#So far black cauldron is the worst off unfortunately

[ghostlyerlkonig]

got my old vhs player up and running and I'm amazed the lion king is in as decent shape as it is for being 30 fucking years old

[themadearl]

Imagine if Rsa and Nrc had a joint cultural ball and since Yuu is the only girl...hot potato but instead it's Yuu being passed between the students and Yuu is just there for the food

Gives me some ouran high school host club vibes, man I miss my reverse harem animes

Also, play some ballroom music while reading it if u want hahah

Well, it’s not as if none of the NRC students tried to ask Yuu to be their dance partner

But none of them succeeded

Why?

Yuu is not the smartest person when it comes to veiled invitations

“I wish I had a partner to go to the ball with, sigh.”

“You can have Deuce as your partner?”

“No thanks.”

Or they were blocked by someone else

Some students from another class tried asking Yuu out to the ball, unfortunately, they tripped

All at once

Definitely not the result of some unique magic, nope

Flying arrow the moment someone approached Yuu?

A mishap from a certain hunter

Sudden thunder appearing the moment someone tried asking Yuu out

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Seeing the faces of the Leech twins staring at you emotionless while you ask Yuu out is also terrifying

But the worst was the cauldron that dropped out of nowhere onto a RSA student that tried asking Yuu

The culprit was not found

NRC is nothing but skilled in sabotage

The result? Yuu doesn’t have a date for the ball :)

But before that, there’s something Yuu has to worry about

Her attire for the ball, namely, a ballgown

Thankfully, for once, Crowley’s kindness pays off as he does sends a dress over with matching shoes and accessories

Crowley also pulls in a favor from Pomefiore to help dress Yuu up for the ball as it is of upmost importance that NRC is at the best light possible

Yuu thought she could also take it easy since she’s only there for food anyway and only the finest of cuisines as RSA is also there

Yuu and Grim is woken up at ass o’clock by two Pomefiore students sent under the orders of Vil

Both of them are promptly escorted to Pomefiore and Yuu is given a makeover no less annoying than the one she had at RSA

Grim also enjoys a nice grooming and gets a nice bow picked out for him

Ace, Deuce, Jack and Epel was going to go to the ball with Yuu but is greeted by the ghosts who tells them that Yuu already went out

Fastforward to the ball~

Yuu is escorted by Vil into the venue with Rook 

And as expected, a number students come up to ask for Yuu’s first dance

Malleus cuts in the crowd with Lilia, Silver and Sebek right behind him and extends his hand

“May I have your first dance, Yuu?”

Yuu nods and places her hand onto Malleus and he twirls her into the floor

There’s only one thing wrong with the scene, Yuu doesn’t know how to dance 

As she thought she was only going to show up to eat, Yuu didn’t bother learning

As such, she stepped on Malleus feet twice

Yuu thought she was going to die for stepping on the prince of the Valley of Thorns, if not, she was going to get maimed by Sebek who has been glaring daggers at her since the first time she stepped on Malleus

But Malleus continued to guide her through the steps 

“Oi, it’s my turn for the herbivore.”

Leona shows up just as the first dance ends with a stretched hand towards Yuu

Malleus passes Yuu onto Leona after pressing a kiss onto her hand

Surprisingly, Leona is a pretty good dancer

He expertly dodges Yuu’s feet when she was going to step on his and still manages to look good while doing so

As the second dance comes to an end, he passes Yuu off to the next partner 

“Not bad for a herbivore~”

Vil takes Yuu’s hand for the third dance, and does so in such an elegant motion

Somehow it makes Vil seem even more like a prince than her first two partners

“You’ll still have much to learn, Yuu.”

As the first few rounds of dance comes to an end, the dances become less formal with more people on the floor just enjoying themselves

And Yuu begins her dizzy adventure of getting passed around after every few twirls

Vil passes Yuu off to Jack 

Jack passes on to Ace

Ace passes on to Deuce

Deuce passes on to Epel

Epel passes on to Sebek

The whole world starts to go dizzy for Yuu

She remembers glimpses of blue hair who seems as clumsy as her not knowing how to dance

Heterochromatic eyes gazing at her as she dance

White hair with a fast pace to his steps

Black hair catching her before she falls 

Yuu doesn’t even remember how she gets off the dance floor but she is starving after so much exercise 

Trey shows up with a plate of food and Yuu has never felt so thankful before

Riddle gives her a piece of cake he found to be great

Cater swoops in with a selfie

Before more students come up to ask for another dance, Yuu decides to hide out in the balcony 

“Idia-senpai, why are you hiding behind the curtains?”

