#Cassius is never getting a second chance. he can kill himself.

[lotusishere]

I have two different types of personalities when it comes to kotlc.

I think we should hate everyone (equally) because they’re all collectively and occasionally shitty people.

Or

Come onnnn, they deserve a second chance. They’re just a little lad. *gestures to one of the terrorist*

[sa-suga]

friends with (economic) benefits

credits to @haikyuu-ink for the lovely title! (her fics are amazing and were what inspired me to try writing haikyuu imagines too, so definitely check her blog out!! i worship the ground she walks on tbh)

∟ iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader | teeth-rotting fluff, a lil bit of angst

warnings: swear words bc i apparently use them for humour now, haha shit

word count: 4k

masterlist

summary: there’s an alarming amount of couple’s discounts throughout the year, and you’re not one to turn down a discount, especially when you’ve got two guy best friends. it’s all in good fun till you realize - this was never an act for you.

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

It starts like this - February 14th of your second year, forgotten mittens and your breath blowing out in puffs, the usual “shut up, Trashykawa” and “so mean, Iwa-chan~”, and a flyer in the window of a bakery that says: valendine, free hot cocoas for you and your sweetheart with any purchase!

Stopping to stare at the flyer, you consider your situation. Your hands are freezing. No amount of rubbing or sticking them in the pockets of your coat will change that.

“Y/n-chan?” Tooru asks when the two boys come to a stop behind you. “We just ate, and you already want a bun?” His smile turns teasing.

For once, you don’t rise to the bait. Hot cocoa. God, you could almost feel the warmth. Whipping your head to the side, you give both boys a critical once-over. Tooru squirms, clutching his ribs where Iwaizumi had given him a sharp jab. Yeah, no.

“You’ll do,” you decide, and promptly grab Iwaizumi by the arm.

“L/n, what-” Iwaizumi starts. Your left arm is linked with his, dragging him forward with you as you march through the bakery.

“A donut, please,” you tell the cashier - a boy who can’t be much older than you, and who looks like he would much rather be home than in the ghastly pink apron he’s wearing - confidently, “and we’ll take the free hot cocoas too.”

Apron Boy gives you two a critical once-over. “It’s for couples only,” he tells you, voice flat. “It’s written on the flyer-”

“-And we’re a couple,” you say, beaming. Next to you, Iwaizumi chokes, starting to splutter something, and you dig your elbow into his ribs. Apron Boy levels you an unimpressed stare. He’s really making us work for it, huh. While Iwaizumi wheezes, you look Apron Boy dead in the eye-

-And hook your right hand in Iwaizumi’s collar, tugging him down to press a kiss to his cheek. “Right, Hajime?” You smile sweetly at him. Your eyes promise murder if he doesn’t play along. Do it for the cocoa, you try to tell him telepathically.

Iwaizumi gulps. He can’t tell if his heart is beating too fast or not beating at all - all he feels is the brush of your hand against his neck, how soft your lips had felt on his cheek, and - shit, he thinks a little deliriously, because the hand you’d used to tug him down is now snaking down to rest lightly on his chest, right over his heart, and oh yeah it’s definitely beating, I think I’m dying, what the actual fuck.

“Y-yeah,” he manages to choke out, because you’re still staring at him the way you do when there’s clearly a right answer, and if he gives the wrong one he’s going to regret it for weeks. “We’re dating.” It’s a once in a lifetime chance, he thinks with a touch of hysteria, and reaches down for your left hand, now free, to lace his fingers with yours.

Apron Boy huffs, but turns around to fill two cups with cocoa. You turn to Iwaizumi with a smile.

“Mission accomplished!” You whisper in his ear.

(His breathing stutters. His face is remarkably red. You don’t notice either of these things, in the same way you’ve forgotten that Tooru is still outside the bakery, staring at your backs with the scheming look he gets when he’s planning out how to break an opposing team’s strategy, starting with their morale.)

You take your cocoa and donut, leaving the bakery with Iwaizumi’s arm linked with yours again.

(He’s warm. You try not to think too much about it.)

“Y/n-chan,” Tooru whines when you reach him, “if you wanted a fake boyfriend you could have asked me!” He strikes a pose, and you can almost see the shoujo sparkles, “It’d be an honour to be your prin-” He chokes off with a pained wheeze. Iwaizumi lowers his foot.

“Shut up, Shittykawa. She didn’t want to be mobbed by your fangirls.”

You smile. “Yeah,” you agree around a mouthful of your donut, then, as an afterthought, go in for the kill. “Not that I know what they see in you, Tooru-kun.”

You tune out Tooru’s splutters. The warmth of the cocoa seeps into your palm through the styrofoam cup. You offer the unbitten side of your donut to Iwaizumi. “Want a bite?”

He studies you for a moment, an expression you can’t decipher - you file it away in your mind, even as you tell yourself you won’t be mulling over it later, because there’s nothing to think about, nope - and you think he’s going to decline. You pout, but just as you’re pulling the donut away Iwaizumi lunges forward slightly in a sudden movement, and you freeze.

He takes a bite, small, almost courteous, but his eyes don’t leave yours.

“Thanks,” he says, and looks away. The moment - it wasn’t a moment, you argue almost immediately; he’s just a friend, and friends share food all the time - ends, and you lower your arm after a beat. Ah, you note faintly, feeling kind of detached from everything, as your mind replays the white flash of teeth sinking into pink icing, lingering on equally pink lips, it’s kind of warm again.

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

For some reason, after Valendines, you see a poster boasting some sort of Couple’s promotion every time the three of you hang out.

No biggie, you tell yourself, as you link your arm with Iwaizumi’s, it’s a promotion, I have two guy best friends, it’d be a downright waste if I let this pass me by. You smile at Iwaizumi over the complementary bubble tea you’re sipping.

I can’t ask Tooru, I’d be mauled by his fangirls, I swear they’re everywhere, you think as you let your hand slip into a calloused one, and accept a waffle that was 50% off. Iwaizumi curses as he takes a first bite, the waffle fresh and warm. Carefully, you wrap the waffle in the napkin and tear it in half, offering it to Tooru. I’m just being economical.

Fuck, you admit finally, as you grumble through Iwaizumi’s ruffling of your hair. You glare up at him through the mess of your fringe, eyeing the amused lilt to his mouth and hoping he writes the flush on your cheeks off as a result of the lingering chill, I think I’m getting attached.

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

Iwaizumi, for his part, learns to melt on the notice of an arm hooked through his, a (small, your hands were so small compared to his, fuck) hand on his back. He learns to turn his head for chaste kisses on the cheek, and develops the habit of pushing your bangs back to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead.

He tells himself it doesn’t mean anything. You had been Oikawa’s friend before you’d been his - first year classmates with a flair for dramatics, the both of you had gotten along like a match and a firecracker, or two bulls in a shop of fine china.

"You should confess, you know,” Oikawa mentions casually while they’re stretching after practice, and Iwaizumi flounders, puts too much weight on the setter’s back - Oikawa breaks off into a screech.

“Tch,” he says, letting up on his friend’s back, glad that Oikawa can’t see his blush. “Stop saying stupid things, Loserkawa.”

The setter laughs. “Y/n-chan’s asking you to pretend to be her boyfriend at least twice a week, who knows, you might have a chance, Iwa-chan!”

“Shut up,” the ace replies, and pushes Oikawa forward a little harder, drawing satisfaction from the squawk he makes as he’s forced to stretch further than he usually does.

It doesn’t mean anything, because you’re just friends, and he knows how frugal you are. Whatever this was, it was definitely in his head. You did it for your wallet; he’s just the bastard who takes advantage of it to hold your hand.

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

You like theatre. You’re only in your second year of high school, but your mind is mostly made up - you want to study literature in university, and maybe theatre arts too. There’s something about the ironies, the tragic endings that if you think about a little more, are actually inspiring in that they reaffirm the human spirit, that draws you in.

But you can’t act, for all your love for stageplays and dramatic flair. You teeter, endlessly, on the fraying tightrope between apathy (Brutus was stoic too, and a rather boring character compared to Cassius, in your opinion) and feeling too much (Caesar died for his potential, what a waste). You never could act, so you settle into the role of director in Aoba Johsai’s theatre club and write plays of romance and tears.

Method acting. If this was a play, then it’s the first that you’ve truly lost yourself in acting. Except it’s not so much that you’ve immersed yourself in it but that the role has eaten you up and spat you out, turned you inside out to bare your feelings to the burn of the spotlights.

(You can’t keep lying to yourself. This was never a question of immersing yourself in a role - your feelings have always been lying in wait, and it’s only now that they’ve finally crawled out of the concrete to wither in the face of the sun.)

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

You’re walking home after school on a Monday with Iwaizumi. Tooru had a check-up for his knee, and you realize this might be the first time you’ve been alone with Iwaizumi for an extended period of time since Valendines. 

“Man, I wish Tooru-kun would stop overworking himself,” you finally say, breaking the silence. Had it always been so awkward with Iwaizumi? Sure, you were slightly closer to Tooru, but you considered both boys as your best friends, no matter how much your friends in class liked to waggle their eyebrows and giggle excitedly whenever they came to pick you up from class for lunch.

“Hey, L/n,” Iwaizumi starts. Something in his voice makes you pause, and you look at him questioningly. He’s decidedly avoiding looking in your eyes.

“Why’d you call Oikawa Tooru-kun?” He finally says, then, seemingly only just realizing what he’d said, tries to backtrack, “I mean, I’m just curious, it’s not like I find it weird or anything.” He stuffs his hands deeper into his pockets, and - was that a blush on his cheeks? You resist the urge to rub your eyes.

You laugh a little. Of course not. You know how Iwaizumi is - shy for all his brashness, awkward for all his consideration. Of course it isn’t what all your shoujo manga would suggest. 

“He asked me to call him that,” you answer, looking forward again, hand tightening on the strap of your bag, “apparently calling him Oikawa-kun makes it seem like I’m one of his fangirls.” Then, to alleviate the awkwardness, “And unlike you, Iwaizumi, I don’t constantly find new insults to pun with his name.“

Next to you, Iwaizumi huffs, and you let yourself smile. You’re nearing the crossroads between where Iwaizumi lives and you do. 

“You can, you know,” Iwaizumi blurts out when you’re about to say something that’ll break your heart like see you tomorrow, or bye, I gotta go bury myself in shoujo manga when I get home to satisfy my unrealistic expectations, “I mean, you’ve called me that once.” At this, you peer up at him curiously.

“And we’re a couple, right, Hajime?” Valendines; hot cocoa and the reassuring beat of a heart under your palm. 

God, you wanted to strangle past you.

You smile. Your heart fractures and shatters in a pretty firework of glass shards. “You can call me Y/n then. Bye, Hajime, see you tomorrow!”

You turn with a wave, leaving Iwaizumi staring at your back. Your roads split, and at the crossroads you cut your palms on the jagged edges of your heart.

(Iwaizumi is awkward. Iwaizumi is kind, and considerate, and everything you hadn’t known you wanted until you’d watched him serve a volleyball into the back of Oikawa’s head, and had felt his lips on your forehead.

Iwaizumi is awkward. Iwaizumi is kind. You are his best friend, and maybe your use of his last name had made him question your friendship.

Ah, you tell yourself, as you scoop fragments of glass into your hands and watch the way they reflect the sky above you in fractures, better by my hands than his.)

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

If this was a play, then the climax comes when you least expect it, for all the buildup of suspense that had led you to where you are now.

In hindsight, you’re ashamed you didn’t see it coming.

You hide behind a wall as you hear a first year stumble through her confession - a blur of Iwaizumi-senpai and I really look up to you, you’re the ace of Seijoh’s volleyball team, I watched you play the other day - and try to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach. 

You’ve made your peace, had made it since you realized that what you feel is more than momentary attraction to one of your annoyingly attractive best friends; you’ve patched your heart up with the glue the theatre club used for props, added a bandage when you realized your feelings still leaked through a hole in the bottom, and layered a band-aid over it for every time he hovers in the doorway of your classroom during lunch, every victorious smile he sends your way when they win a game (because of course you’d go to all of them, they’re your best friends, and that’s exactly why you will never risk ruining what the three of you already have). 

You realize it doesn’t matter, because your heart is crumbling under its own weight, and no amount of glue or band-aids can stand in the way of gravity.

The first year finishes her confession, and you hold your breath with her, even though you know you should walk away.

Iwaizumi says something too soft for you to pick up, but when the first year thanks him for his time with a wobble to her voice, you know it’s a rejection.

(You feel terrible for the momentary lifting of your heart.)

The first year runs past you, and you brush off your skirt. It’s about time you left, Tooru will be wondering where the both of you are. 

You take a step, and your foot knocks against a discarded soda can that you hadn’t seen.

“Y/n?” You whirl around, and Iwaizumi is looking at you, surprise on his face.

Shit, you think, this is the climax, isn’t it? 

“Yo, Hajime!” You try for a smile, your voice light. It sounds a little unhinged. “Getting real popular, aren’t you? Tooru-kun better watch out, eh?” You take a step backwards, and the moment you feel your foot slip on the same soda can that’d been the trigger to this entire fiasco, you know: the universe really is gunning for the whole shoujo scene today, huh. 

True to form, Iwaizumi catches you, lunging forward instinctively to pull you forward by your arm. 

But he isn’t the ace for nothing, and those biceps and forearms certainly aren’t for show. As it is, he pulls a little too hard, and you stumble into his chest with an oof, only to trip over his feet and send the both of you toppling forwards with your weight. 

Oof indeed, you think a little hysterically, as you raise your head to see Iwaizumi’s face inches from yours, cheeks flushed and lips parted from the shock of impact, your hand on his chest - it’s a very nice chest, you register appreciatively, with a touch of deliria. Your mind does the equivalent of a Windows shut down, complete with the dying cries. 

“Y/n?” Oh, his voice is low, and rough, and very, very hot. You flush hotter than you thought was possible. “Are you okay?” His hand is on your waist, burning through the fabric of your uniform.

“Yeah,” you say, without feeling your tongue. Fuck, his collar is open. Again. Did he know how much he tormented the entire school population when he did that? Tooru had even hummed appreciatively the first time he’d popped a button while arm wrestling Makki, not that you know how the physics of that had worked. 

“Um,” he says again, when you don’t move. “Are you sure?”

“Peachy,” you answer. Your eyes linger on his lips.

“Okay,” Iwaizumi says, sounding a little strangled. (He noticed. He’s trying very hard not to think too much about how one of your legs is slotted between his, and seeing your eyes drop to his mouth really isn’t helping.)

Then he remembers what landed him here in the first place (besides you literally landing on him, but he’s not thinking about that right now, nope.)

“How much did you hear?” The question brings you back, and you wrench your gaze away from his lips, because what the fuck, we talked about this, you’ve even exhausted your emotional wallet on band-aids, fuck. 

“Uh,” you say intelligently, “everything?” You pause. Then, “She was cute.” I’m so glad you turned her down. 

“Okay.” Iwaizumi takes a moment to process this. You’re still on him, your (stupidly cute and small) hand on his chest. He closes his eyes for a moment. To whatever entity lies up there, don’t let Shittykawa pick the photo for my funeral. 

He opens his eyes, fixes you with a stare. “Okay,” he repeats, and he sounds as lost as you are. Then, very seriously, he says, “Feel free to slap me,” and leans in.

He goes slow, not that it matters, because you’ve lost all control of your body. You couldn’t move even if Oikawa was aiming one of his jump serves at you right now. 

An eternity passes before his eyes close (the part of you that’s still capable of thought mourns, because his eyes really are a very pretty shade of olive green, and- oh fuck, his lashes are longer than yours, that’s unfair, what the actual fuck), then his lips are on yours and whatever part of your brain that had been running on fumes and hysteria dies.

It’s the barest touch of lips, a shy glance that can’t even be called chaste. Iwaizumi lingers in your space for a moment, then pulls away completely.

You reach out on autopilot, hooking your hand in his collar (like on February 14th, which feels like a lifetime ago at the same time it feels like it was just yesterday), and bringing his lips to yours in a messy clash of noses and teeth. You feel him stiffen, then he’s leaning in, his free hand reaching up to cup your face. He tilts his head slightly, and oh, your noses aren’t in the way anymore. You make a noise in the back of your throat, and Iwaizumi’s hand on your hip tightens.

The sting jerks you back to the present, and you lurch away from him in a sudden movement, pushing him away with both hands on his chest.

“Y/n?” You cover your face in your hands, because Iwaizumi sounds thoroughly gone. “Fuck, shit, I’m so sorry, I should have asked, are you okay? Fuck, I really am sorry-”

You slap your hands onto his mouth. “Shut. Up,” you huff, flushing so much you think you might pop a blood vessel, or maybe a very important artery. But when you steal a glance at him, Iwaizumi looks so stricken, so guilty, and you realize what this must look like to him.

