#I try to get trophies and collect divines

[gurren-logout-book-reviews]

The Merry Spinster: Tales of Everyday Horror by Mallory Ortberg  

A collection of short stories with each being one chapter in length. It’s hard to review the book without treating each individual as its own entity. However, the stories tend to follow a familiar theme of abusive or toxic relationships. Each story tends to have some conflict involving someone stepping over boundaries, gaslighting, or guilt tripping in some capacity. The stories are all reimagining’s of fairy tales and folklore. Some stories involve odd gender titles which I will address per story. The relationship each story has with gender ranges from interesting to almost seeming accidental. To try and help build backgrounds for each story, I will list the author’s inspirations for each tale (pg. 189-190). Some of which I caught on and could compare, but some of these I am not familiar with and looked up for better context.

The Daughter Cells (Sources: The Little Mermaid)  

The first story is also the cover of my copy of the book. The opening starts out as a reimagined version of the little mermaid, but with a monstrous sea girl rather than a typical mermaid. All the story bits play out the same as the original tale until the end. Instead of stabbing herself and turning into foam, she stabs the prince and his new wife and baths in their blood. Stealing their souls and returning to her true form in the sea. I’m always down for monster girls, and they build up more of the sea girl’s kingdom and lore which is an interesting perspective. It relates to the theme as the girl and prince don’t seem to view each other as individuals. She lays claim to him and decides he’s hers while he knows nothing. Then when she turns human, he doesn’t try and know her as a person, just a silent trophy until he is married. All in all, a good start to the book 3.5/5.  

The Thankless Child (sources: Cinderella, King Lear, The ladder of Divine Ascent, Lorica of St. Patrick, The Divine Praises, and Psalm 139)  

                This is the first instance of the odd gender naming choices. It could be something lost in translation, and it isn’t too distracting here, and also adds to some backstory of this world the tale takes place in. The girls have masculine to gender neutral names (Paul, Robin, and Gomer) and discuss wanting to get “wives”. Which they mean men. It is implied in the story that women are expected to do hard work.  

                The God Mother acts as the main antagonist, trying to guilt Paul into obedience and love over their passed mother; withholding food and giving out extra work while complaining Paul won’t let her love them. The God Mother seems to have them worship salt as God. It’s a bit confusing, but the theme is kept that Paul is forced to drink salt water to not be punished. This story seems to abruptly end to the point I thought my ADHD brain made me miss two pages, but no. It suddenly cuts to her living with the priest’s son as his husband who is caring and keeping house. Very odd, kind of weird paced, 2/5.  

Fear Not: An Incident Log (sources: the Book of Genesis)   

                To start off I was shocked when the source ended up being the book of Genesis. I guess it does have a “fear of God” aspect and the results of following without thinking. However, I found this one to be the least interesting and had to reread the chapter a few times to even remember it. Very slow and not for me. 1/5  

The Six-Boy Coffins (Sources: The Six Swans, and The Twelve Brothers  

                I love/hate this story. It was interesting and kept my attention, but I didn’t like it for whatever reason. I get the references they are pulling from, but I just didn’t like it. That isn’t to say it isn’t well written. The mom and dad (king and queen) are absolutely in the wrong to their kids, where the king thinks the sons are too much trouble and just wants to kill the them once he has a daughter and the mom lets the daughter know at every possible moment that her being alive makes her life worse and that she should never have been born. The boys live in the woods to escape their father, learning to be self-reliant and harboring a resentment that they think is toward their sister. When they meet when she is seven (she wanted them to come home and know them, her mother told her it was her fault they left) they instead love her, and they all live in the woods together. A few years go by (why did the king not send anyone to look for his daughter he wanted so badly by the way) and she sees white lily’s growing in the yard. At no point were lilies ever mentioned up to this point, so the reader ends up just as shocked when she decided to pick them for her brothers, but then they turn into swans?  

                She has a dream about her mother telling her she is a worthless failure for picking flowers she shouldn’t have (hello? at this point she is twelve-year-old girl? And again, the flowers are NEVER MENTIONED). She says to turn her brothers back she needs to suffer more than all of them plus their mother combined. She is tasked to stay absolutely silent for 7 years while making shirts out of thistle needles for each brother, and she needs to finish them by the seven years. About halfway through the “punishment” a king from a different kingdom finds her and because she can’t speak just decides to marry her without any input from her at all. He tries to stop her from making the clothes and she forces herself to have abortions, so she doesn’t have to think of anything but her goal. At the 7 year mark the king decides she is a failure (from what he believes are miscarriages) and decides to burn her at the stake. At the last minute she flings her shirts onto her swan brothers, and they come out and burn the king for hurting their sister. Story fits the theme, kept my attention, and made me angry at everyone involved. 4/5  

The Rabbit (source: The Velveteen Rabbit)  

This one is odd, and unsettling. A toy rabbit that has been neglected wants to become real. When a boy’s nanny can’t find his usual bedtime toy, she gives him the rabbit. The rabbit is filled with so much hate. They tell this boy horrible things about how they’re their only friend and that he’s worthless. The rabbit starts saying he “loves” the boy as the boy becomes sicker and sicker. The rabbit starts becoming nicer looking and beginning to feel “real” through the boy’s suffering. The boy becomes absolutely dependent on the rabbit or freaks out if they are separated. Once the boy finally dies the parents decide to burn all his possessions and as they try to burn the rabbit it grows legs and hops away. The idea that someone who is supposed to bring you comfort and love and is using you and actively hurting you just triggers a pain in me. This rabbit is so focused on themself and enjoys the boy being hurt. Just oof. 3.5/5  

The Merry Spinster (sources: Beauty and the Beast)  

                The namesake of the book, the story follows closer to the original fairy tale than the Disney version. It’s a bit loose at first to make the connection, but then it starts making more sense. I don’t know why her family treated her so bad for *reads notes* doing all the housework and cooking, then spending her downtime reading instead of spending ridiculous amounts of money on flashy things. They even call her Beauty because she is so plain and not great looking? The book makes it a more modern retell with a mom going to get back their fortune and the kids asking for different things. The brother (Sylvia, who is the worst) wants a car, sister (Catherine) wants jewels, and beauty wants a single rose.   

                Mom stops in the middle of the night on the way back at an old mansion with food laid out that she just starts eating like that is a normal thing to do when breaking and entering. She notices a rose garden and decides to pick one, so add theft to the crime list of this lady. That is when the Beast shows themself (but is never described other than “beastly” so not sure how much of an actual “beast” he is or if he’s just a giant horrid person. Hard to tell with this book sometimes) and demands payment for the flower. Mom offers up Beauty, and the Beast accepts. Beauty happily goes, much to her family’s rejection (finally realized y’all will have to do the chores now?) and the Beast welcomes her with food and a library full of books she can’t read due to…a spell? It’s never quite stated. The Beast says she can have everything if she marries him. She declines. He continues asking becoming angrier each time and she still says no and that she doesn’t want to be married. The beast takes the mansion’s pleasures and then says if she doesn’t marry him he will die.  

Well, he does die. Then Beauty goes home.  

                What an odd retelling. It fits the theme (abusive family to abusive household) and Beauty’s wants are always told are weird, ugly, and not normal. It’s just so jarring, I guess there are people who act like that, but with the family it seemed a bit much. I could understand the Beast parts giving her a hard time as that is the more fairytale part, but man they just don’t let women live their life the way they want in this world. Dragged on a bit in the beginning and end, but overall alright. 3/5  

The Wedding Party (source: the Goose Girl, The Earl of Mar’s Daughter, and the Daemon  Lover)  

                I liked this one and the banter reminded me of how my fiancé and I talk to each other. This story closest follows the “Daemon Lover” ballad, specifically “A Warning for Married Women”, but instead of an ex-lover it’s a toxic friend. The boy and girl spend most of the chapter playfully teasing each other and talking about their wedding in two days. It is building up what is clearly a stable and happy relationship. The groom continues bringing up the bride’s friend Tess, who he dislikes. He doesn’t think that friend does enough for the wife and that she should be more giving with her wealth to her best friend. The bride plays this off as not a concern and that she loves him and nothing will change that.  

                While waiting at the rehearsal dinner location, the bride seems to be becoming more sporadic and unable to stop telling jokes and defending Tess to have a real conversation with her to be husband about his concerns. They see Tess in the window and the bride goes out to talk to her, saying that he never likes Tess and that he looks like he has been fighting about her, so she wants to calm Tess down herself. However, the bride never returns. He waits in the rehearsal hall as he hears voices get quieter.   

                I feel this is supposed to be how people who are abused tend to go back to their abuser regardless of how happy they may be in a new circumstance, it’s something you seen in DV cases and you always question “But they treat you so bad, why do you keep going back?” It’s easy, and stress can make you make bad decisions. I can understand it. Good Story, fun dialogue, downer ending. 3.5/5.  

Some of Us had Been Threatening Our Friend Mr. Toad (sources: the Wind in the Willows and Some of Us had Been Threatening our Friend Colby)  

                This one was by and far my favorite. It was so creepy and deeply hurtful and my only complaint is it ends rather abruptly. The way the animals spoke to Toad hit a little too close to home to how my parents and some family members talked to me. This story follows the basic plot points of “The Wind in the Willows” except this time the animals don’t really care about Toad’s safety. They continually gaslight him in the very next sentence, making him feel like he doesn’t matter and is a bad person. They lie to make Toad feel more dependent on them, and the beginning (which is actually the ending) feels so much worse with the context of the “Threatening Colby” story, as what was implied becomes more obvious knowing that story. They are just so cruel, and you just feel a deep pit in your stomach for poor Mr. Toad. In the original he became humbled and a better friend, in this version he is likely killed by his cult like “friends” who believe they own him as their friend. I wish it was just so slightly longer and it made me feel like garbage. 4.5/5  

Cast Your Bread Upon the Waters (source: Johnny Croy and his Mermaid Bride)  

This story was so interesting, it is told from the perspective of a deeply religious mother who continually says her son is beautiful, but dumb. He does do dumb things to win his “dream” girl, a woman the mom describes as evil and a monster. It’s hard to tell if the girl is a sea monster or the mother is just ridiculous about who her son is with. She never grows to care for her daughter in law, and when she wants to take her family back to her home (the sea) this crazy ass lady drugs her grandkids, brands them with a cross, cuts her son’s hand off and takes out his eye, stabs the girl multiple times and sends her and her son out to see on an old boat. She keeps the grandkids even as the girl begs for her kids. 

This woman would be a top post on r/JUSTNOMIL. The story is an allegory towards indoctrinating family into a person’s own religious ideals and rejecting anything else as sinful, leading them to do horrible things in the name of “saving” people. I could easily see this being a fundamentalist mother not approving of her son marrying someone of a different religion, the way it’s told you just wonder what the hell is wrong with this lady? Stayed focus, very clear, and interesting. Makes me love my MIL more. 4/5. 

The Frog’s Princess (source: The Princess and the Frog/Frog Prince) 

This story has the most confusing language when it comes to gendered speak it is distracting from the story itself. The youngest daughter and her siblings are referred to as “he/him” throughout the story with no real explanation why. The only she pronoun used is for the sun. While I’m all for challenging gender norms this just comes off as an accident or just distracting. My only theory it’s supposed to be that the daughter belongs only to men (which is stated a few times that being beautiful means other people get to own you and it is your own fault if you don’t like it) so they don’t get their own identity outside of their father? The story is exactly the princess and the frog but the frog never turns human they just stay a frog. Still throws the nasty thing. Frog comes off gross in this and not sympathetic, which could be relating to someone being assaulted and being forced to be with that person by family no matter how bad they are. Overall, I found this story confusing and just not transformed as much as the other stories. I can kind of see what they’re trying to do, but I don’t feel it was executed well. 2/5. 

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors (source: The Fisherman and his Wife, and Frog and Toad are Friends) 

The final story really hammers home that theme of abusive relationships. A retelling of a “fisherman and his wife” but the fisherman’s partner is just referred to as a friend with gender neutral pronouns. Like in the story they want more and more, but in this they are constantly guilt tripping the fisherman. Making them feel like their partner is the only one contributing to the relationship when really all they have done is make demands and complaints. I mean, they can’t even give their sick partner some tea without making a huge deal out of sacrificing and being selfless to the “selfish” fisherman. The fish at the end rightfully calls this out, but in response the fisherman fucking fillets this magic fish and absolutely murders the shit out of the thing that has done nothing but give. The ending was a surprise for me. I know the book seemed to center themes around abusive people in our lives, but to end it with such a rejection of help and continued hurting because your feel worthless without the person who made you feel that way...ouch. I hated the partner 4/5. 

Final Thoughts Overall 

This book was such a mixed bag for me, which is the nature of anthology books. Sometimes you get absolute gems, but then the next chapter will be a slog to get through. While overall the book is an interesting look at the damage generational trauma, verbal and emotional abuse inflict seemingly long term, some writing choices just made the point distracting. I feel like writing about each individual story and looking back made me take in smaller details I didn’t think about before, going back knowing the theme makes the stories seem like more than what they are on the surface. It’s short and can be read in about 1-2 days. Overall rating 3/5. 

[boneless-mika]

One of my favorite games is an online point and click game where you breed and train horses. There’s a lot of stuff you can do to your horses. Also there are horses with magical powers who give you gameplay bonuses.

[gojology]

Job Benefits. (Part 4)

❝...𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑶𝑵, 𝑺𝑷𝑰𝑻 𝑰𝑻 𝑶𝑼𝑻.❞

CONSPIRING. - Chapter Four

you can find part three here :

part three : routines

pairing : ceo! gojo x female reader warnings : cursing, no proof reading, no editing wordcount : 2494 a/n :  this is so bad, i... i am so sorry. in my defense i haven’t written in a while, but i hope u guys still like this regardless </3

     Almost immediately after stepping foot into the room, you’re greeted with a minimalist, yet clean looking interior. Large window panes with Tokyo’s beautiful sunlight filtering into the already lively room.     There’s a few co-workers you can see sitting by the vending machines on plush arm-rest chairs, the cushions colored a beautiful tan alongside oak wood arm rests and chair legs. Others are on their phone, texting and furiously tapping and a feeling of anxiety immediately eats you up whole. You were seriously starting to regret coming down here, what was the point other then to make Gojo jealous? You could’ve very well eaten in your office- and what you were doing was childish anyways.      You stood in the entrance way of the room, nervously fidgeting, eyes scanning for Keto Sugaeru amongst the faces that were starting to blend in. You can only vaguely remember how he looks like from the few visits he had made to Gojo’s office, jet black hair, usually tied in a bun, always a kind, yet careless smirk on his face. He was handsome, which would be a definitive beacon amongst the rather disgruntled looking office workers.     “Hey, are you gonna move or what? Blocking the damn way.”     You hear a gruff impatient voice behind you, and you twist around, stumbling with the newfound height of your high heels as you did so. A man’s eyes bored into your own, glaring at you with a mix of hatred and annoyance. You gulp, finding yourself unable to respond, instead averting your gaze to the floor meekly.    “You gonna talk? We don’t have all day, sheesh, they’re hiring anyone into the workforce nowadays huh-”      “I’m sorry- I uh, I’m r-really new here so...” modestly giving the man a kind smile, but he seemed to have no patience for you.     As if a divine being heard his rude comment and immediately swept down with some karma, a firm, large hand is placed onto the man’s shoulder that you hadn’t seen prior. It gripped the flesh tightly, and the mysterious man glared directly down at the now squeaking rude one.      “Did I hear that right?” is all he says, a few co-workers are twisting their heads towards the altercation, now you’re sweating bullets. You grip onto your lunch so tightly you’re afraid it might burst, and those incredibly long fingers of his are inching towards the stout man’s collar.     Eventually, the perplexing man smiles kindly, retracting his hands to his sides, now lifeless and slack. “Please, Nishima, refrain from picking on people. We don’t tolerate this in the office, and don’t be dumb enough to do it in front of someone who has direct connections to the Gojo family. Run along now, I’ll leave you off at a warning. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”     The man grumbled a few times, kicking at the floor before heading out, you turn your head to thank the man, looking at him with an admirable gaze, but you realize something-      He has the jet black long hair you were searching for before any of this happened, it’s tied up in a bun, and it looked ridiculously smooth and soft. Something you’d pay to drag your hands through and play with. He has that carefree grin displayed on his handsome features, shamelessly showing off his good looks. Tall, and he definitely had a familiar voice that took you a while to put a finger on it.     This had to be him.      “You frozen girlie? I haven’t seen you around in the lunch room- here go sit there, that seat’s super comfy.” he gestures to one chair, and you snap out of your trance, nodding in response, yet still unable to fully register what just happened to you.      “Sugaeru?” you blurt out, your eyes wide while stumbling like a just born fawn towards the spotless table. How good was your luck today? He came to you.      “Suguru.” he corrects, looking back at you, a teasing curve to his lips. “Holy, you completely butchered my name, I think I know you from somewhere-” for a second, he looks like he’s seriously thinking before he beams. “You’re Gojo’s secretary, Y/N, aren’t you? What brings you down here? Gojo told me that you’re usually reserved in your own little world and you do everything in your office.”      You stammer, still unable to believe your luck, but your shoulders are relaxing and the tension has completely evaporated into thin air. “Uh, yeah I’m Satoru’s secretary. I- Um, I wanted to... Get some water?” that was a horrible lie, even for you.      “Rookie mistake.” Suguru pulls out the aforementioned chair for you before walking to the other side of the table to place his lunch on the tabletop carefully. “Water here is super overpriced. You should bring some from your own house if that’s the case! Colleague to colleague, just don’t tell anyone I said that, or else I’ll get in trouble.” winking at you, he twists the lid to his container presumably holding his food, instantaneously a cloud of steam emerges and a delicious scent wafts through the room.     After a moment of silence between the two of you as you both opened your lunches, you clear your throat, meaning to make conversation. “Thank you for saving me back there.” sheepishly, you smile at him. “It’s really appreciated, I just couldn’t believe how rude a person could be, especially since u-uh... You know, he could’ve, like, just walked around me?” stuttering, you grab your utensils in an effort to look relaxed and comfortable, even though you had no idea how to speak to him.     “Atta girl, no problem.” he responds warmly. You feel safe in his shadow. “Hey, if your Gojo’s friend, you’re my friend. Don’t worry about it. I heard you’re new to the office.” he pauses, looking around the now bustling room before covering the sides of his mouth and whispering towards you. “Secretary position was open for a while because no sane person in Tokyo wants to be Gojo’s secretary.” sitting back down while snickering, he takes a bite out of his lunch.      Giggling, you finally ease up. As opposed to Gojo, Suguru’s more sincere and straight to the point. He’s funny in his own way without being obnoxious.      You scoff. “Yeah, I can see how anyone could go insane from working with the guy. It was the only good secretary position open, though...” you muse aloud.      Suguru crosses his arm over his chest, your eyes carefully surveying his attractive figure as he does so, a thoughtful smile on his face. “Well, imagine being friends with him for more than 15 years. I’m sure I’ve gotten a few screws loose.” he says suggestively, wriggling his eyebrows.      You cover your mouth, trying not to laugh- but it just spills out of your lips, and you forget that you just met the guy, that’s just how friendly he was. “Don’t say that!”      “What? It’s true!”     You didn’t quite know it just that, but a seed was planted that day- you and Geto’s relationship, and it would only blossom from there.  ‧₊˚✩彡.     Gojo’s paranoid.     It seems like there’s a secret that he’s not in on, he realizes that Geto’s visits to his office are growing more and more frequent, yet he spends less time at his office, rather, spends all of his time at yours. Feeling left out was never a positive emotion. In response, Gojo would increase his visiting between the two of you, “accidentally” walking in on the both of you casually chatting, but it’s like he’s a ghost in the room. He’d get a few lukewarm stares and a few polite greetings, but that was that.     He’s not sure if it’s jealousy, or what.      He knows he should be supportive of his best friend potentially getting a girlfriend, and he tries to be- but something about Geto and you together really pissed him off, he just doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s the way the pairing between you two seemed so natural, it would be almost sure that a relationship would occur soon that angered him. Having dating co-workers was almost never a good thing.      Deep down he knows that’s not it.      As the weeks past by, the visiting grew almost unbearable, hearing your laughter- your giggles- from jokes that weren’t from him was infuriating. Listening to the repetitive clicking of your heels down the stairs into the break room was driving him insane, and eventually he can’t even open an email or do anything involved with work. You and Geto were constantly on his mind, and he’s morbidly curious as to when the friendship occurred- or if it was possibly more than that.    His first attempt at getting to the bottom of things was bringing it up between the two of them, him and Geto, just as casual chit-chat, but it didn’t go exactly as planned.      Geto would have a sympathetic, almost mocking grin on his lips, but those eyes of his were telling enough. It was a whole other book of lust and need, for you. Brushing the topic off with a wave of dismissal, he’d chuckle and put a mask of friendliness on, but Gojo’s known Geto enough to see where this was going.      He couldn’t have this, everything was brought to him on a silver platter, so it was only natural for him to feel like he needs you, even if he didn’t. Perhaps you were another trophy to his endless collection to him, he just didn’t know. He’d never felt so strongly of a woman, much less his secretary, something was brewing inside of him.    One thing he doesn’t understand is why Geto. He’s flawless in appearance, restless, impossibly good at sex, why weren’t you stroking his ego? Whatever, this was another topic of conversation, what he needed to do now was win you back.     He calculated in his office the average time in which Geto would visit, music drowning out the muffled talking, and finally he’s ready and absolutely certain that this would be a good time to chat you up. Having everything planned out, an aura of confidence radiated from him.      “Y/N!” you hear a chirp from the door, lifting your head up in excitement, you realize it’s not your beloved Suguru, rather, it’s Gojo. Gluing your eyes back on your computer screen, not even bothering to peel them away, you clear your throat in acknowledgement. “Sir?”      A smug grin flickers across his face for just a second before he pulls out one of the chairs across from your desk, scooching it a bit further away for some extra leg room before promptly sitting down. “Knew you’d remember to call me sir, I knew I hired well when you stepped into the interview room, so sharp.”     You don’t detect a shred of sarcasm in his compliment, and finally you turn your gaze upon his face. This was certainly out of the ordinary for you, as he hadn’t visited as often with Geto in the picture now. Gojo’s not wearing the iconic black shades that concealed his cerulean eyes, now, they’re out for you- his private audience.     His eyes are brimming with energy and mischief, almost like a child’s. They’re transfixing, like diamonds handpicked and placed into his eyes. You’re overwhelmed from your work once again- a direct consequence of Gojo neglecting his own, yet something about this greeting reminded you of one of the first few times he had visited you, when he stole your carrot pen. Thus, causing you to direct your undivided attention towards him, he seemed promising, after all, what was the worst that could happen?     “That’s besides the point, Mr. Satoru. Is there any reason why you came here? I’m actually finishing up a report right now and the deadline is in two days.” taking your coffee mug up from it’s usual spot on the tabletop, you sigh in relief as the warm liquid goes down your throat and set it back down, anticipating his answer.     In usual fashion, Gojo chuckles good-heartedly. “It’s your fourth month anniversary you’ve been working here, or third, or second, fuck like I remember. This is a cause for celebration and you’re worrying about finishing up a report?”    “You’d know better then to come to me with an offer of slacking off if you knew my fourth month anniversary of working here was coming up.” you respond coolly.     His eyes slightly widen, before he lets out a dry chuckle. “Ah, I missed my sassy secretary, say, why don’t we celebrate? We can go out for a staff dinner in celebration. I’ll pay, no need to worry. It’ll be confidential information between the two of us.” tugging at his collar, he quirks an eyebrow, you’re visibly thinking.      “Does this imply you want this dinner to only be between the two of us? Why’s that?” you pry, a tinge of hesitance in your pitch.     Ah, shit. This was going off the tracks.     Gojo taking a hand to his chest defensively, he loudly announced, “It’s important to build a positive connection between the two of us! We’ll be working together for years to come, of course. So skeptical of you, why do you look so down?” the retort was cheeky, and good at that, as it left you speechless.     “I’m not sad, or anything-” you pause, your mind had gone blank. “I- Um... I-” attempting to return to your work instead, you give him a dirty look, but he stares back with such intensity you don’t know how to feel. “I’m doing work, don’t screw up my train of thought, please?”    “You definitely weren’t saying that when I offered to take you out to eat, come on, spit it out.” he tsks. Utterly defeated, you sigh.     “I wanted to invite someone.” you spit out, obviously embarrassed.     Gojo pretends to act shocked, before excitedly inquiring, “And who might that be?”     “G-Geto.” there was no point in lying now.    He oohs, looking down at your shaking hands and back up at your face. “Ooooh, Y/N has a crush on my best bud? Who woulda thought!?”    Your cheeks going warm, you shake your head furiously. “No I don’t! I- Mr. S- Sir! This is so unprofessional of you!” stuttering, you drop your head on the desk, arms pillowing the sides of your head and groaning.     “How cute. Anyways, you accept that dinner date?”     You lift your head back up, sniffling. “It’s not a date!”    Giving you a shit-eating grin again, his eyes twinkle. “Oh, but it is.”    “I- Aghhhhh!” putting your head back down on the desk, this time without your arms, you don’t know how to respond, so instead you make a mockery of yourself.    Laughing, Gojo decides not to tease and you and instead says, “Meet me in Shibuya district, there’s a super nice restaurant, I’ll drive to your house, no need to worry about transportation. 9 PM, see you there!” his voice grew more distant down the hallway, you can still hear the clicking of his shoes and his deep humming.     So you had a date tonight,     Now how would that go?