To be honest, Yuu was shocked Idia even decided to attend

“It’s-it’s not like I wanted to come, anyway, it’s mandatory for everyone to attend and the headmaster wouldn’t accept me showing up electronically anyway.”

Thinking if maybe dancing could calm down his nerves a little, Yuu extends her hand

“Well, since you are here, why not at least have a dance?”

Yuu had to half drag half coerce him to not just shy away from her touch

But at the end of it, Idia seemed to enjoy some of it, Yuu hopes

As for Yuu, she only wishes that she can go back and fall onto her bed and enjoy a good nights rest

Cause as far as she knows, she really really needs it

                                                    ~The End~

[medalloway-blog]

Tedromeda fanfics

As time goes by I start to think this is the relationship I am more curious about in the whole HP universe. Ted Tonks is the Hufflepuff whose love and patience won Andromeda’s heart. Andromeda is the Black that got away and, despite the hardships, had a full and happy life. Teddy is her shining star, her beacon, in the end. 

Tedromeda is one of the best love stories in canon. And yes, for fancast I really like Keira Knightley and James McAvoy for Andy x Ted. 

Below I leave a (long) list of Tedromeda fanfics, some I’ve read, others are still pending. Leave your suggestions!

the lost generation (Chapters 5, 12 and 17) by Jennbob | Multichapters - Ongoing | Wolfstar and Jily | I sincerily worship the way Andromeda is portrayed in these chapters, her relation with Cissy, Sirius and Ted Tonks is, in my opinion, brilliantly explored. In fact, this fanfic does an amazing job in portraying the Black family, Regulus and Alphard Black are two other characters I am particularly fond of in this fanfiction. 

Summer of 72’ by @padfoot-prongs-and-polaroids | Multichapters (9 so far) | Ongoing | Tedromeda | This is the story of the summer Andromeda Black and Ted Tonks fell in love. The thing I like the most in this love story is how support characters are developed and their stories intertwined with the two main characters - Andy and Ted. It’s a comforting love story, I am enjoying a lot reading it.

all is quiet in the clearing by slyther_ing | Oneshot | Tedromeda | His one regret, at the end of it all, is that he cannot turn back time and bring them both to the nights when Dora had settled into the deep slumber of a baby and they had watched her ever changing hair. This is a sad-slash-angsty oneshot, but very beautiful and profound about the last moments of Ted Tonks. 

waiting in the dark by amberwoods @merflk | Oneshot | Tedromeda | Andromeda's parents are part of a political movement trying to get Lord Marvolo into power by any means necessary. Sometimes, they take prisoners. It's Andromeda's job to take care of them.However, something is different about the latest unexpected guest. And he might just change Andromeda's entire life. A powerful and beautifully written piece of fanfiction. 

Night and Day by C.Queen | Multichapter (19) Complete | Tedromeda | Andromeda Black is anything but thrilled when she's forced to tutor Ted Tonks, a Muggleborn. The goofy, clumsy Hufflepuff isn't like anyone she's ever met, and he just might be teaching her a thing or two along the way.

Lessons by womeninthesequel @women-inthe-sequel | Oneshot | Tedromeda | No matter where she goes or what she does, Andromeda can't forget her childhood lessons. A powerful oneshot about Adromeda’s decision to leave her family.

Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by @siriusuntiltheveryend | Oneshot | Tedromeda | A short and cute drabble with Ted flirting Andromeda.

They Can’t Destroy Us by @xomarauders​ | Oneshot | Tedromeda | A safety and conforting oneshot about how Ted saves Andromeda, or in other words, how love saves Andromeda. I really like this one too.

Follow your heart by CharisaAce | Oneshot | Tedromeda | The five times Andromeda Black turned down Ted Tonks, and the one time she didn’t.

tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us by thewhitebirds | Oneshot | Tedromeda | Three conversations shape Andromeda Black's love story (one with a sister, one with an uncle, and one with a daughter).

summer in the city by thewhitebirds | Oneshot | Tedromeda | The fateful days before, during, and after Andromeda Black's infamous elopement in summer 1972.