“Wait, no-” You take your hands off his mouth, waving them around in your haste to explain, “I liked it,” you say finally, and blush hard enough to make you light-headed again. “It’s just, it was my first kiss,” here you look away form him in embarrassment, bringing your hands up to cover your face again. “And I probably really, really suck,” you finish lamely, muffled by your palms.

Silence. You try not to overthink it. You fail.

Just when you’re about to apologize and maybe run straight into a river, surely there’s one nearby, warm hands circle your wrists, and Iwaizumi gently pries your hands away from your face. (You resist. It makes no difference. The man is the undisputed champion of arm wrestling in Aoba Johsai, and maybe all of Miyagi, though you don’t know if he’s ever challenged the ace of Shiratorizawa.)

“I’m going to kiss you again,” he tells you, “And I’m really, really glad I’m your first kiss.” He leans in, and this time you’re the one to close your eyes. 

The kiss lasts a little longer this time; he coaxes your lips open, and you let yourself be swept into his rhythm. When he pulls away, you finally open your eyes. He’s looking at you, and you realize - oh, so that’s why it’s called eye contact. He’s as red as you feel, and every nerve in your body is fizzing under his gaze. 

“So, uh,” Iwaizumi blushes, and you resist the urge to pinch his cheeks, “Like you heard me tell her, I really like you.”

Wait, what?

“What?” You say. You hadn’t heard that.

Iwaizumi looks at you with dawning embarrassment. “I- she asked if I rejected her because of you and- and I said yes?” His voice breaks on yes. 

“Oh.” Then, as your mind slowly knits itself back together, you squish his cheeks between your hands, lean your forehead against his, and say with all the calm you don’t feel, “I like you too, Hajime.”

He flushes. It spreads downwards to his neck, and your eyes follow it unashamedly. There’s nothing to lose now - sometime during the emotional roller-coaster that you’ve yet to come down from, you’ve both moved till you're basically sitting on his lap. 

“Date me?” Iwaizumi asks, “please?”

You can’t help it, you laugh. “Please,” you tease.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck, grumbling, “You like it when boys are polite.”

You blink. It takes you a while to remember. “Were you listening in on the theatre club?” 

A pause. An uncertain, “No.”

You smile, feeling fondness bloom in the space between your ribs. “We were discussing the characterization of the prince for a play, dumbass. Besides, I like you, Hajime, even if you swear.” You don’t know how much I swear when I think about you. 

“Oh, thank fuck,” he breathes into your neck, then in a flash of movement he’s pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

From your right, the sound of a picture being taken echoes.

Both of you freeze. The position you’re in probably looks very compromising, you realize with horror.

But when you turn, all you see is Tooru, his phone held before him. Silence stretches between the three of you.

Tooru is the first to move. “Oops,” he says, not sounding sorry at all, and takes off in the opposite direction. Hajime curses and picks you up - wow, that’s hot, you think - setting you gently on your feet before he takes off after Tooru. 

“Fucking Trashykawa, get your ass back here!”

You laugh as you watch them streak over the courtyard. “Get him, Hajime!” Then, because you can, you let a wobbly smile take over your face and let the giggles spill from your (no longer virgin) lips.

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

It ends like this - February 14th of your third year, mittened hands holding yours (because you’d left your mittens at home again), “wah, I’m the third wheel now, aren’t I~”, “then go home, Lonerkawa, we won’t miss you”.

“False,” you pipe up, “We’ll miss you, Tooru-kun, but not terribly.” Hajime huffs in amusement and presses a kiss to the top of one of your hands. 

You love what the three of you have - they’re your best friends, and the fact that you get to kiss and cuddle with one of them only makes it better. 

(The curtains fall, and you run off the stage and into a bakery, asking for a milk bread - to appease Tooru, and also reassure him that they really do love him, you know how he can get insecure sometimes - and the free hot chocolate for couples.)

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imma just be honest and say this is very self indulgent HAHA, i love the fake dating trope, i love food, and i love iwa so <3 here, have this 4k words long behemoth

my first ever haikyuu fic!! i’m aware there’s lots of room for improvement, and i’m open to feedback so ,, maybe hit up my inbox? 👉👈

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edit: if you’d like to be added to my taglist, please send me an ask!

[mjvnivsbrvtvs]

2000 words of (checks notes) hbo rome, but Antony captures Brutus alive and no one is quite sure what to do with that. mostly unedited, sort of heading in a direction for sure.

Cassius is dead.

And,  

well.

Brutus is alive.

For whatever reason, Antony had decided to drag him back to his camp, and he sits in Antony’s tent like a child waiting to find out what punishment is going to get doled out while listening to Antony and Octavian shout at each other from some other place in the encampment.

Cassius is dead, and Brutus feels like he was cheated out of being able to take the honorable way out. Instead, he was ignobly marched back across a never-ending field of bodies, a prisoner, maybe something worse. To step between bodies of the men he commanded to their deaths felt like the worst kind of cowardice.

Cassius is dead, Brutus has the blood of his brother-in-law under his nails, and he feels inexplicably jealous.

The yelling stops, and after a moment, Antony steps back inside.

‘Great news!’ he says cheerfully. ‘You won’t be dying today!’

Brutus stares at him. Antony looks back expectantly.

In the back of his throat, the decorum that dictates social niceties threatens to claw its way out of his mouth, to show the appropriate gratefulness.  

Cassius is dead, and Brutus wishes that was his fate as well, so he swallows hard and says nothing.

When it becomes clear that Brutus won’t say anything, Antony pulls a seat over and sits across from Brutus, uncharacteristically serious. ‘I know that this isn’t really ideal for anyone,’ he says, looking Brutus in the eye. ‘But it is better to survive. Think of your mother, how much better it will be for her to get a letter from you than to receive one from me announcing your death.’

It feels like Antony is attempting something like reassurance, like he’s worried Brutus might take the stylus off the desk and shove it through his own neck (he had thought about it, and immediately discarded the idea) but all Brutus can concentrate on is how much he doesn’t want to think of his mother.  

Every personal betrayal, every manipulation at the hands of his own mother comes to the forefront of his mind and he can feel his expression twist into something bitter. ‘I’d consider it a personal favor if you would tell her that anyway,’ Brutus finds himself saying, and Antony laughs, sharp and surprised.

‘I didn’t think you had it in you to be cruel,’ he says, leaning forward.

‘You know, I never really wanted this?’ Brutus says, because now the words won’t stop spilling out of his mouth, ‘but she used my name, and Caesar couldn’t trust me after that.’

There is some emotion that Brutus can’t identify in Antony’s gaze, something quiet and calculating, not unlike a predator considering how to cast judgement.

‘You helped kill him,’ says Antony, tone neutral.

Brutus looks away, and back own at his hands. They aren’t shaking anymore, but on that day, he wasn’t sure they would ever stop. Cassius might have put the blade back into his hands, but he was the one who grasped it and drove it into the body of a man he had once considered to be like a father.  

Abruptly, he wonders if Octavian is somewhere on the other side of the material of the tent, eavesdropping on them like some kind of ghost.

‘I did,’ agrees Brutus, because there’s no sense in denying it or trying to claim some kind of innocence to the act. It runs in the family, even if he tried to deny that legacy before. He won’t try to pass blame for the action now. ‘You should let Octavian do whatever it is he wants to do.’ He sits up a little straighter and narrows his eyes. ‘What do you gain from this anyway? What benefit am I to you?’

Antony leans back, posture open and lazy. It’s not sincere, Brutus knows. It’s the false nonchalance that Antony presents the world when he wants people to look a little less closely, to take him a little less seriously, all the while planning out a series of strategies in the back of his mind.

‘Do I have to have an ulterior motive?’ asks Antony. ‘Maybe I just want to ruin Octavian’s day for a bit.’

He stands up before Brutus can reply, and begins to walk back towards the tent flap. ‘You’ll be staying here,’ Antony informs Brutus. ‘There are soldiers on guard duty, so don’t think about trying to escape.’ He looks at his desk, to the stylus, and after a brief pause of consideration, crosses the space in two easy steps to grab it. ‘Remember!’ he says, grinning. ‘Tomorrow’s a new day!’

Then he’s gone.

And Brutus is once again left with his hands, and Cassius’s blood.

•

At some point in the night, Brutus falls asleep.

When he wakes up, he is in Antony’s bed, with absolutely no recollection of how he got there. His hands, Brutus notices as he sits upright and pushes the blankets off of him, are clean.

‘And he lives!’ says Antony. He’s sitting behind his desk, watching Brutus from over top the paper in his hand. His tone is jovial, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. ‘If you wanted to go back to sleep for another hour, I won’t tell: it might be the last time you’ll get the chance to sleep in.’

The entire exchange is baffling.

The expression on Brutus’ face must convey as much, because Antony laughs. ‘Just because you are my prisoner doesn’t mean it has to be painful for us both.’

Brutus arches an eyebrow at the use of the possessive and makes a note to eventually find out the specifics of what Antony and Octavian had been fighting about. ‘I think you'll find that sentiment goes against almost every expectation someone might have if they found themselves held captive by a political rival,’ points out Brutus.

‘I like to think of us as people who could have been political allies under different circumstances,’ counters Antony. ‘We did work together for some time.’

‘I think’ says Brutus slowly, ‘that you have some ulterior motive you’ve been angling towards for some time.’

Silence, except for the general ambience of a military encampment the day after a resounding victory. Conversation, men looking forward to returning home, the sharp crackle of an early morning fire. Life goes on. When the sun comes up in full, the bodies left on the battlefield will begin to stink and decay under the full force of the heat.

The fight in Brutus, the revulsion that he will be used for another person’s end goals again, fades out of him, replaced with a quiet grief at the thought of the men he led to their death.

Antony snaps his fingers.

‘You look like you’re thinking unhappy thoughts,’ says Antony. ‘Do not. It’s always better to live. If you must spiral into melancholia, wait until I’m gone.’

‘Besides!’ continues Antony. ‘Soon we will be back in Rome!’

Brutus can’t think of anything he’s looking forward to less.

•

Brutus wishes more than anything that Antony had just given him a sword so he could fall on it.

Currently, the feeling is driven less by a sense of duty (what kind of man begs for mercy? comes the voice of his mother. I didn’t beg this time, mother, he would say in reply) or the open wound of loss, but instead by an intense awareness that he does not belong in this place anymore but more importantly 

annoyance.

If he thought he would have to wait around to see what Octavian and Antony were arguing about back in Philippi, he was wrong. The second Antony had set foot in Rome, with Brutus half a step behind him, Octavian immediately launched into an impassioned speech that started with, ‘You should be grateful to Antony, if it were up to me, I would have taken your head displayed it for all to see,’ (poetic in a grim sort of way, thinks Brutus) and ended with:

‘Don’t get too comfortable. You belong to Antony now, and he’ll do with you whatever he wants.’

It’s clearly meant to be some threat, but it’s laughable because Brutus knows this, everyone who’s heard about the outcome at Philippi knows this, there’s probably creative graffiti about it already going up on the walls of the city, and Octavian says it like Brutus hasn’t spent the last week trying to puzzle together why Antony wanted him alive so badly.

The facts of the world are as follow: the sun rises in the east, it sets in the west, Octavian has only become more insufferable over the years, and Brutus belongs to Antony now.

The only person who doesn’t seem to be aware of this is Antony, who continues to act as though Brutus is more of a peer that he had a minor disagreement and has subsequently forgiven.

‘It’s been nice catching up with you, Octavian,’ says Antony with a smile that conveys that the entire exchange has been anything but nice. ‘But I have things to do, matters to attend to.’  

Brutus says nothing.

Octavian levels him with one last bitter look before turning around and leaving the room.

‘Well!’ says Antony after a moment. ‘That went as well as to be expected. I have a feeling he thought I’d have you executed somewhere along the way back.’

‘He’s not the only one,’ comments Brutus dryly, and Antony punches him in the shoulder good naturedly.

‘I love that grim sense of humor you have,’ he says. ‘Come on, let us go home. I’m fucking exhausted.’  

•

Home, it turns out, is Pompey’s villa.

Or more accurately: it’s Antony’s now.

Brutus can see it on the walls, in the décor, in the choices of fabrics and design. It’s alive, it’s vibrant, it’s a complete antithesis of everything Pompey stood for.  

He likes it.

‘So-’ Antony starts to say, at the exact moment Brutus says:

‘What’s your endgame here, Antony?’

It’s a recreation of the morning in Philippi: the open, if somewhat confusing, amicability that doesn’t quite meet the eyes. The sense that Antony is thinking of things in stratagem, planning for some kind of outcome no one has even thought to imagine, much less prepare for.

The villa is nice. Brutus likes what Antony’s done with the place.

He also feels very much like he’s walked into the open mouth of something with very sharp teeth, and if he must be assigned a role in whatever Antony is gearing up for, he would at least like an idea of what’s to come.

Whatever Antony is searching for in Brutus’ eyes, he must have found, because the tension in his jaw disappears.

‘Some other time,’ he says finally. ‘Not today.’

There’s a promise in between the words.

Brutus tries to feel grateful for that, at least. It’s hard, because once, before all of this, he used to be--

•

--a person.

Antony shows him to one of the rooms, makes some remark about not leaving the villa, with a side glance at Posca, who does his best not to meet Brutus’ eyes, which is understandable. Antony takes off, and in the absence of anything else to do, Brutus decides to try and reinvent himself.

He can no longer be Brutus, descendant of a king killers. He is no longer a reluctant, albeit talented, politician, following in the footsteps of all the other politicians that came before him. He’s not even entirely sure what his status as a citizen of Rome is. In lieu of death, Octavian might push for exile.

The only concrete fact about himself now is that Antony wanted him alive, and so he belongs to Antony.

The lack of solid ground to stand on makes exile a tempting thought.

At some point in the afternoon (no further along in the process of reinvention than when he started) a young woman stops by: Cynthia, if Brutus recalls correctly. One of Antony’s slaves. She asks if he’s hungry, if he’d like an apple and--

--for a moment, Brutus feels like he’s returned to Philippi, standing defeated, surrounded by bodies. The dead don’t eat, they need coins for the afterlife, not food, the dead don’t eat, and he’s not a person anymore--

--Brutus says yes and follows her.

•

Antony is exhausted.

Octavian, he knows, is planning something. There is something ugly and spiteful inside of that youth, Antony can’t stand to be around him, no matter how much Atia dotes on him.  

When Antony returns back home late in the evening, he’s greeted with the sight of Brutus sitting on one of the couches, peeling an apple, while Cynthia stands nearby, slicing up a pear. He pulls the heavy fabric of the toga off his body and casts it across a chair, making his way towards the two.

Draping himself along the couch next to Brutus, he leans over and says, ‘Slice off a piece for me.’

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Posca watching the scene unfold from the quiet shadows of the evening.

Brutus cuts off a part of the apple so that the slice is stuck on the side of the blade, and holds it out to Antony, like this is an everyday occurrence, like Brutus isn’t pointing a knife at the person who owns his life.

He realizes it, a moment later, and freezes, but before he can course correct, pull back, apologize, Antony leans forward and bites the apple slice right off the sharp edge of the knife.

Brutus stares at him.

Or, more specifically, Antony is delighted to note, he stares at the line of Antony’s throat, his gaze lingering for just a second too long.

[whumpiary]

Darktimeline!AU continues. As ever, written in collaboration with the incredible @untilthepainstarts.

content warnings: referenced murder, referenced noncon touch, alcohol, mild violence, briefly referenced victim blaming

-

It took a lot for Cassius Bergen to feel unsettled. Usually he was fazed by so very little, an I’m-rubber-you’re-glue kind of guy, attitude loose and languid in a way that made it adaptable to any incoming occurrence, good or bad. There wasn’t any use in the feeling of being perturbed to a man who had already laughed outright in the face of the perverse, from twisted colleagues to the character that had raised him. 

But when Viklund-Reid turned up on the doorstep of the estate this evening, bloodied and half-wild, Cassius may have felt the slightest twinge of it. No small amount of satisfaction as well of course, at seeing the gaping cracks in the man’s usually impenetrable self control—he had been wondering just how much pressure that nice guy facade could withstand before it popped, and mild-mannered house mouse Lev fell away to reveal Lev Alexander Viklund-Reid, criminal mastermind.

As it turns out, all it took was a single loose end.

"I think I killed Jacob St. Clair."

Standing in the doorway to the sitting room in his nightrobe and slippers, Cassius’ mouth drops open. He shuts it just as fast, but it doesn’t seem like Lev had noticed at all. If anything, the man seemed wrapped up in himself, eyes staring into middle distance, hands rubbing up along the outsides of his arms.

"Wait, you think you did, or you did did? Because—”

"I did," Lev restates. "He's definitely dead. And if he wasn't then… he is now."