[janedrewfinally]

Well, if I’m engaging in this whole….string-covered wall-of-crazy calculation, I might as well post it.

Given how much of “Word of Honor” is a Glazed Armor quest/shell-game, it seemed useful to note exactly where the fool pieces start out and what happens to them. I’ve split up the “Glazed Armor pieces” and the “Armory Key,” because the Key doesn’t come up until later in the story and follows a different trajectory.

As we know, twenty years ago, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked Rong Xuan, the runaway disciple of Changming Mountain Immortal Ye Baiyi, gathered a group of martial artists from different sects, plus the Longyuan Cabinet, and together they created the World’s Armory, using an abandoned stronghold/library from an ancient kingdom, filling it with texts from the various sects. Their idealistic plan to combine all of that knowledge failed; Rong Xuan was poisoned; his wife, a member of the Miracle Healer Valley, saved him using forbidden techniques that caused him to go insane, whereupon he was defeated in a massive battle outside of Ghost Valley.

The Magical Wuxia McGuffin Glazed Armor, the key to the World’s Armory, was divided between the five young men who would become the leaders of the sects that make up the Five Lakes Alliance. They did not share the Glazed Armor or the Armory with the rest of the martial arts world- at least partly because, without the key, the doors won’t actually open. “Word of Honor” opens with an Armory/Rong Xuan-related flashback, setting up the extent to which the pieces of the Glazed Armor (and later the Armory key) will shape the plot.

The Glazed Armor Pieces:

Imaginary Glazed Armor: “Hanging Ghost stole my Glazed Armor!” Wen Kexing declares, in full murder make-up mode having a) just killed Hanging Ghost and b) never had a piece of the Glazed Armor. However, this imaginary Ghost Valley piece of Glazed Armor is the justification for sending out all of the Ghosts into the human world to supposedly try to track down Hanging Ghost, but really to start Phase One of Wen Kexing's complicated revenge plot. The idea that Ghost Valley has at least one piece of Glazed Armor also causes complications later.

Glazed Armor Piece 1 (round exterior bit): In the possession of Gao Chong, leader of the Yue Yang Sect and the leader of the Five Lakes Alliance. He hands it over to Mo Huaiyang, leader of the Gentle Wind Sect (Qing Feng Sect), before the Hero’s Conference. Later, Xie Wang (Scorpion King/leader of the assassin's group Venemous Scorpions, just wants his adoptive father Zhao Jing to love him and be proud of him) takes it off of Mo Huaiyang’s corpse, sadly without stabbing him some more.

Glazed Armor Piece 2 (round exterior bit): In the possession of Shen Shen, leader of the Da Gu Shan Sect, part of the Five Lakes Alliance. He gives it to Gao Chong when Gao Chong asks for it, and Gao Chong hands it over to Mo Huaiyang before the Hero’s Conference. Later, Xie Wang takes it.

Glazed Armor Piece 3 (small connecting bit): In the possession of Zhang Yusen, leader of the Jing Hu Sword Sect (Mirror Lake- and why I am having trouble finding the other sect names in English I could not say). When Mirror Lake is attacked by a group from Ghost Valley, Zhang Yusen makes a cut in the stomach of his youngest son, Zhang Chengling, and hides the Glazed Armor piece in the wound. Since everybody assumes (correctly) that Zhang Chengling is carrying his father’s piece of the Glazed Armor, Zhang Chengling becomes a target for kidnapping by the Begger’s Guild and the Scorpions and for very loud lectures from Shen Shen and Gao Cheng. After telling Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing about the Glazed Armor, Zhang Chengling tries to give the piece to them, but Zhou Zishu, who is extremely disinterested in it, tells him to give it to Gao Chong so that he’s no longer a target. Back in the Yue Yang sect, Zhang Chengling dramatically removes the piece in front of Gao Chong and hands it over. This is the third piece that Gao Chong collects and hands over to Mo Huaiyang before the Hero’s Conference, all of which are then taken by Xie Wang.

Glazed Armor Piece Four (the third round exterior bit): This piece originally belonged to Lu Taichong, leader of the Dan Yang Sect, who gets killed offscreen, along with almost all of the members of his sect. Before he dies, he entrusts his two remaining disciples and his piece of the Glazed Amor to Ao Laizi, leader of the Tai Shan Sect (which is part of the Wu Yue Sword Alliance). Ao Laizi fends off both Lv Liu Weng and Tao Hong Po when they come after the Glazed Armor, and then also manages to use the arrival of Zhao Jing and co. to fend off Shen Shen. Then he gets killed by Happy Ghost (it’s implied), and Long-Tongued Ghost puts the Glazed Armor piece into the bottom of his box of soul-winding thread, heading off to the ancestral hall (“Coffin House”) of the Zhao family to wait for Xie Wang to show up for the hand-off. Exceeept Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing manage to defeat the various traps, and Wen Kexing kills Long-Tongued Ghost and takes the box. When Zhou Zishou opens the box and discovers the Glazed Armor, he tosses it over to Wen Kexing, who a) is shocked that Zhou Zishu really was serious about not wanting the Glazed Amor and b) immediately starts trying to figure out how he can leverage this to cause maximum chaos. Wen Kexing later gives this piece to Xie Wang as part of their deal.

Glazed Armor Piece Five (the spiked circle in the center): In the possession of Zhao Jing, leader of the Tai Hu Sect. Zhao Jing takes advantage of the banquet welcoming Zhang Chengling and the murder of Ao Laizi to have his godson Song Huiren, who is one of the favored disciples of the Yue Yang sect, “steal” his piece from its hiding place and “escape” with it, killing Yu Tianjie when Yu Tianjie pursues the “thief.” Unfortunately for Song Huairen, Xie Wang is NOT here for their yifu having other sons he might like better, so Xie Wang kills him, takes the Glazed Armor, and tells Zhao Jing that Song Huairen had been a traitor. Xie Wang keeps this piece on a chain around his neck, as a statement of his loyalty, but also inadvertently kind of sort of as a future creepy trophy for Worst Yifu Zhao Jing.

Fake Glazed Armor One: When Wen Kexing gets Glazed Armor Piece Four, he cheerfully visits a glass maker and demands thirty copies, which he proceeds to scatter around in advance of the Hero’s Conference in the hopes of creating chaos (oops). In addition to interrupting a lovely moonlit date and causing his first quarrel with Zhou Zishu, the Fake Glazed Armor leads to the tragic deaths of the Four Sages of Anji… and, much later, to the tragic death of Han Ying. However, it also seems to have given Gao Chong a useful idea….

Fake Glazed Armor Two-Four: Gao Chong, having handed the real Glazed Armor pieces to Mo Huaiyang, comes to the Hero’s Conference prepared with three fake pieces, which he then very publicly smashes. Sadly, this does not fool people for long, and the Gentle Wind Sect becomes a target. Even more sadly, Mo Huaiyang does not get stabbed at this time.

The Armory Key

Yue Feng’er, senior disciple of Miracle Healer’s Valley and wife of Rong Xuan, gives the key to Gu Miaomiao and Wen Ruyu (the "Divine Hands" of Miracle Healer Valley) to take to Ye Baiyi at Changming Mountain. Unfortunately, this goes… poorly.

Imaginary Amory Key: In a vain attempt to take the target off of Gu Miaomiao and Wen Ruyu’s backs, Longyuan Cabinet leader Long Que spreads a rumor that Longyuan Cabinet has the Armory Key and then relocates the Cabinet to a more secure, secret location.

Fake Armory Key One: Wen Kexing holds up this fake key when he’s carrying out his fake death plan as a way to rile up his opponents (who, frankly, don't need any more riling).

Fake Armory Key Two: As part of their deal, Wen Kexing hands this fake key over to Xie Wang, who for some reason is shocked- SHOCKED- that it then doesn’t work.

Actual Armory Key: Gu Miaomiao and Wen Ruyu hide the Armory key by putting it in their son’s hair; he keeps it, and wears it frequently. Later, of course, he gives it to Zhou Zishu because they are very very married… and then uses it to open the Armory.

[easily-infatuated23]

I Have a Question to Ask You

a/n: I loved this request! I changed it up a bit but i hope you enjoy!

request: could i please make a request for a harry potter x gryffindor reader? taking place during the yule ball, Y/N  is a popular girl and has many guys asking her to go with them. leaving harry with little chance to ask her, but he really wants to. so basically Y/N is like cho except she says yes to him lmao

pairing: Harry Potter x Gryffindor! Reader

summary: Harry asks Y/N, the most popular Gryffindor girl, to the Yule Ball

warnings: a sick burn on malfoy

word count: 1.2k

The Great Hall was as buzzing with an excitement that would normally seem out of place on a cold December morning such as this. But, the entire castle was looking forward to something special, the Yule Ball. Some people were elated at the idea of getting to dress up and be asked to the dance, and others were panicking about having to ask or be asked. Through all of the noise, one voice cut into the chosen one’s ears. “Harry get a hold of yourself” Hermione scolded. “You’ve been staring at Y/N for nearly two minutes” she finished. “Sorry I just can’t help it” Harry replied. He didn’t mean to fall for the most popular and beautiful girl in Gryffindor. It truly had been an accident. He had first seen her on the train to Hogwarts in his second year. He could still vividly remember the shy smile she flashed him that made his heart skip a beat.

“Have you ever considered, and this may sound crazy…talking to her?” Ron asked sarcastically. Harry glared at Ron across the table. Suddenly, the trio’s attention was drawn back to the girl. A large group of Ravenclaws had made their way over to her, pushing Jordan Hammer to the front of the pack. “Hey Y/N” he said as cooly as possible. Harry saw her sigh slightly before turning to face the tall Ravenclaw. “Hi Jordan” she replied. “This is going to be brutal” Ron said. “What do you mean?” Harry asked. “Just watch” Hermione replied, nodding her head in Y/N’s direction. “So anyways, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the Yule Ball with me”. There was a pause. “Look Jordan, you are a really nice guy but I’m going to have to say no”. Jordan’s eyes dropped to the floor as the Ravenclaws and some of the surrounding Gryffindors burst into laughter. “I’m really sorry” Y/N said as the pack dispersed. “That really was brutal” Harry said turning back to his friends. “Thats not even the worst part. Thats the third guy to ask her…today” Ron replied. Harry raised his eyebrows. “Today? It’s only 8 am”. Ron nodded.

Since Y/N was the same year as Harry, he had nearly every class that day with her, and the proposals never seemed to stop. There was one from a 5th year Hufflepuff on the way to class from breakfast, one during Divinations from Draco Malfoy which ended particularly horribly with a great line from Y/N, and about 3 more throughout the day. In all that time, Harry had tried to go up and talk to her but people kept getting in the way. However, his luck seemed to turn during Potions. Snape had changed seating assignments which some how ended with Harry and Y/N being partners. Ron and Hermione were siting across from them, giving Harry small glances and nods. “This is your chance” Harry thought to himself. Once they began working on the class assignment, Harry mustered up all of his courage and spoke. “Your take down of Malfoy during Divinations was brilliant” he said. She looked up at him from her book and chuckled as she tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “Yeah I am actually really proud of that” she replied. “I mean-‘I don’t see a date with me in your future’- absolutely hysterical!” The two laughed. “I’m sure you are tired of people asking you to the ball at all hours of the day”. She shrugged. “Yeah I guess. I mean, I appreciate that people care enough to say anything but it kinda feels like I’m just this trophy they are trying to prove to their friends they can win”. She looked back down at her book. There was a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “I’m really sorry about that. If it makes you feel better, I wasn’t planning on just coming up to you and trying to ask you to the ball”. Harry grimaced and he could of sworn he heard Hermione scoff. “Why did I say that?!” he thought. Y/N looked back at him, puzzled. “You weren’t?”. Thinking fast, Harry said the first thing he could think of. “No no, not like that, I mean you are incredibly beautiful and any guy would be lucky to go with you but, no matter who I ask I would want to talk to them first. I mean for all they know I could be the most boring date in the world and I would hate to do that to someone”. There was a small moment of silence again. “Nice save” Ron whispered sarcastically.

Y/N chuckled again before she suddenly composed herself and looked Harry directly in the eyes. “It’s a shame, you are probably the only person I would have said yes to”. She flashed him a small smirk before returning to her work. The whole table, especially Harry, were stunned. Harry looked at Ron, who was of no help. He merely shrugged and continued to look dumbfounded. Harry blinked and then an idea formed in his head. He picked up his quill and continued the assignment. “You know, I didn’t say I wasn’t planning on asking you” he said nonchalantly. Y/N stopped writing and turned to him. “What do you mean?” she asked. “All I said was I wasn’t planning on just walking up and asking you. And I don’t know about you but I’d consider this talking. So step one, success” he said, barely looking up from his work. Y/N smiled and bit her lip slightly before returning back to her work. “So, what’s step two?” she inquired. Harry’s heart was pounding. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. “Well, I was going to come up to you in the common room and ask you about a homework assignment and then after you answered I was gonna start to walk away…” he started. “Mmm hmm and then..?” she asked, smirking at him again. “Um well then I was going turn around like I had forgotten something and say something along the lines of ‘I have a question to ask you, do you want to go to the ball?’ and then hope you said yes”.

Once he finished this little charade he looked at her. She was biting her lip again and clearly holding back a laugh. “You made all of that up right now didn’t you?” she asked. “Yeah pretty much” Harry replied. They both laughed again. “I’m going to have to do that now aren’t I?” he asked. “Oh definitely” she replied, still laughing. “But don’t worry, I promise I’ll say yes. Besides, I turned down nearly 27 people waiting for you to ask me.” Harry’s jaw dropped. “Y-you, wait, you were waiting for me to ask you?” he stammered. “27 people?” Ron said loudly, earning a slap on the back of the head from Hermione. Just then, class ended and everyone began collecting their things. “What time should I happen to find myself in the common room tonight?” Y/N asked coyly. “Around 7:30?” Harry proposed. She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Can’t wait” she said as she picked up her bag and left the classroom. Hermione and Ron walked up beside Harry. “That was quite the rollercoaster” Hermione said. “Tell me about it” Ron replied.

[nalgenewhore]

promise me your heart

elide x lorcan, alternate canon au, word count: 2458

Night had fallen hours ago, but still they did not sleep. 

A fearsome fire roared and danced in the pit they had built, encircled with marked stones. On the other side, he sat. 

The demi-Fae’s dark eyes were wide and could not stop moving, always looking at something new. The witch laughed into her mug of honey ale and drank deeply, the slightly sweet drink cool and refreshing. 

When she put her mug down, his eyes were on her. 

Elide felt her cheeks blush and turned her face away, cursing him for having this- this foolish, lovesick spell on her. No male made her blush. Not even this one, with his long, long hair and his black tattoos that wrapped around bronze skin rippling with muscles every time he shifted. 

She bared her iron fangs in annoyance, at no one in particular. Elide Lochan was almost six-hundred years old. She was the leader of the most feared witch clan in the world. She had killed men, women, males, and females with her bare hands and teeth. 

As for the beasts she’d slain, well, she kept their skulls as trophies in her vardo*, the white bones gleaming and shining, fitting in with the colourful drapes and carpets and adornments she had collected over the centuries. 

Elide tipped her cup up, only to find that she’d finished her drink. She grumbled and tapped an iron nail over the rim, stewing in silence. Her quick eyes glanced at the male again and her cunning mind wondered what to do with him. 

Three weeks ago, she’d found him. At the base of one of the towering and foreboding peaks of Morla. He’d hardly been breathing, curled into a tight ball, his weapons askew in the snow around him. Death had seeped from him, shadow-like strands skittering across the ice and snow covered ground. 

They’d seeked her out, herding her towards him. 

Elide had managed to drag him back to their camp and tended to him in her caravan, not letting another witch see him, not even her second, Manon. When the moon-haired witch had teased her, telling her she had gone soft for him, Elide had snarled in her face and gone back to his side, until the fever broke. Until he stopped having those… those terrible nightmares, she assumed. 

The ones where he thrashed and pleaded, speaking in an ancient warrior language, one she had not heard in ages. Once, tears rolled from his narrow eyes, screwed shut tightly, spilling down his high cheeks. Not knowing what to do and having the undeniable urge to soothe him, Elide had held his face and kissed his brow, whispering a soft prayer. 

She was startled from her musings when the very subject of them sat down next to her. He was so large that their shoulders, arms, hips, and legs were pressed together. Elide could feel his enticing warmth against her. 

“Are… are you the one who saved me,” he asked, his voice low and grating. 

“Yes,” she said, looking up at him. Maiden, Mother, and Crone save her. He was too tall. “What of it?” 

The male arched a brow and shrugged a large shoulder up, “Where I come from, it’s customary to thank one for doing you a favour. You saved my life and I should owe you a great debt.” 

“I have zero want for a foolish and young male’s debt.” 

“Young?” he choked, then chuckled. “I am anything but young. I’ve lived more than my share of centuries.” 

Without thinking, Elide replied, “As have I.” 

Shocked that such words and such information about herself had slipped from her round lips, Elide snapped her eyes to his. They surveyed each other in turn and the witch was the first to look away, a soft smirk curling the corner of her mouth. “You’re welcome.” 

He looked at her again and Elide clarified, “For saving your life.” She leaned just the slightest of bits into him. “You may call me Elide. Whatever do they call you, in your strange land?” 

“Lorcan.” 

Elide hummed and they both stared ahead. The heavy, booming drum beats slowly died and the witch looked around. Surely her fleet could not be tiring yet. Many, many a time their festivities raged on for days. 

Her worries were soothed when it began again and almost immediately, Elide glared at Asterin and Manon. 

Their fiddles, well worn and well loved, were nestled comfortably on their shoulders and tucked beneath their chins. They played a delicate and sweet tune and a loud cry of approval swept through the camp. 

Almost instantly, witches were surging to their feet and grabbing their loves, dancing around the fire. And then, the most golden of witches opened her mouth and pure heaven spilled from it. Asterin’s sun-flecked eyes sparkled, “I’ll swim and sail on savage seas, with ne’er a fear of drowning…” 

She looked to her cousin and Manon rolled her eyes of pure gold before singing in her rasping voice, “And gladly ride the waves of life, if you would marry me…”

For the next lines, they sang together, a perfect harmony. Elide’s second stared pointedly at her, subtly tilting her head. Elide scowled as her face heated. Never.

Stop being a wee witchling. I know you fancy him. 

How dare you, Blackbeak?

Manon’s satisfied grin, the fangs she wore on proud display glinting in the firelight, told Elide she’d let too much of herself show. And what are you going to do about it?

She fumed, but knew in her gut that Manon was right. 