Run Away with me by diva.gonzo | Multichapter (9) Complete | Tedromeda |  Andromeda Black receives a letter from home - and throws her life into a bubbling cauldron of personal ambition versus family duty. And then there is the complication of Ted Tonks in her life. What shall the Slytherin Head Girl do?

Blackbird by artemis15sc |  Multichapter (60) Complete | Tedromeda |  Andromeda knows who she is, but when she's forced into an arranged marriage, she dreams of being something else. Enter Ted Tonks, the spontaneous muggleborn with a quirky grin and a habit of showing up at the worst of times. He's everything she never wanted, but she's still drawn to him. Though with the darkness rising around them, now may not be the best time to learn to fly.

BlackBird Singing by artemis15sc | Multichapter (30) Complete | Tedromeda | Ted and Andromeda thought after everything they sacrificed to be together, the worst was behind them. They couldn't be more wrong. As Hogwart's new out and proud mixed-blood couple, everyone either loves them, hates, or wants something from them. The honeymoon is over. Time to face reality.

Boom Boom by Lilae Kane | Multichapter (5) Incomplete | Tedromeda |  Andromeda Black is always a little too curious about things, Ted Tonks gets a little too sad sometimes, and a chance explosion in a potions classroom will change everything.

How the Badger Courts the Snake by CokeBottleK |  Multichapter (7) Complete | Tedromeda |  She was a Slytherin, he was a Hufflepuff. She was a Black, he was a Muggle-born. They shouldn't have been together at all. But they just couldn't help themselves. Unfortunately, not all chapters are accessible, no idea why. 

Sweat the Battle by ikorous | Multichapter (Ongoing) | Tedromeda | Andromeda was a Black and the whole of the wizarding world knew what that meant- strict social structures, timeless traditions, and a historical linage she was supposed to continue. But Ted Tonks was not from the wizarding world and his interjection into her life made Andromeda question everything she had ever been told. (added to the list 25th April 2021)

the ruler of men by chill_mee | Multichapter (43) Incomplete | Tedromeda | Contrary to popular belief, Andromeda Black was not a well-behaved Black that changed when she fell in love. She always felt asphyxiated by her toxic family. This is her story: growing up, rebelling against her family, running away with a muggleborn, and watching her loved ones die. (added to the list 25th April 2021)

The Princess and the Hufflepuff by smartvpants | Multichapter (25) Complete | Tedromeda | Andromeda Black is an obedient daughter. As the middle child of well-connected purists, she's fully compliant with their plan: graduate with high-level NEWTs, marry Rabastan Lestrange, and settle into a life producing pure-blooded heirs. But there's no room in her parents' plan for her own Slytherin ambitions, and it's not the sense of purpose Andromeda would have chosen.Ted Tonks is a muggleborn. He's gotten too used to lying to his muggle friends about where he goes every school year. The handsome and charismatic Hufflepuff has a lot of friends, but he feels restless. Then Andromeda Black appears in the dungeon corridor where he's chosen to finish off his summer stash, and a fire is lit inside him.It's a bad idea: a muggleborn and the daughter of one of the "Sacred Twenty-Eight"-- especially as Voldemort and his followers become increasingly brazen in their attacks on muggles. But Andromeda and Ted can't keep their hands off of each other, and they're willing to risk it all for a tiny slice of happiness in an ever-darkening world. (added to the list 25th April 2021)

Andromeda Black and the Fight for Freedom by RoLouG | Multichapter (22) Complete | Tedromeda | Andromeda Black has never quite fit in with her sisters. As she starts her fifth year at Hogwarts, she meets Ted Tonks, and she begins to grow apart from her controlling family. But the new life she forms for herself will be anything but easy. (added to the list 25th April 2021)

Let me know if you have any other suggestions to add to this list.

[maraudersftw]

You have to leave. Right now. From the prompt list if you are in the mood 🌸

Thank you so much, bby! Did a fifth-year Marauders + Jily drabble because those idiots have my whole heart. x

Stinksap

“Oh, bloody hell!”

“I’m gonna be sick!”

“Peter! Not on my bed!”

“Sorry!” came the groaning reply, followed instantly by a loud retch. “Padfoot’s already in the bathroom.”

“I don’t care!” James cried, watching in abject horror as his beloved Puddlemere spread was sullied under Peter’s hurled breakfast. He quickly averted his gaze, feeling bile rise up the back of his own throat dangerously. Quite unfortunately, the rest of the dormitory wasn’t much better off in terms of being a good landing space for his eyesight.