It’s then that Cassius’ eye picks up the things he didn’t before. It's a warm November night outside and Lev isn't wearing his usual jacket, but rather a comparatively thin dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. It's torn a few inches in at the collar, the top buttons popped off  to reveal the delicate golden necklace he always wears underneath. A trail—a spray—of blood sits across his face, from his cheek to the inside corner of his eye. And on his knuckles. And in his hair, in tiny little spots.

Cassius realises that he’s grinning. It feels sharp in his mouth. “Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah.” Lev’s hand reaches up to play with the gold chain. His eyes remain unfocused, staring somewhere between Cassius’ chaise and his china cabinet.

“Jesus Christ. So I guess we’re not going with ‘take him down quietly’?”

“Apparently not.”

Blowing air out through his cheeks, Cassius shakes his head. Leans in the doorway, He’s not that mad, not really. 

Though Lev could have asked if he wanted a piece first, selfish bastard. A bit rich considering it all. If Cassius had known he was going to up and off the guy—

“Just say it,” Lev says, eyes flicking up to meet his in a tired sort of challenge. “We both know you’re going to.”

Cassius smirks and crosses his arms, “Let’s not rush it, Bergen. There’s no satisfaction in a quick kill, Bergen. Let’s savour the take down, rot him from the inside out…”

Lev’s eyes flick away from him, dark and blazing, as though he hadn’t just asked to be served what he was given. As if he didn’t deserve a little mocking for his hypocrisy. 

“I know.”

Cassius shrugs like it doesn’t bother him, and really what is there to be all that bothered about? If St Clair was dead, he was dead. Not much they could do to wind back time now. 

“So what happened, then?”

Lev eyes flick up and then away again, find the same middle distance he’s been staring into all night. His hand comes up, knuckles rubbing against the bare of his neck, just above the necklace. He could just be rubbing at the dried blood there. Cassius would bet half his house that he isn’t.

“What happened, Viklund-Reid?” he says again, a tiny tug back to earth. “Come on. You stole my kill, I deserve the story at least.”

“He called my guy yesterday, begging me for help with James and whatever takeover that little fuck is itching to pull the trigger on now, asking for a meeting. At first I thought about just telling him I had no wish to be caught up in that, shut it down, but… I figured it could be a chance at information. And frankly it was weird that he reached out to me directly, and at the moment James is being a right prick with my deals up north. So I went.”

Cassius nods along like the story is new to him, all while a sense of déjà-vu creeps slowly in. “But he didn’t want to talk about that at all?”

Smiling self-deprecatingly, Lev shakes his head. “He wanted to talk about me. Said I had done really well so far, better than he’d expected, but it was time to face the facts: that I’d never be what Martin was, that I’m not designed for this kind of life… whatever, you get the idea. But then when I made to leave, he stopped me. Physically. And I just—you don’t just do that, but he did—warned him too, said if he kept going like that, he’d have known if he’d just listened to me, I wouldn’t have had to, to, to—he just kept pushing, and pushing and then—” 

The disjointed stream of a sentence ends in a laugh, tightly wound. Lev’s shoulders have drawn in, his jaw clenched, and he’s speaking at the wall as if it had been the one who’d wronged him, his initial audience all but forgotten in the room.

Cassius raises an eyebrow. He hasn’t seen him angry like this. Anxious like this. “Viklund-Reid?”

“—Wonder why no one likes you, fucker, sticking your nose into other people’s business, putting your hands where they don’t belong—”

“Viklund-Reid.”

“—Put down that fucking ego for twelve seconds—”

“Lev.”

“What.”

When he’s sure he finally has Lev’s attention, Cassius moves his eyes down to the knife that had appeared in his business partner’s hand and back up again, pointedly. It’s enough to make the man pause and take stock of what had seemingly been an unconscious fiddling, smoothly flicking it open and shut in rapid repetition. 

It’s not the knife that bothers Cassius particularly. Lord knows he’s seen it enough. It’s the way he was holding it, fiddling with it. The specific grip to the handle. Unconscious maybe, all of it. But careful. Practiced. With intent. The same way a cat settled back and locked its gaze before striking prey. The same way a sharpshooter fiddled with a gun.

Lev clears his throat, before slipping the knife into his pocket. “I, uh. I’m gonna use your bathroom.” He pushes up off the arm of the sofa and starts walking away, but not before Cassius can cut him off at the pass.

“No you’re not. Kitchen’s closer. Has booze,” Cassius adds, before heading off in that direction, not waiting to check if Lev is following, and definitely not moving anywhere within striking distance. As much as he didn’t need Lev falling apart in his sitting room, he also didn’t particularly need a stab wound either. 

Cassius steps into the kitchen and goes directly to the sink, turning on the water and letting it run before heading to the pantry and straight to the liquor.

“Is this a champagne or vodka sort of occasion?” he calls over his shoulder.

“Vodka,” comes the mumbled call from the sink. “Definitely fucking vodka.”

By the time he comes back, near-full bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other, Lev is sitting on the kitchen bench, frowning at his knuckles, rubbing at them absently with a piece of blood-pink paper towel.

“You look rattled,” Cassius says mildly. 

“I am rattled.”

Cassius snorts a laugh and Lev looks up at him with something a little too tired to be a glare. “What?”

He shrugs. “Nothing. Just didn’t think I’d be spending my night talking through baby’s first murder.”

“Not my first,” Lev mutters with a scoff. “Jesus, of course not my first. Just first like this. First where I… lost control.”

Cassius frowns barely and looks Lev over, eyes narrowing in curiosity while the other man’s gaze is diverted. He’d always kind of thought… well he’d assumed how it must’ve gone down with Martin. But apparently he was going to have to ask for that story one day too.

He offers out the vodka, leaves the glasses on the bench behind him. “Drink.”

Lev takes a generous swig and returns the bottle to the bench, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Did he try that with you?”

Taking his time ripping a bit of paper towel from the roll, folding it into a square, using it to dab away the little streak of blood on Lev’s face, Cassius ponders his answer. Decides to let the other do the work. “Try what?”

Lev’s lips press together in a thin line. “If I’d known, I’d have taken care of it from the start. Or at least… wouldn’t have told you to wait.”

The image of St. Clair flashes up in front of Cassius' eyes—furious, yes, but from the other side of the table over lunch. Looking like he’d wanted to leap over it and strangle him, but hadn’t in the end. Just called him the usual—little Bergen whore—and left.

“No, he didn’t. Just ran his mouth.”

Lev’s face falls slightly, as if that wasn’t the answer he’d wanted. He leans backward, eyes narrowed, calculating.

“Sorry, did I just relieve you of some preconceptions?” Cassius says drily, feeling annoyance stir somewhere underneath the surface. He had no right. “Or did he need to have groped me a little for me to be able to be mad about it?”

“That’s not—”

“Because if I recall, I wanted the fucker gone months ago and you kept telling me it wasn’t smart. So now I’m just trying to figure out where the double standard fits into all of this, or whether I now get to present my own TED talk on self-control.”

“If he had kept his hands off of me—”

“You think I haven’t had people put their hands on me?” Cassius spits. Lev looks away. Cassius burns. “How is it that when I do this shit it’s stupid and impulsive and—”

“It is stupid and impulsive.”

“And when you do it, it’s what? Righteous?”

Bringing his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose, Lev heaves a sigh. “Shut it, Bergen. Shut up.”

“Or what? Your cleaner’s going to be hitting up my place later too?”

Lev moves his hand away, looks like he’s about to bite back a response, before he pauses. Blinks, hand hovering in the air. Mouth open, then shut, and the tension fizzles slightly in the room as he flounders.

For the second time that night, Cassius feels a shark-like smile creep across his face as he puts two and two together. “Oh, you’re kidding. You’re kidding,” he says through bared teeth, tone dangerously low.

Dark eyes lock with his as Lev looks at him. “I fucked up. I know I fucked up.”

Cassius’ annoyance shifts gears right into anger, revving hot at the half-admission. “Say the fucking words, Lev,” he challenges, incredulous.

When the only response he gets from the man in front of him is a sheepish look and a phone pulled out of his pocket, Cassius scoffs, grabs the vodka on the bench. He’s furious, can only hold it in for long enough to take a swig straight from the bottle, and for Lev to start dialing.

“So. Just so I’ve got all of this perfectly fucking clear. You murder a guy, right, guy you told me specifically not to. Then you get in your car. Drive forty minutes here. Come into my house—”

“I know, alright?”

“—And you haven’t called your fucking cleaner yet?”

“Don’t yell at me Bergen,” Lev warns, frowning.

Laughing, Cassius gestures at him with the bottle—how dare he? Keeps his voice at the same level, because fuck this. “I’ll talk to you how I damn well please. You are in my house. You are putting my arse on the line here.”

“I’m getting it sorted,” he says with a pointed glare, phone to ear. 

Cassius laughs again, eyes wide and furious. “Cutting it kind of close, don’t you think?”

Lev swears under breath as the phone clearly hits voicemail, starts to redial. 

“Perfect,” Cassius scoffs, taking another swig. “Fucking perfect.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“You have the fucking murder weapon sitting on my bench, Lev,” he says, swinging his arms wide. “Are you trying to get this pinned on me?”

“I said, I’ll handle it.”

Cassius doesn’t let up. “Is this what you get off on is it? Getting friends in high places dragged down to low ones?”

“Of course not.” Lev spits, real fire in his eyes.

“Well fuck knows you don’t seem to be getting off on anything else.”

Lev’s feet hit the floor as he surges forward, and the next thing Cassius knows are two hands curled in his shirt and his back hitting the wall, vodka splashing up out of the glass neck on impact. He opens his mouth to command Lev away, but hesitates on the thought of meeting the business end of that knife—he’s already right on him, and could likely pull and engage it in a split-second, before he could even name him and finish the words. 

Cassius searches the eyes of the man pinning him to the wall and for the first time since their meeting, Cassius is certain Lev Viklund-Reid could kill him.

So when Lev rushes forward all at once, Cassius can’t help the gasp that leaves him. He’d almost be embarrassed by the shocked sound of it if the noise wasn’t stolen from his lips in half a second by Lev’s own.

Lev kisses him hard. Hungry and desperate. Like he’s trying to tell him something words aren’t enough for. Cassius feels like he’s stuck a beat behind just trying to decipher it. And then just as he starts to melt forward into it, just as he brings his hands up to touch, Lev’s gone again, the weight of his body disappearing as completely as if he’d turned to smoke while Cassius’ eyes were closed.

“What-” Cassius blinks his eyes open, hand almost reaching for a man who isn’t there anymore.

Lev’s standing a few feet away, wide-eyed and halfway horrified. “Shit, I’m so sorry. You- I’m- I’m an idiot. ”

“No, it’s-” Cassius brings his hand up and back to his lips, silences himself, stops the words that want to come out. The kiss still feels trapped there, just beneath his fingertips. “It’s fine.”

“Shit,” Lev repeats. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Lev, just-” come back here. Do that again. “Calm down, a sec.”

“Jesus, I- I’m losing it,” Lev says, and alright well that stings just a little. Cassius keeps his place on the wall, tucks his hands behind his back and presses them flat against the plaster.

“I’m fucked.” And there’s that mad laugh again. A torn out, twisted thing that hardly suits him but still seems to fit. “I’ve fucked this.”

“Lev…”

“No, I’m-“ he makes a pained expression, like shame and apology all wrapped up in one scrunch of the nose. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have come here, I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking-“

“Probably that you need an alibi,” Cassius says evenly, shrugging a shoulder as he pushes forward, risks a step or two closer. “I’m a good one. And the staff all love you. They’d vouch for you even if I don’t threaten them.”

He doesn’t get too close—who’d approach a wild animal with its hackles still raised? But still makes himself available. Approachable. He could be the lantern in the distance if the man needed it, but he knew it wasn’t wise to press, even after Lev had initiated. Maybe especially so.

This time when Lev crashes forward, head landing heavy against Cassius’ chest, Cassius manages to catch his gasp before it betrays him.  The aftershock runs through him like a thrill and settles alongside his heart, pounding like a bass drum right beneath where Lev’s head is pressed. He wonders if Lev can hear it. If he does, he doesn’t mention. Cassius, in turn, doesn’t mention the way Lev is shaking.

"St. Clair was right. I'm too… too…"

Unbidden, Cassius brings his hand up, resting it gingerly on the back of Lev’s head, bottle of vodka still hanging from the fingers of his other hand. “Shut your mouth.”

It falls quiet around them. Between them. The echo of the sink dripping, the sound of the clock from the hall, Lev’s breathing as he steadies himself. That’s all. Cassius keeps expecting Viklund-Reid to shove him off. For the feeling of a blade pressed to his gut. It never comes.

It feels strange, dangerous even, holding a man who barely an hour before had killed another for daring to do less. But he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t feel good as well. And that’s wrong, maybe, after the night that Lev’s had. To enjoy holding him like this. To feel soothed by it.

Cassius closes his eyes ever so briefly. Maybe he’s the one who’s fucked. Oh well.

"Look,” Lev says, after a minute or two. “I know we're probably even now, but just in case... if you tell anyone about this, I'll gut you. And all that."

Cassius blinks and laughs, feeling the sound reverberate along his own ribcage and out through Lev’s back. “Sure. As long as you call your cleaner up after.”

And he has no idea where the fuck the impulse comes from, even less so why he listens to it, but he turns his head, presses a kiss to Lev’s hair. 

Both men tense. Breath caught. Moment frozen.

Lev pulls back to look at him, expression indecipherable, and Cassius opens his mouth to say something – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that, please don’t stab me – he’s not sure what, and then Lev’s phone rings. Like a spell’s been broken, they both flinch away. 

“That’s my-”

“Yeah.”

The air feels electrically charged and all at once Cassius can’t figure out how to hold himself in the room, ends up pressed back against the wall where Lev had left him a few minutes earlier as Lev walks from the room, phone pressed to his ear.

“Winters. Sorry to bother you this late—yeah, it’s alright. Would you mind crunching some numbers for me?”

Cassius tips his head back against the wall and exhales through his teeth, blowing his cheeks out, fingers tapping against the plaster.

It took a lot to get him unsettled. And this wasn’t that, he wasn’t unsettled exactly but he was… something.

He closes his eyes, takes another swig and wipes his mouth clean with a rough hand. Shakes his head at nobody but himself. This is stupid. Three hundred and sixty degrees of stupid. Dangerous. That’s what it is.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. 

When exactly had he developed a crush on a mobster? On the untouchable, inimitable Lev Viklund-Reid?

He lets out a laugh, wild and bubbling, hopes that Lev can’t hear it from the other room.

Oh, Jesus. Alrighty then. So. He’s fucked.

[thebookkeeperslibrary]

Lost Time: Ch. 7

Fandom: Time Warp Trio

Author: The_Bookkeeper_96

Rating: T

Summary: Another summer at Horae Manor begins, but before Joe and Tessa get the chance to train, they are sent out on a mission to explore the magic capital of the universe, Mancika. Rumors of illegal magic conversion spread throughout the city, and Joe and Tessa need to locate those responsible. But after the events of last summer, Joe isn't eager to work with his Aether partner, and the two are struggling more with each other than with their enemies.

A/N: Sorry for the delay. A lot of big life-changes have been happening for me lately. Anyway, enjoy! And as always, please let me know what you think by leaving a review!

Read on AO3

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

"I simply cannot save the world on an empty stomach." - Dawne Lisle, Thirteenth Warp Wizard

When I wake up the next morning, I'm no longer physically exhausted. But I still feel drained, like my soul is exhausted. My magic definitely hasn't returned yet.

It's easy enough to get out of bed and get dressed for the day. I throw on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, hoping that this will be acceptable enough for whatever Cassius and Rowena have in store for me and Tessa today. But just what did they have planned? They didn't give us any details last night. Hopefully, they’ll reveal a bit more at breakfast.

I mentally check the time. Even in a world between worlds, I can still pinpoint the exact time, seven forty-eight. Breakfast would be starting soon, so I make my way to the dining hall.

Surprisingly, and unfortunately, I'm not the first one there. Tessa sits at her usual spot, twirling her sabre, a far-off look in her eyes. She doesn't even notice me until I take my seat directly across from her.

"Oh!" She fumbles with her sword, quickly flipping it closed and putting it away. "S-sorry, I didn't hear you come in."

I sit back in my chair and say nothing. Something's off with her this morning, but why? I don't think I've ever heard her stutter before. Where is her normally cool and confident self? Did last night in the gym really throw her off that much?

Her eyes search mine. I don't know what she's hoping to find, but I do my best to not give her anything. "Did you, uh, sleep well last night?"

"Like a rock."

She nods and looks down. "That's good."

I take a closer look at her face. Dark circles hang under her eyes. Had she not been able to sleep last night? I shake my head and turn away. Whatever, it's not like I care about her sleeping habits. One restless night wouldn't kill her. And besides, it was probably some form of karma anyway.

