-”

“I know, yeh’ll need energy even more than nutrients, though they’ll still be important. Hmm. If yeh know wandless magic yeh could use the energy around yeh, cause when yeh do magic wi’out a wand yer basically focusin the energy yerself fer the spell, ye’d do the same except ye’d eat the energy, and the energy would be from other people….” Snape once again had to admit that the man knew his trade, he was smarter than he seemed… “That should come naturally fer yeh since that’s how middle aged vampires actually feed on energy when they aren’t directly drinkin the blood… As fer the blood part I can’t help yeh, yer gonna need blood, that nutritional potion ain’t gonna cut it anymore, though you could sell the recipe for about 10,000,000 galleons to a lair of vampires who want to fit in normal society…” Snape had already thought of this, but the potion was personalized for him and to make a potion that would work generically for all vampires would lower the results of the potion enough to render it useless. He thanked Hagrid for his help and said that, yes, with Dumbledore’s permission; Hagrid might one day see his new form, perhaps.

Back in his private lab Snape was reading a book in the dark when the hunger pains hit again. Reaching for a bottle of the potion he had dubbed Ivanessence, he stopped and sniffed the air, he could smell blood, and it was fairly fresh. He stood and prepared to investigate, partially from concern and partially from hunger. The smell led him to the bottle he had put on the shelf earlier. Still filled with blood it called softly to him in his mind. But he knew he could not drink it, with the contents filled with potion, but… If he were to add a drop of this to a drop of blood… would it make enough to sate his thirst for a while? From a cabinet nearby Snape took out a vial and poured a drop of the liquid inside into a bowl. He stoppered it and put it away before adding a drop of the potion infused blood to it. He waited and stared at it as if it were a student turning in a paper late, or rather, trying to. The drop bubbled, roiled, boiled, popped, sizzled, and fell flat. Snape breathed deep and turned away, but the potion wasn’t finished yet. With a sound like a man humming to what he knew would be his last song, the potion started to expand. As Snape watched the bowl filled with the red liquid until it was just below the rim. Snape dipped in a finger in the liquid and brought it to his lips. He sniffed it and shuddered with pleasure. So long, it had been so long since he had had two full meals in a row. He put his finger in his mouth and sucked off the liquid and nearly shuddered again. He had succeeded, he was safe. He took a moment to enjoy the fact before loosening his shirt going to find the largest goblet he owned. He came back and dipped the goblet in so it was full. Sipping the blood as if it were the most exquisite of wines he closed his eyes and sighed. He upended the goblet and poured it down his throat, tongue lapping at the liquid as it fell by.

Finding the goblet empty he refilled it again, and repeated the process. He did this 6 more times, each time his pallor becoming healthier, his hair less greasy, his eyes less bloodshot and sunken. By the 9th repetition it was obvious why he had loosened his clothes; he had gained about 5 pounds and was now at a healthy weight. Going back for more, the potions master licked his lips and frowned as he realized the bowl was empty. Putting down the goblet and taking out his wand he muttered a spell, and the thin layers of blood on the sides of the bowl and goblet floated up into the air to form an imperfect sphere. Directing the blood with his wand, Snape opened his mouth and moved the blood close to it and sucked the liquid in. Swallowing, Snape fell back into a nearby chair with a sigh, one hand over his ever so slightly distended stomach. It had been too long since he had been at full health, full power, and just full in general. Sighing once again, he slipped into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning many people were once again surprised to find Snape at breakfast again, and even more surprising, looking healthy, awake, and…happy?

Snape preferred to think of it as content. He had solved his food problem, the year was closer to an end, there were students to play with, the Dark Lord was temporarily out of commission, and he had had 2 good meals recently, and still had leftovers.

Severus sipped at his drink while going over that day’s lessons in his head. He moved the eggs around on his plate in an attempt to get more air to them so they would cool down. As he was about to lift some eggs on his fork Dumbledore stood up and motioned for silence.