“I told you!” Remus moaned, voice muffled under the cover of his hands as they sat firmly over his nose and mouth. “I told you this was a terrible idea!”

“You should’ve told us harder,” James grimaced, trying to find a clean spot to stand in. It proved to be an entirely futile effort, however, given that almost every visible inch of space—including his clothes and sneakers—was slathered generously in bright, gross, fumingly green Stinksap.

Three potted Mimbulus mimbletonias sat in the middle of the dormitory floor, angrily squirting more of the substance in vehement protest.

“What are they still going on for?” Peter croaked, eyes watery and red as he emerged from his bout of vomiting. James pinched his nostrils shut as tightly as possible between his thumb and forefinger. “We’re already drenched in this awful stench, what more do they want?!”

James thought it was a very good question, and one that the plants needed to deliberate upon solemnly and as soon as possible.

He cursed the moment that they (Sirius) had the idea of experimenting with Stinksap to invent some potion to prank the Slytherins. James had been abhorrently easily swayed despite his incompetence in anything to do with a cauldron and patience. He knew they really ought to pay more heed to Remus’s advice in the future.

They’d live longer.

“Merlin, I cannot breathe,” Remus wheezed and dove over the side of his bed, having the good sense to transfigure a stray shoe into a bucket that was only slightly disfigured, before he retched into it, too. “Ugh,” he spat, “it still stinks like old, sweaty socks.”

James was about to unhelpfully inform him that it was probably just the Stinksap—though he dreaded opening his mouth and breathing in the smell again—when the bathroom door opened behind him, revealing a flush-faced Sirius.

He took in the scene with a blank look.

“Nope,” he shook his head, retreated into the bathroom, and closed the door again.

“Padfoot!”

“Not fair!”

As the fifth-year Gryffindor boys dormitory continued to ring with moans and groans of complaints, a rapid series of knocks sounded against their door.

“Remus?” called a familiar female voice from the other side, freezing the boys in their various states of distress. They exchanged comical looks of shocked silence. “Black? Potter? Pettigrew? Open the door!”

“Not happening, James,” Remus immediately hissed before James could even open his mouth. His eyes had narrowed into slits. “I told you this would be a disaster, and you and Sirius went ahead and did it anyway, and now I refuse to become the scapegoat. No chance.”

“Moony, please—” James almost sobbed. This was turning into his worst nightmare. “Come on, mate, not—not in front of her!”

“Exactly. Not in front of her. I want my dignity intact.”

James whirled around. “Peter—” But his pitiful plea was completely drowned out by the violent gagging Peter was enthusiastically engaging in.

James almost considered breaking down the bathroom door and forcing Sirius outside for his treacherous abandonment of the site of wreckage, but the knocking outside the dormitory grew more persistent, angrier.

“I swear to Merlin, you lot better open this door! I know you’re in there!”

Of course, she did, James thought morosely. If the noise hadn’t given them away, the stink certainly did.

Seeing no solution in sight, he trudged on towards the door himself, feeling confident that this was the most embarrassing moment of his fifteen years of life. Remus’s parting gaze was sympathetic, but not sympathetic enough, and only made him feel more miserable.

“Stand back, Evans,” he warned through the door, and waited for two seconds before quickly slipping outside onto the landing and shutting the door behind himself. Untainted air had never smelled sweeter before as he drew it into his lungs.

“Jesus, fuck, Potter, you stink!”

James winced, almost running his hand through his hair before realizing he was lavished in green goop. Lily Evans stood across from him, wisely as far away as her body would allow without having her topple down the stairs.

“Alright, Evans?” he tried, grinning. A drop of sap dripped from his hair and onto his glasses. Lily grimaced.

“Are you?” she asked, covering her nose. “What the bloody hell are you boys doing in there? Is that Bubotuber pus?”

“Stinksap,” he corrected.

She shook her head, bravely taking a step forward. “Move. I have to make sure you’re not damaging Hogwarts property.”

“No!” James yelped, thinking of the dormitory and the vomit and the plants and the half-blasted cauldron. He blanched. “Absolutely not. You have to leave. Right now.”

Lily scowled, though she didn’t move forward again. James supposed it had more to do with the fact that he had attached himself to the doorway like a sticky bug and she didn’t look too keen on touching him then—or ever, actually—than her sudden willingness to listen to him.