I keep studying her face. She did seem genuinely upset last night. Devastated actually. Her reaction had been a little over the top given the situation. Is there something else bothering her? Besides the whole 'save the entire space-time continuum' thing. But I mean, that's practically nothing.

I press my lips together. We couldn't keep going like this. We were stuck together and who knows what Cas and Ro are planning for us today.

It's not easy, but I manage to say, "Listen, I don't blame you for what happened last night. You heard Cas. It was my fault."

She waves me off and rests her head on her hand. "No, it's fine. It's not the first time. I always mess things up."

Before I can ask her what she means by that, Sam hurries into the room. He crashes into the chair next to me, nearly pushing me out of mine. "Joe! Thank goodness you're here. I need to talk to you. Last night, in the library…" he stops, panting heavily.

Tessa and I both lean forward. "What?" we ask together.

"There- I saw- we saw," he continues to huff, "a ghost!"

"A ghost?" I ask. I can’t help the doubt that creeps into my voice. Okay, so Sam's not adjusting well…

"Who's we?" Tessa adds. Any traces of her earlier self-doubt or depression are gone. Her usual mask of over-confidence and sassy attitude reappears.

"Juniper and I." Sam rearranged himself to properly sit in his chair. "And yes a ghost." He glares pointedly at me.

"Are you sure?" I ask, at the same time Tessa says, "What did it look like?"

I raise an eyebrow at her. She didn't really believe him, right? But she ignored me, her full focus on Sam and his story.

He nods eagerly and starts talking a mile a minute, "Yes, ask Juniper. She was with me. She was reading these weird books and promised to teach me about magic. Oh! Speaking of weird books-"

"Wait, wait, wait." Tessa cuts him off. She places her hands on the table in front of her. "Did you say June was reading? But she-"

"Doesn't like books, I know." Sam finishes her sentence.

Between the two of them, I don't know if any sentence will be finished. We're definitely not going to get the whole story this way. Part of me wondered if we should even be talking about this right now. Wouldn't it be better to wait for everyone else to arrive? At the very least, Cas and Ro should hear this.

"Okay, Sam," I offer, "let's assume you did see a ghost. Why don't you take a second to breathe and calm down? Then, when everyone else gets here, you can tell us what happened."

He frowns at me, knowing I don't believe him. To be fair, it wasn't like Sam to just make up some wild story like this. Fred, sure, but not him. We had seen some crazy stuff over the years. I guess seeing a ghost inside a magic school isn't too out of the ordinary for us.

"That's not a bad idea. I have a few questions for June anyway." Tessa sits back in her chair and folds her arms across her chest.

I smile to myself. Maybe there's hope for our little motley group yet.

Of course, that thought gets ruined as soon as I think it.

"For the last time, no." Arwen growls and stomps into the room.

Fred trails in behind her, whining, "Oh, come on, why not?"

"Because I said no. I really can't simplify that any more." She plants herself in the chair next to Tessa with a huff.

"Please? Aren’t we friends now? Why can’t I-"

"Shut up!" Arwen stabs her knife into the table. It vibrates in place, barely an inch away from Fred's fingers.

I jump back, staring wide-eyed at the knife. Just how bad did Fred piss her off? It's only eight in the morning. Sure, Fred can be annoying, but that is excessive.

Fred recoils. "I just thought we really bonded last night."

"Sounds like you two had a lot of fun," Tessa says with a smirk. "I'd love to hear more about this bonding experience."

Arwen glares at her. "You can shut up too."

She rolls her eyes in response and offers Fred a pitiful smile. "Don't take it personally. Ari’s not a morning person, and she really struggles with anger management."

Juniper giggles as she enters the dining hall and joins us at the table. "I'll say. Remember that time she lost it on those kids in the park because they hit her with one of their water balloons?"

"That was completely justifiable."

"They were, like, eight."

Arwen groans and buries her head in her hands. "Okay, everyone can officially shut up. It's too early for this."

"Too early for what?" Our final two members finally walk into the room and take their seats at the head of the table. "I hope you're not ready to go back to bed. You kids have a big day ahead of you."

We all perk up at that. "We do?"

Cas nods. "Oh yes, but first, we must eat." He waves his hand. Green mist hovers over the table and vanishes just as quickly, leaving behind a full breakfast buffet.

Easily distracted by the food, I load my plate with a stack of pancakes and begin drowning them in syrup.

I distantly hear Sam cough next to me, and judging by the pointed look he's giving me, it's not the first time he's done it. He looks from me to Juniper, to Cas and Ro. I almost wish I didn't understand his hint.

Setting down my fork, I sigh. Why does he have to be so dramatic? "Can't we eat first? I'm starving."

"Not surprising considering the surge of magic you let out last night," Cas says, eyeing me closely. "We should look you over before we leave today."

I wave him off, hoping my exhaustion doesn't show too much. "I feel fine. Really."

Cas and Ro both give me a look letting me know they don't believe me for one second. Well, it was worth a shot. I don't want to have to go to the infirmary. I was hoping to avoid it this summer. My nose twinges at the memory of last year's injury.

"Anyway," I say, eager to change the subject. I point to Sam. "Sam claims he saw a ghost last night."

I can't help but notice Juniper tense up. Her hair is covering her face, so I can't read her expression. Sam had said she'd been there last night too. But she’s acting much too casual for someone who saw a ghost the night before.

Sam nods so hard, his glasses almost fall off. "It- he looked sort of like an old monk. He didn't feel nice."

Fred snorts. "He didn't feel nice?"

Sam throws his hands in the air. "I don't know how else to describe it. It felt like he wanted to hurt us. And he sort of did. Somehow, he pressurized the whole room. I thought my eyes were going to pop out of my head." He stares at all of us. No one looks entertained by his story, let alone like we believe him. He rubs his hand down his face and glares at Juniper. "A little help here?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Juniper says, joining the conversation for the first time. She pushes her hair out of her face. "It must have been some trick of the light combined with all that old dust in the library."

"The library?" Cas hums, stroking his chin. "Did this ghost have a really thick beard? And was it wearing heavy robes?"

"Yes!" Sam slams his hands down, practically jumping on the table.

Cas lets out a light laugh. "Oh, that's just old Flamel. He's harmless. In fact, he helped me find my way out of the library when I got lost in there as a kid. Good to know he's still floating around.

Sam's mouth drops open. "Good to know? You knew there were ghosts here and you didn't say anything?"

Rowena shrugs. "We really never had the time or need to tell you."

"Oh, that reminds me." Cas clasps his hands together. "There's a flock of pixies in one of the old classrooms. So, please don't enter any locked rooms. Those things are a pain to catch."

"It took us three weeks to find them all last time," Ro adds, as if this is a perfectly normal conversation to be having.

I blink, a thousand questions running through my mind. Mainly, what are pixies? But also, how often did they get out? Is that something Tessa and I would be doing every month? A heavy sigh escapes my lungs, and I stare at the ceiling. No, Tessa and I have much bigger things on our plate. The universe isn't going to save itself.

"I think we figured out mythic creatures were real last summer when we met the Drake," I point out to everyone. In hindsight, ghosts and pixies, whatever those are, don't seem so strange. Our lives were like a fairy tale, better to swallow that large pill now and move on. "Speaking of summer adventures, you mentioned we had a big day ahead of us?" I turn the conversation to my mentors, hoping they'll give us more information. And that they'll talk enough so I can finish my breakfast in peace. I shove some toast in my mouth before they even have a chance to deflect the conversation back to me.

Rowena frowns at my poor table manners. "Yes, well, today Cassius and I have to go to Mancika. An emergency council meeting has been called, and we can't miss it."

"I thought you two were in charge of the council." Tessa leans across the table to have a better view. "Can't you just reschedule?"

"That's the thing with emergency meetings, they tend to be time sensitive. So, no." Cas replies.

Rowena continues, "While we're gone, we can't simply leave you all to your own devices. So you'll be coming with us."

I nearly choke on my toast. Mancika? As in, the capital of the magic world? I'd seen in it pictures in some of the books Cas gave me to read last year. I probably should have done more than stare at the pictures, but it looked really cool. However, being there, sitting in on a meeting all day didn’t sound very fun. Even if it was for a magic council.

Like she's reading my thoughts, Tessa asks, "You're bringing us to Mancika so we can watch a council session?"

Rowena snorts. "Hardly. Even if you're potential future Great Wizards, council sessions are private, with very few exceptions. We have something else in mind for you."

"Going head to head with magical criminals?"

"Spying on your enemies?"

"Infiltrate an evil dark magic syndicate?"

"What? No," Rowena groans as Cassius chuckles at our responses. She elbows him in the side. "Don't encourage them." He merely rolls his eyes in response.

Their back and forth is kind of a shock. It's the first time I've seen them actually act like siblings. I didn't realize it when I first met them, but in hindsight, I was blind. The two are obviously twins. Other than their eyes, they’re identical. I wonder how that affects their work. I know I couldn't be stuck with Anna like that forever. We'd kill each other. I take a quick glimpse at Tessa out of the corner of my eye. Then again, we aren't exactly off to a great start either. I almost wish my sister was here instead, but she can't do magic.

With a sigh, Rowena explains what we're actually doing today. "We just need you to do some research for us."

A collective groan rises from everyone. They were sending us to the biggest magical city and making us do research? It seems almost cruel to send us there and then just stick us in a library all day. This is definitely busy work to keep us occupied while they get to do the important stuff.

"Now, hold on. We haven't told you what you'll be researching. I promise it's important, and it actually relates to our council meeting today. So it will be useful and valuable information." Cas's hands begin to glow and a cloud of green smoke appears above the table. Slowly a vision starts forming, becoming clearer and clearer until it reveals a news reporter standing in front of a museum. "No doubt you have heard about the recent artifact robberies occurring at several museums and private collections across the world."

Everyone nods. This had been all over the news recently, but it started over a year ago. It’s nothing new.

Tessa and I lock eyes across the table, and I'm sure we’re thinking the same thing. Are they about to tell everyone about the time decay and our role in it? I'm not sure I want that. And why would they pull us out yesterday to tell us about the doomsday countdown clock in private if they were just going to tell everyone about it today? Did they really think a day was long enough for us to adjust to that kind of news?

I chew on my bottom lip and let Cas continue. Tessa taps her fingers on the table, clearly just as anxious as me.

"We need you to sneak around Mancika and see what information you can find as to why this is happening." The vision he'd created changes to an eagle-eye view of a city, presumably Mancika.

The city is laid out in a circle, with clear roads (or are those walls?) that divide it into nine parts. The center of Mancika is an isolated smaller circle housing a few very large buildings. I didn't need to read anything about the place to understand that's the most important part, and no doubt where Cas and Ro are going for their meeting.

"So we are going on a secret mission!" Fred practically jumps up and down in his seat.

"Of a sort. If thinking that way helps you focus on the task at hand, then fine,” Ro says with a sigh. “Welcome to your first official secret mission debriefing."

We all sit up a little straighter at that. Saying it that way made this much more exciting.

Cas clears his throat in a very dramatic sort of way, making his sister roll her eyes. “Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to discover any and all information pertaining to the disappearance of these artifacts and the corruption of the time periods they come from.

“For some reason, certain periods of time have become unstable and thus parts of history are vanishing. This may be due to natural causes in the space-time continuum, but we have reason to believe that someone or a group of people is causing this chaos and destruction, but we don’t know who.”

Ro picks up where he left off. “That’s where you kids come in. Cas and I are far too well-known and recognizable in Mancika. No one will be willing to tell us any information without fear of getting in trouble themselves. But you all are strangers and will be able to blend in with the locals and listen to any rumors relating to this issue.

“For this to work, you must maintain a low-profile. So no showing off with magic.” She gives me a pointed look. I flinch away. Last night had been an accident. Besides, I don’t think I could summon up that much magic right now even if I wanted to.

“Time is of the essence. As soon as we can put a stop to this, the better. Any questions?”

Um, yeah. About a hundred. My mouth stays shut though, and we all shake our heads.

“Perfect. Joe and Tessa, we have a few more things for you. Everyone else is dismissed. Go pack any items you think you’ll need, but keep it light. If all goes well, we’ll all be back here tonight just in time for dinner.”

All our friends get up and leave the room, chatting excitedly with each other. All the previous tension between them seems to be gone for the moment. I wonder how long that will last.

“That was a very censored version of what’s actually happening.” Tessa leans back and kicks her feet up on the table.

“That’s the point.” Ro flicks her wrist and a gust of magic sweeps Tessa’s legs back to the floor. She frantically grabs for the table, trying not to fall over, and I have to suppress a laugh. “If you want to tell them the truth, that’s a decision you two need to make. Together.”

My laughter dies in my throat. “So this whole mission is just a team building exercise?

“It has multiple purposes. We do need information on the time decay, but you two need to work on your teamwork and leadership skills.”

“Excuse you, I am a great leader.” Tessa puffs out her chest. “You saw how smoothly the Egypt operation went with me, Ari, and June.”

“Yes, but now you have more people to lead and a co-leader to collaborate with.”

I resist the urge to look at Tessa. It figures she would already have more experience than me with magic missions. I don’t know what the “Egypt operation” is, but it sounds like it went smoother than the time Fred, Sam, and I warped there. And it wasn’t even our skills that got us out. It was a cat and some luck.

“So what do you want us to do?” I ask.

Cas’ lips move into a half-smile. “It’s entirely up to you two. We’ve given you a goal, now work together to figure out the best way to achieve it.”

Tessa frowns and looks back and forth between our mentors. “You’re not going to give us any tips or advise?”

“None at all. You have an hour to prepare. Use your time wisely.”

[avidrawsthings]

My HP AU

My original post is here for context. I got some angry anon messages after I said that Fred didn’t die in my AU. It’s already a given that everyone’s MC is it’s own au anyway, so why not implement more changes anyway? It’s not like they’ll overwrite the main canon story (yet some people like anon act like they do). This is just the less cluttered version of my list of differences.

Cedric doesn’t die and is one of the people openly on Harry’s side when the Ministry is running the smear campaign against him and Dumbledore. 

Everything comes from this post here. Please give it a read. It’s kinda long but I highly recommend it. I’ll shorten it here as best as possible. I’ve had this in the back of my mind for close to a year now and I’m glad I found it again.

Cassius Warrington was a Slytherin in the same year as Cedric, and he also put his name in the Goblet of Fire, but obviously wasn’t selected. In the linked post, as well as for this AU, he gets selected over Cedric.

Despite objections from the other Houses, the guy legitimately proves himself. He could’ve cheated and used every underhanded tactic possible, but didn’t. Ambition doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It can also be used for good.

Hogwarts has two champions, so why not prove themselves by working together? He’d start helping out Harry in the same manner Cedric would’ve, and in time the relations between Slytherin and Gryffindor would’ve started improving.

Warrington getting murdered at the graveyard would’ve been just as shocking, of course. He was still a student at the end of the day, and was disposed of so easily. Word gets around that Voldemort of all people gave the order to kill him, and Slytherins are terrified.

It’s no secret that most of their parents are Death Eaters, and for a fellow Slytherin like Warrington to have been deemed nothing more than a spare was something no one ever saw coming. It sent the message that Voldemort doesn’t care for those in his way, pureblood or not.

This leads to Slytherins joining Dumbledore’s Army (paving the way for their relations with the other three Houses improving greatly), some secretly going out of their way to help Harry with inside information of the workings from their Death Eater parents, and more than plenty of Slytherins joining the other three Houses in defending Hogwarts in the ensuing battle.

Slytherins should’ve been allowed to shine much earlier on. There’s more to them than just being one dimensional bullies. It wasn’t until the 6th book that we got one Slytherin that wasn’t some antagonistic fuck in the form of Prof. Slughorn.

So yeah, in exchange for Cedric living and Cassius dying in his place, it would’ve led to Hogwarts being truly united as it always should’ve been. I’m sure I’m not the only one that wasn’t a fan of how the Slytherins were handled in the final book, and how it was topped in the epilogue by “eh they’re aight now but their edgy past still lingers pffff”.

**********************

Sirius survives the Battle at the Department of Mysteries and the Battle of Hogwarts. With his name finally cleared following Pettigrew’s eventual death, after the Battle of Hogwarts he decides to travel the world for a time as a truly free man. There’s no doubt he’d like to see just how much the world truly changed during the 12 years he had been locked away.

Dumbledore still died at Snape’s hands like in canon, as I feel it’s a necessary death to help push the story forward. It’s a massive turning point in the Second Wizarding War, I believe. 

Fred doesn’t die at the Battle of Hogwarts cuz I love him way too much and I’ve never gotten over it. The Weasleys deserve all the happiness, dammit.

Snape survives, but just barely.

He didn’t trust that fucking snake for a second and secretly took steps that made him immune to her venom.