“I am sad to be the bearer of bad news, but being the headmaster that job is often delegated to me. As I am sure many of you have noticed Ivan V. Johnson has been missing for a day. Though it may seem we are doing little in an attempt to find him, believe me we are doing our best… or were.” The silence that had fallen over when Dumbledore began talking deepened, no forks moved in an attempt to shovel food into mouths, no glasses clinked, no spoons stirred. “Last night remains of bloody clothes that we identified as Ivan’s were found in the Forbidden Forest; he had apparently gone out after curfew and went exploring. He was attacked by one of the numerous unfriendly residents that make their home within. I must say by this, that Ivan… is dead. Those who seek counseling be informed that your Heads of Houses will be available all day for counseling, and you have to but ask to be excused from class to see them. Prefects will also available for this reason. A list of the Heads of Houses’ and Prefects’ free periods is by the entrance. Let us spend the rest of the meal quietly in remembrance of Ivan. Thank you.” At this Dumbledore sat down and quiet conversations filled the Great Hall.

Severus scowled at the thought of students interrupting him during his free periods, luckily he was head of house for Slytherin, and he doubted anyone would need reconciliation, let alone come to him if they did. Taking a bite of eggs he looked over at his House’s table, and saw that none of the students seemed sad, let alone in the need of counseling. Taking another bite of eggs Snape had to fight down a bought of nausea as the food attempted to reintroduce itself to the environment. Putting his utensils and napkin down as if he were needed elsewhere, Snape got up and left the Great Hall.

He stalked through the halls quickly, heading toward the dungeons, trying to get there before the day started and the students were sent to their classes. The only thing stopping Snape from being sick was his time as a Death Eater, showing weakness was a sure way to get yourself killed, and throwing up in the presence of the Dark Lord would earn one a cruciatus at the least. Finally reaching his classroom, Snape went through the door in the back toward his private lab and study, where he quickly emptied the contents of his stomach into the nearest receptacle, a cauldron. Standing up as if nothing had happened Snape cast a freshening charm on himself, and a vanishing and scourgify on the cauldron. Pondering the reason for his upset stomach Snape went about preparing for his first class of the day, writing directions on the chalkboard, getting out the necessary ingredients, floating each child’s cauldron into its proper place, and getting out the papers he needed to grade.

The reasons for an upset stomach were few for a person staying at Hogwarts, as the food made by the House Elves was never anything less than perfect, and even less so for a vampire. The professor was still pondering this when the first class of the day came in. Snape sneered, second year students, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, not a good combination. The Slytherins would try to make life hard for the Hufflepuffs, sensing they were easy prey. It was amusing to watch, and though it sometimes got to a point that Severus Snape himself frowned upon, there was nothing he could do about it. While he was of course biased towards his own house, he could still treat the other houses slightly more fairly; but both he and Albus knew the Dark Lord would come back, and if the remaining Death Eaters doubted his loyalty there would be a smaller chance of him being able to continue his spying career. Still, it was always amusing to watch the stupid antics of the students, as long as no large scale damage was done.

Standing up the Potions Professor strode to the front of the room and pointed at the board.

“Desaturation Draught, ingredients are to your right, have a sample bottled and on my desk by the end of class, even you dunderheads should be able to manage that. Any disruptions will be rewarded with a detention. Begin.” As the students sighed looking at the complicated instructions on the board, Snape went back to his desk to grade fourth year papers on Metamorph Potions.

Soon the sound of simmering cauldrons permeated the very walls of the dungeon and left a calming effect on the professor.

Halfway through the period Snape finished grading the papers and started to walk around the class looking at the current states of the potions. He sneered at a particularly bad one with the consistency and color of sludge and vanished it from the dismayed girl’s cauldron.

“Start over.” He sneered at her. “If you hurry you might finish before the period is over.”