“No scorching heat nor freezing cold will stop me if you will promise me your heart…”

Darkness, how Elide loathed it when Manon was right. And Manon was right all the time. 

Before she could do a thing, Lorcan was standing and his hand extended to her. She looked at it, her mouth popping open, her eyes widening. Elide snapped her head up to look at him, “What are you doing?” 

He shifted uncomfortably, glancing around. She could’ve sworn she saw red stealing across his cheeks. “Oh, well- I just- the others are- is–” Lorcan cut himself off, thinning his full lips in self loathing. “Would you like to dance with me, Elide?” 

“Yes,” Elide said, her response quick and rushed. She primly cleared her throat and stood. Before Elide placed her hand in his, she retracted her iron nails and gathered the skirts of her red dress in hand. “Shall we?” 

“Certainly, witchling.” Lorcan looked to the fire and smirked, awaiting her reply. 

She clicked her tongue, “Shut it, faeling.” 

“Oh, how you wound me,” he chuckled. 

Elide narrowed her eyes at him and sharply tugged him into the dance. She held their hands up and quirked her brow, “My waist, Lorcan.” 

His large hand curled around her waist and he pulled her closer, so that she was forced to crane her head up to meet his eye. “Now what?” 

“We dance, of course!” she laughed, dancing nimbly on her feet. Elide let Lorcan follow, his footsteps slightly slower. His head was bent, his brow furrowed as he watched her steps. With a surge of confidence, Elide leaned up, kissing the wrinkle between his eyebrows. Lorcan inhaled sharply, his eyes wide as he looked at her. She swallowed once and said, her voice far more unsteady than she liked, “Don’t frown, you’ll get wrinkles.” 

A large, booming laugh burst from him. Lorcan quickly picked it up and danced with her, urging her faster and faster. When he spoke, he spoke as if they were taking a leisurely stroll, “I’m six-hundred years old, Elide, I am not worried about wrinkles.” 

“Aha, I am six-hundred and one years old which means I know more than you,” she boasted. Elide squealed when Lorcan abruptly spun her out and snapped her back into his arms. Her hand came to rest on his chest and she could feel his heart beating against her palm, “Oh.” 

He smiled and she noticed the deep, dishy dimples on his cheeks, “Don’t fall behind, Elide.” 

She frowned in offence and switched her steps to something complex and beautiful. Lorcan only slowed for a moment before he matched her, step for step. Elide laughed then, her head tossed back as a pealing sound escaped her. 

Lorcan looked down at the ethereal beauty he spun, her cheeks rosy and eyes closed in delirious joy. 

As the music picked up speed, they went faster and faster and faster still. Elide’s blood-red skirts spun and flashed and twirled with her hips. Her hair shifted like dark waves of a troubled ocean and Lorcan was utterly, utterly bewitched by the divinity of it all. By the divinity of her.

That quickly, in such a flash, they tripped and stumbled, rolling to the flattened grass. They tumbled over each other, until finally coming to a stop. Lorcan was pinned beneath Elide, her knees bracing on either side of his hips. 

Their chests heaved and the off-the-shoulder sleeve of Elide’s dress slipped. Lorcan reached up, as did she, to push it back. When their hands touched, the both of them froze and looked at each other, analysing what they saw. 

Slowly, Lorcan sat up and Elide slid her fingers through his. He graced his fingertips over her regal cheekbone and felt her breath fan over his face.

He thought she might kiss him, her breath fanning softly over his face, but she didn’t. Instead, Elide shifted to sit next to him, “You must be hungry.” 

Lorcan was about to say, no, but his stomach protested and he cracked a grin, “Starving, but I do have to tell you, I don’t care for virginal sacrifices or young men. They scream far too much.” 

Elide stood up and offered her his hand, “The virgins or the men?” 

“The men, obviously,” he scoffed. He accepted her hand and stood.

She laughed again, that bright, warm and golden noise stirring something in his chest. “Right answer.” They walked to a large tent, one with beaded fabric walls. The tent’s entrance was pinned open, showing the glowing oil lamps and low tables laden with food and drink. 

Elide practically pranced in, holding her large skirts in her hands. She sat down and patted the space beside her. Lorcan walked in and took his seat, looking around him at the array of colourful, aromatic choices. “What should I choose?” 

She hummed, her sharp eyes searching the options. “Hmmm… try the saffron rice first, to start. Nothing too rich, your body is still healing.” Before she ate, she took a metal bowl filled with  water and gestured for him to do the same. Then, Elide took a stuffed pepper, its skin blackened by flame. She deftly scraped the burned skin off and began to eat. 

Lorcan scooped some of the yellow rice onto his plate and ate with his hands, not seeing any utensils. Elide didn’t seem to even notice, so he assumed it was customary. It was all very well, this was how he ate as a child, before everything, with his mother and his sisters. 

His throat ached with tears for a moment and Lorcan ate slowly, knowing that his stomach would ache if he went too quickly. 

The rice was gone quickly and when he reached for more, the witch stopped him. “Now try this.” She put a bowl of rabbit stew in front of him and his nose twitched, scenting the myriad of spices all melding together. Elide put a round piece of bread beside his bowl. “You need to eat more, you’re too skinny.” 

“Well, yes, I nearly froze to death,” Lorcan said drily, frowning when she patted his cheek a touch too hard. 

“Don’t be contrary,” Elide said. “Eat your stew.” Her hand rested on his cheek and Lorcan snapped his teeth towards her fingertips, laughing when she shrieked and snatched them back. “Devil Fae.”

“Devil witch.” 

Elide hummed in appreciation and they ate until their bellies were warm and full. 

Outside, the fiddles still played and the witches still danced, bright and merry. Elide and Lorcan took their plates and bowls and walked to the river behind her vardo. They washed in silence and stacked their dishes beside them. Warm and sated, Elide leaned against Lorcan and he wrapped his arm around her. Elide sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. She tipped her head to the side and pressed her face into the crook of his neck. “Will you be leaving soon, then?” 

His arm slipped from her shoulders and his warm hand fit into the cradle of her waist. The demi-fae’s voice was soft and low, his head leaning against hers, “Do you wish for me to leave soon? Your witches must not care for males.” 

“I do not care what my witches think about this,” she whispered, her hands finding his free one. “And I do not wish for you to leave.” Elide looked up at him, his face bathed in the light of the moon. Like she could not help herself nor control herself, Elide reached up and marked those beautifully untameable features of his. She ran her fingers down his cheekbone and dragged one down the ridge of his brow, following the path it made to his straight nose. 

Lorcan simply watched her, his eyes soft and dark as he surveyed her. Her fingers trembled slightly as she traced the corners of his mouth. He hardly dared to breathe. Elide swallowed once before she pressed her lips to his, forced to rise onto her knees. 

He lifted his hand to cup her face. She sighed softly and leaned her cheek into his palm. When Lorcan tangled his hand in her hair to kiss her fully, Elide shifted to straddle him, her knees bracketed on either side of his hips. 

When he had woken in that foreign, vibrant and colourful carriage, Lorcan had not been scared. Something had settled in his chest, something he hadn’t known he’d been aching for. He had been too tired, too weak to explore it, to reason it. Too safe. 

“Don’t leave. Please,” Elide whispered, pulling back slightly. “Won’t you stay?

“I will,” Lorcan swore, for he had found it. 

He had found his heart, ancient and wicked and his in every way possible. And Elide, she had found the one to protect her, in this life and every life after. 

Even after the world went to ruin and damnation, they would remain this way, for they were finally home.

☽ ☼ ☾

*vardo: traditional romany wagon 

@mythicaitt​ @werewolffprince​ @schmlip-scribble​ ​ @the-regal-warrior​ @ladyverena​ @ttakeitbacknoww​ @shyvioletcat​ @alifletcher2012​ @tswaney17​ @ourbooksuniverse​  @flora-and-fae​ @thesirenwashere​ @queenofxhearts​ @maastrash​ @mynewdreamwasyou​ @cursebreaker29​ @empress-ofbloodshed​ @b00kworm​ @hizqueen4life​ @silversprings98​ @amren-courtofdreams​ @minaidss​ @superspiritfestival​ @sanakapoor​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @spyofthenightcourt​  @thegoddessofyou​ @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx​ @claralady​ @neonhellas​ @darlinminds​ @readingismyonlyhobby​ @autophobiaxx​ @silversprings28​ @myshadowsingeraz​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @elriel4life​ @always-in-a-daydream​ @jlinez​ @ladywitchling​ @mariamuses @darklesmylove

[azucanela]

DIVINE INTERVENTION [PT.2] OIKAWA TOORU

DIVINE INTERVENTION MASTERLIST | HAIKYUU!! MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: Maybe getting into a fight with one of Oikawa’s fangirls hadn’t been the best idea. 

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

WARNINGS: violence, injuries, bruises,

A/N: do people actually plan their series ahead of time, because i kinda just write whenever my brain has an idea

Meeting Y/N L/N had been... weird for Oikawa, to put it simply.

As conceded as it may sound, Oikawa knew that he was well-liked, he knew that there were people lining up to go out with him— especially since he got confessed to nearly daily— but it wasn’t just that. Teachers had placed Oikawa on a pedestal for balancing athletics and good grades, along with simply being a ‘joy to have in class’ because he was respectful and offered his help often. Other students adored him because he was actually a rather kind person when he wanted to be; and he was well known in his school. 

He’d been singled out for as long as he could remember, that now both Oikawa and his own classmates felt as though they were simply on two different worlds.

Which is why Y/N L/N had been weird. Most of the time his natural charisma charmed almost everyone he’d met, his skill in volleyball and academic prowess were something that had also earned him respect in the school. And yet Y/N L/N simply extended her hand to him like he didn’t matter, offering her name only momentarily before retuning her attention to Iwaizumi. She’d simply treated him like just another person; and it had been a while since Oikawa felt normal.

So he began to pester her, whenever she was around—most of the time with Iwaizumi— he’d started talking to her more in their shared classes, even inviting her to his volleyball classes. 

Talking to Y/N had been like a breath of fresh air, as stupid as it sounded. He would never admit this to her, of course. Though he was fairly close to when their last year of middle school had come upon them and they were all deciding on which school they’d be attending.

Thankfully, the entire trio ended up going to Aoba Johsai. Even now, Oikawa didn’t know what he would’ve done had Iwaizumi and Y/N attended different school, though he’s happy he doesn’t know. Blissful ignorance.

Despite their years of friendship, Oikawa had never actually been annoyed by Y/N, he enjoyed her presence if he was honest. She was good company. She’d always put up with his ‘nonsense’ as Iwaizumi put it, and she’d supported him throughout his life— though she’d also threatened him for taking things to far and endangering his well-being, Oikawa had a feeling that was something he was supposed to appreciated. Yet, Oikawa had a feeling that today would be the day Y/N truly annoyed him. 

Rumors spread fast in Aoba Johsai, especially when they were about Oikawa and his love life, it had always been an issue. He hadn’t been in many relationships, much less committed ones. People tended to talk, his fans tended to act out, and after about two weeks any relationships he had were over. Which is why Oikawa was shocked to discover that he was in a relationship with his best friend, and had been for a while. And his apparent girlfriend had gotten into a fight with another girl earlier today in class. 

If Y/N was honest, she just hoped that Oikawa went with the little story she’d made up— otherwise she’d seem like an idiot who was just as obsessed with him as the girl she now sat beside in the principal’s office. And honestly, there was no real explanation for why she’d lie, not without her seeming crazy. 

Was fighting her the best idea? No, not at all. Did the girl deserve every hit? Definitely. Was Iwaizumi struggling to pull Y/N off of her? Possibly, we don’t discuss that. Now you might be wondering, why would the lovely, kind, amazing and beautiful Y/N L/N ever get into a fight? 

Well the girl started talking and wouldn’t stop. Speaking like Oikawa was an object, a trophy to be won, a game like the one he played. She spoke like she knew Oikawa personally, as though he owed her a relationship, a chance. But if Y/N was honest it was the threats that set her off.

She wasn’t sure if Iwaizumi was more shocked by the girl’s words or Y/N’s fist ramming against her face after this girl tried to smack her. 

“Oikawa doesn’t find out about this.”

That was all Y/N said when he finally pulled her off the girl, just for her to get escorted by the school’s security guards, down to the office. Though Iwaizumi wasn’t necessarily sure was she was referring to seeing as the fight had been the talk of the school now, and Oikawa was headed Iwaizumi’s way. He’d been seated outside of the office for some time now, awaiting Y/N’s inevitable return, suspension, or expulsion. 

This was going to be bad. In all their time as friends, Iwaizumi had never expected something like this to happen. If we was honest, he wasn’t even sure if the pair was or was not dating. Perhaps they’d been hiding the relationship from him or maybe this was something Y/N had simply made up on the spot, he wasn’t sure. What he did know, was that things had never been so... messy between Y/N and Oikawa. 

Now, Y/N wasn’t considering the impacts her little plan would have on the friend group at the moent, just that she didn’t play the death threat card often but now seemed as good a time as any to allow a false tear to fall down her cheek, “and then—” A sniff, “and then she threatened me and I got so scared, Principal! She said she was going to kill me.” Getting expelled was the last thing she wanted, but if this didn’t work— well, she was running out of ideas.

Now, Y/N wasn’t the best actor, but she was friends with Oikawa, and she’d definitely picked up a few things from him. Like the fact that their principal was a lot more sympathetic towards members of their sports team; and Y/N happened to manage one of the teams. And she was fairly sure that their most noteworthy players would’ve drained themselves entirely had it not been for her, so she considered herself... kind of valuable. Especially with Oikawa’s knee injury that he insisted on disregarding, Y/N had a feeling things would’ve been far worse for the boy had she not gotten involved.

Speaking of Oikawa, even as Iwaizumi warned him not to enter, the boy simply pushed the door open, a fake smile making its way onto his face as he spoke, “Principal!” He exclaimed, arms spread open, his smile only faltering as he notices the fading red mark on Y/N’s cheek, accompanied by a few bruises on her arms and several bruises on the other girl. Oikawa quickly recovers from the shock, returning his attention to the man before him, “how are you?”

The Principal offers Oikawa a tight lipped smile as he replies, “a little busy in case you haven’t noticed.” A deep breath from the man in question, “you should see yourself out—”

“You see, Principal. I just came her to collect my lovely girlfriend, I heard about this little mix-up and got worried, you know?” His eyes meet Y/N momentarily, and the look on his face tells her that she’s going to regret this once he manages to get them out of this situation— hopefully with her clean school record being maintained. “Things can get so blown out of proportion by school gossips, right?”

The Principal doesn’t seem to buy his words as he gestures to the other girl seated across from Y/N, who’s holding a tissue to her bleeding nose as she stares up at Oikawa in shock. “This young girl was very injured and—”

“She’s just fine? Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Oikawa looks to the girl, placing a hand gently onto her shoulder as he offers a sympathetic look, and she practically swoons at the pet name he sues, eyes zeroing in on the hand placed on her shoulder. The girl is clearly in awe at the fact that the very boy she’d intended to confess to all those hours ago was now here and touching her shoulder. 

Y/N nearly rolls her eyes as the girls mumbles out, “oh my god you’re– yeah I’m fine! I really shouldn’t have disrespected Tooru’s—”

“Oikawa.” Y/N corrects quietly, first names were reserved for people close to you, and this girl just had a crush formed from basic manners and good looks, though the girl pays no mind as she continues. Y/N can’t help but feel irritated by the fact that even though she’d literally been attempting to choke Y/N earlier, she was now acting as though Oikawa was her best friend. 

“—girlfriend! I didn’t know you two were actually together, I’m so sorry but—”

Y/N can’t help but feel odd hearing those words come out of someone else’s mouth. Girlfriend. The word feels wrong in a way, and leaves her with an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. She’d never considered being Oikawa’s girlfriend, not really, she’d heard other people’s speculations but she’d never actually considered why they might think that. 

Oikawa has already moved on from this girl, turning back to the Principal as he spreads his hands wide, “see! No harm done, now I need to be getting to Volleyball practice along with our lovely manager here, if you don’t mind that is?” Y/N nearly laughed at the fact that he was pulling the, ‘I’m literally your star athlete so you better do as I say,’ card. Though she only watched as the Principal brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose with a sigh, waving them off.

“Just don’t do it again.” He grumbled out, not sparing them another glance as he grumbled something out about young love and ‘Oikawa’s stupid fans.’

Y/N practically shot up from her seat, bowing to the man in thanks, “of course sir! Thank you, and have a nice day!” Oikawa’s hand has already come to the small of her back as he guides her out of the classroom, passing Iwaizumi who simply sighs as he watches them.

“Try to be on time to practice, idiot.”

Oikawa waves back to his friend, “of course, Iwa-chan! Anything for you!”

Iwaizumi probably would’ve started cursing had he not been standing just outside the Principal’s office, opting to glare daggers into the back of the boy’s head instead. Watching as he and Y/N made their way through the halls wordlessly. 

Y/N knows Iwaizumi’s eyes are focused on Oikawa but she has a feeling that the rest of the people in the hallway are more focused on her; seeing as she was today’s scandal. For several reasons. There was the being Oikawa’s secret girlfriend— though they weren’t actually dating, and Y/N had a feeling the gossips at her school would have a field day if they found out about thaT— and the fight with that girl and the— well, we don’t discuss that last bit. 

She doesn’t have a plan, Y/N was now wishing she’d just accepted the possibility of suspension because then she could’ve put off this conversation with Oikawa, the conversation where she’d have to explain what exactly happened. And at the moment, she didn’t have an explanation to offer him. What she’d done had been impulsive, yes, she could admit that. But stupid? Well, the girl did apologize, so maybe not.

“So... how’s your day been?” 

A sarcastic laugh escapes him as he pushes open the door of an empty classroom, eyes scanning the room once more before he’s shutting the door and bringing his hands to his head. “Care to explain?”

Y/N offers him a sheepish smile as she takes a seat on top of a desk, shrugging, “shouldn’t we get to practice like you said?” Avoiding confrontation happened to be a specialty of Y/N’s, and more often than not, Oikawa respected this. But it seems today was not one of those days. 

“Shouldn’t you have stayed out of it like you said?” Came his response, eyes narrowed at her as his eyes trailed over her figure. “What happened, Y/N?” His thoughts go to the conversation they’d had not too long ago, he’d explicitly been against this idea, for a variety of reasons.

Oikawa’s racked through his mind for reasons why she would do this even after he’d explicitly asked her not to, even more so why she’d get into a fight over him. A small thought in the back of his mind nearly made its way back to him, one he’d been struggling to bury for years as he searched for an explanation. 

Y/N doesn’t really have an explanation either, maybe it was because she had been tired of these people pretending they knew Oikawa, because of the conversation they’d had in the gym. Seeing him upset over it might have triggered something inside of her, and made her decide— why not take things into her own hands? He didn’t deserve any of it, they could be so overbearing, acting as though he belonged to them. 

Maybe it was spite, pure spite. Anger over all the ways these stupid confessions and fans had affected her. Maybe she’d wanted it all to stop and thought that this was the best way how. Maybe there was no real reason beyond that. She finds herself wishing she could offer him an answer, though nothing comes out of her mouth.

When Y/N doesn’t reply, Oikawa simply sighs, bringing a hand to the bridge of his nose before turning to Y/N, his eyes trailed along the dulling red on the edge of her cheek and the bruises evident on her arms. Frowning, Oikawa brought a hand to her arm, “well at least you won the fight.” He didn’t know much about what happened, just what he’d heard in passing and when one of his teammates had approached him to congratulate him for ‘finally getting in to a relationship with Y/N.’

A small laugh escapes Y/N as she nods along to his words. “Yeah,” she mumbles in agreement, lips pressing together to form a tight lipped smile as she struggled to find words, “so... what do we do now?”

That would be the question of the hour.

[tags] lmk if you want to be added via askbox

haikyuu!!: @shawkneecaps @therainroguefanfiction​  @iwaizoom @aquabcrry-y 

[destinys-dragon]

A Pirate’s Catch

Characters: Janus, Roman, Remus, Logan, and Random crewmates Ships: Rociet main & a small bit of Intrulogical

For: @noodlesyo

Note: I do not own Cinderella ‘So This is Love’, Tangled ‘I See the Light,’ or ‘A Lovely Night,’ from La La Land. Those all belong to their respective artists I hold no ownership of them.

Word Count: 2,378

Merry Christmas noodlesyo! I was your secret Santa this year for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange and gifted you a fluff filled pirate au, featuring mer Roman! I hope you enjoy this sweet bit of fluffiness

"All those days chasing down a daydream," a melodic voice called from below the ship, making the captain groan. ".....All those times never truly seeing...." The voice continued, followed by a small splashing sound

"Oh for fucks sake!" He cried out, plugging his ears. He heard his crew laughing and chuckling at his misery. "Not this fish brain again!"

"Oh come on! Give him a chance, his breath is probably only somewhat fishy" His first mate, Remus, called out, sending the crew into a louder fit of laughter. Even Logan, the ever stoic man, let out a small snort.

Janus shook his head, trying to tune out the merman swimming beside his ship. "I want the ship moving faster!"

"We can't do that, Captain," Logan stated, raising his hand up. "The winds are practically dead and the sails are already fully opened in an attempt to catch as much wind as possible. We are, essentially, stuck."

"I'm where I'm meant to go, and at last I see the light," the voice continued, and Janus wanted to throw himself overboard, that would do nothing but put him next to said thing he wanted to hide from, so he resisted the urge.

"God dammit...is there anything we can do?" He asked Logan desperately, but Remus was the one to speak up.

"Yeah totally! Just go talk to him already. I mean you wouldn't be throwing this much of a stink about it."

"But he is super annoying and-"

"And if he was as annoying as you believe, you'd have sent men to capture and kill said annoyance, right?" Remus practically purred. He enjoyed watching how red Janus got, even the long scars on the side of his face seemed to glow a bright red.