In his near-death state, he encounters James and Lily in limbo. Amends are made, and the couple thanks Snape for watching out for Harry all those years. He’s then told to go back, as it’s not his time yet.

Once he makes a full recovery and his true allegiance to Dumbledore is made public, he takes time off to rediscover himself and process his second chance at life.

Tonks and Lupin survive as well, as they very damn well deserve to happily raise their son together. It’s Lupin’s heroism during the battle that helps turn the tides of how werewolves are treated for the better. All the discriminatory laws are abolished and they’re allowed to live life like everyone else, actually treated like people. Wolfsbane potions are made much more affordable and efforts to find a cure are highly supported.

Harry’s second son is named Arthur Rubeus instead of Albus Severus.

[finderskeepersff]

53. Part 2

“If you ain’t with me, I don’t want to know. I am cutting all of you off now, that home won’t be fixed. I buried your son, your brother, your cousin, all of y’all. I done my part, I did what I needed to do but now I am doing my part for myself. I don’t need any of you as a family” I am still thinking that Carnell is not getting up, did Cassius really just knock him out “and this goes for any of you here, I don’t care if you family. I am cutting you off unless you going to give me loyalty” Kyle and Amira walked over to us “Cassius don’t do this, please brother” Jasmine said “Josiah if you know what is good for you, don’t do it” my eyes bulged out hearing movement of guns at the side of me “we don’t need that here, he is a little bitch” Cassius stormed towards Josiah “ain’t you” he gripped his neck “get off him! Right now, you stop this Cassius! Stop!” Monique shouted “you try and step to me Josiah I will break your neck clean off, I will do it” he threw him back by his neck “you make your decision now, as long as you stay with him I won’t accept you in my life” Jasmine wrapped her arms around Cassius arm “Cassius please don’t be like this” Cassius is just staring down at his mom “he is my husband” Monique strained out “that you still allow to bully me, if we speaking on real terms you could have easily made life better for us. You staying with a man that abuses you and your kids, and still till this day you allow this. He extorts me for money, and you want that. Once I leave mom, I am telling you now you are on your own. And I am closing my door, even if that means you all die” Carnell started to move, nobody is actually helping him up or wants to be near Carnell for Cassius to say something, it kind of shows that they want his money, they want Cassius to fund them. All of these people are his family and they aren’t piping up “don’t speak, you made your decision, that home will be burnt. I don’t want you to have memories” Cassius walked off.

Do I walk off with him or do I remain here “Sofia please make him see sense, you’re the only person to help. Please!” Monique begged me “let’s go” Amira said, I don’t even know what to say. This is not my place and I don’t really want people that just want Cassius for his money either “are you ok?” Kyle asked “I am fine, just shocked” it’s not like I am sad because I have no family anyways but I am sad for Cassius “stay back, you stay back!” one of the guys walking behind us said, looking behind me seeing Jasmine “wait, don’t!” he is pointing a gun at her “don’t!” I spat “hold Cartier for me” I said to Amira “I just want my brother, don’t kill me” walking towards Jasmine “don’t touch me” I said but this guy just picked me up “excuse me! You can put me down!” I said, what is this “Cassius said you must leave” I know this guy is not touching me “put me down!” I shouted, why waste my breath because they won’t listen. The guy placed me down next to the Range “how dare you!” I spat “Sofia get in” Cassius said, turning around and seeing Cassius sat in the Range Rover “he picked me up!?” I spat “I know, I knew you would be playing around there. Just get in” Amira is laughing, nothing is funny really.

Cassius really ordered this man to carry me, I am not happy at all “are you still kind of upset about that?” the car started driving “kind of upset!? He picked me up and you ordered that, I was walking” I defended myself “the wrong way” he is not wrong there, the car abruptly stopped. Looking ahead seeing Jasmine “keep driving” glaring at Cassius “don’t you dare! You never gave her a chance, did you? Cassius I am serious now, you let her say what she needs to say, we will both fall out” he can’t do that “Louis, get her in the second car” he said, the guy got out of the Range and walked over to Jasmine. I truly believe Jasmine wants to be with us and I would take her in, she was there for me when I needed “she fucked me over last time, ran off with you that time” shaking my head “that is nothing compared to this ok, look” I sighed out “I am happy to see you, I just want to go home yes?” Cassius looked out of the car window not saying much.

Laying Cartier down on the couch, he fell asleep. All the drama made him tired I guess “thank you” moving back from the couch, Jasmine held my hand “I know it was you that helped me, thank you” I don’t like this “don’t thank me” Cassius walked into the living area of the suite “sit down all of y’all” Jasmine let my hand go, we both sat down quick “this new reformed Cassius seems to want things in order I see” Amira is never quiet “could say” Amira finally sat down “I may come off as harsh to what happened, I only have the people here in this room. Nobody will really know the hold my dad has on me, I give him chances after chances. He throws it in my face but I don’t need this anymore, I don’t need people that won’t be loyal to me. After Myles, I can’t trust people. I have too much to lose” Cassius looked at me “I have cleaned house and that does mean my family, I need loyalty” he really does care, look at him explaining himself “Cassius you don’t need to explain, I just worry for mom. That is all, I lived with you Cassius and I know how mean he was to you, I was there too. I saw it, I saw when he locked out of the home because you didn’t come back with enough drug money, I know it all” Jasmine said “I remember that, Cassius woke me out of bed and made us all work extra hard” Kyle mumbled “then I decided I would kill the boss, and show my dad I can do it and he didn’t care still. But I am better than him, I just want you to understand my reasoning” getting up from the couch “can we speak, in private” walking off to the bedroom.

I still feel a little shy with Cassius but I can get over it, I need too “what’s up?” I should be thankful he listened to me “erm, about your mom’ home. I really don’t want you to burn it down, I just want you to leave it as it is, let her have the home. If you don’t do that, it will cause more issues, meaning she will be knocking on our door about it and I don’t want that. Leave the home to how it is and let them have it, I don’t want you to do anything like that” Cassius just nodded his head “just like you want to keep my sister around, Sofia. I am not going to openly be nice anymore, I want Jasmine gone” frowning at Cassius “she wants to be with her brother, she wants to be with you. What you going to do throw her out, take her to Atlanta with us” Cassius laughed “no, not doing that” he walked off “just you sit back” this Cassius isn’t listening to me “Jasmine, your my sister and all that but I am going to need you to go back to your mom. You ain’t my problem” walking out of the bedroom “Cassius you are being irrational” I said as I walked over to them “you know what, I don’t even want to be with you Cassius. I am going back to California where I can be with the man I actually want finally, and ride his dick forever. I just wanted to be nice because I do love you” Cassius sniggered “you made the mistake of loving, I always knew you was just some whore in California. Go, I don’t want to know. Y’all fucking cancelled as shit” I can’t speak to him right now, shaking my head as I rolled my eyes. Jasmine walked over to me “the door is there” glaring at Cassius “ignore him” hugging Jasmine “come to California, no matter what I got a sister in you Sofia. And if my brother is a piece of shit to you then you know where I am” I really wanted her to come to Atlanta “call me, I want to know you’re ok” I said in her ear.

The door closed and I really want to snap on him “hope you’re happy with that” I said, I am unimpressed by him now “I am, time to have some freedom, it’s about me. That is the last time anyone fucks me over, she can do what she likes. I don’t want to hear about my past anymore” Amira just glared at me and eyed me up “Kyle, get rid of that home. They about to learn, they about to get real ass jobs. She wants Carnell, have him” Cassius is not going to listen, he is too headstrong for me. He is on this war path and I hate that he is “cool, will get that done” and then there is Kyle agreeing to this “I will be back, stay here. Come” Cassius walked off “well” Amira said as she walked around the couch “don’t move, we will be back” I don’t like it, I just think we should just leave it and go and move on.

“Here” Amira held out a bottle of water to me “thanks” I am not sure where I am going with this, I am at a loss with how to approach the situation “do I just let him do what he wants? Should I stop him?” Amira sat across me “don’t stop anything, let it happen. You don’t need to be involved in it, you need to be here for your man. That is all, what he does with his family is not your issue Sofia, don’t destroy what you and Cassius have because of family politics which can break a family. You just need to be there for Cassius and then gradually bring him to talk about it. Cassius is not doing anything wrong, he is just being a boss. Stop caring so much, care for what is in your home. I have finally got the handle of that, the only person I care for is Kyle, luckily my parents aren’t built to be an ass but it’s sad to hear about Cassius, did he get bullied by his dad?” Carnell is a whole ass “he did, Cassius was abused by his dad and I don’t mean in that way but mentally. Maybe you’re right, maybe him getting rid of the home is him letting go. You’re right, I need to ignore the outside and be there for him” Amira smiled at me “I am here if you need me, it’s hard but trust me. Cassius needs you, he is hurting too” nodding my head “you right, I just get caught up in these things. I want him home now. I took him to the side and I was like don’t do it, I am so stupid” shaking my head, how stupid can I be.

We was supposed to go back to Atlanta but it’s so late and the boys aren’t back, I don’t fancy flying back so late so we are stuck here and Cartier is so unsettled, I mean he did sleep but now he won’t go back to sleep “are you ok with Cartier?” Amira is laying down with Cartier “am I? I swear I love him, is he awake?” she asked “he is, he is just so relaxed” tilting my head “are you looking at me!? Is that who you are looking at my baby” Cartier smiled and his pacifier fell out of his mouth “awww, I love you” he is about to get grumpy soon, he ain’t sleeping now “y’all awake” I didn’t even know Kyle came back “wow, creep. But yes we are” Cassius is back, he has changed his clothes “where did you change your clothes?” I am so confused “in my office, I just wanted to change” he better not be cheating on me “are you cheating?” I had to say it, Cassius walked off into the bedroom “cheating? Seriously, y’all sleeping out here? There is beds?” Kyle pointed out “I am comfy here” Amira mumbled “is he ok for me to you know? Speak to him?” Kyle nodded his head “yeah, go for it. You don’t need me to tell you that” Kyle chuckled.

Closing the door behind me, Cassius is putting on the bracelet I bought him back on “cheating huh” Cassius said, I am feeling so fucking shy with him. I think it’s just been so long, also he just seems different “I talk too much” I run my mouth too much “that is something you do a lot, it’s ok” Cassius changed into a tee and sweatpants, there is something different about him “is that it now? Are you mine?” I am not sure if he will be just mine now, Cassius turned around “I can’t do this, this is why I don’t wear it” I was thinking what he was doing, walking over to him, he held the ends of the bracelet “you want me to help?” I said through my laughter, why am I like this “what is funny?” Cassius laughed with me not knowing what I am laughing “myself” shaking my head as I held the ends “I missed you, to know you’re here in front of me” biting on my top lip as I fastened the bracelet “I thought you would hate me, I have been through a lot. But to see you here, my greatest gift” putting my head down “stop it” I said in whisper “you feel it, I know you do. You not going to hug me?” Cassius got me so shy, looking up at him “ain’t nothing to do with how beautiful you are but, your heart. I can’t ask for a woman that is better. They say dudes go for girls like their mother but you ain’t that, for you to want me to not get rid of that home, for you to think of them. You too pure for this life but you here. It’s hard to make myself forget you, like through all of this. I missed you like crazy, to not know what you are doing or how you felt about me. These hands have done bad Sofia” Cassius held his hands out, looking down at his hands. Grabbing his hand with mine “I don’t care” letting his hand go and hugging him.

“Cassius, I don’t care what you have done, I just want you back with me” I smiled at him “I know you are hurting inside, I know you are Cassius. I know you, I do know you and that is why I didn’t want you to start with your family because I know you love them. They are the people you knew all your life, you looked after them, like a father should. They don’t know you and they don’t deserve too because I know that upset you, under this tough exterior” Cassius licked his top lip watching me intently “my childhood home is gone” I breathed out sharply closing my eyes hearing him say that “Cass” I said opening my eyes “I just wanted my mom to want me finally, you know” feeling Cassius ache, he is hurting “I want you, Cassius we only have each other and Cartier. I know how it feels to not be wanted but I am, I am now with you. I don’t care what you have done, all I care is that you are ok” Cassius swallowed hard and leaned in, pressing a kiss to my lips but when I thought it would have been a kiss, he sobbed against my lips, moving my head back “Cassius” I said but he held me close and rested his face against the crook of my neck.

Cassius didn’t move from me, we have stayed in this position for a while now, I threaded my fingers through his outgrown hair, the tips caressing his scalp and the back of his neck “you know I got you Cassius” I said in a whisper, is this what Amira meant. Thinking back to when she said this, is this what she meant “let’s go to bed” Cassius moved back from me, he sniffled and took his top off. I just took my heels off, I can’t be bothered to do all the going to bed ritual. I mean it’s not the most comfy thing to be wearing a dress but it’s whatever, laying down on the bed “come” he doesn’t want to speak, you can tell he don’t. Cassius climbed onto the bed and just collapsed at the side of me. Putting his head back into the crook of my neck. Wrapping my arms around him, kissing the top of his head. The vulnerable Cassius is still there and that is only with me, only me. I just feel so whole again to have him back in my arms.

[o-a-crutchfeild]

A New Remembrance

@thedarkwhiteangel @mlsecretsanta

There's a story about those who think that their love is worthy of more than anyone else's. Those who would truly do "anything" for the person they adore. The fate that awaits these people is never pretty, and the legacies they leave behind are not ones of glory. These people are considered selfish, violent, dangerous, and twisted in a way that few others can match. Love is the magic of life, but only for those who love in the proper manner, for to do anything else is a danger to the very structure of love itself, of purity and innocence.

Adrien looks into the mirror at the violet that has been seeping into his eyes lately. and studies it. It makes no sense. There is nothing about Chat Noir that is violet, this is Hawkmoth's color, not his. It can't be from the Miraculous, and he certainly doesn't feel akumatized. Plagg agrees with this, saying it's not possible, he'd have felt some kind of disturbance in Adrien's energy if there was really something wrong like that. He isn't akumatized, Hawkmoth hasn't targeted him, the violet must be coming from somewhere else, but it is undeniably there, tiny little rivers, twisting around the corners of Adrien's irises, fluttering across the green.

But it doesn't hurt, and so he ignores it for now. It's not like if he went to Ladybug, she would tell him anything. She would go see that "guardian" and never let him in on the big secret, keeping quiet about whatever was wrong with him, and she'd cut him off more than she did already, and probably bring in one of her new, "special" heroes, the ones only she got to know about and bring out whenever she felt like he wasn't good enough for any particular challenge.

He transforms, and goes out to meet her. The girl with bluebell eyes and hair like the night sky. She's waiting for him, arms folded, and glances over her shoulder.

The world shifts in a split second. She's looking at him, unmasked, smiling nervously, offering a hand, and she's tinged with violet on a summer's day. There are butterflies in the air, monarch, cassius blue... they surround her, framing her face perfectly for him. "Adrien?" she asks softly.

The image shatters, and the violet fades... though it doesn't quite vanish. "Chat? Chat! Snap out of it!" Ladybug is clearly getting annoyed by now, waving her hand in front of his face wildly, concern in those shiny, beautifully crystal-clear blue eyes, expressive eyes, eyes that can offer any emotion you want to imagine, from adoration to joy to hatred to fear...

He shook his head, pulling away. What was he thinking? Hatred, fear, those weren't beautiful, those were things he wanted to make sure she never had to feel, he was supposed to protect her, he was supposed to be her guardian,  why did he keep thinking things like this? What was wrong with him, what was wrong with his head to make him keep wanting to hurt his Lady?

"Chat!" she snapped her fingers. "Stop it!" She sounded almost worried by now, as he blinked, trying to come out of his head.

"I'm sorry, I... didn't get much sleep last night?" he tells her. But that's not any more true today than any other day, he can't put his finger on what's happening to him, it doesn't make any sense. This isn't normal, this isn't okay, this isn't anything that he can explain to himself... maybe he needs therapy, but that's absolutely not an option. Plagg made that extremely clear the one time Adrien had mentioned it, pointing out that he'd never be able to tell the therapist the vast majority of his problems anyway, and that no, there weren't exceptions for mental health. Adrien was stuck with Plagg, who, while very old and probably wise in some way or other, wasn't exactly prone to therapy.

"Chat, this is getting weird," Ladybug says, still looking concerned. "It's like you go to another planet every hour or so and I can't pull you back, it's been happening for almost a week now, and I'd like to know what's going on. It isn't like you to just zone out like that, you know?"