In the entire class five potions were vanished, sixteen were pronounced dismal, three were adequate, one was a good attempt, and one was worth an inclination of the head. Going back to his desk, Snape thought over the homework assignment for this class, and was ready to announce it when something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. That girl’s potion, too much shrivlefig, which by itself was of little consequence, but with four other people rushing to redo the potion before class finished, it was just slightly more worrying. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only thing that caught the keen eye of the Potion’s Master. Across the isle a Slytherin boy was attempting poke a pile of unused ingredients into the girl’s cauldron. A Hufflepuff girl a couple of rows back was rolling a small burning object across the floor into a Slytherin girl’s fire. Snape didn’t even try to stop it, he just readied his wand and waited for the inevitable catastrophe. He did not have to wait long at all. Not three seconds later the boy succeeded in pushing a scarab’s wing, a dragon’s tooth, hemlock, and a writing quill into the girl’s cauldron, which began to bubble immediately. Back a few rows the Slytherin girl’s fire became blazing hot causing the potion to come to a roiling boil, which overflowed onto the ground. The fumes from the potions filled the air, the high flames evaporating what remained of the one girl’s potion, while the other spit bubbles into the air and began to spill over the sides.

“Get out NOW!” yelled Snape as he strode to the center of the room. In the haste to get out two cauldrons were tipped over and one hit a nearby shelf of potions. As the shelf began to fall toward the potion covered floor Snape’s eyes grew wide; surrounded by potions and cauldrons it was all he could do to throw a containment spell around the room.

The first thing Snape was aware of when he woke moments later was that it was totally dark. Touching his forehead with his left hand, he felt wetness. Blood.

Not in the mood to find out if it was his or somebody else’s, Snape wiped his hand on his robe. Looking around was impossible, as the only thing he could see was his hand in front of his face and some type of wall 12 inches away. Trying to move, he realized that his right arm and hand were stuck in the wall, along with the wand that hand was holding. Trying to move his feet he found that his left leg was stuck under something. He couldn’t move his left arm far enough to get rid of whatever was crushing his leg, and his right leg couldn’t do much either.

Ready to melt whatever he was trapped in with his wand, or try punching his way out, Snape heard a pounding noise. He sighed and rapped his knuckles on the side of his prison and was rewarded with a gong like sound. The pounding stopped.

“Severus? Severus, are you in there? Are you hurt?” McGonagall’s muffled voice reached Snape’s ears, and he sighed.

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine Minerva, I’m having a wonderful time trapped in this metal prison.” Snape ground out. He heard an angry snort of disdain from Minerva and a chuckle a few seconds later.

“It’s good to see you are all right Severus, and that your current predicament has not affected your usual bouts of sarcasm.” Snape groaned as he heard Albus Dumbledore’s voice. “Now if you would be so kind as to send some kind of indication as to where you are we could-”

“Albus, I’m trapped in metal, your not going to see a single indicator spell I cast. It’s a damn good thing I don’t need to breathe!” This time he could hear McGonagall chuckle too. Snape rolled his eyes and cast a blasting charm. The loud bang caused the whole metal prison to vibrate, but despite the newly acquired headache, Snape had succeeded in getting his hand free.

“Ah yes, I see you now Severus. Beautiful sounds that this prison of yours makes, I’m afraid we have to destroy it to get you out.” Severus pinched the bridge of his nose at the headmaster’s comments, trying to force down the rude reply he wanted to say.

“Yes. Such a pity.” He sneered even though no one could see it.

“Yes, well now that we’ve located you we’re going to try to cut you out. Hold still and tell us if you feel any pain.” announced Dumbledore. Snape bit back another retort and waited to be let out.

Soon enough the metal prison fell open and Snape could blast his leg free. He stood up in the middle of what appeared to be a mass of at least 15 cauldrons melted together haphazardly. Snape cursed at the mess and banished the useless cauldrons to a corner.

“Severus! You’re bleeding!” McGonagall stated concernedly. Snape reached up to his forehead where he had felt the blood before and touched the spot where the liquid was. There would be no wound for him to check, as he would have already healed such a minor abrasion, but the blood would tell him what he needed to know.

Licking his fingers clean of the blood Snape froze in horror, this wasn’t his, it wasn’t even blood. Turning around to get a good look at his classroom he saw that a hole the size of a desk was featured on the back wall of the room; the back wall that held his store of potions on the other side, the store which held his blood replenishing potion and blood.