"Well still he is being annoying and disturbing my break tim-"

"So this is love~" The mer swooned, causing the crew on board to fall silent. "So this is what makes life divine. I'm all aglow~ And now I know~"

Those few lines made the crew burst out into cackling laughter. Most of the crew had to find a support from the mast or a few barrels littered around. Remus was in absolute pieces, rolling around on the floor and shrieking with laughter. There was a soft splash and the mer left, startled by the demented howling that was Remus.

Janus couldn't even formulate a response, turning to head back into his cabin to sulk. He heard his crew outside cheering and joking about him and the mer, "Finally gonna get in bed together," as Remus put it. He felt his face flaming, causing him to bring a hand to his face, pressing it against his hot cheeks. He shook his head, tugging open a drawer and grabbing a quill and some paper.

He ignored his crew who were still talking about him and 'His mer', pretending they were talking about someone else. He put on a pair of reading glasses and flicked his lamp on, focusing his attention on some paperwork that needed to be done. Sure, a pirate's life was very free and they could go wherever, as long as they had wind and a working boat. That didn't mean they escaped paperwork and typical adult duties, and it was a good distraction from the singing outside.

Just before sunset, Janus snuck out wearing a yellow wool sweater and fuzzy black pants. He had to stay as warm as possible, especially with how cold it gets the closer it gets to dark. He made sure everyone else was in bed, before making his way towards the front of the boat, slowly looking over the side. When he saw no merman he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pearl. It was about as big as his palm, it's smooth milky surface practically glowing in the moonlight.

He held his hand over the edge of the ship, opening his hand and letting the pearl fall into the water with a small splash. Janus smiled to himself, sitting down with his back against the side of the ship, closing his eyes. He counted in his head, getting to seven before there was a loud splash and a plop when something landed on the front deck.

"Do you always have to sing love songs?" Janus couldn't help but ask, opening his eyes to see the merman, his merman, sitting in front of him. The pearl was held in his webbed fingers, and he looked rather smug.

"Why can't I? Have you caught feelings for me yet?" He asked, holding the pearl out to Janus.

Janus flushed, taking the pearl back. "I...well I don't know yet. Have you lost your feelings for me?"

The merman grinned, slowly reaching out to take Janus' hand. He held it, pressing a small kiss to the back of it, before looking up at the pirate once again. "Never."

One word. One simple five letter, two syllable word managed to light his heart on fire. He slowly pushed the mer away, hiding his face using his captain's hat. "Now come on, stop teasing me like that. I don't find it very funny, Roman."

"I'm not teasing," the merman, Roman, assured, sounding far more serious than his normal frivolous attitude. "I would never put my heart out on display for a joke. I mean every single word I speak to you, dear Captain. I have caught feelings for you, and I do not plan on releasing them anytime in the future."

"But why? I'm a human and your a merman. I'm also a pirate, and we capture and kill merpeople to add their scales or whatever to our trophy collections."

Roman let out a small snort, making Janus glare at him. "Sorry sorry, I don't mean to laugh. But we have been seeing each other for months. Surely if you wanted me dead you would of already done it, correct?"

"Well yes but-"

"Then I'm fine. I trust you." He slowly scooted closer to Janus, and Janus slowly, very slowly, moved closer till their lower halves were brushing against each other.

Tail to legs, it was rather nice, something that Janus wouldn't readily admit to anyone else. "So....what do we do tonight? I don't have much to share with you, as I only did paperwork today."

Roman was silent for a few moments, before a big grin broke out on his face. "Sing with me....please?"

"What?"

"I want to sing with you, a duet. Please? You have a lovely voice and I'm sure we could make glorious music together."

"I don't sing!" Janus squawked, shaking his head. "I don't....what would we even sing?"

A chuckle was pulled out of Roman's mouth and Janus felt rather embarrassed. "Pick from the heart, it's rather easy to do. Would you rather me?"

"Yes, oh yes. I don't...well I don't sing as I don't see a point and I can't think of a good song to sing at the moment."

"Alright alright...I'll start for you," Roman assured, winking. "But you'd better jump in. Don't worry about the words, this is my own melody. Just sing what comes from within, alright?"

"Fine," He grumbled, huffing. "But don't expect it to be any good, got it?"

Roman gave a small hum, thinking up a few words. His gaze went out, looking at the setting sun with a small grin. "The sun is nearly gone, the lights are turning on. A silver shine that stretches to the sea."

Janus had a brief moment where he wondered how he got lucky to have a merman falling all over themselves for him. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around

He looked up when Roman stopped singing, clearly waiting for him to continue. "We've stumbled on a view that's tailor-made for two. What a shame those two are you and me." Janus felt his heart break a bit when he noticed Roman's face, leaning closer to show he didn't honestly mean it. He did continue though, stealing the next few lines as he thought them up. "Some other girl and guy-"

"We're both men," Roman commented, whining when he got a hand placed on his mouth and a light glare from the captain.

"Would love this swirling sky. But there's only you and I and we've got no shot." He let out a small squeal when the mer licked his hand and he pulled away, looking disgusted.

Roman pouted at the last line, before grinning. "This could never be, You're not the type for me-"

"Bullshi-" Janus yelped when a scaled hand reached out and pinched his cheek.

"-And there's not a spark in sight. What a waste of a lovely night~"

Janus rolled his eyes, before grinning. He threw his leg over Roman's tail, sliding onto his lap so they were face to face. Roman looked caught off guard, and that's exactly what he wanted. "You say there's nothing here, well let's make something clear. I think I'll be the one to make that call."

"And though you look so cute, In your polyester suit-"

"It's wool," Janus broke in, smirking.

Roman huffed, pouting at the human and poking his chest. "You're right, I'd never fall for you at all~"

Janus rolled his eyes, until he felt hands resting on his waist, pulling him closer. His cheeks grew pink, but he wasn't going to back down and lose this little "battle."

"And maybe this appeals, to someone not in heels-"

"Do not mock my heeled boots," Janus grumbled, sticking his tongue out.

"Come now, they are adorable!" Roman assured, lightly bumping his forehead against Janus' before picking up right where he left off. "Or to any guy who feels, there's some chance, for romance~"

"But I'm frankly feeling nothing," Janus sang back, lowering his volume as he noticed Roman's face getting closer to him.

Roman was only a hair's breadth away from him. One of the hands on his waist left, sliding down his arm and lacing their fingers together. He brought Janus' hand up to his mouth, pressing his lips against his fingers. "Is that so?"

Janus let out a soft chuckle, feeling his mouth dry up when those ruby red eyes met his. They looked at him with such adoration that it made him almost melt into a puddle. "Or it could be less than nothing," he sang, barely getting the line out as he just about choked on the words.

"Good to know~" Roman purred, letting go of his hand and moving to cup the captain's cheek. "So you agree?"

"That's right," Janus assured, leaning in and closing his eyes.

"What a-" Roman began, only for Janus to join in at the last line.

"Waste of a lovely night~"

Janus couldn't help himself, he just wanted Roman. He didn't know how a silly song made him realize his longing for the mer, but it did the trick. Maybe it was how close they were, or maybe this was just the perfect moment to show the mer how much he desired him.

He slowly leaned in, pressing their lips together. He never believed in first kisses being anything special, but goodness this felt absolutely magical. Sparks were flying and he could feel the love and tenderness Roman poured into it. Janus' eyes fluttered shut as he felt Roman deepening the kiss, the hand on his waist pulling him closer till they were practically chest to chest. His arms looped around Roman's shoulders and he wished this could go on forever.

Eventually, they had to break apart for air, both of them panting with flushed cheeks and pupils blown wide. Janus' clothes were a bit rumbled and messed up, as was his hair. When the captain finally caught his breath he gave the still frazzled mer a smirk. "Well....was that enough to clarify my feelings for you? Or shall I have to show you more?"

"N-No," the mer stuttered, and Janus couldn't help but find it endearing. "I just....that was very forward and I'd....if your actions prove anything, I believe that you are attempting to court me."

Janus snorted, kissing Roman's cheek. "Yes I am...I want to court you and form a relationship. So....will you give me the chance?"

Roman paused, before he pulled Janus into another, much shorter, kiss. When they broke away, he laughed. "Good gods yes. Yes I want you to court me!"

"IT"S ABOUT FUCKING TIME!" Remus cried out, poking out from behind a pile of barrels. "Finally we've been waiting forever!"

"Remus!? What are you doing here?" Janus shrieked, moving to climb out of Roman's lap. He felt the arm on his waist tighten and he stayed put.

Remus scoffed, crossing his arms. "I am watching my best friend finally get together with his fishy crush! Logan came too!" He reached behind the second barrel, hauling Logan to his feet.

"Hey!" Logan squawked, looking at both of them. "Uh...good evening, Captain."

"God dammit," Janus huffed, slowly standing up. "Well...I suppose that since you caught us, you should be the first to know that yes, I am in fact courting this lovely mer.”

“Hell ya!” Remus cried out, turning and pulling Logan into a kiss as well. He pulled away with a loud pop, cheering and celebrating while Logan stood there, completely stunned. His cheeks were flushed and he struggled to process what just happened.

Janus couldn’t help but watch those two. Sure Remus was waking the entire crew, but it would be worth it for this. He had his new partner, and he could see Remus making a move on Logan. It was about time, those two have been pining for each other for longer than even he and Roman had been.

He looked at Roman, slowly lifting the fish into his arms. “I know this is sudden, but would you be willing to announce our new relationship to my crew? I know it’s new and everything but-” He was cut off by a finger on his lips.

“For you, I’d do anything,” Roman whispered, leaning against Janus’ chest. “I’ll meet them, as long as you’re by my side.

“Of course. I’ll always be right there,” He assured, and realized that there was no other place he’d rather be than right by Roman’s side.

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Chapter 7: A Sentimental Journey

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 3,095

Warnings: None? I mean probably swearing but this is straight fluff

Tags: @divinity-deos @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @thecaptainsgingersnap @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504​ @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @buckysarge​ @wildcvltre​ @n3wtscaseofniffler5​ @peterparxour @linkispink1995​ @a-big-ball-of-idk​ @used-avocado​ @mochminnie​ @sledgy14​ @the-creative-lie​ @yall-wildin-like-siriusly​ @ggclarissa​ @boredoomfm​ @voidnarnia​ @anonymousonion33 @the-passionate-freak​

“Steve, take me to prom,” Steve nearly shot milk out of his nose. He’d spent the morning counting down the hours till school was over. The final essay for crabby old Lawrence was due in less than a week and you still hadn’t handed over his essay for his final rewrite, which wasn’t a problem, he could just wait until he was back in your bedroom. Steve liked your house a lot more than his. He liked your grandparents, especially Maude who’d sit him on the couch and show him photos from your childhood. He liked your bedroom and digging through your sketchbooks, he liked how comfortable you were in your own space. Samantha would sometimes join the pair of you there, eating popcorn and playing her 48s on your dusty Mickey Mouse record player. But most of the time it was the pair of you alone, working on assignments and swapping stories. He’d forgotten about Vicki entirely, he’d only joined Tommy for lunch after he grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over.

“What?” he sputtered, swallowing hard. The whole table was watching him carefully. Vicki merely shrugged, batting her eyelashes at him. Steve’s stomach soured. It wasn’t as if Vicki wasn’t an attractive person, she was very pretty, but only on the outside. He didn’t really have it in him to stomach another night with her.

“I…I kind of have my eye on someone else, Vicks.” Steve watched as she deflated, looking down at her untouched kernel corn. “Besides, Hargrove’s probably itching to take you anyway.”

That was the wrong answer. Vicki immediately burst into tears, pushing away from the table. Carol rushed to console her, Tina taking up the rear. “They broke up last week, jackass.” She bit out, flipping Steve off angrily as she followed behind the crying Vicki.

Steve stood from the table, heading away from the mess he made. He didn’t want to hang out with Tommy anyway, especially with him glaring him down from across the table. He didn’t get why it mattered so much to Tommy that he do things the way he wanted. Dating Vicki didn’t make him more or less popular. It literally didn’t matter. They were going to graduate soon anyway.

Samantha grinned as she caught Steve walking over. “Harrington, twelve o’clock.” She whispered. You didn’t look up from your pad. The light had caught his hair right and you wanted to finish your shading before you lost the image in your mind. You heard Steve pull out the chair next to you and then your pad was tugged away.

“Hey!” you cried, your charcoal making a wide black streak down the page, effectively ruining the drawing.

“Who’s this supposed to be?” he held the sketchpad in front of him and then next to his face. Samantha chuckled darkly, shaking her head. “Is this supposed to be me?”

“Well, it was going to be till you ruined it.” You grumbled, snatching the pad back .

“That looks nothing like me!” Steve laughed loudly. In truth, he thought the man in the picture was too symmetrical and handsome to be him.

“On what planet?” Samantha scoffed, pulling her butterscotch pudding cup away from Steve’s greedy hands. He was a notorious pudding thief, and food thief in general, much to her annoyance and surprise.

“I get the best of everyone’s features…” you muttered, working on removing the mark he’d made “Not that there’s much to discard from you…”

“You missed the scar on my nose.” He replied with a shrug, grabbing your vanilla pudding. You both knew that you wouldn’t eat it.

You looked up “What scar?” Steve pointed to the bridge of his nose. You inched closer, getting a better view of the mark. Steve held his breath, utterly paralyzed. He felt like such a doofus. He was usually so smooth with girls, but you made him utterly tongue tied.

“Hm, yeah you do.” You pulled your face back, turning back to your pad, adding a thin line to the strong bridge of his nose. “How’d you get that?”

“Got hit in the face with a baseball bat in pee-wee t-ball.” Steve admitted. The participation trophy he had was from that game, his father took him out of the sport after getting hit. His whole team won the season, but because he didn’t play he got a tiny trophy from the league as a consolation prize.

“Seriously?” You and Samantha said in unison.

“Yeah, I made the paper and everything.” That was a point of pride for Steve, he had the clipping somewhere in his room. You and Samantha laughed at his cockiness. The image of elementary aged Steve with a huge gash down his nose and a toothless grin, holding up a dinky little trophy for the poor, underpaid reporter taking down the story.

The bell signalling the end of lunch blared over head and the three of you rushed to collect your things. Steve grabbed your tray, waiting for you to pack up your things. Samantha left without you, bidding her goodbyes to the pair of you.

Steve reached out to touch your elbow lightly, drawing your attention to him “We still good to hang out after school?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure, we can look over your essay.” You shrugged, trying to get the electric current blazing up your nerves to settle. Your breath caught in your chest every time he touched you. You wouldn’t lie to yourself, you liked him. You more than liked him; you didn’t even know how to explain it. You’d say it was love but you weren’t even sure how that was supposed to feel. All you knew is that the world seemed better when he was around and it wasn’t everything seemed greyer and duller. He was summer personified. He was sunshine and summer evenings and flowers and everything beautiful. And you never used to like all that shit. But now you wanted to bask in the glow of the sun that was Steve Harrington.

The hours till the bell always ticked slower and slower after lunch. The individual grains of sand cascaded past your eyelids as you zoned out in your other classes. When the final bell rang, the pair of you rushed from opposite sides of the school to meet in the middle. Samantha was walking disgustingly slow to your shared locker. “So, yeah I was going to ask Robin but I figure it might be suspicious enough to go with a girl, besides I don’t think I can snag another ticket so close to the deadline as is,” she’d been going on about whether or not she should invite her little junior paramour to the prom.

“Yeah, I mean most people already think you’re weird enough, showing up with a random junior might totally ruin you.” You sneered. Graduation was just around the corner, and Samantha’s acceptance to Wellesley was well taken care of. She was almost out of Hawkins; there was no point in trying to pretend that she was straight.

“It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s her. She’ll still be stuck here after I leave, I don’t want to make things hard for her.” Samantha replied with a shrug, pulling her gym kit from the bottom of your locker.

“Just take my ticket. You know most of the soccer team is going anyway.” You replied, shoving her cleats into her bag. You dropped your textbooks onto the tiny top shelf and pulled your messenger bag across your body.  You spotted Steve from across the hall. He’d just left his gym class and his hair was wet and dripping on his face. He bounded over to you, grinning like a fool.

“You ready?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You ever going to dry your hair?” Samantha mused. Steve shook his head hard, water flying off his to dry it like a dog would. You and Samantha screeched, holding up your hands to hide your faces from the water.

You smacked Steve’s back “Enough!” you cried. Steve stopped immediately, laughing softly.

“I’m gone, catch you tomorrow.” Samantha waved, jogging off to probably find little Robin. You and Steve headed off towards Steve’s car. He drove the pair of you home even when you weren’t hanging out. It was nice to have a ride home, Hawkins weather wasn’t kind in spring and even in May when the weather turned warmer and the sun shone brightly, rain could still hit at any moment. That was how you rationalized making maps in your mind of Steve’s hand on the gear shift and the way his jaw clenched when someone tried to cut him off or turned too slow in the left hand turn lane. He was too beautiful. It was painful to watch him, like staring directly into the sun. You thought about kissing him more than you’d ever admit out loud. It felt like wanting to kiss the statue of David, like Pygmalion with his Galatea, too self-flagellating to even attempt. You didn’t know why you felt like his creator, but you did. You’d done nothing to build him, to mould him, and yet you left as if you knew him better than anyone else. You understood his nature, the way his mind worked.  

Steve parked in his driveway and the pair of you headed across the street to your house. Your house seemed to be a specific choice for both of you. For you, being in your own home was comfortable and safe. You knew it like the back of your hand and it felt correct to be there. A cocoon of security for you to burrow into. Recently, Steve’s mother had been home much more than a month ago. You couldn’t read his mind, but being somewhere else than his own bedroom was probably a nice change. He seemed to keep you away from his house when his mother was there.

You unlocked the front door, kicking off your shoes in the doorway and tossing them on the rack. Steve followed suite mindlessly, calling into the house “Hey, Maude! Mr. Y/L/N…” he still wasn’t certain that your grandfather liked him; he seemed at times disinterested and at others cruel and cutting.

“Nice to see you again, Steve.” Maude smiled, poking her head out of the living room to smile at the pair of you. Your grandmother liked Steve. You were certain that she’d like anyone new you brought home. She was desperate to meet any of your friends and refused to believe that she’d met them all.

You and Steve headed upstairs, taking your usual seats in your bedroom, you on your desk chair and Steve laying flat on your mattress, constantly staring up at the stars. You read back his essay to him, noting the problems you’d found. This was the third time you’d edited it and the words were well worn into both of your brains. He’d decided to write on way Heathcliff is painted as a monster within the text, a fine topic which Mr. Lawrence had suggested as one of the topic choices. His argument was that Heathcliff is painted as a monster because of his interest in a woman he’s come to find in a sisterly position in his life. Basically, incest isn’t cool. It was a hard argument to proof, because the answers weren’t in the text itself, you had to push him to find points within the spaces in between the words. You were proud of the final piece that he’d created; it was a strong case and a decent attempt at a college level essay.

“What’s the verdict, chief?” Steve asked, sitting up slightly to address you fully.

“It’s good, there’s still a few sentences that need reworking and a quote that I think you could axe, but even without those edits you can still swing a solid B.” you handed the papers over to him. The pages had the least amounts of edits you’d done for him all semester. He’d really improved his writing.

“You think?” Steve replied, flipping through the pages quickly, noting the wide circle around a bit of dialogue from the fifteenth chapter. He couldn’t help but smile at the wide, bubbly ‘B+’ you’d scrawled at the top of the page. You’d drawn a little smiley face next to the grade, a small touch you’d started doing after editing his second paper, a little one pager about the thirteenth chapter of Wuthering Heights. He liked the little smiles, they made him happy whenever he saw them, they were a little touch of you on his work, a detail he refused to miss.

“Duh!” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

Steve stood from your bed, turning his attention to your shelf. You’d let him go through your work before, a small feat of trust for you. You didn’t usually even let Samantha go through most of your work. You’d usually choose what people could see of your work. But Steve seemed to like the strange, unfinished, or messy works hidden in binders or pads shelved. He pulled out a grey binder, labelled in masking tape ‘Hawkins’ Most Beautiful’. He held up the binder to you, raising an eyebrow. “Now, what the hell is this?” he asked.

“That was my first attempt at a portfolio, before I learned what a portfolio was.” You replied with a small length. Steve opened the binder, which you’d turned into a sort of album with plastic viewers holding sketches in place, both in black and white and colour. He recognized the first one immediately as Nancy from about a year ago, judging by her ringlet curls. It looked so much like he remembered her, but he knew the girl you’d drawn wasn’t who she really was. Steve flipped the page. He didn’t recognize some faces, strangers to him, and you hadn’t labelled them with names. You done a couple recreations of yearbook photos, he remembered signing a picture of Carol, Tina, and Vicki from the previous year, the trio grinning in Hawkins High merchandise.

“You could do a whole like show with these, they’re really cool.” He held the binder up, pages flipped to the portrait you’d done of Barbara Holland. When you’d drawn that, you hadn’t known that she’d go missing or wind up dead, she was just the girl sat across from you in the library with interesting glasses.

“I’d want to redo them first. They’re all rough drafts. I planned to redraw them, choosing to emphasize one colour for each of the drawings, but then I also planned to black out their eyes, and then I thought they were all stupid ideas.” You explained sheepishly.

“No, don’t touch them.” Steve cut in “They’re perfect the way they are.”

Steve wasn’t much of an art critic. He certainly wasn’t an objective judge. But despite logic, you blushed heavily, turning your gaze away. You wished Steve would look away but he didn’t, you felt his eyes on you. “You really don’t have to be so nice, you know…” you muttered, looking up to meet his eye with a shy smile.

“Go to prom with me?” Steve hadn’t thought about the question before he said it. The subject had been on his mind since that afternoon and when he told Vicki that he had someone else in mind for the dance. At the time he didn’t think much of the statement, now it seemed obvious who his subconscious was alluding to.

“What?” you breathed out wide eyed and confused. You hadn’t planned on going at all. Samantha wanted to go, and you’d bought tickets but when she gained interested in Robin you relinquished your ticket easily to her. She’d have more fun on a quasi-date with the junior.

“Go with me,” he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t have a date yet do you?”

“I don’t even have a ticket…I gave it away.” you replied, looking at your feet instead of him. You felt like such a little geek. You knew Steve wasn’t laughing at you, but you still felt small.