He hesitates, and almost considers telling her. Maybe she wouldn't betray his trust... maybe... but maybe isn't really enough right now. Maybe isn't worth risking everything- the Miraculous, Plagg, hell, even her- over. If he tells her, the chances of her keeping it hidden from her confidante are slim, especially if her kwami overhears. Even Plagg says that the ladybug kwami is obsessed with following the rules, being "good," and "thinking with your head." There's no way a kwami like that wouldn't convince Ladybug to "do the right thing" and turn him in, especially if he mentioned the butterflies he kept seeing everywhere. They would think he was being corrupted by Hawkmoth, and maybe they wouldn't be wrong. Maybe they would be entirely correct in thinking that, regardless of Plagg's thoughts on the matter. After all, in stories, did the corrupted ever know what they were?

"Chat!"

"What?"

She frowns. "Patrol is over. Tell me what's going on, now."

"I can't."

And... he's screwed. Those two words, and she's never going to drop it. She's never going to stop poking and prodding for an answer, and if he doesn't tell, he's probably going to be worse off anyway. He curses his complete inability to think before speaking once he puts on the mask, and leans against the wall.

"Chaton..."

"You can't tell. Not anyone. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

She shrugs. "Yeah, I mean, who would I tell anyway?"

"That guardian of yours?" he points out, and her eyes go wide. Clearly, she doesn't consider telling the Guardian to be 'telling anyone.' A shot of anger flashes through Adrien's veins, cold fury of betrayal that he can't remember feeling before, and yet, the feeling is so completely familiar... so familiar...

"Chaton," she says softly. "Hey. It's going to be alright. We're going to be alright, you're going to be okay. If you really need me to keep this secret from the Guardian, then I will. You don't have to look so angry... your eyes shouldn't have that much anger in them, okay?" She looks nervous, but has that familiar determined look in her eyes, the look she gets when she's sure of herself and her decisions. He knows she hates liars. If she was lying to him, she wouldn't look like that. She wouldn't look like everything was fine. She wouldn't be so willing to betray him...

She wouldn't, right?

"Promise me," he says quietly.

"I promise."

He can't do this, he can't do this, he can't do this... He's being stupid, he can't trust the Ladybug, what is he thinking? She's going to try to kill him, he's making a mistake, she'll hurt-

What?

He shakes his head, trying hard to shake off the paranoia. Where did that come from? It's nothing he's ever thought before. She doesn't hate him, she doesn't want him... dead... she doesn't, she never would. She might not love him, but they're still partners... sort of... well, partners with a very clear person in charge.

"I keep thinking you're going to try to kill me or... something. I keep thinking things that I don't usually think. There's something going on with my head, that I didn't intend and that seems to have come out of nowhere. Plagg says it's not Hawkmoth's magic, but I keep seeing butterflies. Not white ones though- every color, they're beautiful, they're everywhere, and- and-" he stops, seeing the look in his Lady's eyes. "You're afraid. You're afraid of me, aren't you? You're afraid and you're going to-" he stops himself a second time, trying to regain his mental stability. "I... I'm sorry."

She's quiet for a moment, before taking his hand. "It's okay, Chaton. I... I know what you mean. I've been feeling things I don't want to feel too. I keep seeing a boy, who looks... kind of like you, but with wings. Surrounded by butterflies. I thought I was going crazy, I told Master Fu about it and he didn't know what to make of it. He says it's not a normal side effect of the Miraculous, but..."

He hugs her tightly. "I won't hurt you. I promise I won't hurt you, and I won't let anyone else hurt you either. I promise, okay?"

She nods. "I believe you, it's okay, I believe you... but it's strange, isn't it? What do you think is happening to us?"

He shakes his head. "If I knew... if I knew I would have done something about it by now, don't you think? Don't you think it would have been dealt with?"

She strokes his hair, petting him gently. "Calm down, kitty. Calm down..."

"I'm not going to let them hurt you," he insists. "I'm not, I wouldn't-"

"Who is 'them?'" she asks softly.

There's a long silence, as the reminders of the year hover, just behind the glass. There was a year, once. A year of blood, and hate, and love, and death. There was a year, once.

"You know. Or the you who hears the me who's speaking knows..."

"I do. I do. Hello, Papillon."

[thegorydamnreaper]

Here Be Lions: Golden Son by Pierce Brown

Niall Alexander

Full text below

Pierce Brown reached for the stars in Red Rising—a non-stop sprawl of story about striving and surviving as a slave to the lies of society that reminded readers of Katniss Everdeen’s plight in Panem—and almost hit that monumental mark. In Golden Son, he gorydamn does. It’s a far superior sequel, in fact: one of the rare breed of reads that improves upon its predecessor in every conceivable category.

In the first instance, this is a bigger book, with still bigger ambitions, played out across a markedly larger and more elaborate canvas—which is to say, we are no longer stuck in the Institute, where the games our carved protagonist Darrow had to play to prove his worth to the masters of Mars took place. Rather, the central Red—a rebel determined to unseat the same Society that hung his young lover for daring to sing a song—has already risen.

But that which rises must also fall…

Golden Son, so forth, starts by taking Darrow down a peg or ten. In the hands of a less accomplished author, I daresay his undoing could come off as a contrivance—a retreat to the reboot button instead of an attempt to solve the underlying problem. But Brown uses this opportunity to meaningfully re-engineer his hero: to introduce conflict in him as opposed to absolving him of the dark deeds Darrow has done in service of the terrorists—yes, terrorists—he represents.

He gives every indication that being defeated doesn’t bother him, that the true tragedy at the top of the novel is the death of thousands—not by his hand, but absolutely because of it. Alas, he can’t even convince himself of this:

And there’s guilt for caring about that when so many lives should demand all my sorrow. Before today, victory made me full, because with every victory I’ve come closer to making Eo’s dream real. Now defeat has robbed me of that. I failed her today.

And before today, in truth. Darrow knows Eo would not have approved of his treacherous tactics in the Institute, but to realise her dream of freedom for all, he must endear himself to the enemy. To gut the Golds from the inside out, he must behave like the best of them: the strongest and smartest and most merciless.

These are not his words, but they might as well be:

I am not a despot. But a father must cuff the ears of his children if they make attempt to set fire to his house; if I must kill a few thousand for the greater good […] and for the citizens of this planet to live in a world untorn by war, then so be it.

Thus Darrow the suicide bomber is born.

He doesn’t ultimately execute the aforementioned atrocity—a surprising trilogy these books would have been if he had—but how close he comes to mass-murdering the most powerful people on the planet, not to mention the many other Colours who would inevitably be lost in the process, is a chilling illustration of the darkness gathering around his character. Brown handles this, the opening act of Golden Son’s expansive narrative, with restraint and taste in tandem with his trademark sense of intensity. He neither celebrates nor condemns Darrow, as some readers are sure to; he only tells his tale.

And what a tale it is! A troubling, at times traumatising one, to be sure—the body count is truly brutal—but Red Rising’s frenetic successor also exhilarates, even invigorates:

Father once told me that a Helldiver can never stop. You stop and the drill can jam. The fuel burns too quickly. The quota might be missed. You never stop, just shift drills if the friction gets too hot. Caution comes second. Use your inertia, your momentum. That is why we dance. Transfer movement into more movement.

Golden Son does as Darrow did: It goes, by gum, like a drill through drywall. There are chances to catch your breath, but the majority of these quiet moments quickly erupt into incident, and those that don’t aren’t artificially protracted in the mode of most set-piece-driven science fiction. In this text, spectacle follows spectacle from the fraught first act on to the all-is-lost last. Brown burns through enough material here to fill a trilogy—as indeed he did in his debut, though the difference is critical: The action feels natural now, whereas in Red Rising it sometimes struck me as stuck on fast forward.

Add to that a setting with much more substance—as the “sum of all human enterprise,” Golden Son’s ghastly galactic Society convinces in a way the Institute didn’t—and a canny culling of Red Rising’s vast cast of characters combined with a more determined attempt at development as regards the remainder. Cassius was the only peripheral figure I cared about before, but Mustang, Augustus, Roque, Sevro, the Jackal and Ragnar all impress in this superlative sequel.

For what it’s worth, Red Rising was an effing fantastic first novel—if a little derivative—but Brown bit off more than he could chew in his debut. His grasp of the craft is already leaps and bounds better, however—such that this sequel is so much more than The Hunger Games meets Man Plus, as I suggested of its predecessor. In a word, Golden Sun is stunning. Never mind how little we’ve seen of 2015: Among science fiction fans, it should be a shoo-in for book of the year.

[jodyedgarus]

Who Didn’t Expect This Final Four?

gfoster (Geoff Foster, sports editor): Welcome to FiveThirtyEight’s Final Four chat! After the chalk prevailed in the first weekend, the second weekend finally provided some upsets. In the Elite Eight, three of four underdogs won outright, and the fourth, Purdue, probably should have won — but Virginia’s last-second heroics and overtime win make the Cavs the lone No. 1 seed left in the tournament. What was the biggest surprise of the weekend?

jplanos (Josh Planos, contributor): I think we should just cede the floor to Neil, who can discuss his perfect Final Four choices:

Things are looking pretty good for my bracket in the @FiveThirtyEight office pool… pic.twitter.com/SShnREa7pU

— Neil Paine (@Neil_Paine) March 31, 2019

jakelourim (Jake Lourim, contributor): If you look at last week’s chat, that makes Neil Captain Obvious, right?

neil (Neil Paine, senior sports writer): I wish I could say I had a fancy analytical model to make these picks, but I spent an entire podcast segment saying I was selectively ignoring stats and picking with my gut. The most anti-FiveThirtyEight way to get a perfect Final Four possible.

jplanos: I think the big winner is Under Armour getting two Final Four teams, but Duke (the top overall seed) falling probably takes the cake.

neil: Yeah, Duke losing before the Final Four has to be the headline surprise, I think.

Although one could make an easy case that the Blue Devils were lucky to even make it as far as they did…

gfoster: Were you that surprised by Duke losing? That game had the smallest spread of the last four, and Duke had aggressively flirted with death against Virginia Tech and UCF.

jplanos: I wasn’t because Michael Avenatti called it, but the Blue Devils were the Icarus of the tournament. It felt like they trailed at halftime of nearly every game.

neil: This Duke team was fascinating because, in terms of talent, nobody can match that group. And when Zion was taking over, it was difficult to envision how they could lose. Yet they did not consistently play to their abilities, particularly in this tournament. Even in those close wins, they left you wanting more.

jplanos: Shoutout to Alex O’Connell getting the start and finishing with three total minutes. When was the last time a starter finished with less than five minutes played and wasn’t injured or ejected?

gfoster: The story before the tournament was that Michigan State got handed an awful draw because the Spartans won the Big Ten tourney and still got put in Duke’s region. Now I wonder whether it was Duke that got the bad draw.

Can Cassius Winston one-man-army his way to a title? We’ve seen versatile point guards do this before in March Madness.

jplanos: He’s this season’s Kemba Walker. He started off pretty tepid against Duke and then exploded for 20 points and 10 assists, with four steals and one turnover, which, when you consider the ball is effectively always in his hands and he was lined up against an on-ball hound in Tre Jones, is absurd. I came away extremely impressed.

neil: Winston also got some help when he needed it late against Duke. Xavier Tillman had 19 in the game, and Kenny Goins overcame a horrendous shooting game to make a huge shot in the final minute.

jakelourim: Winston really can do it all. He’s had to do so much since Michigan State lost Joshua Langford in December, and through the Big Ten season, Big Ten tournament and then this weekend, I kept waiting for the Spartans to run out of magic. But they haven’t. It seemed throughout Sunday that Winston always knew the right play to make, and Duke didn’t. What was up with Zion not taking the last shot(s) in the final minute?

jplanos: The RJ Barrett Show seemed like a suboptimal approach down the stretch.

neil: People were really killing Barrett for taking so many of Duke’s final shots.

jakelourim: I did think that Michigan State had the best game plan (outside of Syracuse and the 2-3 zone, which is unique) for slowing down Zion. Tillman was outstanding on defense and made himself a lot of money on Sunday.

neil: Barrett also missed the free throw he was supposed to make, and made the one he was supposed to miss.

Sheesh.

After the VT-Duke game, RJ Barrett joked about Ahmed Hill’s missed chance at the end of the game.

Tonight he had a chance to tie the game at the end, but in his own words “he missed it, sheesh” pic.twitter.com/U3Yn40RwWm

— Matej Sis (@MatejS247) March 31, 2019

gfoster: MSU tends to struggle in the third weekend: eight Final Fours now but just one title for Tom Izzo. Is Michigan State essentially the 1990s Atlanta Braves? Loads of playoff success and the one token title to ward off Geoff making Buffalo Bills comparisons.

^ Third-person alert.

neil: I think Izzo was motivated to take back the “best performance vs. seed expectations” crown from Jim Boeheim.

Izzo’s teams have a long history of exceeding expectations en route to the Final Four, but maybe that’s why they don’t win titles. Overachieving can only get you so far.

jakelourim: It has always seemed to me that the talent differential has caught up to Michigan State in some of those Final Fours. I thought it was interesting that Tom Izzo said privately before the 2009 title game that if the Tyler Hansbrough/Ty Lawson UNC team played well, Michigan State would lose. “There’s just more talent there,” Izzo said. (And MSU did lose.) But if the talent didn’t catch up to the Spartans against Duke, when will it happen?

jplanos: Zion was clearly gassed, but he also was unquestionably the team’s best option on offense. And then he … stopped getting the ball. I was surprised that Coach K didn’t dial up any isolations for him over the final possessions or demand some sort of clear-out.

gfoster: At least Duke has Zion and Barrett for three more years where they can continue to grow as upperclassmen and take home multiple championships…….

neil: LOL

jplanos: My question is: Can we still get a Zion cam? Can we watch the kid ink his shoe deal during the Final Four?

gfoster: It is frustrating we don’t get more college Zion. He’s so entertaining.

jakelourim: It’s fair to wonder if/when we’ll ever see another college player like him again, right, with the NBA apparently set to change the one-and-done rule in 2022?

jplanos: I can’t remember seeing a team win an Elite Eight game (or any NCAA Tournament game) having made just two free throws, like Michigan State did. **cue Sports-Reference search**

neil: It’s actually astonishing when you look at the stats of that game in general that MSU won.

Duke shot better on FGs, 3Ps and FTs and had more rebounds. The turnovers were the only main category where Duke lost, and they lost big.

jplanos: Full transparency: I was ready to call curtains when the Blue Devils had that 21-5 run in the opening half.

jakelourim: What was stunning to me was that Duke turned the ball over 17 times. (Back to the point of “If they play well, they’ll win” — they did not play well.) Michigan State is 342nd in defensive turnover rate at 15 percent, according to Ken Pomeroy, and that’s counting Sunday’s game.

neil: Which just lent more credence to the idea that the only team talented enough to beat Duke was … Duke.

gfoster: Let’s talk about what’s not as entertaining: Texas Tech’s defensive domination. The Red Raiders made Michigan shoot like my JV basketball team when the bench had been emptied in the final minutes. Then did a similar suffocation of Gonzaga, holding the Bulldogs and the nation’s most efficient offense to just 69 points.

jplanos: The Red Raiders indeed smothered Michigan and then turned the second half of their win over Gonzaga into a rock fight. To see the nation’s most efficient offense reduced to 32 second-half points and 16 total turnovers was really something.

neil: According to Ken Pomeroy’s ratings, Texas Tech is the nation’s best defensive team. The Red Raiders certainly played like it.

jplanos: If you had told me that Texas Tech would advance to the Final Four on a terrible Jarrett Culver shooting performance (5-of-19 from the field, 2-of-8 from three), I would have laughed in your face.

neil: Or that they would win despite Rui Hachimura having a pretty good game (22 points).

jplanos: It really seemed like the Zags missed the part of the game plan detailing turnovers. Texas Tech ranks 11th in opponent turnover percentage, according to KenPom, and lives by the deflection, especially on entry passes. It seemed like there were 10 bounce passes into the post that were immediate turnovers. YOU CAN’T POCKET PASS THIS TEAM.

jakelourim: (Just finished that sports-reference search, Josh: No team has won an Elite Eight game with two free throws or fewer since at least 2011.)

jplanos: You know who didn’t show up for the Wolverines? Two upperclassmen: Charles Matthews and Zavier Simpson.

Simpson finished 0-5 against Texas Tech with one assist and four turnovers. Not exactly what you’re expecting from a second-team all-conference player. And in the final game of his college career, Matthews had a team-high five turnovers and finished 3-9 from the field and 0-4 from 3-point land.

gfoster: Let’s put it this way and move on: Michigan’s performance in the Sweet 16 was the worst I’ve ever seen a basketball team play.

jplanos: LOL

neil: And you watched that UConn-Butler final from a few years back.

gfoster: I generally don’t like to talk about blown calls. But the Tariq Owens block play against Gonzaga was a pretty bad one to miss at a key moment:

Tariq Owens was out of bounds. Wow. pic.twitter.com/6QD8tK8OWi

— Kyle Boone (@Kyle__Boone) March 31, 2019

It was frustrating that it was never reviewed. Isn’t this exactly what replay in basketball is for?

jplanos: Not a great tournament across the board for officiating out-of-bounds calls.