“And what if I say no?” she formed the question slowly.

“Then you will see things you definitely don’t want to.”

Her eyebrows twitched, though whether it was in amusement or terror, James couldn’t tell. Eventually, she sighed. “Just tell me no one’s dead and that you’ll have all this mess cleaned up and I’ll leave. I think you’ll not find it too hard to believe that I’m having difficulty breathing right now. The smell is wafting all the way down to the common room.”

“No one is dead and we’ll have this mess cleaned up,” James parroted quickly. Then, because he couldn’t resist, “though if you wanted to stop by our dormitory some other time, Evans, you know you’re always welcome to.”

She rolled her green eyes and James’s heart lurched. She was so pretty. “You’re insufferable, Potter. I truly don’t know why Remus hangs out with you lot willingly.”

“It’s because we’re so charming.”

Lily tilted her head, and it seemed like she couldn’t quite control her smirk as she let her gaze fly all over his current state. “Right. I’m sure that’s it.”

James flushed. He’d almost forgotten that he resembled a troll boogie right then. Getting away from there felt like a brilliant idea suddenly. “Well, Evans, it’s been a pleasure, as always—”

“Wish I could say the same.”

“Goodbye!”

“Potter, wait!” she called, and James immediately shut the door behind him again lest she notice how Peter lay groaning on the floor now. Thankfully, Lily only scrunched her nose in irritation. “I hope you remember Professor Sprout telling us that a ninety-minute shower helps remove the stench.”

He didn’t, actually, and his stomach tumbled a bit pathetically. “Er, right. Cheers, Evans.”

She almost smiled, lips twitching, but turned away before it could evolve into the proper thing. “Insufferable,” he heard her whisper, not entirely bitter this time.

When James entered the dormitory again with a dumb smile on his face, Sirius groaned loudly, watching him from the bathroom doorway. “You’re almost as nauseating as the bloody Mimbulus.”

[fanficshiddles]

Loki’s Scream House, One Shot

Casey goes to Loki’s Scream House, not expecting to actually scream. But Loki likes to play and torture. 

Warnings: Rape/non-con, forced orgasms, douching, enema, pain, trapping, restraints, double penetration.

- Casey was so annoyed that her friends had all bailed on her. On Halloween, no less.

They said they’d heard rumours about Loki’s Scream house being far too scary, so had cancelled on her. Instead deciding to go to a party instead.

‘Bunch of chickens.’ Casey muttered as she made her way up the hill to where the Scream house sat. She would go to this haunted house and then turn up at the party, telling them all about her scary experience.

She snorted to herself at the thought. How scary could a haunted house be? Apparently this one was aptly named and would make her scream. But she doubted that.

As she got closer, she could indeed hear screaming from inside. But she was almost certain it was fake, she didn’t see any cars around. She doubted there was even anyone else inside. But since she had already bought a ticket, she wasn’t letting ten quid go to waste. She at least wanted to get her money’s worth with a laugh at how bad it was.

Upon reaching the door, she went to knock but the door slowly swung open. Revealing a tall man in an all-black suit. Matching his long black hair. His face was quite pale, but he had striking features. The smirk that crossed his face was slightly terrifying. But Casey smiled.

‘Welcome, to my Scream house.’ His smirk grew even larger as he put his arms out to the side and motioned for her to come in.

She stepped inside, looking around her. It was more like an abandoned house than a haunted one.

‘So… what’s the deal?’ Casey asked, stopping a few feet from Loki.

‘You know the deal. You bought a ticket for a tour around my Scream house. If you don’t scream, you get a refund. Well, I say tour. It’s more a walk around, I shall not be guiding you. Feel free to check out all the rooms. But do not, and I repeat, do NOT go into the basement. It is off limits.’ He said firmly.

Casey raised an eyebrow. ‘Okayyy…’

‘Enjoy!’ Loki bowed and then suddenly disappeared in a green haze and the door behind her slammed shut, making her jump slightly.

‘Must be on some sort of timer. It’s all just magic tricks.’ She said to herself.

Deciding to get this over with, she went down the corridor and into the first room she came across. It was a normal living room. But as she stepped inside, a web came down over her and a huge mechanical spider came flying out of the wall towards her, before then disappearing back inside. It did make her squeal, so she would give him that one. But it wasn’t a scream.