“I have two. And I want you to go with me.” Steve said simply, reaching out and taking your hand.

“Are you sure? I mean your friends all hate me and I don’t think your status as king will be damaged if they see you with me.” You replied, shaking your head as if the statement was funny. You couldn’t imagine spending the night with Tommy and Carol, and having it go well.  You knew that it wouldn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be like that. It can be whatever you want.” Steve said easily. He just wanted you to feel comfortable and it was so obvious that you weren’t. “And I don’t care about those guys. I’ll kick their asses if they try anything.”

“Whoa, calm down, we don’t want you getting hurt.” You joked, looking up at the ceiling. You didn’t have to know Steve personally to know that he was not a fighter, losing to freak Jonathan Byers was not a small story in a small town. Steve laughed at his own expense. Internally, he knew he could fight when he needed to, to protect people, but he couldn’t exactly tell that story. It still scared him too much to speak of.

“So, will you?” he asked. You rubbed your lips together, unsure what the right answer was. If there even was a right answer. Your gut instinct said yes without a doubt, but your mind fought back at the notion of even humouring the idea. You’d get laughed out of the place. You’d get mocked. Steve was playing a cruel prank. He couldn’t want to be seen with you. But you met his eye and you didn’t see any malice there. His wide, expressive eyes screamed kindness and patience.

You swallowed hard, pushing away feelings of worry. “Yeah, okay…” you said softly, taking Steve’s hand again to steady yourself. Steve would protect you if he needed to. He’d promised to. And you trusted him.

“Yeah?” he asked, matching your tone.

“Yeah.” You nodded hard, almost as if to convince him as well as yourself. Steve’s face split into his wide grin and you found yourself smiling too. Despite yourself, you were a bit excited. You spent the afternoon with his hand in yours, not letting go unless you did, looking over the portraits and discussing what you saw in the faces. It was the first moment of peace your heart had found in a long time

[cyborgsquirrel]

Sanctuary: Chapter 17

Pairing: Wolfstar

Summary: The epic tale of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, from their first meeting until their happily ever after.

Link to Prologue

Link to All Chapters

Saturday, 25th September 1971, 7:55 am

Remus yawned as he followed Sirius, James and Peter up the stairs to the third floor. Sirius had woken him at the ungodly hour of six forty-five to get an early breakfast before the niffler hunt, and his body was protesting, although his morning chocolate-flavour nutrition potion had helped a little.

They approached classroom 12c and James took the lead, pushing the door open and walking inside. The room was vast with a stage at one end, empty of any furniture, and small groups of students of all ages were dotted around, chatting amongst themselves and waiting for the show to start. They weren't left waiting for long.

At exactly eight o'clock, the stage erupted with sound and light as multiple fireworks exploded in a shower of coloured sparks and words blazed to life on the wall in the same fiery letters Remus had used for his own message.

Welcome to Hogwarts' Annual Super Secret Niffler Hunt

Everyone in the room turned their attention to the stage in rapt silence. The message faded away after a few seconds, and a shiny suit of armour clanked onto the stage and gave the audience a cheery wave.

'Good Morning, Nifflers!' it said. The booming voice seemed to come from inside the empty helmet. 'Many of you have taken part in the hunt in previous years, but for the benefit of our newcomers, I will go over the rules. You will work in teams of no more than four people. Each team will receive a list of items they must collect. All the lists are identical. The items are split into three categories. There are twenty items worth 1 point, which require no rule-breaking to retrieve. Six items are worth 5 points and will require some minor rule-breaking. Four items can only be gathered via severe rule-breaking and are, therefore, worth 10 points each. The deadline is four o'clock this afternoon. Bring whatever you have collected to this room, and your points will be calculated. Be warned, all items will be checked for transfiguration, and any team caught cheating will be instantly disqualified. There is, of course, a prize for the winning team.'

The suit of armour clapped its metal hands together with a metallic clunk and a wooden box appeared in the middle of the room.

'Take one sheet per team. Good luck to you all. Remember, don't get caught, but if you do, don't tell! Let the hunt begin!'

'Wait here,' James said before dodging through the throng of students to reach the box and grab a roll of parchment from the stack inside.

'He'd be a good chaser, don't you think?' Sirius said as they watched him.

Remus and Peter both nodded in agreement.

A four-man team of Hufflepuffs had grabbed their list and were heading out the door, and one of them called over his shoulder as they left. 'You might as well give up now. We always win this game. Hufflepuffs are particularly good finders.'

'You might be in for a surprise this year, Diggory!' James shouted back.

'How do you know his name?' Remus asked.

James shrugged. 'He's on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. I know all the players.'

Remus shook his head. 'And you call me a nerd.'

James laughed. 'Come on, we need to meet today's birthday person in twenty minutes, and then we can get started.'

They climbed the stairs back up to the seventh floor and hung around talking to Silas while they waited for third-year Gryffindor Frank Longbottom to show up.

After Frank had blown out his candle, they returned to their dorm to look over the list and make some plans.

James unrolled the parchment and placed it on the floor so they could all see.

Hogwarts Annual Super Secret Niffler Hunt

One-point items - easy

A quill with a red feather - A muggle pen - A purple sock

A stuffed cat - A white flower - An orange hair-tie

A smooth white stone - A green shoe - A leaf from an oak tree

A photograph of Dumbledore - A paintbrush - A muggle coin

An essay with a 'T' grade - A pinecone - A pair of sunglasses

A battery - Lipstick - A camera - A pink hat - A blue button

Five-point items - detention potential

A trophy from the trophy room

A book from the restricted section

A saucepan from the kitchen

A telescope from the astronomy classroom

A teapot from the divination classroom

A broomstick from the broom shed

Ten-point items - highly dangerous

A tartan scarf from Professor McGonagall's collection of Scottish clothing

A medal from Professor Flitwick's collection of duelling prizes

A tool from Professor Sprout's collection of decorative gardening tools

A potion from Professor Slughorn's collection of rare potions.

All items will be returned to their rightful owners when the hunt has ended

'I have a purple sock and a pair of sunglasses,' James said, jumping up and dashing to his trunk to fetch them.

Sirius also went to his trunk. 'I have a paintbrush. And possibly a blue button. Yes, here.' He yanked a button off of a pair of trousers.

'Sirius!' Remus said, shocked at the wanton destruction of a perfectly good item of clothing.

'What?' Sirius raised his hands in surrender, one of them still clutching the button. 'I'll ask a prefect to spell it back on after the hunt.'

'Right. Sorry.' Remus was embarrassed by his overreaction and tried to change the subject. 'I have a muggle pen, by the way. My mum put it in my trunk because they're easier to write with.'

'Ooh, get it out. I've never seen a muggle pen.' Sirius darted towards him with the air of an excited puppy, and Remus jerked away instinctively. Sirius shot him an apologetic look but otherwise didn't acknowledge his reaction. Remus was grateful.

He rummaged around in his trunk until his hand wrapped around the thin plastic tube of his black biro. He pulled it out and handed it to Sirius, who examined it with fascination.

'Someone get me some ink. I want to try it out,' Sirius said.

Remus chuckled. 'You don't need ink. The ink is already inside it.'

'Inside it?' Sirius asked. He grabbed the list and made a tick next to "muggle pen." 'That's ingenious! It must save so much time not having to dip it every few sentences. Why the hell are we still using quills and ink when the muggles have these?'

Remus shrugged. 'I have no idea.'

Sirius took great pleasure in using the muggle pen to tick off the other items on the list that they owned before James called them all to attention.

'I think we should concentrate on the ten-point items this morning. We have a huge advantage over the other teams,' he said, brandishing the invisibility cloak. 'If our plans fail and we don't get them, we can make up for it by getting all the five-point items after lunch.'

'I think that's a good plan, James.' Remus hesitated, reluctant to argue with his new friends, but he ploughed on. 'But I can't come under the cloak with you. Maybe we should split up. I can collect some single point things while you work on the ten-pointers?'

'Nonsense. We're the magical mischief makers! We work together. You're going to be an important part of the plans. The distraction! We need you to keep the teachers occupied while we sneak in and steal their prized possessions. There's no point in us being invisible if they see doors opening and their things vanishing.'

They spent an hour in the dorm making elaborate plans for each of the four items worth ten points, plus additional back-up plans and emergency exit plans before they headed out to try their luck on Professor Sprout. She seemed like the easiest of the four.

As they traversed the school, they saw small groups of students dashing around, running up to people and asking questions before rushing off again. It seemed like most of the teams were focusing on the single point items. Good.

They reached Professor Sprout's personal quarters, and James wished him luck before disappearing under the cloak. They had all agreed it would be easier to sneak around if only one person was under the cloak, and it belonged to James. Peter and Sirius had been delegated look-outs and had taken positions at either end of the corridor.

Remus knocked on the door and waited.

Less than a minute passed before the door opened, revealing Professor Sprout. She was wearing muggle dungarees and a straw hat with her hair loose around her shoulders.

'Hello, Mister Lupin, I was just on my way out. Can I help you with something?'

'Oh. I'm sorry to disturb you, Professor. I didn't realise it was your day off. I was hoping you could talk me through some things about planting flitterbloom? I'm afraid I don't quite understand why it's necessary to line the seed tray with crystallised sugar before planting, or why we should water it with fizzy water? I want to do the best I can on the essay.'

'Oh, of course, dear. I can spare a few minutes. Do you have your essay with you?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'Good. Why don't you come in, and I'll have a look over it and see where you're going wrong?'

This might have been a worrying development. Remus didn't actually have any issues understanding the needs of flitterbloom seeds, and his essay was perfect. But James' planning had prepared them for this. The essay Remus held in his hand had been written right before they left the dorm, copied from his actual essay with a few key points changed.

Remus followed Professor Sprout into her personal quarters.

'Leave the door open, dear. It's the rules.' Remus smiled to himself. That made things easier.

Professor Sprout led him over to a seating area and told him to sit down. Remus glanced around and spotted a set of shelves along the entirety of one wall, displaying a vast collection of decorative tools. Professor Sprout had sat with her back to them, perfect.

Remus sat down and waited while she read through his essay, resolutely not looking at the tools and hoping James was nearly done.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something red disappear, but he kept his eyes on Professor Sprout, not wanting to draw attention to the tools. A moment later, he felt the air move against his arm as if someone was passing close to him. He was leaving, brilliant.

Professor Sprout lectured him for ten minutes before he managed to escape out to the corridor, and he hurried to meet his friends at the designated spot, two corridors away.

'Did you get it?' he asked as he entered the classroom.

'Did you doubt me?' James said, brandishing a garden trowel which had a handle encrusted with red stones.

'I would never doubt you,' Remus said with a grin. 'What's next?'

Sirius rubbed his chin. 'Flitwick is closest.'

James tucked the garden trowel back into his bag, and they made their way to Flitwick's quarters. Repeating the same method as before, Remus knocked on the door, but this time no one answered, and when he tried the handle, the door was locked.

James pulled the cloak off and signalled for Sirius and Peter to return from their look-out positions. 'Does anyone know an unlocking spell?' he asked.

'I only know the one we'll learn later this year, but I doubt a first-year spell is going to be enough to unlock a teacher's room.' Remus said. He took his wand out, anyway, and performed the unlocking charm on the door. Nothing happened. Either he didn't do it right or the lock was too complex for the charm.

'So… Plan 14.b then?' Sirius said.

'Is that the one where we steal a broom and use it to fly up to his window?' Remus asked.

Sirius grinned. 'That's the one.'

'Okay, well, let's find the nearest unlocked room and see if we can count the windows from it,' Remus said.

They were in luck. The room right next to Flitwick's was open and when Remus leant out, he was easily able to count the windows from the nearest corner.

'Flitwick's is thirteen windows right from the west tower,' he said, pulling his head back inside. 'Let's go.'

It took a good ten minutes to reach the Entrance Hall from the seventh floor. They were all hot and sweaty by the time they exited the castle and were glad of the cool breeze as they crossed the grass towards the broom shed. The place was surprisingly deserted. Remus had expected to find at least one other team attempting to gain an easy five points, but as they got closer, he noticed the door to the shed was ajar. Someone had already been there.

'That makes things nice and easy,' James said, skipping up to the door and peeking inside. 'No-one here. Check around.'

Remus, Sirius and Peter scanned their surroundings, but there wasn't a soul in sight.

'All clear,' Sirius reported.

James dashed inside and was back in seconds clutching a broom. 'Step one complete,' he said with a grin. 'Come on!'

They followed him at a fast jog towards the west tower, and once hidden in the shadow of the castle, they stopped to catch their breath.

'Right, I'll cover myself with the cloak. It'll probably flap a bit in the wind, but I'll be less likely to be seen.'

James mounted the broom, and Sirius draped the cloak around him, tucking the end into his socks to try to keep it in place. When he was done they could still see his shoes, but once he was in the air, they would be less visible. Hopefully.

James took off, and they watched his shoes soar into the sky, getting smaller and smaller before stopping briefly and then floating back down again.

James pulled the cloak from his head. 'It's locked.'

Remus frowned. 'I doubt he's put too much security into his window. Alohomora should be enough. I think I can cast it, but I can't fly a broom.'

Sirius suddenly jerked and started rummaging in his bag. 'Hold on, I've got a lock on my journal. We can all try.'

He pulled the book out and handed it to Remus. 'Show us what to do.'

Remus pointed his wand at the lock on the side of the journal and then twirled it anti-clockwise before bringing the tip back to point at the lock while saying, 'Alohomora.'

The lock sprang open and Remus glanced up through his fringe, nervous to see their reaction. Would they think him a show-off?

Sirius grinned at him. 'Well done, mate.'

Remus flushed at the praise and looked at his feet.

James, Sirius and Peter all attempted the spell on the journal several times, but none of them could get it to work.

'Urgh, I give up,' James groaned, flinging the book at Sirius after his tenth failed attempt. 'Are you sure you can't fly up there? It's just straight up and down, nothing fancy.'

Remus shivered as he remembered how it felt when he fell from the broom before, and that had been a much smaller distance.

'He can't, James. You saw what happened during flying lessons. If he fell from up there, he wouldn't survive,' Sirius said.

He would survive. But that wasn't the point. He didn't want to fall. Even if he did heal ridiculously fast, it still hurt.

'Well, we're just going to have to give up on this one then. Hopefully, we can still get enough points to win,' James grumbled.

Oh, Gods. Remus really didn't want to let his friends down. If they didn't win the hunt, it would be all his fault, just because he was too scared to fly. What if he could just sit and hang on, with someone else controlling the broom, though? Maybe he could do it then.

'Alright, let's do Slughorn next,' Sirius said.

But if he rode the broom with someone else, he might touch them. Infect them. He wouldn't infect them if he didn't touch their skin, though. If he was careful. His dad did it every month, and he wouldn't if there were any risk.

His friends were turning to leave.

'I'll do it if Sirius does the flying,' Remus blurted before he could talk himself out of it.

'What?' Sirius asked, staring at him as if he'd suddenly grown an extra head. 'You mean fly on the broom with me?'

'Yes.'

Sirius scanned his face. 'But, you'd have to touch me.'

'I know. If we both wear gloves, I think it'll be okay. Just don't... don't touch my skin.'

Frowning, Sirius stepped closer and leaned in to speak quietly. 'Are you sure? You really don't have to do this, Remus.'

He took a deep breath and nodded. 'I'm sure.'

'Okay.' Sirius stared at him a moment longer, his eyes darting from side to side as if searching for something. He appeared to find what he needed because he turned to James and said, 'I left my gloves in the dorm. Do you have yours?'

James shook his head. 'No, but I can run and get them.'

'I have mine,' Peter said, pulling them out of his bag. 'Thought we might need them for something.'

Sirius took the gloves. 'Nice one, Pete.'

Remus pulled his own Herbology gloves from his bag and slipped them onto his hands, noticing that they were shaking ever so slightly. He took another deep breath, trying to calm himself. It was going to be fine.

Sirius mounted the broom. 'Get on behind me.'

Remus did so, leaving a gap of two or three inches between them.

Sirius glanced over his shoulder. 'You'll have to put your hands on my waist to hold on and move a little closer or the broom won't be balanced. Are you sure you're okay with this?'

Remus nodded and scooted closer, closing the gap between them. He was breaking the biggest rule his mum had set, for something as trivial as a game. But he was taking precautions. So, it wasn't really breaking the rule, was it? He had promised he would be careful, and he was being careful.

Remus placed his shaking hands on Sirius' waist. He could feel the heat from his body even through the thick material of the dragon-hide gloves. His breath was coming in harsh pants, and he tried hard to regulate it. His heart was racing.

'It's okay, Remus. You're safe with me,' Sirius whispered.

Remus gripped him tighter to show he'd heard him.

'I'm going to drape the cloak over you, okay?' James said.

Remus nodded and James moved closer, draping the cloak over both their heads. It only reached as far as their ankles and didn't hide Sirius at all. Remus let go of him and took the edges of the cloak in his hands, before wrapping his arms around Sirius' waist, forcing the cloak to cover him. It was awkward holding on to Sirius like that while keeping his face away from his back, but it was doable.

'Ready?' Sirius asked.

'Yes,' Remus tried to say, but his voice came out sounding more like a squeak. He coughed and tried again. 'Yes.'

He felt a jolt as Sirius pushed off and his feet left the ground. There was no turning back now. They rose smoothly to the seventh floor. Remus kept his eyes on Sirius' back, not looking at his surroundings at all, and with Sirius' gentle control of the broom, it didn't feel like he was even in the air.

'We're here,' Sirius said.

Remus turned his head and moved back a little, letting go of the cloak and moving his hands to Sirius' waist. He would need to let go with one hand to get his wand. Why hadn't he considered that?

'I'm scared.'

Sirius turned his head to look over his shoulder and met Remus' eyes. 'It's okay, I won't let you fall.'

'Promise?'

'On my life.'

'Okay.'

Remus let go with his left hand, carefully reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. He pointed it at the window, cast the spell, and the window clicked open.

'You did it!' Sirius said. 'Hold on tight. This is going to be tricky.'

Remus grabbed onto Sirius' waist again and felt the broom tilt forward as Sirius pushed down on the end to descend. He leant backwards to keep his uncovered face away from Sirius' back and kept his eyes on the back of Sirius' head as the broom headed towards the ground. As soon as his feet made contact, he slid off. His legs gave way beneath him and he collapsed in a heap.

'You okay, mate?' Sirius asked, dropping the broom on the floor and crouching down to check on him.

'Yeah, I just need a minute.'

'Alright, James and I are going to go back up. You did great.'

Remus nodded from where he sat with his back against the castle and his knees tucked into his chest. He wrapped his arms around his knees and bent his head down, hiding his face, and concentrated on breathing.

'I can't believe you did that,' Peter said, sitting down next to him. 'That was really brave.'

'Thanks, mate,' Remus mumbled.

Sirius and James returned victorious five minutes later, and they hurried up to their dorm room to store their prizes, keeping the broom hidden under the cloak.

They went for Slughorn next, and he turned out to be easy. Remus kept him talking at the door while Sirius snuck in under the cloak and grabbed a potion from the display.

McGonagall was going to be trickier. Not only would they need to get access to her personal quarters, but they would need to make it all the way into her bedroom. And they had only an hour left before lunch.

'The "I need help with my work" excuse isn't going to work on her. Remus is amazing at transfiguration, and she knows it,' Sirius had pointed out during their planning session

And thus Plan 18.a was born. The conversation had gone like this:

'Even if we manage to get in the door, we need her out of the room so we can get into the bedroom,' James said. 'What we need is a double decoy. We need someone in the office, and then we need a disturbance outside to draw her out.'

'Pete can be inside. She'll believe he needs help,' Sirius said. 'Sorry, Pete.'

Peter waved his apology away. 'No, it's true. I'm pants at Transfiguration.'

'But you rule at Potions. Can't be good at everything, can we?' Sirius said, patting him on the shoulder.

'Okay, but how do we get her out?' James asked.

Sirius shrugged. 'What if we stage an argument in the corridor and start flinging spells at each other?'

'We don't know any offensive spells yet.'

'Good point. Fine, we can just have a muggle fight then.'

'We'll have to make it realistic. We'll both get hurt,' James pointed out.

Sirius grinned. 'I'm game if you are.'

James grinned right back at him. 'Oh, it's on.'

'Awesome. That leaves Remus with the cloak to sneak in and grab the scarf,' Sirius said, turning to Remus.

He nodded. 'I can do that.'

And so, ten minutes after leaving Slughorn's office with a tiny vial of golden potion—which Sirius had eyed so longingly Remus was forced to take it from him, lest he drink it—they were in position. Peter was outside the door to Professor McGonagall's office, his actual essay on the theory of changing an object's shape in his hand. Remus was right next to him, shrouded by the folds of the invisibility cloak. James and Sirius were waiting around the nearest corner to begin their fake argument.

Peter knocked. A minute later, the door swung open, and Professor McGonagall stood there, looking down at him.

'Yes, Mister Pettigrew. Can I help you?'

Peter explained why he was there and McGonagall invited him inside, Remus slipped through the door after them and positioned himself next to the only other door in the room. A couple of minutes passed and McGonagall was deep into her lecture on transfiguration theory, with Peter looking bored out of his mind, when the sound of raised voices came from outside.

'Fuck you, Black!'

'Oh, that's an intelligent response. Great job, Potter. Big round of applause.'

'I'm gonna fucking kill you!'

'Not if I kill you first!'

That declaration was followed by a series of thumps.

'What on earth is going on out there?' Professor McGonagall asked, getting to her feet in a hurry. 'Sorry, Mister Pettigrew, please excuse me for a moment.'

As she got to her feet, Remus reached out and put his hand on the door handle, readying himself. The moment McGonagall disappeared from view, he turned it and slipped inside. A quick glance around revealed a good size sitting room with a single door leading off of it. He hurried over and entered the bedroom. Trying very hard not to think about what his professor did in this room, he dashed to the wardrobe. No scarves. Okay, drawers then, he thought, yanking open the top drawer of the five-tier chest. Nope, definitely not that one, he thought, feeling his face heat as he slammed it closed again. The second drawer down yielded results, though, and he pulled out a red and green tartan scarf with hints of yellow. Tucking it into his pocket, he shut the drawer and left the room. He listened at the door to the office and could hear McGonagall's loud voice still scolding James and Sirius for fighting like muggles in the hallway, so he slipped back into the room and Peter's worried face relaxed into a grin when he saw the door open and close.