Hmmm. Purdue’s Carsen Edwards was …

Out of bounds

Fouled

An unwitting co-conspirator in Tennessee getting jobbed#Sweet16 #MarchMadness #BoilerUp #GoVols

pic.twitter.com/yfvEF6Zyr4

— SBR Sports Picks (@SBRSportsPicks) March 29, 2019

jakelourim: Michigan’s loss to Texas Tech generated the Wolverines’ seventh-worst offensive efficiency rating of the KenPom era and fourth-worst under John Beilein.

jplanos: I don’t know what being put in a straightjacket feels like, but I imagine it’s similar to playing the Red Raiders.

gfoster: Virginia is now the betting favorite in the tournament at 3-2. Would you have guessed that the Hoos would be the lone ACC No. 1 seed to make it through? It wasn’t long ago when I was momentarily planning how FiveThirtyEight would react to a UVA loss to Gardner-Webb.

jplanos: I certainly wouldn’t have. If we get a Virginia-Texas Tech national title game, will next year’s NCAA Tournament even be televised? And will it set back college basketball 15 years?

gfoster: First one to 50 points wins!

neil: I think Virginia also benefited from a relatively easy path to Minneapolis. According to our power ratings, the rest of the South contained the eighth, 10th and 16th best teams in the Sweet 16.

jplanos: Considering the moment, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a more impressive baseball-style pass than the one Kihei Clark (A FRESHMAN) beamed to Mamadi Diakite for Virginia’s buzzer-beater against Purdue. That was a rocket.

What an incredible finish to regulation. Mamadi Diakite sends us to overtime after time expires, and (1) Virginia lives on against (3) Purdue!

(

: @marchmadness) #MarchMadness pic.twitter.com/1J7YIOJgSI

— TSN (@TSN_Sports) March 31, 2019

jakelourim: Virginia hasn’t been particularly impressive in any of its four games — not like the Hoos were during the regular season — but it does seem like experience and chemistry won out in the regionals after a chalk-filled first weekend. I keep thinking about the moment at the end of the Michigan State-Duke game when Xavier Tillman motioned for Cassius Winston to hurry down the floor and run out the clock. That’s a savvy move.

Watch Xavier give a quick nod to Cassius to "go" before the final in-bounds play. pic.twitter.com/eJciDOIhYb

— Eric Pratt (@MessengerSports) March 31, 2019

neil: (And we can really talk savvy when we discuss Auburn’s Jared Harper…)

jakelourim: Mike Krzyzewski talked all weekend about how minor injuries disrupted the continuity of his freshman-led team, and I could feel eyes rolling out of heads. But does a freshman core that’s only played a handful of games together have the ability to do that? I’m not sure.

neil: Right. It seems like a big legacy of this one-and-done era will be of mostly unmet expectations for these freshman-star-laden teams.

gfoster: We joke about how boring the Cavs are (and make no mistake, they are mostly drying paint basketball), but the Purdue-Virginia game might have been my favorite of the tournament. Before overtime, Carsen Edwards’s game was unreal. It must be discouraging to get that type of performance from your star in the Elite Eight and still lose.

jplanos: Edwards was a one-man wrecking ball the entire tourney and, frankly, it feels unfair that he had to lose. I think there’s a sound argument to be made that it’s less than optimal to have one player responsible for nearly all of your offensive production, but man was it entertaining.

In arguably the two biggest games of his life, Edwards put up 71 points on 47 percent shooting from the field and went 15-33 from 3-point land. The degree of difficulty on most of those shots was superhuman.

Also, long live Ryan Cline. That performance against Tennessee will get washed over because of Carsen and the excitement of the Elite Eight slate, but man…

jakelourim: It really was unfortunate that one of those teams had to lose. Because on the other side, you have Tony Bennett trying to exorcise his Final Four demons and erase the memory of last year. He has made a tremendously successful career out of coaching the pack-line defense and forcing opponents to take shots like the ones Purdue took Saturday night. And then Carsen Edwards goes and does that.

gfoster: Kyle Guy stepped up. If he doesn’t repeatedly answer Edwards’s threes with ones of his own, UVA is gone.

neil: It was unfortunate that Edwards started to run out of gas at the end of OT. He missed a heat check late — which he’d earned the right to take, given the previous bombs — and had a tough turnover on a pass out of bounds in the final seconds. He’d been so brilliant that you expected him to keep making the superhuman look routine.

jplanos: I usually abide by a never-trust-a-man-with-two-first-names mantra, but I’m willing to make an exception for Kyle Guy.

No other Boilermaker had more than 7 points in that game. Yikes.

jakelourim: Good point, Josh. Nobody else even took more than seven shots! And that’s including five extra OT minutes.

neil: Edwards personally scored 56 percent of Purdue’s total — which was the second-most points UVA gave up in a game all season.

jakelourim: He also scored more points than Coppin State and William & Mary did as TEAMS against Virginia.

gfoster: The last team in the Final Four is Bruce Pearl’s Auburn Tigers, who are the lowest remaining seed. A lot of people wrote off their chances of beating UK when Chuma Okeke when down. How do you think they will fare against UVA?

jplanos: I’d like to take this time to apologize for openly scoffing at Geoff picking Auburn to advance out of the Sweet 16. I even wrote it down in my diary and laughed!

jakelourim: This thought stuck in my head all of Friday night and Sunday afternoon: Remember how much of a spectacular mess Auburn was in the final seconds of its first-round game against New Mexico State? I did not watch that team and think, “Yeah, they’ll probably get to the Final Four.”

jplanos: This weekend was a big one for the EVERYBODY COUNTED US OUT crowd. I count all four teams citing it, which means, yep, that slogan remains undefeated.

jakelourim: Yes, we’re deep into “Why Not Us?” season.

neil: To your question Geoff, Bryce Brown and Jared Harper are going to have to keep scoring! The backcourt duo combined for 50 points against UK, with each taking turns taking over the game.

Special props to Auburn, btw, for avenging its 27-point loss at Kentucky from a few weeks earlier.

jplanos: I love that Virginia has to go through Auburn, a team with a style that must be anathema to the Hoos.

gfoster: Also this game served as a PSA against making banners where you openly mock injuries.

jplanos: If only we had known beforehand that Kentucky’s fan base has no limits…

jakelourim: Enjoyed that Bruce Pearl actually admitted to the popular strategy of “We’re going to get the ball to Jared and Bryce, and everyone else get the fuck out of the way.”

neil: It made sense. I am totally enamored with Harper in particular. He just has a sense of where everyone is on the court and what is the right play to make. Such a smart player.

jplanos: I think I fell in love with Auburn’s style this weekend. There was a slow-motion replay in the second half that captured an Auburn player swatting a Kentucky player’s shot at the rim while clearly mouthing “GIVE ME THAT SHIT,” and it was wonderful and emblematic of how the Tigers approach the game on both ends. Every play is a highlight to be made.

jakelourim: I also think this draw continues to favor Virginia. I don’t think Auburn is going to be the team to speed up Virginia in the semifinals, and in the final, neither Michigan State nor Texas Tech is going to bombard Virginia with unmatched athleticism, as Duke did in both of their regular-season meetings.

gfoster: So is that your prediction Jake?

jakelourim: Yes, my champion pick is still alive, so I’m sticking with Virginia.

jplanos: I like Virginia to advance and play Texas Tech, which will be … a game of basketball.

neil: I must keep my original predictions, so I’m taking UVA and MSU, with the Cavs winning it all.

gfoster: I’m riding Auburn!!!!! … for one more game. I think they do shoot their way past Virginia’s defense. And then lose to Michigan State in the final. And we all get our dream fulfilled of seeing more Tom Izzo dancing videos like this:

Tom Izzo… #FinalFour MOOD!@MSU_Basketball

#MarchMadnesspic.twitter.com/kvfGs8WOlO

— NCAA March Madness (@marchmadness) April 1, 2019

Check out our latest March Madness predictions.

from News About Sports https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/who-didnt-expect-this-final-four/

[intheshadows-rp]

Antonin Dolohov; Seventeen Years Old ; Slytherin; Pureblood; Loyal To {UP TO PLAYER} ;TAKEN

CHARACTER POINTS:

Antonin is very much a “I don’t need your help for anything” type of person. Once he takes control of a project, you listen to him. In general, don’t try giving him orders, he decides his rules and it’s all over for someone that tries telling him what he’s supposed to do.

-He had a childhood of neglect and abandonment. His parents were having a 10 year war, hating one another but yet not wanting to separate at the same time. To them, Antonin was like a burden that they had to put food on the table for, often times they even forgot about that. Lots of things came from this, for one a lack of belief in love. He’s very harsh to many people and has piles and piles of walls that have to all be meticulously chipped away in a certain way to be sure they don’t regenerate themselves before he shows his true self to someone.

-He’s deeply insecure. He just knows how to hide it very well and takes his hate for himself and puts it into others. He afraid that because his parents didn’t exactly like him, why should anyone else?

-He’s a very good cook because of the fact that his parents often didn’t cook for him. They don’t have a house elf so there were many days where he either had to cook for himself or go hungry for the night. After 10 years of it (only around 7 if you count the years he was actually cooking) he got pretty good at it. He’s very open about his like and skill for cooking, he’s pretty proud of it actually. The one thing he’s actually not insecure about.

-He messes with Dark Magic here and there, he never had anyone to tell him it was bad. He finds a creepy form of pleasure in casting it, though he wouldn’t cast it on a person unless he had reason. He’s not against torture, he’s just against excessive and unnecessary torture.

-He’s peculiar about his friends, and doesn’t have very many. It takes a lot to be considered close to him and even if you think you’re close, you’re not. You probably only hit the tip of the iceberg.

-His temper is unbearable. If wizards had anger management he’d be taking it every day of the week. But, he doesn’t let out his temper through words, no that’d risk him admitting something about himself. Instead it comes out through a hex towards a wall, or if he’s really that angry, a person.

-Antonin doesn’t necessarily consider specifically muggles below him… no he thinks most everyone is below him. Or at least he acts that way. He tries to make people believe that he thinks he’s better than them because it’d be better than them knowing the truth, that he’s afraid that he’s miles and miles below them. But he definitely sides with the Death Eaters because they took him in when he came to Hogwarts.

-His aesthetic is literally the high school bad boy. Bloodied knuckles, the ‘I’ll kill you’ look, a smell of cigarettes and mint, leather jackets, kissing strangers, and having a protective layer so high and long the great wall of china is jealous.

-He only gives one chance and it takes a lot of work to get to that chance. Don’t blow it and if you get a second one then you’re really special. If you treat him like dirt than fear for your life.

-He’s very claustrophobic, once he was locked in a closet as punishment by his parents and he had a major panic attack. But, since he’s so non-verbal about everything he was left practically suffocating as he gasped for air, curled up into a ball and waiting for the door to open again, he was afraid to shout for help.

-he’s good at picking up languages. He currently speaks English, Russian, Italian, and Portuguese. He’s most fluent in English and Russian and he’s most recently picked up Portuguese so sometimes you can actually find him studying it in the library.

-He’s very good at gambling, specifically Poker, but in general as well. But the poker face on him is absurd, it truly is.

CHARACTER TRAITS:

(+) loyal, resourceful, organized (-) hot-tempered, skeptical, stubborn

CONNECTIONS:

Gwenog Jones: Hooks Up With. Felix Avery:  Dislikes. Pandora Oliphant: Makes Fun Of. Mary Macdonald:Stopped Mulciber From Hurting Her More. Cassius Yaxley: Only Dormmate He Gets Along With.

Faceclaim: Samuel Larsen

[linkhikari-blog]

Gwenneth

Episode 1 of the fourth chapter. Legault sat at an immaculate table. It was oval in shape spanning a huge room, made of a gorgeous white wood that Legault could not identify. All around the table were chairs of the same make. Legault sat at one end admiring the hall he was in. All made of the same wood, with brilliant sunlight filtering in through Diamond windows. He sighed, tapping the table with his finger tips. Definitely not his kind of hang out. A door on the far side from where he sat clicked open, in walked Chad Valero. He was in his Shinigami garb today. No cowl, rapiers at his sides. Great. Not only did he looked pissed but the Shinigami garbs usually meant he was in full on 'give a God a spanking' mode. Legault never liked Laws. Needless to say him and the God of Judgement rarely saw eye to eye. Chad sat at the other end materializing a book. He cracked in open, put on his reading glasses, and began to read in silence. "When did you start wearing reading glasses? You know you're a greater God right?" Legault questioned. No answer. Legault scowled. Faggot, he thought. "Legault, refrain from even thinking insulting thoughts. I am currently in no mood." Chad said. Legault rolled his eyes, "look dude I'm a busy guy, can we like speed this up?" Chad closed the book suddenly with a slam. The reddish hue in his golden brown eyes glaring at Legault. Legault was unphased. Chad was only intimidating to those that wouldn't enjoy a fight till the death with someone as powerful as he is. Chad took off his glasses, "you broke the law Legault." "I break laws every fucking day guy." He replied. "You broke one of MY laws Legault." "Listen man, you know I've never actually given a fuck about anyone's laws. I'm Legault Jax Valgren! I do what I want when I want." Chad sighed, "because of your transgression I have devised a suitable punishment. You must raise your daughter." "Fuuuuck that." "As a god you have responsibilities. You can't just go around sticking your penis in anything and everything! That's how Grand Terrors happen!" "You mean like Billy?" Chad began to look angered. "Listen guy, none of my children have gotten THAT bad. I get it, you don't want another Billy. But here's the thing candy ass," Legault leans in for emphasis starring Chad down, "I'm not as weak as you. One of my children acts upity and I'll kill the fuck. I don't give two shits about evil and good. What I do care about is existence. Perpetuation of everything. Which is why Lea still lives. That boy may be a giant cock but he isn't Billy. He isn't Solomon." Legault was getting pissed as well. He really didn't like Chad. Never has since the dawn of time. "If you do not obey my orders I will be forced to seal you in a prison for a indeterminate amount of time as punishment Legault. You have one more chance. Now what's it going to be." Chad's eyes gazed Judgement upon Legault. Legault stood up, cocked a smile and lifted both arms up to flip Chad off, "Fuck yourself, Tyrannical bitch." A sudden explosion of power and a (purposely) failed Will save brought Legault to a field, he mused must be in the Sereitei. Across from him, cowl, cloak, and all stood Judgement. Legault smiled again, "Go ahead dude. Power up to your strongest, you'll need it for this ass whooping." Legault began to do simple stretches. Chad was thankful for the opportunity. I guess he figured it out thanks to my glasses, he thought. I'm so spread thin as I am currently I'm functioning below the capabilities of the mortal cap, way below the abilities of any God. Cocky bastard. Chad focused and withdrew all his power, every avatar from every plane, back to him. It took him a few minutes. Chad had an avatar on every plane, and many in the Sereitei. Many Gods also had Chad with them for council and protection. This Civil War has spread him very thin. The plane was built to be able to handle Chads unbelievable power, the planes around his plane began to warp and shake however. It's because of this before he left his station at the Sereitei he had his Captains gear up a barrier for those planes. Hopefully they'll be unaffected. Legault was beaming. His excitement could not be Controlled. Finally, Finally! He thought. Chad Valero, we haven't fought in an entire multiverses worth of time. "Draw your swords." Chad said drawing his own. "Not yet, lets have some fun." Legault said. Chad sighed, fool he thought. They clashed. Chad truly was faster, quite possibly the fastest God in existence, Legault marveled at his speed and skill as he just barely dodged several blows. Chad's first hit landed, it was but a scratch and yet Legault nearly died from it. Legault vaulted away panting. "Just a scratch and..." he coughed up blood. He hadn't bled since he was mortal, not even in the face of Solomon. "I am not here to spar or play games! I am the God of Judgement and of Death! The only reason you survived even that scratch is because by all rights you are a tad stronger, but you are clearly not smarter. Give up, or return to the source Legault." Legault grimaced. He understood now. He had taken the full force of hundreds of dice worth of damage and because of his astronomical fort save survived the death effect. Chad truly was terrifying. Legault could not take another hit like that. Not even a slight graze. Legault a grimace shifted to a smile, then a laugh, Gods damned he was excited. "Play times over!" Legault yelled as lightning struck in two places right next to him revealing dual bastard swords. Chad knew the next hit would win. He knew he could not withstand even one blow from the Lion of War. His only hope was his speed and intelligence. His dex and int versus Legaults wis and dex. They clashed again with blinding speed and unparalleled strength. Far away the captains struggled to maintain a barrier, thankfully Cassius had requested the aid of Lirahs angels anticipating that this fight would get this intense. Even with all of them together, the planes surrounding the Sereitei shook and the fabric of reality cracked. All this and the battle thus far hasn't even been 30 seconds. Finally Chad parried and riposte, disarming Legault of his left sword. Just as Chad thought he has won, he knew he had lost. He had been bluffed by a successful feint. He has been so caught up in the fight he forgot something important about Legault Jax Valgren the greater God of War. He's an expert fist fighter, he thought as Legaults fist quite literally caved in Chads face sending him backwards with so much force that he tore through the fabric of the Plane he had created into the blind eternities. "THE FUCK YOU THINK I AM!?!?" Legault shouted as he sent Chad flying. The multiverse was stunned. Chad, who has only ever been beaten by Billy his only son was defeated by Legault. Legault sighed a sigh of content. Lirah appeared not far from him, her sword drawn. Her beautiful blue eyes shaped serious toward Legault. Legault cocked his head and smiled, "hey cutie. Whatchya looking all angry for?" "Cease and desist Legault I don't want to fight you." She responded. "Whoa whoa whoa!" Legault said waving his arms, "I ain't into fighting girls, especially pretty ones." "Then you give in?" "Can you ask me nicely sweet heart?" Lirah frowned a bit, but did not want to fight Legault. Even with all her power to fight someone like him would mean to fight to kill him. Legault was not an evil man, she couldn't bring herself to do that. Especially since he showed Chad mercy. Even if the rest of the multiverse could not see it Lirah could. Lirah saw everything. She saw that Chad himself saw them as equals and saw Legaults win as a close call. She knew better. She sighed then her visage reset to a more neutral one, "Legault, as part of your punishment for breaking the rules can you please raise your daughter? She's going to need you." Legault beamed, "raising a kid ain't no punishment, it's a blessing. I've never left one of my own completely alone, and I ain't gonna start today." Lirah wasn't surprised by his response. So this is the shard of Fate youve chosen? She thought as she smiled. "You're a good man Legault." Lirah said. "Yep. Tell Chad I'll be waiting for his apology in the form of an ass kissin', I'll even wash it for him." Legault replied. Lirah nodded. "Aight, gotta go visit the kids mother and get custody I guess." He said rather annoyed. "Who is your child's mother?" Chad said gasping stepping back into his plane. His face was a wreck. "Gahaha so you know I'm a daddy but you don't know the mom? Who told you I was a father to be?!" Legault questioned. Lirah and Chad shared a brief glance. Legault looked back and forth. "Ain't you supposed to be neutral Chad?" Legault said. "Right now there's an overflow of evil in the multiverse. Lirah is helping me deal with it as well as acting as my greatest ally in the war." Chad replies. "Gay. Alwell," Legault opened a portal, "wanna meet my new kid?" Like this never happened.. you never change Legault. Chad thought. Lirah and Chad looked at each other. "Sure" they replied stepping through. "You.. you've got to be kidding me Legault, how did you? Why did you?" Chad trailed off. "Dunno just felt like it. Gods can fuck anything right? So I thought, ima fuck the Ocean." Legault replied Chad looking at the mass expanse of water, "You didn't just fuck an Ocean, you fucked the entire plane of water!" "Yea man! You shoulda seen the water elemental faces." Legault laughed. Chad literally face palming, "they don't have faces Legault.." Legault swam through the water to find a baby being cared for by several elementals. He took her into his arms. "This is Gwen." Legault said. Chad looked at Lirah, Lirah was smiling. Chad took that as a good sign and smiled as well. Baby Gwen. "You're gonna come back with daddy, yes you are! And you know what daddy is gonna do? He's gonna pawn you off on Earl, yes he is." Legault played with Gwen. "At least he's honest." Lirah smiled. "Another word for him is 'irresponsible'"Chad rolled his eyes.