The bloody substance on his forehead was the last of his potion, the last of his sustenance; the rest was in pools on the floor.

Severus stood there in shock, not hearing the concerned remarks coming from his fellow colleagues.

“Severus, do you think you’ll be able to teach in another classroom for two days while this one is renovated? Of course you shall have as much time as you need to recover yourself, and…why not my dear boy?” Dumbledore asked confusedly as Snape shook his head. Severus merely lightly gestured at the hole in the wall and otherwise stood still. He was startled out of his state of mind by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Severus, do you need to see Poppy? Are you well?” Minerva’s voice sounded close to his ears, but that wasn’t what the Potion’s Master was paying attention to. A nearby drumbeat sounded in his mind, growing louder till he could not concentrate on anything else. A heartbeat, so close Snape could almost taste it. He leaned his head on the nearby shoulder faking pain, so he could get closer to the sound. “Severus? Severus! What is wrong!?” Minerva’s surprised and concerned voice brought him out of his trance. With a brusk shake of his head and a dusting of his robes he stood to face his fellow employee.

“What’s wrong is that nearly my entire food supply, my salvation, is now mixing with the mess on the dungeon floor.” McGonagall put her hand up to her mouth in shock, and even Dumbledore looked a little concerned. “In one week, every living thing in this castle will become a very tempting food source to a very hungry, and guiltless, vampire.”

Chapter 6 Thirst

The students in the school began to notice changes in Snape, unpleasant changes, just Snape noticed the students more, their bad behavior, their after hours perambulations , their heartbeats. At meals Snape was more cranky than usual, eating barely anything besides a few bites of meat and drinking little, not that anyone dared to look his way long enough to notice besides the other professors, whom Snape ignored. The potions in classes became increasingly hard to brew, and the slightest mistake or misbehavior meant a detention with Filch. Over the next five days Snape went from touchy to tired and finally to the point where he seemed to be searching for people to put in detention outside his own class, oddly none of which were with him. His appearance also changed, while before he had looked slightly more healthy than usual, now he looked downright sick to a point where he seemed half dead, though his senses were anything but. At the slightest sound Snape would be off to find the source with speed like a hunted animal.

No one could guess why.

Dumbledore and some of the other professors knew of course, but most of them didn’t know how bad it was becoming. Dumbledore couldn’t find another food source for Snape in such a short time, and chicken blood just wasn’t cutting it, despite Hagrid’s continuous offerings. That Tuesday Snape was dismayed to find that Poppy had already sent the sample of blood from the replenishing potion accident to Saint Mungo’s. As he stood solemnly staring at the place the vial had been Poppy ran up behind him in a rush to get some ingredients for a badly hurt patient. Fraught with worry her body was going into overdrive, something Severus Snape could smell, and hear. Before Poppy knew what was happening her wrist had been grabbed by Snape, who was still staring at the cabinet.

“Severus, is something else wrong? I told you that…” Poppy’s words caught in her throat as she noticed the red tint in the professor’s eyes. “Severus… are you well, please let go of me… I need to help a patient.” The grip on her arm slowly loosened and Snape walked out the door, the only sound the swishing of his cloak. Poppy took a few breaths and went back to her patient.

That Friday night found Snape stalking through the halls with more fervor than usual. To anyone watching it would seem like he was angry, to someone looking closely it would seem like he was listening for something, and indeed he was. Every night Snape was listening for students out of bed, it was his normal duty yes, but now it was for other reasons too. The students however, seemed unwilling to sneak out at night more recently though. Snape had taken to listening outside the doors of student’s dorms and professors rooms for periods of time, blending in with the shadows, savoring the sound of human drums and rivers. Snape knew he would never get away with attacking a student outright, and the tempting thought still sickened him, thankfully, but he could dream. At least while he was hunting the hunger pangs were less due to concentration.