Remus walked out into the corridor and found James and Sirius cowering before a red-faced McGonagall. He dashed to the end of the hallway, behind McGonagall, and pulled the cloak off, giving James and Sirius a wave, before darting around the corner.

They joined him a couple of minutes later. James was sporting a bloodied lip and Sirius looked to have a nice black eye developing.

'Gods, you two look terrible.'

Sirius waved off his concern. 'Did you get it?'

Remus pulled the scarf from his pocket and held it up with a grin.

'Then it was totally worth it. Nice job, mate.'

Peter arrived a few minutes later and was equally pleased to find their plan had worked.

'We've got fifty points, and it's only lunchtime. We are so going to win this,' he said.

'That's because we're awesome!' James crowed. 'Right, time for food. Remus, do you think the house-elves would mind if we joined you in the kitchen today?'

Remus thought about it. 'No, probably not.'

'Excellent, maybe we can get that saucepan at the same time.'

-o-o-o-o-

Sirius' eye throbbed in time with his heartbeat as he followed Remus down to the kitchen. It was nothing compared to what Remus had gone through so they could get into Flitwick's office, though, so he was damned if he was going to complain about it. James seemed to feel the same way about his split lip. Sirius was in awe of Remus' bravery, facing his phobia like that. He was incredible.

They reached a painting of a bowl of fruit, and Remus stopped, reached out and tickled the pear. The pear laughed, and the painting swung open. The kitchens were hidden behind a picture of food. Nice.

The smells that wafted out on the breeze made Sirius' stomach rumble. 'Merlin. I'm starving.'

'Good afternoon, Breen. My friends wanted to have lunch with me. Is that okay?' Remus asked a friendly-looking elf that had hurried over to them when they entered the room. These elves looked nothing like Kreacher. They all looked clean and happy.

'Oh. Of course. Master Remus. Your friends is most welcomes. Please sit down and we will brings you some food.'

'Master Remus?' Sirius said, raising an eyebrow at Remus and making him blush. Three times in one morning, he was on a roll.

They sat down at the small table, and Breen soon arrived with a tray of sandwiches and a pitcher of pumpkin juice. He hurried off again and, a moment later, returned with a small chocolate cake and four plates.

'Wow, this looks amazing. Thanks, Breen,' Peter said, and Sirius nodded his agreement.

'If it's not too much trouble, Breen, could we have a little fruit too?' James asked, and Sirius groaned.

'You and your blasted fruit, James.'

'It's good for you. Excuse me for wanting my friends to live a long time,' he huffed and crossed his arms.

The elf watched the exchange with wide eyes. 'It's no trouble. We have lots of fruit, masters,' he said before scurrying off and returning with a plate of cut fruits that smelled delicious. Okay, so maybe he didn't mind James' obsession with the stuff as much as he pretended to.

Once Breen had left them alone to eat, James leant forward and whispered, 'So, how are we going to get a saucepan?'

Sirius, who had just taken a massive bite out of a cheese and ham sandwich, just shrugged.

'Well, you're as much use as a chocolate cauldron. Remus, any ideas?'

'I think they'll notice if one of us disappears under the cloak.'

Sirius swallowed his food and said, 'What's through the other doors? Maybe we could go in one of those rooms, put the cloak on and come back.'

'One's the laundry, the other is the storage rooms,' Remus said. 'But they're both full of elves too.'

The laundry? Interesting. Sirius filed that away to think about later. 'Storage rooms?' he said instead. 'Anything good in there?'

'Not really. A lot of furniture and things.'

'You know. I reckon they might just give us a saucepan if we ask,' Peter said.

'That seems too easy,' James said.

Sirius shrugged. 'It's worth a shot. If they say no, it's only five points. We already have fifty.'

'Hey, excuse me?' James said to the nearest elf. 'I don't suppose we could borrow a saucepan for a few hours? We'll return it after dinner.'

'Oh. Of course. That's no problems at alls,' she said and fetched them one immediately.

'Thank you very much. We'll take very good care of it,' James said, taking the saucepan. The elf beamed at him and returned to her work.

'Well, that was easy. Great idea, Pete!' Sirius said, laughing.

'Fifty-five points. What do we have left?' James asked before answering his own question without waiting for a response. 'The trophy and the book will be a piece of cake. The telescope is going to be awkward, though. No idea how we're going to carry that through the school without being seen. And do any of you even know where the Divination classroom is?'

They all shook their heads.

'Let's get the book and the trophy and worry about the other two after that.' Sirius checked his watch. 'We have three hours left.'

It took them less than an hour to steal a trophy from the trophy room and a book from the restricted section of the library. Sirius had been tempted to take the volume he spotted on werewolves just to see how Remus would react, but decided that was too cruel and reluctantly put it back, opting instead for a much smaller and easier to carry book called Magicks Moste Ancient.

They had two hours left and were standing at the top of the astronomy tower, eyeing a telescope and wondering how the hell they were going to transport it back to their dorm. Well, that's what Sirius was thinking, anyway. He assumed the others were thinking the same thing, but for all he knew, they could have been considering the best way to capture a Cornish pixie.

'How many secret passages do we know about between here and Gryffindor tower?' Remus asked. Okay, so they were thinking about the telescope problem too, good.

'Only a couple that'll be useful,' James said. 'We'll have to do most of the journey in the open.'

'What about, instead of taking it all the way up to the dorm, we just take it to the third floor and hide it somewhere near classroom 12c?' Peter suggested.

'That would cut the journey in half. Great idea. But we still need to work out a way to carry it,' Sirius said.

They eventually decided to wrap the telescope in the cloak and carry it between the four of them as they walked closely together as a group. As an extra precaution, whenever they saw someone coming they would dart into the nearest room and wait for them to pass. It was a long-winded process, and by the time they reached the third-floor corridor, they had just forty-five minutes to find the Divination classroom, steal a teapot, grab the rest of their gains and get back to the classroom for the count.

'I think it's time to split up,' Sirius said as they hid the telescope in an unused cupboard. 'It won't take four of us to steal a teapot.'

'I agree. One of us should go after the teapot, the rest can help bring everything down to the classroom. The teapot thief will have to go cloakless, though. We need it to hide the broom.'

'I'll go after the teapot,' Sirius said.

James nodded. 'Good man. Remember, get back here by four, teapot or no teapot.'

James, Remus and Peter headed off towards the Grand Staircase, and Sirius went the other way, looking for someone he could ask for directions. He soon found an older student in Gryffindor robes and stopped her to ask if she knew where the Divination classroom was.

'Taking part in the Niffler Hunt, are you? How are you getting on?'

'Quite well, but there isn't long left. Do you know where it is?'

She nodded. 'Top of the north tower, through a trapdoor in the ceiling. Good luck.'

'Thanks,' he called over his shoulder as he ran off.

He reached the north tower in record time and stopped at the bottom of the steps to catch his breath. Eyeing the stairs, he started to regret volunteering for this mission. They spiralled upwards in endless circles and he made a mental note not to take Divination.

He reached the top, a hot, sweaty mess, and checked his watch. Half-past three. He climbed up the ladder and pushed the trapdoor open just enough to peek inside. The room was dim but appeared to be empty, so he pushed the door open all the way and climbed through. He glanced around and spotted the teapots, lined up on shelves on the back wall. He hurried over, grabbed one and put it in his bag. Success.

'Hello, young man. Are you lost?'

Sirius swung around and saw a very old lady with silvery-white hair emerging through the trapdoor.

'Err. Yeah, I was just exploring and wondered what was up here. What is this room? It's so strange.'

'It's the Divination classroom. I hope I'll see you here in a couple of years?'

'Um, yeah, maybe. I better go. Sorry to disturb you.'

'No problem at all, dear. Have a nice day, won't you?'

Sirius turned, made his way to the trapdoor and began to descend the ladder, pulling the trapdoor closed behind him. Just before it closed fully, the Divination professor called out, 'Do take care of that teapot, it's one of my favourites.'

Sirius snorted and shook his head. That was a nice touch, waiting until the last second to reveal she knew what he was up to. At least it seemed like she didn't mind. He hurried back down the stairs, getting dizzier by the second, and made it to the third-floor classroom with minutes to spare. James, Remus and Peter were waiting for him.

'Did you get it?' James asked eagerly.

'Merlin, James. Let him catch his breath first,' Remus said.

Sirius nodded but didn't speak. He was too busy trying to get air into his lungs.

'Come on, let's get inside. We don't want to be disqualified for being ten seconds late,' Peter said.

They entered the room to find they were one of the last teams to arrive. A team of Ravenclaws followed them in seconds later, and then a loud bong sounded and the words "Times Up!" appeared on the back wall of the stage in the same fiery letters as before. The suit of armour clanked back onto the stage and waved.

'Congratulations, Nifflers! I know you've all worked very hard to find all the items on your lists. Let's begin the count! Who wants to go first?'

'Let's go last,' James whispered to the others. 'It'll be more impressive.'

They all nodded in agreement. The count seemed to drag on forever. Some of the teams had collected a few of the five-point items. One team had even managed to get a decorative tool from Sprout. Diggory's team was looking very smug, having achieved forty-five points by collecting all the single point items and all the five-point items, except the telescope. No one had a telescope.

When everyone else had presented their collections, James stepped forward.

'Team name?' the suit of armour asked.

'The Magical Mischief Makers,' James answered, puffing out his chest.

Some of the older students watching laughed. They wouldn't be laughing for long, Sirius thought.

'And what do you have?'

Peter walked forward first, dumping out the contents of his bag onto the floor in front of the suit of armour.

'A muggle pen, a purple sock, a blue button, a pair of sunglasses and a paintbrush,' the suit of armour listed. 'Five points.'

Remus stepped forward and presented the trophy, saucepan and book, followed by Sirius, who produced the teapot from his bag.

The suit of armour announced the names of the items for the benefit of the crowd, finishing with, 'That's a total of twenty-five points for the Magical Mischief Makers.'

'Oh, we're not done yet,' Sirius said with a grin. 'We'll be right back.'

The four of them dashed out of the room. Remus grabbed the broomstick, and Sirius helped James pick up the heavy telescope and carry it carefully into the room to the most enjoyable sound of gasps of awe.

'How did they get that here without being caught?' someone said.

'Thirty-five points. It's an impressive haul but not quite enough I'm afraid,' the suit of armour said.

James rubbed his chin and nodded sadly before dramatically perking up and asking, 'What about if we add these?'

They each reached into their bags one more time, pulled out the last of their items and held them up. Sirius was holding the tartan scarf, James the jewel-encrusted trowel, Remus had the small vial of golden potion and Peter the gold medal from Flitwick.

There was a moment of stunned silence before the room went wild with hoots, cheers and clapping. All except for Diggory and his team, who looked about ready to murder them. Sirius took a bow and saw James doing the same out of the corner of his eye. They were so alike.

'Seventy-five points! Folks, we have a winner! Please return here after dinner to collect your reward. Your items will be checked for trickery in the meantime. Thank you all for taking part in the Hogwarts Annual Super Secret Niffler Hunt. I hope to see you all again next year.'

Their prize turned out to be a selection of treats from Honeydukes, much to Peter and Remus' delight. Sirius spent the evening with his friends, celebrating their tremendous victory and relishing in the thought of the infamy it had undoubtedly bought them. Life was good.

-o-o-o-o-

A/N The line 'Hufflepuff's are particularly good finders,' is taken from A Very Potter Musical by StarKid Productions. If you haven't seen it, it's on YouTube and I recommend watching it. It's hilarious. XD

Chapter 18

[benvoliosantodomingo]

@evcravens asked for / dead poet’s society au 

it's not that bellamy doesn’t like mr. craven, or his class.

he loves both--mr. craven is kind, more so than any other teacher at the school, and he has a way of teaching where every word he speaks feels like a kind of flaming arrow, lodging straight inside bellamy’s heart and setting him ablaze. it's because of mr. craven that the messy collection of papers inside of bellamy’s book bag now contains rows upon rows of words--words that he has collected from entire days now lost to the recesses of the library poetry section, words that belong to him and are quick to be crossed out, hidden behind a dark wall of angry pen marks--its because of mr. craven that quiet, reserved, never-step-a-foot-out-of-line bellamy santo domingo tucked a slim volume of barely-will-be-missed keats from the shelves between the pages of a chemistry book, and took it back to his dorm room.

but that doesn’t mean he wants mr. craven’s direct attention.

he’s already miserable enough trying to live up to the expectations of his parents, trying to be someone who will leave a good legacy for his younger brothers to follow in the footsteps of, barely keeping his head above water in classes that he hates just so they can brag to their friends about their son, the future lawyer / doctor / congressman / insert respectable occupation here. he doesn’t need mr. craven to tell him what he already knows--that he’s not sucking every last drop from the marrow of life, or choosing to live deliberately, or something like that.

but tiberius capulet, as he often chooses to express, doesn’t give a damn about what bellamy thinks or has to say.

he tips over bellamy’s bookbag as class comes to an end without a moment’s hesitation, sending the contents sprawling over the floor around his desk and marcelo’s next to him. he doesn’t get a chance to tell his best friend to go on ahead without him, or to leave tiberius alone, because the other boy is already gone--calling after his sworn enemy and promising to make him regret ever messing with bellamy in any capacity. which leaves bellamy alone. with mr. craven. who is far too nice to let bellamy collect his things alone.

he chuckles at marcelo’s theatrics, smiles warmly before leaning down to gather up a few sheets of loose-leaf paper, and the stolen volume of keats, causing bellamy’s cheeks to suddenly feel feverish. he tries to hide it by keeping his head down, by frantically trying to draw more of the contents of his life towards him, but it's not fast enough to stop his teacher from flipping through the pages of the book, seeing every underline and hastily scribbled note.

he expects the worst, a gentle command for bellamy to return the thing, but that isn’t what he gets from craven--the older man just hands the book back, tilts his head just slightly as if he’s trying to divine something about the student in front of him. can you let me know, whatever you figure out? because it’s probably more than i know. he thinks to himself.

“if you like keats, you should read his letters to fanny brawne--they’re very romantic.” mr. craven says, and bellamy only nods his head, adds them to the mental list he’s been making of every work that his teacher has ever mentioned in some capacity. its a useless exercise, but surely a man who is dying of hunger thinks of all the food he wants to eat. “bright star,” mr. craven grins, quotes in that way he has where it seems to be to himself, for his own enjoyment, but really is for the benefit of anyone who will take the time to listen. “would that i were steadfast as thou art.”

silence falls between them again as bellamy tucks the last of his things into his bag, slides the keats carefully into its hiding place between his chemistry and history textbooks. mr. craven breaks it yet again, resting a hand gently on bellamy’s shoulder. “your short story was very good, bellamy.” never mr. santo domingo, like the other teachers. always bellamy. “i really enjoyed your reinterpretation of the arthurian legend--few ever choose to focus on how lancelot and guinevere loved the same man with an equal fervor. what was it you wrote?” he moves to his desk and shuffles through a stack of student work, before holding bellamy’s paper aloft like some kind of trophy. “lancelot met the queen’s eyes, and it passed unspoken between them. they would remain here, on his right hand and his left, for as long as their king would allow them to. for as long as he should need them.”

bellamy’s cheeks somehow feel even warmer than before, and he wishes that there was something else that he could look at, so he didn’t have to meet his teacher’s eyes, didn’t know that the man meant every word he was saying. “it was nothing,” he replies quietly, with a shrug of his shoulder. “i just took what was already there in the stories. said it out loud instead of between the lines.”

craven laughs, a full bodied thing that comes from a kind of joy that deeply frightens bellamy with how much he wants it, how distant it seems. “that’s a brave thing to do, sometimes.” bellamy only shrugs a shoulder again, in response, which draws mr. craven in front of him again, leaning against the front of his desk with his arms folded across his chest. “you should write more, bellamy. you have a real talent for it--the kind of talent that doesn’t come along all that often.”

bellamy wants to cry, wants to howl with laughter at the statement. it will die with him, apparently. “thanks mr. craven, but if i tell my parents they have a poet for a son instead of a politican or a doctor? they’d have a collective aneurism.” he feels pressure behind his eyes, tears threatening to spill over in a flood he won’t be able to stop once it starts, so he moves to leave the classroom, make for the nearest bathroom stall. mr. craven doesn’t try to stop him, but he does call out before bellamy makes it all the way through the doorway.

“bellamy,” he exhales, and bellamy notes the hint of sadness that the sound contains. “i know it doesn’t seem like it now, but try to remember that your life is your own.”

he doesn’t respond, just wipes furtively at his eyes with his shirt sleeve and ducks his head as he moves quickly down the hallway.

[bloomeng]

MDZS/Hogwarts au Headcanons

This au is a classic, but per usual I have opinions so here we go. (Also let’s pretend we do not see you know who)

All the patronuses are based on the official list and descriptions (I’ll leave the link below).

Wei Wuxian:

Gryffindor

Do I even need to make an arguement for this??

Patronus: Crow or Dolphin (I genuinely can’t decide)

Has friends in all houses and floats around among the tables in the great hall

Has been in all the houses common rooms tho

Probably good at most subjects, but he is amazing at defense against the dark arts

Definitely plays Quidditch, and is definitely the seeker too

Y’know typical over-achiver, star of the show, but without really trying

Steals books from the resticted section, not because he wants to read them, just because he was told they were off limits

He also steals food from the kitchen on his way back from the Hufflepuff common room (visiting Yanli ofc)

Is the kid that looses all of the points for his house, which means he also has most of the names in trophy room memorized (just from the sheer amount of time he’s had to clean them in detention)

Curfew is more of a suggestion, in his opinion nightime is the best time to roam the castle

He’s ended up in the hospital wing so many times that he basically has a bed reserved

Jiang Cheng:

Gryffindor

Between the loyalty, courage, ambition to “attempt the impossible,” and secret heart of gold, he could rival wwx’s Gryffindor spirit

Patronus: Chow Dog

Grumpily follows around during his misadeventures to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself

Or rather he’s the one who drags wwx’s ass to the hospital wing when he does hurt himself

Only one out of the trio (wwx, nhs, jc) who actaully studies

Hates divination, thinks it’s all a hoax, and it bugs the crap out of him that nhs actually belives in it

Is the captain of the Quidditch team, started as a chaser but now he’s the keeper

Was chosen to be a prefect

His favorite perk is the fancy bathtub, which nhs has definitely bribed him to gain access to

Shares his dorm with wwx, and he’s always complaining how he has to drag him out of bed

Lan Wangji:

Ravenclaw

He do be out here being super creative with that Guqin, and also owning our asses with his intelligence

Patronus: Wild Rabbit

I’d estimate that he spent 90% of the first 3 years of school in the library

Insert intense glaring at wwx as he tries to sneak into the restricted section

Somehow missed that wwx played Quidditch until his brother dragged him to a game

Needless to say he never missed a Gryffindor game after that

Somehow he managed to score one point off of a perfect grade on his OWL

Y’all already know he’d be a prefect, do I even need to say it

His favorite place in the castle is the window seat in Ravenclaw tower

Pretends to protest wwx sneaking into his common room

Imagine: Wangxian Hogsmeade dates and wwx trying to get him to wear his Quidditch jersey

Lan Xichen:

Hufflepuff

Although I feel like you could make a strong case for Ravenclaw, but the compassion and open-mindedness wins out

Patronous: White Swan

Professors love him, even Snape manages to tolerate him, probably by his 5th year he’s friends with half his professors

His favorite class is herbology but he’s also really good at charms and transfiguration

Owns an owl that he shares with his brother that he named something dumb like “Harold”

Has the Daily Prophet delievered every morning, and always thanks “Harold”

He grew up in a pure blood family so he is fascinated by muggle culture, and he is constantly asking jgy questions

Once jgy shared music from his ipod (yknow like one of the og ipods) and it blew his mind

Probably tried to help the house elves in the kitchen at some point, but was kicked out because he caused more damage then actual help

Somehow he was made a prefect in his fourth year???

He just roots for the under dog in Quidditch games, which often leads to a friendly competition between he and his brother (Gryffindor is never the underdog, not with wwx and jc on the team)

Nie Huaisang:

Slytherin

Again do I even need to make a case for this???

Patronus: Sparrow

Doesn’t even try and hide the fact that he let’s wwx and jc into the Slytherin common room

Often sits at the Gryffindor table because he wants to sit with wwx and jc

Instead of studying, he is constantly trying to find ways to cheat by designing bewitched items

By his 7th year he has his own business selling his cheats

His favorite class is divination, everyone assumes it’s because he’s a believer, but in reality he finds the subject hilarious and he’s amazed how a scam can go so far as to have a full educational class dedicated to it

Forged his brother’s signature on the Hogsmeade form, because Mingjue told him he wasn’t allowed to go if he was failing a class

Can’t fly a broom for the life of him

Barely passed his OWLS

In general he’s far more concerned with gossip and playing match-maker then doing any of this school work (who do you think told lxc to bring lwj to a Gryffinsor Quidditch game??)