[finderskeepersff]

19.

I didn’t go back to that apartment, I refused to go there. I don’t want anything from that place. Cassius said I was being dramatic but I’m not at all, a man was killed there. I want everything burned but it’s whatever, I don’t care. Cassius felt bad and gave me money to get new clothes so that is what I am doing, shopping on my own. Cassius feels he brings trouble so he said go on your own or with friends, I don’t know why he’s being like that. I’ve never got to shop with my own boyfriend, he’s never taken me on a date after the first time. I am very stressed, he’s stressed so it’s not working out, sex is not working out either because Cassius is too busy thinking, we are in a hotel room and stressed. I am just trying to think of the bigger picture, we are going to move and then hopefully things will fall into place. I think Cassius is trying his hardest to get out of what he is doing but something is holding him back, maybe it’s his family I don’t know. I feel it from him, it’s like he’s stuck between things and I’m like Cassius please leave and he won’t. I beg him too, I want him too. I know he loves me, he feels I hate him but I don’t. I’m just begging him to stop, he is trying I guess. He had a few days left and then after that I am gone, I can’t do it. I can’t be this, he won’t listen so maybe leaving him will, something has to change, I can’t keep on feeding a habit and remaining with him, it’s fine because I’ll always find my way and I will be ok, I am praying. I’ve not bought it up again, I hope he is using his brain and in a few days he says let’s go, that is what I am hoping. Because I know my man, he is stressed so why would I add to that and keep saying it to him. He is scared, I feel it from him.

I huffed out, one day that will be me with my daughter shopping together and happy. I look a mess and I know I do, everything is in that apartment and I refuse to go there, I need to stop being stubbourn. It bugs me that after being away for so long, I never go pregnant, crazy right. Maybe I am destined for it to not happen but we had sex, so much sex. I know his sperm works, it’s my body that ain’t participating. Shaking my head going back to finding my size in this top, struggling to get my size right now “imagine seeing you here cousin” looking behind me, it just had to be Celine didn’t it, out of everyone in this entire city of New York it had to be the bitch I didn’t want to see, I mean it’s just my luck “following me” looking back at the rack of clothes “no, not hard to miss such a big head, I mean you look pretty bad. Life treating you good? Has it finally set in, that life ain’t all that” Celine said, let me ignore this bitch, she is not worth it at all “how is Cassius dick? I do miss that thing, does he still come to bed late at night, does he still lightly snores” clenching my jaw together “he did perform well, he always knew I kept his bed warm for when he needed it” she sniggered, I am trying my hardest to not snap. Staring ahead of me, I can’t lash out here like this “how does it feel to actually have my left overs, forever second best, crazy mother like yours with no man or money and then you, bottle service girl. And now you had my left overs” she has really pissed me off on the wrong day “Bryce is doing fine Celine, thank you for asking” turning to her “heard your sorry ass couldn’t see him, me on the other hand can you fucking bitch. You’re jobless, broke, run through coke head that can’t get her child back. Me, I am free, moving with Cassius to Atlanta, Bryce can always visit us. I mean I think he loves my hugs, a mothers touch. Anyways bitch. Nice seeing you and, also Cassius dick is fine, so is his mouth on this pussy, it’s a great feeling when your man doesn’t use condoms thot” walking off, I ain’t fighting. She can go and fuck herself, the lonely little bitch she is, I want to beat her so bad.

What makes it even more annoying, I wanted to buy something from that store “Sofia” Celine is fucking following me, I will beat her right now. I turned to her in a huff “fuck you!” I spat “you can keep Bryce, I heard your sorry ass is trying for a baby with him, I know everything bitch. You know, remember that time when we got on. A guy dropped me off at your home, a nice new car. You and your lover crossed paths then but he didn’t want you. I mean why would he, infertile at the best” my anger is building and building, reaching over and grabbing Celine’ hair, yanking her neck back. The tight grip on her hair, she can’t move “now you fucking listen to me, you walk away right now or I will get Cassius to burn the trap house you call a home. You don’t know me, I don’t know you. You walk off or I will make that fucking happen, got it?” Celine mean mugged me, yanking her head back even more “ok, ok!” I want to snap her neck off “and you want to see what happens when a guy loves you, I bet my life on it. You won’t have a home to live in by tonight, ain’t no second chances” letting her hair go “I will show you how much he wants me bitch and who runs who, watch your fucking back!” I spat pointing, she has really pissed me off.

Putting my car in park in the hotel car park, switching the car engine off. I didn’t even do shopping, it was barely that. I’m just too angry, like who the fuck is that bitch, who is she. I honestly felt like Cassius at that moment. I am learning my bad ways and tempter from him, I have to be. I am always a calm person but recently, no. I still don’t think that bitch learnt her lesson from Bryce, so I will makes sure Cassius friends sends some sort of message out to her, I will show her who runs the show because it’s not who she thinks it is. Pushing my car door open, just because I for one didn’t wear make up I look bad, that is rude as fuck. Banging the car door shut and made my way to the hotel, it’s a nice place we are staying but every night being here is costing him, ain’t me. This is his damn fault so he can pay, I just want to leave now.

Pushing the hotel room door open, I feel so annoyed and deflated about things. I do feel like Cassius is feeling depressed about things, I know he blames himself for what happened, I mean it is his fault but I don’t blame him “Cassius, do I look bad?” I have to ask “erm, no why? You look beautiful” I cooed out at him saying that “you think? Just someone was being mean and said I look bad, you don’t think I do right?” he shook his head “you look very beautiful  Sofia, you don’t even need make up” I sighed out “thank you” placing my bag on the side, I hate this hotel, it’s small. We have the bed just to sit on and one chair, I have to see Cassius self-loathing, I get he feels bad but he needs to stop “who said about you looking bad?” Cassius questioned, he hasn’t even got out of bed from when I left him “Celine” I mumbled “Cassius, why have you not got out of bed? That mean nobody has come and cleaned” I cannot believe him right now “forget that, tell me about Celine” I am annoyed now, he hasn’t allowed the cleaners to make the bed. He’s not moved, walking off into the bathroom because I need to breathe.

Walking out of the bathroom “sorry” Cassius mumbled “don’t be, just you need to stop feeling this way. What happened, happened. We just need to go from this place, stop being sad Cassius, please stop this. I don’t blame you” Cassius didn’t say a word “ok but what happened with Celine” that means he’s ignored what I said “being a bitch, I threatened her Cassius. Listen, I want you get your boys and threaten that bitch, I was in Forever 21 and she said how is Cassius dick, he always knew where his bed was. Does he still snore lightly, I had her left overs. I am nothing, I am trying to have your baby. Being mean as shit, so I got angry and said I will get her house burnt down” I shrugged “so I want you to get someone to scare her, show her who’s boss and that is me. She think it’s a joke. I am off the pill, so eventually I will get caught pregnant but that is besides the point, she is fucking rude” I pointed “wait, you not taking anything?” Cassius said, I never told him “I am not taking anything anymore, I stopped a while ago now” Cassius stared in shock “really!? Are you ok? Did you get hurt, are you pregnant now!?” I had to laugh “Cassius, relax. I am not pregnant and I am ok” I am shocked at his reaction, he near jumped out of bed “but yeah, I am not taking anything so you never know but I do need you, I mean for you to get someone to scare her, no house burning like I want but I want her to know I am boss. Can you do that?” Cassius nodded his head “you my boss lady” Cassius said smiling at me, I knew that.

[linkhikari-blog]

Never skip the music

Today I’m gonna speak about ‘Mood’. The 3rd chapter of this multiverse ended in one hell of a climactic battle. After watching the multiverse descend into darkness at the hand of Dread Pirate Billy, the party had no choice but to charge him head on. They hand only one plan. There exists a melody from the last multiverse born again within the reincarnated Izzlin Flaris that can break the chains of evil on ones soul and allow them a fighting chance to see the Light again. That was there only plan, severely underpowered for the task they charged ahead to stop the monster before all was lost.

Now a little backstory on the situation before I go any further. First I suppose an explanation for his name 'Billy’ sounds quite bland to the fantasy reader at first. Simply put Billy’s name comes from a trend amongst his family line. Before becoming a God of Wrath, Death, and Tyranny, Billy was the Demigod son of Chad Valero, God of Judgement. Chad came from humble beginnings. He was a character I named as such because he was not supposed to ever be pertinent. He grew organically through my games from influence on player characters to eventually become something as mighty as a God of Judgement! So the bland names in his family became a sort of homage to their humble beginnings. Billy himself started a swabbie of a pirate ship at the age of 13. Up until then he grew up on the streets an orphan.

Billy eventually met my PCs and they all together realized their potential and transcended their mortal heritages into Demigodhood. Eventually the game ending with Kale'a fighting one vs one with 'The God of Terror’, whose name is a reference to one of my favorite games The Legend of Dragoon. The story had a ton to do with dragons, it seemed fitting to me.

Billy fell in love with Cala, Kale'as damphir daughter. When Cala lost control and gave into the darkness, Solomon Valunda took her soul and a tragic boss battle to defeat and kill Kale'as daughter began. After the story ended Billy vowed to get Cala back, to save her. Solomon is a force unlike anything the multiverse has ever seen. It took the strength of all the other Gods to seal him, but Billy went to face him anyways. He gave his soul up to save hers. Solomon then tortured Billy, destroyed everything he was and built him back up as The Dread Pirate.

The Dread Pirate Billy had a terrifying ability to reanimate anything he killed, control them, and double their power. All testaments to Solomons power.

Now we are back, Billy has nearly destroyed the whole multiverse. Converting everyone into his darkness, Gods and all. Now you know as well as the party of PCs knew how bad the situation was. Their only hope was Izzlin. But Izzlin was broken, devastated with the loss of friends and family and horrible things he had to do to survive.

The party happened across a strange artifact. Lucky enough it would fuse any two people into one being combining their powers. Ausk, Cassius, and Izzlin became Caskin. Maya and Hokulani became Mayalani. Earl, distant relative of the God Val Valgren, though significantly weaker, refused to fuse.

They charged Billy, warping straight to him with use of Magic, and a clever plan to use another artifact called the God’s Hand Cannon to warp his army forcibly to a different plane of existence. This bought them mere moments to fight Billy alone. The fate of the multiverse would be decided in 24 seconds. Only 24 seconds.

Can you believe the intensity of the situation? Do you believe people were sitting or standing?

The point of this is the power of Mood. Of making sure they know the situation, applying the right amount of pressure, then leading it explode in an Epic battle.

Nothing sets a mood better then Music. When they charged Billy, the last few remaining hopes of the multiverse; Caskin, Mayalani, Earl, Rin, and Jade, I played the song 'Protector’s of the Earth’ by Two steps from Hell.

What’s important in a successful story of any type, a video game, a book, a dnd adventure, anything, it’s too make them FEEL it.

There’s nothing more powerful then Feeling it.

After Protectors, I played United we stand, divided we fall, also by Two Steps. Then when the second round hit, I played 'Cometh the Hour’ from the Bleach OST as I described the descent of actual Gods, and Billy’s army.

During this round, or 6 seconds, Mayalani fended off several Gods, Earl was straight up in Billy’s face, and rin and Jade died from the sheer magnitude of Billy’s Aura.

The end of that round Billy was cured and his army began to be purified. All seemed well.

Then I played Solomon Valunda’s theme, the last 12 seconds of the battle. Multiverse versus Solomon. Solomon’s theme is Neodammerung from Matrix Revolutions. Perfect for the God of Fear.

In those part 12 seconds the party battled Solomon. Every God used their powers to seal Solomons true might giving them a fighting chance. Again the only way they could win was the melody. Solomon ripped through many of them, this was when Earl made his final stand. A mythic tier 6, level 20 pathfinder character versus the Greater God of Fear. Solomons estimated CR is around level 90. He literally cannot even be dealt damage unless it’s from a greater God and even then it’s tough.

This was the defining moment in the battle, steps away was Caskin playing the Melody, there was no one else to halt Solomon, so Earl stepped up.

In his mind he remembered not more then minutes ago he promised his little girl she would see him again. He promises daddy would never leave her.

I played Hero’s Theme by Focus Music, Earl was torn asunder, he tried to hit Solomon, connected and his arm and part of his torso and weapon were blown off. Even trying to harm Solomon one could die. Solomon charged Earl back, the Gods trying to weaken Solomon limited his movements so Solomon delivered one fierce blow, instead of many. Earls spark being of the Valgren family of Gods resonated. Legault, Greater God of War, Destiny, and Luck was with him.

Earl attacked again, the other side of his body blown off. Earl fell bleeding out. Moments from death, sustained by his mythic abilities. Solomon approached Caskin, the Melody almost complete, Solomon cast forth a mighty spell of death to annihilate Caskin, ending all their hopes. Earl channeled his Luck domain to take the hit.

Earl could have came back. Could have healed. Could have taken the chance, after all Caskin could surely take the hit if he could. That didn’t matter. What mattered was the certainty of freedom. What matters was protecting the little family he had left. Earl died a hero, Caskin finished and Solomon was defeated.

Their small party had done the impossible.

I played 'Shake it off’ by Florence + The Machine as I described the outro.

All in all this was a summary of a singular epic battle in the annals of the history of my multiverses, I use this example to illustrate my point, make them feel it!!

Feeling is everything!