As Snape stalked the corridors that weekend his sharp nose picked up a smell that part of him yearned for, and another part did not wish to smell around here; blood. Following the scent was far too easy. Half starved he traversed the winding hallways with the ease of years and the fervor of the famished until he found the source. A young first year Ravenclaw with a badly cut arm was crying near a suit of armor, almost as if he was trying to hide. In the pitch black the student couldn’t see him, but Snape could see as if it were midday. The large cut on the shoulder seemed to have been inflicted by a fall, but a bruise on the face looked as if it had been inflicted by a person. The bloody sword nearby was evidence that the boy had been pushed, and probably lost his balance and fell on the sharp instrument.

The smell of blood was as intoxicating as the child’s heart beat, rapid from the effort of sobbing for what seemed like a good time. Instincts that lie in the heart of every hunter stirred, awakening, and Snape hissed slightly with delight as he inched closer. The child jumped up, holding his arm as he did so.

“Who-who’s there? I’m not scared of you, I-I’ll fight! You can’t hurt me more than you alrea-ady have you-you jerk!” The child let go of his arm to put up both fists, but the flow of blood made him cover up his arm again. Snape sniffed the air and inched forward. “I-I’m warning you! I-hiccup-I, sob…” The young boy fell to the floor and started sobbing again. The forlorn voice caught Snapes attention, as memories of another crying child beckoned through the need for survival. Sighing he took his wand from his sleeve and approached the boy.

“Lumos.” The light cast was so sudden the boy had to cover his eyes momentarily, letting the wound in his arm flow freely, Snape shuddered. As the boy uncovered his eyes he squeaked in alarm. No one wants to be caught out after dark by Professor Snape.

“I’m sorry Professor, I was reading for- and this bully, and-” In his frantic attempt to explain why he was out after curfew the boy was waving his arms wildly causing the gash to spill blood faster.

“Stop moving you fool, you are making your wound worse!” The child flinched as Snape's voice cut him off. “Ferula” Bandages slid from Snape's wand, stopping the light. “This might sting, I know you can’t see, but don’t worry, I’m just cleaning your wound. Snape knelt down beside the child and frowned at being so close to what he wanted. Holding the child’s arm tightly he begin to speak in a crooning voice most would think not possible for the Professor to produce. “Don’t worry… relax, everything will be okay… close your eyes, relax, I’m just going to clean and bandage your wound… relax.” The boy swayed under Snape’s mesmeric influence, tired and dazed. Keeping a tight grip on the boy’s arm Snape bent over the wound to inspect it; it was deep, not long, and fortunately hit no bone and few tendons. Leaning closer, the smell of blood in his nostrils, Snapes fangs unsheathed and the glamour spell broke. The black pupils of his eyes glimmered red and his tounge sneaked out to lick his lips and taste the air. Bending close to the child's arm he shuddered slowly as the smell hit his nose and tongue. Slowly the man hardened by years in the Dark Lord’s service bent his head, the prospect of breaking a week long fast slipping through his resolve, and his tongue reached toward the gaping hole. Slowly he began to lick the wound, the blood salty in his mouth and warm in his throat, the metallic taste subtlety mixed with hints of what the boy had eaten that day, as well as a basis of who he was. Slowly he began to suck, lightly at first, and then harder. He was hungry, so hungry. Soon he was holding the boy in his lap, sucking vehemently on the wound. A small moan brought him back from his meal, looking down he saw that the boy was pale, too pale. Cursing he used one piece of the summoned cloth to clean his spit from the wound and then sanitized it with his wand before bandaging it. Looking around he saw the ground covered in blood the boy had shed before he got there.

“Accio blood.” The blood raised from the ground and from the sword the boy had cut himself on to rush towards Snape, who opened his mouth to let the blood in. Swallowing he sighed contentedly, sated. Getting down on his knees again he picked up the boy and began marching to the infirmary. About halfway there the boy woke up.

“What happened, where are we going?” The boy mumbled weakly.

“You lost more blood as I tried to clean the wound, you fainted. We are going to see Madam Pomfrey, and I suggest you tell her not only about the sword, but the bully who punched you and pushed you so you fell on the sword. She will sort it out.” The boy blushed and snuggled closer to Snape, close to falling asleep from exhaustion, too tired and thankful to remember that he was scared of this Professor.

Snape heard a mumbled “thanks Professor” as he walked along.