(My monkey Xiyao controled brain likes to think that he’s been trying to set the two of them up for years, but that might just be me)

Jin Guangyao:

Slytherin

AGAIN do I really need to explain my thought process on this??? He’s cunning and manipulative, case closed, I do not take critism

Patronus: Grass Snake

Struggles in conjouring magic, but makes up for it in written work and testing

In general he works very hard and is most likely top of his class, despite the lack of natural ability

His favorite class is potions, because it’s simply a matter of following directions

The first friend he made was lxc after realizing as first years that they had really similar class schedules and decided to study together

His mother was a muggle, and thus he was raised in the muggle world, so there’s a lot of prejudice from his housemates

Every once in awhile he’ll quietly ask lxc to explain something about the wizarding world

To the annoyance of his house, he was made a prefect

Somewhere along the way he befriended nhs

The relationship dynamic is as follows: jgy forces nhs to study, while nhs forces him to come with him to Hogsmeade (mainly so that he doesn’t have to pay for his own food)

Jiang Yanli:

Hufflepuff

She’s just so sweet, compassionate, and kind not to be a Hufflepuff

Patronus: Doe

Her favorite classes are Herbology and Care for Magical Creatures

She’s really good with animals

She read that you were allowed to bring an animal and immediately went out to buy a cat

Buys wwx snacks on the Hogwarts Express, even though she made him lunch

She brought a phonograph and a collection of records from home, and set it up in the common room

No one knows where it came from, but people started to slowly add to the collection of records

Now the common room is just constantly filled with music

Lxc knows it was her, but he didn’t see the harm in letting it stay, so he let it be (plus he also enjoys music)

She goes to Quidditch games and roots for Gryffindor despite... not being in Gryffindor (she’s a supportive sister)

Spent most of her 4th year stopping wwx from fighting Jin Zixuan (the year before she started dating him)

She really do be living the cliche dream of the Hufflepuff/Slytherin relationship

Jin Zixuan:

Slytherin

He’s the typical pompous, preppy, asshole, that people assiociate with Slytherins

Patronus: Peacock

The first thing he did when he got to Hogwarts was set up his side of the dorm room to make it more up to his “standards”

His dad tried to convince him to play Quidditch, but he refused

Basically ignores jgy’s existence.... even though they’re in the same house

Loathes herbology because it requires getting his hands dirty

Is racist(?) towards muggleborns

He always has a mob of girls surrounding him at all times, yet doesn’t know how to properly process his own feelings for Yanli

I’d say he’s trying his best but that would be a lie, he thinks he’s doing the most though

He takes school very seriously, and he scored pretty well on his OWLS

One time in potions something went wrong and his potion blew up in his face quite literally, and wwx hasn’t let him live that down

Xue Yang:

Slytherin

He is bad man grrrrrr and a sly bastard, so ofc he’s the house of snek

Patronus: Weasel

Everyone hates him, his professors, his housemates, even the ghosts avoid him

Except Peeves, in fact Peeves love him

Probably because he’s constantly messing with people

He’s the only person to rival wwx’s detention record

He is fantastic at defense against the dark arts

He likes to mess with Trelawney by purposely making death omens in his readings

He just doesn’t do assignments, yet does really well on exams and passes???

Snape would vouch for him, that’s the vibe I get

He plays as a beater on his Quidditch team, and he’s known for knocking people out

Xiao Xingchen:

Hufflepuff

He’s kind, selfless, and is always trying to see the good in people, which screams Hufflepuff

Patronus: Dragonfly

Is really good with charms

Even though he’s of age, he hates appariting and will do a lot to avoid it

Runs group study sessions, with the help of sl

A big activist in freeing house elves working for old families

Stops to have full conversations with the paintings

Is the only person in the school that tries to be friendly to Xue Yang

Song Lan:

Ravenclaw

He seems to have that very principled and intelligent nature of a Ravenclaw

Patronus: Dun Stallion

He doesn’t really have a lot of friends outside of xxc, but he doesn’t seem to mind

He’s that one person who actually enjoys professor Binns’ History of Magic class

He lets xxc drag him to Hogsmeade, even though the crowded shops make him uncomfortable

Shh it’s a secret but he also has a major sweet tooth and he will buy a shit ton of candy

Because of his scary amount of knowledge of Hogwarts and its history, he managed to find the room of requirement

So he and xxc end up moving their study sessions there when their group size outgrows the library

Anyway that’s all for now, but if you have a request be sure to ask!

Anyway I’m proud of the patronus choices I made for these, mostly. I know that it’s inevitable that someone will disagree with the house placements, so just note that these are purely my opinons.

Patronus info link:

[auburnandamberangel]

Let's talk about life as a student in Hogwarts.

[From meme/asks by @dracosdilemma - Using as a headcanon master post]

1. What house will you be in? Slytherin

2. If the sorting hat was on you and it said you’d be great in a house you didn’t consider before, will you follow his advice or choose what house you want? I feel Slytherin was a strong choice, though Gryffindor was a close second.

3. What kind of animal would you bring to school? Snakes. Rosa a ruby cornsnake, Basil short for Basilisk a boa and

4. If you were in class, where would you normally sit? Where ever I choose

5. What do you think you’ll be doing right now? Sitting watching the sunset with Bianca, sharing the latest gossip and how to most bed our enemies

6. What’s the core of your wand? Dragons Heartstring

7. Do you think you’ll be part of the quidditch team? Yes. I'm an excellent flyer. Good balance. Seeker as preference.

8. Will you be part of any organization??? It depends on the company. I might make my own clubs though

9. Will you go home during holidays? Perhaps...

10. Do you think you’ll have friends from other houses? Variety is the spice of life. Houses are a whim of fate, and the hat. It needn't necessitate social segregation.

11. What will you pack for school? Anything I wish

12. How about when going home for holidays, what will you bring home? Anything I need

13. Would you consider studying in another wizarding school? Moot. I did see Q.17

14. Do you think you’ll be a prefect or head girl/boy? Perhaps. I do not need validation feom my peers but if others thought as much...

15. Are you going to be a pure-blood or half-blood or muggle-born?

Pure-blood but with unconventional parents/relations on both sides

16. Will you be related to any wizarding family? Most pure bloods were more than kissing cousins so more than likely

17. Will you be a student who gets into trouble a lot?

Does a reputation from my former school, Darmstrungs precede me. Only if I'm caught

18. Do you think you’ll get a lot of detention? For what reason/s?

I do like to try my utmost in class, and if the teachers take my enthusiasm as back chat and sass then it says more about their faith in their own competency as a tutor than mine as a pupil, no.

19. On hogsmeade visits, what shops will you go to? All of them

20. Will you be supportive of your house’s quidditch team? Are there students who aren't ...

21. Will you read Hogwarts: A History? Yes before entering Hogwarts

22. Do you think you’ll get a lot of letters from home? How frequent do you think you’ll get them?

23. Will you subscribe to the daily prophet or the quibbler or other wizarding world media?

24. Which part of the castle will be your favorite? Secret passages. Towers. Anywhere I can study or socialise in peace.25. When sleeping in your dormitory, will your four-poster bed’s curtains be drawn or closed? Mood /energy dictated either.

26. If the team your house played against wins, do you think you’ll be bitter towards the other team after the game? Specific until I experience it

27. Do you think you’ll be a fan of wizard music?

28. Will you be curious enough to try and explore the whole castle, even if you know you can get in trouble for visiting some parts of it? //Armand a marauders map, that way he keeps tabs of friends and enemies alike.

29. How frequent will your visits to the library be? I have a large collection of familial books so not as often. Socially perhaps yes.

30. If someone was to form an organization similar to dumbledore’s army, will you join?

If the need arose...

31. If you were to get detention, what task would you prefer? Would you want to scrub cauldrons or clean trophies or sort through unlabeled books or…? Unlabeled Books. I find pleasure in organisation. Otherwise it had better be a good reason for giving me detention at all

32. On your o.w.l.s, what subject/s will you get an O in? Which ones do you think you’ll get a T on?

Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, History of Magic, Defence Against the Dark Arts definitely and the other subjects I should also do well in. *Wrinkles his nose at Troll as a concept to marks*. Well perhaps Divination though I feel I'd rather not take that imprecise subject at all. You either have the gift or you don't. (He does have some ability)

33. How about in your n.e.w.t.s?

34. If you were a pure-blood, would you take interest in reading muggle literature? Why not. I find adventure and mystery novels very good sources of information.

35. At what time do you think you’ll go to bed on weekdays?

36. Would you prefer firewhiskey over butterbeer? I'd rather drink fire whiskey or actual mortal wines. Butterbeer is sweet slop.

37. What wizard snack would be your favorite? Or which one would you like to try?

38. Will you collect chocolate frog cards?

39. Will you keep track of which flavor of beans you already tried? I confess I did once when I was much younger

40. What quidditch team (excluding hogwarts houses) will you support?

41. What classes will you take for n.e.w.t.s?

42. What will your boggart be?

43. Will you stay in the hog’s head or the three broomsticks?

44. If you are of age, will you try to enter the triwizard tournament if they ever host one again?

45. What do you think happens during graduation?

46. Will you see the thestrals carrying the carriages? Yes

47. If you were invited to join the slug club, will you accept the invitation? The name is hardly enticing is it...No

48. Will you consider becoming a professor in hogwarts after school? No

49. What would your patronus be?

50. What memory will you think of when making a patronus?

51. What year are you suppose to be in right now? //Verse/thread dependant.

▪He uses the rooms beneath the whomping willow as an extra hidey hole for his friends. And in later years somewhere for privacy with Daniel.

▪He likes Daniels cat, Merlin far more than he ever let’s on.

[tactyl-ymon]

dnd session recap - Dragons and Divinity

Straight into it this time, because ya boy prewrote most of this just after the actual session which was still like a month ago. Score one for excessive note taking in advance for once.

We open the session with everyone exhaustedly rallying together between the centre portal and the camp to buy everyone time to secure the civilians and Sukaren shouting for all her men to evacuate back to the camp as the portals shudder back to life for the second time in a day and spews forth a new threat in the form of a Manticore and a Chimera that explode out towards the group blisteringly fast. A thrilling battle that I don’t have the energy to transcript ends with Septima having shifted into a giant anaconda and systematically breaks each of the chimera’s necks while Tornur ends the Manticore with a well placed firebolt as it was trying to escape, everyone silently watches as the Manticore drops from the sky and bounce off a nearby cliff into the ocean below. With everyone on edge, we worriedly wait for a couple minutes to make sure the portal is properly closed as Sukaren orders some of her men back out to pick up and begin harvesting the creatures that came through for parts. Eridol asks if they can get in on this because he has a burning need to take trophies and after a heated exchange Sukaren begrudgingly hacks off one of the chimera paws and throws a couple of Manticore barbs towards Emmi and Whisky as personal trophies and orders us all to get the hell out of her camp and not come back. Eager to not annoy the commanding dragonborn anymore than they need to everyone starts hobbling back towards their horses to head back to the keep, Septima confirming he saw what he needed to calculate how everyone fights together. As we make our way towards the large wooden gate that separates the military complex from freedom, we find ourselves surrounded by guards with several extremely large siege weapons pointed at us. With a collective shrug because of course this would happen, we are barred from leaving by several guardsmen who recognised Veiraen as a butcher who murdered multiple people on coming out of the portal so obviously we’re all criminals for being with him and need to face justice. Despite our pleas to just let us leave before Sukaren notices we’re still here and kills us, Veiraen is put into chains while we contact Core and ask if he could come out to confirm that we work for him. Core arrives, we get squared away while Sukaren takes notice of the only person she currently hates more than us and stomps over to totally not try to choke Core for entering her camp and after our customary prodding she confirm that something is happening with the portals, they let something else in. This gets Core's attention and him and Sukaren go to talk in private while we are finally let go to gather the horses and wait outside. On the way outside, Septima slows down from the group and animorphs into a gecko to go back to listen in on the conversation between Core and Sukaren, seeing Core try to appeal to her that they're working towards the same goal before the sorcerer notices the out of place gecko watching them. He tries to throw a magically imbued rock at the lizard but only succeeds in beaning the angry, armor plated dragonborn directly in front of him. Core feebly apologises before pointing out the lizard to Sukaren as well and with something that she can finally murder without getting a stern talking to from the council she draws her sword and starts advancing towards the gecko Seeing his chance to escape, Septima books it around a corner and into the dark tunnel out towards where we all are as he shifts back into himself before a hasted Core and Sukaren burst into the scene screaming something about a lizard and asking if anyone had seen it. A round of no's come back before Sukaren returns to the camp muttering things best not repeated and we all head back to Principium for various errands and to sleep. Whisky and Tornur head out to continue work on branding for the ale they're making back at the keep, Septima and Emmi return to our old barracks to rest along with Eridol's dog, Veiraen goes to make more poison with his new brewing partner and Eridol goes to speak with the owners of the city fight pits, the brieg brothers about a necklace he received as payment for his last fight along with questions about how it was made. Veiraen finds his brewing partner has expanded from just making poisons to also brewing elixers and potions for anyone who can pay. They discuss the fine art of business and killing people while finishing an elixer for an elderly couple and then another vial of bloodfire poison with the remaining materials Vaeraen had on him Eridol learns that one of the brieg brothers is also a follower of Tyr, one who sports an impressive gnome sized back tattoo of Tyr's holy symbol and scripture. This brother, Doug, is responsible for enchanting the death wards necklace that he received and after Eridol mentions that he had broken a connection to Bhaal on one of his travelling companions and was looking for a way to hide them from any future divine interference Doug takes him down to his workshop to begin the prayers and rites to change a ring of mind shielding that Eridol had taken from Drackuss into something that would also hide him from the divine. It takes four days of non stop prayer to layer the needed divinity into the item, ensuring that it would soak into the wearers soul as a shroud of protection. With that, we jump another 6 months into the future, Septima and Veiraen have created a viable and sustainable potion brewing company called "Gone today, here tomorrow" to outfit the military manning the portals, Whisky and Tornur have been selling their ale to anyone who would buy it as well as creating a mostly automated process that any of the keep staff could handle to maintain production for when we are away, Emmi had spent her time fishing and training with her new swords and Eridol spent his time refining his new ability to enchant divine magic into mundane items. Working with infusing divine light into glass rods to make what is basically fantasy glowsticks. In a dark prison cell somewhere in principium, for the first time in 13 months, intelligence and understanding return to Drackuss' eyes. Taking in his surroundings and the burst of memories that he can now process, he begins trying to break the chains holding him which alerts the guards who come to investigate. With a softly growled "Get Core" Drackuss informs them the feeblemind spell he has been under is broken, the guards tripping over themselves to get away from the prisoner and inform Core of what happened. Core arrives to talk to Drackuss, they discuss how Drackuss fell to Bhaal's incessant whispers and promises of power and that what he had done was still his choice to make in the end. His choice to kill a former ally to deepen the connection, his choice to listen to the messages Core and Eridol sent to try and get him back and not kill a child as bhaal wanted, his choice to try and kill another ally. Core mentions that Eridol had severed the connection to Bhaal and had been working on a safeguard to stop this happening again, they both agree that Eridol cares too much and that's what they like about him. Core leaves temporarily to inform the rest of Tacty'l Ymon and gets one of the guards to bring some stew for Drackuss as he hasn't been able to eat anything that wasn't baby food for the past year. After receiving the confirmation, Eridol gears up and goes to tell Veiraen that Drackuss is awake and wanted to speak, Eridol wants Veiraen to come as well before informing everyone else and they all set out for Principium. They all arrive at the cells Drackuss is being held at to see Core enter and remove the bindings from Drackuss' arms and while Eridol slinks to the back of the room, everyone else has their fill of berating Drackuss for the attempted murder and everything else. Drackuss takes it all in stride. Eridol steps forward and without actually looking at him begins telling Drackuss about how he was too powerful a divine champion to let fall into the hands of an evil god and how he's been working to break the connection between Drackuss and Bhaal before offering a choice, take the ring he helped enchant to make sure this never happens again, hide your presence from the gods to make sure that they cannot interfere with your search for power and be offered a chance to work away your crimes. Drackuss says he will accept the offer with one condition, when the time comes he would seek out Eridol's assistance to kill Bhaal. After a tense moment, Eridol accepts the terms and offers up the ring which Drackuss slides onto his finger, the magics taking hold in his soul and making him practically invisible to anything beyond the divine gate. Drackuss asks about his other rings Eridol took off him when he found them all in the feeble mind stupor. Eridol silently gives the family ring and ring of cold protection back to Drackuss and goes to leave, asking Core if he could see him outside when they're done.  With eridol's departure, Core lays out a rough plan for what happens next. Drackuss will remain in solitary confinement for the next month or two to finish his sentence before being enrolled as a combatant on the front lines to protect the country against whatever comes out of the portals for an undisclosed period. Once confirmed, everyone filters out of the prison and Core goes to talk to Eridol. Eridol tells Core that he's paid his debt to Drackuss and doesn't want to see the dragonborn again, but when Core trusts him enough to outfit him in armor and weapons that he would need something and gives Drackuss' tarnished flametongue longsword to the sorcerer to put with whatever remains of the armaments Core had waiting for him. Core takes the sword and nods as Eridol turns and begins leading everyone back to the spooky fun bone room to talk to the skeleton they all found when the tower arrived. Everyone dings to level seven after a quick break for emotions and they set off to talk to a skeleton loudly proclaiming how much Eridol loves this sort of thing to Eridol's general dismay. After a grossed out eridol casts speak with the dead on the bones they learn more about the Slyph and the world outside Osteria. Namely that of the three destinations they've been told of Jaunted Pillars would be the safest and that the skeleton used to be a wizard named Falfer Osman, this triggers a memory for Septima. He knew Falfer back when they came through the portals together so many years ago with a third. They ask the wizards skeleton what were the names of everyone who travelled with them to Ostaria and receive confirmation that Septima was there along with another, Fulgür. With the magic depleted, Septima begins describing his original travelling companions, he can't remember what Fulgür looked like and when he tries it is just an ever changing mass of features, but Falfer was a halfling with curly hair and glasses which matches the description of the local shop owner who had disappeared several months ago from one of the magic shops Veiraen and the rest would frequent. But he's been dead for centuries so the standard Tacty'l Ymon freakout begins, was he a ghost all along? Some kind of changeling? 3 goblins in a trenchcoat? we may never know. Septima has the idea to try and cast locate person but with it's limited range and our landlocked speeds, nothing initially shows up. Another idea is had, Septima has the ability to transform into an eagle and with Eridol concentrating on the locate spell they could cover most of the small country in under a week. Eridol protests, mentioning his general fear of heights before someone reminds him of the featherfall ring he's got on that would stop him from becoming a gnome pancake if he fell. With no other defence, eridol pouts before agreeing. Everyone sets back to the keep while Core helps set up the optimal search pattern for Septima and Eridol. The two set out and spend several days with Septima acting like a flying taxi for the terrified gnome cleric before they finally get a ping, near the top of a mountain far to the south of the country. Septima glides in towards the mouth of a cave and they see what had pinged the spell. A large adult bronze dragon frantically carving things into the stone at the back of the cave before it digs its claws into its head and temporarily reverts to the halfling form we were searching for, this happens again and again while Septima and Eridol look on horrified. Eridol asks Septima what they should do, they can't fight a dragon on their own, before they can say anything else the dragon reacts to Septima's name, violently turning and stalking towards us. Septima asks Eridol to not mention what he's about to see to anyone as he drops his hood and mask, showing his wooden warforged face for the first time since joining the group and calling out to the dragon like old friends. This gets the dragons attention and it stops charging towards us before clawing at it's head again and shifting back to the halfling momentarily before returning to it's draconic form. While Septima tried to sooth his friend, Eridol decided he had to do something, mentioning he had an idea and for Septima to trust him. With septima's blessing he announced himself to the dragon and started moving forward, reciting a prayer and asking for Fulgür to cooperate he attempted to dispel whatever magic was affecting the dragon. After failing and realising the nature of the magic was more akin to a curse from the fey Eridol tries again, this time praying for Tyr to help him remove the affliction. Not wanting to see his friend in any more pain, Septima helps guide Eridol's hand. As vines and flowers weave through Eridol's armor from Septimas' connection with nature to help guide the divine energy into Fulgür, Eridol breathes and opens himself up fully to Tyr's divine energy for the third time in his life. Willing it through himself and into the dragon. cleansing the dragons curse and as a reward for his continued dedication, Tyr claims another sliver of Eridol's soul. The magic fades and for the first time in centuries, Fulgür the adult bronze dragon is himself again. He takes flight into the thunderstorm that had set in and enjoys his freedom as Septima thanks Eridol and Eridol, still reeling from Tyr's gift, numbly mentions that it was the right thing to do. They watch Fulgür twist and dance in the sky in silence until he lands, thanking them both before Septima asks why he was using the form of their friend and after Fulgür's prompting, about the tower we had found and the issues with the portals we had witnessed. We settle in for a lore dump. Ostaria was created to be a prison of sorts, located behind a protective barrier outside the material plane, an amalgamation of chunks of different countries with one entrance through the carcare tree portals and a now not so hidden exit should things get too bad. About a hundred years into their stay, a culling of the population was needed, with Falfer doing the deed before dying from the lingering effects of the magic. Unable to find their friend, Septima shut down and Fulgür began using Falfer's appearance as a way to monitor the remaining people trapped here without giving away his nature, over time he began forgetting who he was and believing that he had always been Falfer. With the rituals completed to reopen the tower, Fulgür states that we had set a series of events in motion that required action to ensure that the country does not tear itself to shreds when the barrier drops. With the time we had already taken to complete the rituals, there was little more than 11 months remaining. We all agree that the rest of the group needs to be told and Eridol contacts Core to get to the keep along with anyone who isn't already there and Septima and Fulgür work out the best way to traverse the sizable distance back to the keep. Flying is obviously the best option, but Fulgür being the proud dragon that he is refuses to carry us on his back, to end the discussion he reverts back to his halfling form. A spell is cast to let them all fly, once again against Eridols wishes because at least last time there was something to hold onto and he could shut his eyes to concentrate on the locator spell. After a brief prodding from Septima and Fulgür, Eridol psyches himself up, he just faced down a dragon and helped break it from a centuries old curse, this was nothing. With laughter and vaguely gnome shaped screams, they set off through the storm. Septima and Fulgür deciding to have a race like old times and Eridol not wanting to spend any more time in the air also partaking. They rocket through the air, each trying to slow down or stop the others in their tracks, Septima throws up a wall of wind to stop the smaller two and with a laugh shoots into first place. As they continue to trade spells and places for the winning spot, Fulgür waits will the last moment and dispels the fly spell on Eridol, making him fall short of the finish line by about 20 feet as both Fulgür and Septima secure an easy win between them. We wait for everyone to arrive in our war room and as everyone fills in Fulgür questions Septima and Eridol on how much everyone can be trusted. With a small "I trust everyone in this room with my life" from Eridol and affirmation from Septima, Fulgür mentions he should show them something before continuing so that they will know he tells the truth. Everyone filters outside and in an instant the halfling form is dissipated and the intimidating frame of an adult dragon stands before everyone. Cue the freak outs from everyone, especially Veiraen at the implication that he basically brought a magic hand grenade into a shop run by a massive dragon and oh god that could have ended so poorly. After everyone calms down, Fulgür turns to Core and they share a moment, the gigantic head of the bronze dragon swooping down to rest in front of the Draconic sorcerer as Fulgür recognises something inside Core. Whatever they seemingly shared was too much for Core and our government sanctioned patron teleported 500 ft away and started running back to town, away from Eridol's confused yells about needing to talk to everyone. With the remainder of Tacty'l Ymon still here, Fulgür began explaining what needed to be done next to safeguard Ostaria and to bring down the barrier to the material plane. We would need to enter the portal between realms to find a key and break it. Those of us touched by magic would have no issues using the Slyph, but those without would need something cast on them as a safety to avoid being ... consumed by the Slyph. Emmi speaks up at this point as one of the few unable to cast magic which gets Fulgürs attention, he remarks with a sad smile that she looks a lot like her father, a sea captain of high renown, which Emmi refutes. No, her father was a noble who never spent time on the seas. Confused, Fulgür peers into Emmi and notices traces of the same magic that had kept him a prisoner in his own mind. Asking Eridol if he can break this curse as well. Without hesitation, Eridol moves up to Emmi and asks her if this would be alright and with confirmation he begins reciting his prayer to remove whatever curse is holding Emmi. With Septima's vines and flowers once again creeping over his armor and guiding his hand, Eridol has just enough energy to weaken the bindings enough for Emmi's real memories to come to the surface and shatter the curse that had been put on her. Emmi begins remembering her life growing up on the ocean, with her father, the captain of the Shepard and her Mother, her mentor and now member of the ruling council, Sharona. She remembers the laughter and love they all shared and she remembers when the shepard sank. They had been travelling out to sea, along a thin strip of ocean said to funnel out of ostaria, when it happened. The barrier was coming down on them, with moments to spare, her father had flung Sharona and Emmi outside the effects of the barrier and towards the back of the ship. Like a match, the ship splintered and broke where the barrier forced itself down and in an instant the ships bow is ejected into the horizon, taking her father and several crew members with it. The remaining parts of the boat shot back from the force of the barrier, now unbalanced began to upturn and break away. It is a miracle that any survive at all to make it back to land. Whatever remains of the ship sinks to the sea floor in pieces. Emmi spends the most of her teenage years stealing or commandeering whatever floating thing she can get her hands on, desperately trying to make her way out to find her father despite her mother's pleas for her to stop. Sharona can't bear to lose Emmi as well. In a fit, Sharona calls on one of her friends, a wizard currently residing in Principium with curly bronze hair and glasses to help protect them both from the heartache of loosing the beloved captain. A spell is cast on them both. Memories shift and drift away like dreams, Emmi's family shifted to a noble household that she can acutely remember, a life spent dreaming of adventures and pirates and a calling to the ocean that left her disowned and a runaway. A life then spent working under the tutelage of Sharona, her mentor and definitely not her mother. The spell ends and Emmi unable to process everything stammers out a response and turns back to the keep to drink and collect her thoughts. Fulgür, apologises and starts back towards the city, there is much to prepare if they are to succeed in protecting the country and it's inhabitants. We end the session with Septima walking his friend back through the forest towards Principium, talking of times long past. Tornur returning to his brewing workshop to tinker with the machines and Whisky, Veiraen and Eridol all meeting outside Emmi's room, with booze, distractions and companionship to help their hurting friend.

[thetrashbang]

PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds Needs A God

No multiplayer game gets to live in a void for long. No matter how hard you may try to bleed yourself of troublesome concepts like context, or backstory, the reality is that people like to speculate. People like to tell stories. Doesn’t matter how goofy or outlandish; the creeping tendrils of narrative eventually wrap around the foundations of even the purest, most context-free experiences. Why are we bombing these crates? Why are we stealing that flag? Why are we fighting? Why are we here?

Somebody will come up with an answer. It’s the human thing to do.

But for PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds, it feels like that answer has yet to come. One hundred players parachute onto a deserted island, where the average density of firearms per square meter exceeds even the most deranged fanatical NRA wet dream, and a slowly constricting hemisphere of crackling blue energy forces them to mercilessly gun each other down until only one is left standing. It’s an absurd, nightmarish premise; a theoretical scenario seemingly engineered to turn people into rabid beasts, fighting tooth and nail merely for the privilege of living a few minutes longer. Who would orchestrate such a competition, and for what purpose? Is it an experiment? A ritual? A blood sport? Is some Silicon Valley bazillionaire sitting in a darkened room somewhere, surrounded by monitors, cranking his sad rubbery hog to every rifle crack and arterial splatter? Nobody seems to know, or care.

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t either; PUBG is fun enough without framing. And yet, tonight’s winds bring an uneasy chill, carrying whispers of restlessness, indignance and fury. You feel it, don’t you? There’s a philosophical schism in how we approach Pubguh—the very concept of ‘battle royale’, even—and the hairline fractures are beginning to show. Players whine and gnash their teeth at the red zone, esports organisers desperately attempt to harness the format for views, and the proverbial chicken dinner seems to attain a more and more mythical, trophy-like status by the day; a reference to back-alley gambling now ironically viewed as a badge of ultimate prowess. This isn’t a healthy relationship. This isn’t a healthy attitude.

What Plunkbat needs, friends, is a god.

Well, okay, not necessarily a god god. Divine power is optional. I’m not asking Brendan Greene to start wearing a white toga and chiselling his patch notes into stone tablets, as much as it would set an entertaining precedent. The job requirements are flexible: I’m simply asking for someone vengeful and capricious, with unfathomable intentions, inscrutable thoughts, and—at least within the bounds of the playable space—immense, unassailable power. Like any god, you need not supply scientific proof of their presence; you merely have to attribute sufficient existing phenomena to them, and change people’s collective perception of the world. Ooh, got’em.

See, battle royale games represent an important shift to me. I’m a competitive person by nature. It’s etched into my mind, irreversibly chiseled by years of test scores and parental praise and all the other ego-stroking bullshit that you were subjected to if you were a certain kind of ‘gifted’ child. “You’re the best. You should be the best. You should be winning. Why aren’t you winning, what the heck is wrong with you?” So it bleeds over, into hobbies, work, and of course, online shooters, in which I regularly demonstrate that I have an innate… whatever the opposite of aptitude is. I react slowly, I zone out, I bean myself on the head with my own grenades, and if you exert the slightest bit of pressure, I’ll empty half the magazine into a wall and drop my weapon through a gap in the floorboards. I’m not good, and yet some unreachable, fundamental part of my conscious will never be satisfied with that knowledge.

You would think, then, that Pubby-G would only serve to exacerbate this mindset. And yet, in a world of delicately tuned esports that are built from the ground up to be pure, unfiltered tests of skill, it feels like the only game to grant a genuine absolution of responsibility; a kind of freeing fatalism. There’s a sense in a lot of classic multiplayer experiences—like, say, Counter-Strike—that every outcome is more or less deterministic; a product of a series of controlled variables and actions. With every failure comes the overwhelming impression that it could have been averted, given enough competence, foresight, and concentrated guarana. By contrast, a porridgey cocktail of chaos flows through the veins of battle royales, surrounding you with factors that are not only impossible to influence, but—in many cases—impossible to know at all. You are swept up by the gusts of a hundred butterflies’ wings, tossed to and fro by the whims of the random number generator, bombarded with unavoidable risks and squeezed into unmanageable situations. It’s easier to go with the flow, accept that at any given moment you may have your head unceremoniously taken off—by somebody lying flat on a distant hill, or hiding behind one of the game’s ten thousand trees, or concealed in a shrub on the far side of the Moon—and concentrate on all the minute actions you can make to ever-so-slightly nudge the odds in your favour.

But it’s not always clear that this is the reality of Puhburger. With its vast scale and often languid pacing, encounters can feel like isolated incidents, detached from the cascading series of events that led up to them, despite being anything but. Anyone can parse the map for circles of safety and non-safety, and understand that their arbitrary placement gives certain players an advantage; it’s less apparent that the figure in that upstairs window might have had their sights trained on the area, or seen you first, shot first, picked up a better weapon, obtained a better vantage point, or some other action, because of a dizzying permutation of astral alignments that neither of you could even begin to grasp. So we get futile attempts to establish a level playing field, find meaning in accomplishment, divine fair elements from unfair, and generally make things needlessly stressful for everybody involved. Except the infuriatingly smug yours truly, of course.

How do you make that clear, though? How do you concisely impress upon people that their fate is almost entirely out of their hands, in such a way that they adopt an attitude of acceptance? Blaming the roll of the dice doesn’t come to mind as swiftly when you never see them rattling around, nor the way their innumerable ripples propagate across the map. Furthermore, as current events have taught us all too well, it’s a lot easier to ascribe fault to individuals than to an invisible, fundamentally hostile system. So what do you do?

You give the system a name. And, if you can, a face.

Allow me to momentarily slam us into reverse. When Valve released Left 4 Dead way back in 2008 (oh god, it’s going to be ten years old this year?) they made quite a song and dance about the game’s AI Director; an invisible, unknowable entity that would dynamically dole out items and zombies in a manner consistent with the tenets of dramatic tension, ensuring players were subjected to a “fast-paced, but not overwhelming, Hollywood horror movie”. While the opacity of the AI Director’s machinations always made me a tad sceptical of its mechanical effectiveness, giving people a name to pin the blame for all their earthly woes on was a masterstroke. Notorious video game jokesman Yahtzee Croshaw—the one with the hat and that trendy 00s cynicism, remember?—reported that he once witnessed someone praying to the AI Director, and I bet you all the pipe bombs in the world that players’ personification of it didn’t stop there. Short of making a catastrophic error, I never saw anyone get chewed out for not pulling their weight, and when tones got heated—as they inevitably do, when you’re throwing yourself against the frigid slopes of the higher difficulties—they were directed in the vague direction of the director: for its expectations, for its lack of pity, for being unfair. Awareness of our lurking orchestrator changed our perception of the experience, even though we couldn’t entirely prove it wasn’t just somebody sitting in a black box, disinterestedly flipping a coin over and over.

So, why not do the same for a game that does? Put a face on the system that holds a fundamental grip on who lives and who dies. You don’t need to change a thing under the hood; you need only introduce the vague implication that the evolving state of the battlefield is a consequence of a thinking, feeling, mysterious overseer. A bloodthirsty oligarch watching from their lavish observation zeppelin, a dystopian TV network broadcasting a deadly future sport, an amoral team of government agents sealed away in a bunker control room, an inexplicably sapient Shiba playing with a selection of levers, or indeed, a literal deity. People will take the faintest contextual cues and run amok with them, ascribing everything they can to the will of the one who set this conflict in motion: item drops, circle position, all the way down to the subtle spread of their bullets as they sail through the air. Yeah, maybe it’ll start off as a running joke; an ironic indulgence, the “thanks Obama” of Puddlebounds. But that’s the thing about ironic behaviour: get enough people doing it at once, and you’ll cultivate sincere participants without even realising it. We will learn to absolve ourselves of responsibility, and engage in the unhinged pandemonium of battle royale with the mentality that befits it.

There’s just one problem: you need to be able to keep a secret.

I’m still working on that part.

[gold3nladybug]

Let's build a Legacy Deck

I do a lot of thinking about magic; you've possibly realised that, since I post long diatribes about what the game means to me on a somewhat regular basis. However, I'm not really very... let's say creative in how I approach the game. I'm not looking to explore new ground, I'm mostly trying to be as good at this game as I possibly can be. I'm pretty competitive, but my motivation isn't really winning - it's more about improving.

Legacy is a beautiful format. Not just the cards themselves, but the complexity, diversity and unbelievable skill ceilings that you can strive to attain playing these cards. I always feel like there is so much more I can learn, so many things I can improve. The level of mastery that could be achieved with these cards is seemingly endless.

So it is only fitting that we start here:

Mercadian Masques is the best Brainstorm. Don't @ me.

Now, beyond that, it's actually not that easy to branch out too far. There is a very real, very challenging financial barrier to playing this amazing format (and indeed all non-rotating formats share this problem to some degree). I own a handful of blue duals, and that unlocks a certain subset of the format for me. I bought them over the course of a year or so, and they were much, much cheaper than they are now. I doubt I'll ever be able to justify buying more, and since I don't have the quantity of duals necessary for some decks, and I own zero Tropical Islands, that subset actually isn't that large. I also don't really own any of the cards to play non-brainstorm decks - no Death & Taxes, no Eldrazipost, no Lands, no Quinn the Eskimo (yup, that's a real deck name. Give it a google, its delightful).

So, I own Tundras. That means that in Legacy, I'm pretty much always playing Miracles. My collection supports that. But that isn't really where I think I wanna be right now

Beautiful.

Stoneblade has had a bit of a renaissance recently, putting up good finishes at a high level because someone recently decided "I think I should play Death's Shadow in Legacy" and almost won the Pro Tour. Decks that play white mana have a pretty solid answer to that, and Stoneblade's ability to switch strategies between defender and aggressor is really valuable. I loved Miracles with Sensei's Divining Top, but the deck was a problem, and without that card it can't always claim inevitably. You need to win the game somehow, and Batterskull is a pretty solid somehow. But it can't do it alone.

Here's the rest of the team.

Snapcaster Mage is a ridiculous magic card. There are a lot of good instants and sorceries, y'all. In a format like legacy, though, playing the full four copies can sometimes be a liability, especially if you don't have cards like Lightning Bolt that can let you convert excess mages into a noncommittal, one size fits all kinda spell. All the cards I have are pretty specialized, and Snapcaster Mage can be all of them. Absolutely wild. I hear Tiago Chan, the winner of the invitational that led to this card, became a professional wrestler.

Wild.

Jace, the Mind Sculptor set the gold standard for what a Planeswalker could be. It feels like a privilege to be able to play with this card sometimes. One thing that I find interesting, is that in my experience I am vastly more willing to +2 Jace as my main plan than others. I get that Brainstorming is awesome and all, but the elevator going up is pretty cool too. It doesn't create numerical advantage, but using Jace's fate seal can create a lot of qualitive advantage and also let's you use an ability that wins the game. I'm a fan.

Vendilion Clique, though, might just be one of my favourite magic cards. It does a whole lot of very cool things, the most important of which to me is create informational asymmetry. This game would be a lot easier if you knew all the cards your opponent had, and usually that means you have to play cards like Thoughtseize. But that card is gross. Also, don't sleep on using Clique to send one of your own cards away, especially if that card is an equipment that you can find with your stoneforge mystic.

Lastly, we have True-Name Nemesis. This card isn't always good, but when it is it's the best card in your deck. If creatures attacking or blocking matters in a game, there is no card that does either that is better for its cost than TNN. My copies are the only cards in my deck that are altered or signed, and I normally like having things be really consistent in my constructed decks, but you can see Zack Stella's beautiful signature. Can you blame me?

So that is how I'm going to win. How am I going to not lose?

Death's Shadow matches up so poorly against Swords to Plowshares, like damn. My pick for the most outrageous removal spell of all time, even with Assassin's Trophy coming down the pipeline, Swords to Plowshares solves so many problems. A lot of this post is just me gushing about these cards, and I understand that might not be the most engaging thing to read, but I really do just love so many of them.

The rest of these spells are broadly about patching holes up. One of the amazing things about Brainstorm is that you get to see a lot of cards each game, so having a few discrete answers to unusual problems can pay a lot of dividends. Council's Judgment and Enginnered Explosives can answer weird permanents that might otherwise beat me, and Supreme Verdict (though sometimes weird in a deck that wants to put creatures on the battlefield) will occasionally just bail you out. And while it might sound funny, it really is relevant that it is blue sometimes.

This is also the best counterspell art. Still don't @ me.

Force of Will is a bit of a weird card, because in a perfect world I wouldn't even want to play it. It is clunky, puts you down cards a lot of the time and is a massive hassle to play for retail. But also, sometimes Force is the only thing standing between you and rampant degeneracy. People play Belcher in this format! It is the glue that holds the format together.

And then we get to this, and I start to question if I actually know what I'm doing. Sometimes I make these really calculated choices, trying to eke out the smallest possible advantage. Other times I think to myself "yeah, that seems right" and this is one of those times. Flusterstorm is a really powerful, versatile piece of interaction that comes with inbuilt protection and scales throughout the turn. Great with Snapcaster Mage, but absolutely worthless some of the time. People play Chalice of the Void in this format!

Spell Snare is hyper specialized, but it does a lot of things that Flusterstorm can't. There are a legion of incredibly powerful, diverse threats that exist at 2cmc in this format; Baleful Strix, Hymn to Tourach, Tarmogoyf, Sylvan Library, enemy Snapcaster Mage, Counterbalance, Exhume, Infernal Tutor, etc, etc. Snare stops them all cold, but only them.

Spell Pierce is the middle ground, the bridge between two entirely different points of view. It's kinda boring, but its pretty okay at standing in for both of the other's jobs. Spell Pierce never wins employee of the month, but I hope it knows I appreciate it.

One last spell in the main deck, and its Search for Azcanta.

X marks the Spot! I play with checklist cards almost exclusively for any DFC cards that I use, even if I'm 100% sure the sleeves I'm using are completely opaque. It is way better to be safe than sorry, and I also like not needing to actually take my card out of the sleeve to flip it when I can have the real card off to the side in an inner to place on the board when I need it.

Once, when I was playing two Azcanta in a standard deck, I asked my teammate if I should have two Azcanta sleeved, one flipped and one not, because I couldn't actually have two in the same state on the battlefield. They looked like they wanted to slap me.

After that is just lands, and you probably don't want to see that...

Who are we kidding, the lands in a legacy deck are beautiful

I'm really proud of my legacy manabase.

This is also one of those examples of those really calculated choices, optimising for the smallest possible advantages. It turns out that you're only allowed to play four Flooded Strand, and after that NONE of the fetches get both basic Island and basic Plains. Normally this means a couple of Scalding Tarns, or whatever other blue fetch you have a few copies of, but why not extract the tiniest, most infinitesimal fraction of an advantage. What if they Pithing Needle Scalding Tarn? What if they're monsters who cast Surgical Extractions on random targets to see if they getcha? Well you're not going to get me, because I have insulated myself by playing three different blue fetches and an Arid Mesa.

Otherwise, Karakas is a lovely tech land against any sort of reanimator strategy, while also unlocking all sorts of fun play patterns with Vendilion Clique. Wasteland is playing in a similar space, being a low investment singleton that can be really good in some matchups, but I don't know if I like it. I might play an extra basic over it, we'll see.

But wait, I hear you asking, why are you playing Volcanic Island. You don't have any red cards!

Entirely fair question.

All the way from the sideboard, red cards.

As you might have gathered, there are some pretty amazing blue cards in legacy. I'm not one to let people just get away with playing blue cards. It's a little weird to have a 2/1 split of red blast effects, but it's just one of those micro optimizations. Sometimes they'll have a meddling mage naming Pyroblast, you know? Also, on my wishlist is a black border red elemental blast of some description. My pyroblasts just look so much prettier.

Also I guess I lied about TNN being the only signed card I play. But again, just look at Franz Vohwinkel's signature. Impossible to turn it down.

The rest of the sideboard is pretty easy to break down. A Hydroblast, because we can't let people get away with playing red cards either. An extra Flusterstorm, because it's just a fantastic card that usually gets better after sideboard. People usually have pretty good spells in their decks, and stopping Flusterstorm from countering those spells can be pretty challenging. Disenchant is a pretty good hedge a lot of the time, for a similar reason. People tend to have some high impact enchantments or artifacts kicking around, so I usually want a cheap way to fight that available to me. Containment Priest and the two Surgical Extractions are a concession to the speed and power of reanimation strategies, that also happen to have some really good splash damage against other really powerful strategies. I kind of want to make room for a Rest in Peace, but for now these will serve. Monastery Mentor is just one of those cards that, in a post sideboard game where a lot of the removal is gone and Pyroblasts imperil the battlefield and stack, can take over a game with extreme speed and quickly end it. It could also be something like a Gideon, Ally of Zendikar, but there's value in dodging Spell Pierce.

So the only part of this that might be a bit weird is the Spell Queller, Counterbalance package. My thinking is, coming from Miracles, that Counterbalance is sometimes an exceedingly powerful card. And sometimes it's pretty janky. It's hard to truly cut it from the main deck there, because it helps enable so many of the soft synergies in the deck (revealing for Predict, making all the cantrips that much better, finding spots to crack fetch lands for extra value), even though the times that it's bad it is so bad. But here, I've almost got the same amount of cantripping and deck manipulation as I would in Miracles, but my main proactive gameplan is strong enough that I don't need them in my main deck. It's a perfect card to slide into the sideboard, where I can access it both as a value engine for blue pseudo-mirrors and a desperate tool to fight combo as well.

Spell Queller was a card I considered for Vendilion Clique's spot for a long time. They are approximately as vulnerable as each other in the context of the format, but eventually the inability to profitably play it for value proactively gave Clique the nod. But the other main three drop I play kept me thinking about it. When it matters, TNN is exceptional. But when it's bad, there's nothing you want less; True Name feels like such a brick if your opponent is doing something degenerate. It's an easy swap in those situations for this powerful reactive spirit. Like Mentor, dodging Flusterstorm and Spell Pierce is a huge deal in winning counter wars while also transitioning into an aggressive stance. So many important cards are vulnerable to being quelled, and I'm honestly quite excited to play with it.

So... there you have it. That's my legacy deck. It's not perfect, and I'm sure before too long I'll end up putting Terminus back in here and going back to Miracles. It's hard to change decks in Legacy, and not just because of the price. These cards really do feel special, like you're playing with important pieces in the history of a really great, really important game. I hope I get to keep playing Legacy for a long, long time.