Fighting the web off, she looked around the room and wandered over to the fire place. There was a large cauldron on the fire, something was bubbling inside. She peeked in and saw some bones in there and a skull floated to the top. She rolled her eyes and moved on to another room.

She found all the rooms to be rather boring. She jumped once or twice, but it was nothing spectacular. Fake mechanical robots as witches and werewolves, vampires and ghouls.

Casey made her way to the last room, but it was just as dull. When she exited it, she was faced with the door that led down to the basement. But it was locked when she tried the handle.

Curiosity took over her though, so she had a quick search for the key. It was in the most obvious of places for hiding a key, on top of the door frame.

‘Typical.’ She huffed as she put it in the lock and turned.

She knew Loki had warned her not to go down there, but it’s like when you see a wet paint sign. You can’t help but touch it to see if it’s actually wet.

It was dark as she made her way down the steps, but once she reached the bottom automatic lights came on. There was another door just a few feet on front of her. There was no lock on it, so she was able to just push it open. But once she stepped inside, before she even had a chance to take in the room, the large door swung shut behind her.

She turned around and tried to open it again, but it was locked. She frantically looked around for a key but there wasn’t even a door handle.

‘What the fuck?’ She panicked, eyes wide. But then she noticed a small screen to the left of the door. She tried pushing on it, and to her relief it came to life.

But her heart sank when she read what it said.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – not completed

Clean out – not completed

Rope walk – not completed

Stuffed – not completed

‘What the actual fuck?’ She gasped, eyes wide.

That’s when she turned around to see what she was dealing with.

There was a brick wall opposite her, but there was nothing else there. It just seemed like an empty room. But she heard a beeping noise before Loki’s voice filled the room.

‘Naught girl, disobeying my orders.’ But he sounded delighted at the fact. ‘Unfortunately for you, you’ve stumbled into my unfinished play room. You see, I built this for an ex to have some fun in. She enjoyed some challenges. But there were a few… teething issues that I have yet to fix. There is no escaping the room, unless you follow through the entire programme. You need to start by removing all your clothes and going over to the brick wall.’

‘What the hell? Get me out of here! You perv, I’m not doing that!’ Casey stared banging on the door.

‘You can tire yourself out as much as you wish, pet. But until you do as you’re told and complete each task, you will be stuck there. As much as I would like to come and let you out, I can’t. There is no other way. And I did warn you not to enter.’

Casey checked every nook and cranny for a way out, but there was nothing. She tried pressing more buttons on the screen but nothing worked.

Loki watched in amusement from his room, the camera directly at her. It would follow her every movement and she had no idea it was there.

He smirked when he saw she finally gave in. Two hours later. Knowing and accepting there was just one way out.

Casey whined in defeat. She started to remove her clothes, feeling extremely vulnerable. Even more so when she heard his voice again.

‘That’s a good girl. The sooner you get through the tasks, the sooner you will be out of here.’

‘You creep! You’re watching?’ She gasped, trying to hide her breasts.

Loki chuckled. ‘I am. How else am I supposed to make sure you’re safe?’

Casey gritted her teeth but carried on with removing her knickers. She shivered slightly as the floor was stone cold.

‘Now, get over to the wall so we can begin.’ Loki purred.

Casey closed her eyes and tried not to cry. She had to remain calm and composed to get through this. Then as soon as she was out, she was calling the police on his freaky ass for sure. She wasn’t going to let this sick freak get away with it.

She walked hesitantly over to the wall. As soon as she was within two feet of it, holes in the wall suddenly opened up and four mechanical arms came flying out. Before she could react, they grabbed her wrists and ankles, holding her just above the floor in a spread-eagle position. She cried out and tried to struggle, but the arms were too strong.

‘Beautiful. As I said before, I wouldn’t bother trying to fight it, pet. You will only tire yourself out.’

Casey whimpered as she heard another bit on the wall opening up. But she relaxed a tiny bit when she saw it was a shower head. She was super confused.

‘Ah, power wash. The first task for you to endure.’ Loki hummed.

He watched in absolute delight from the comfort of his room. A glass of wine at hand and some grapes. His belt was unbuckled and his zipper open, because he knew it wouldn’t be long before he would need easy access.

Casey’s moment of relaxation was over very quickly. There was a whirring noise and suddenly the shower head started spraying water. But the force was very strong, more than the average shower head.

It hit her stomach first. The water was warm though, which she was glad of. It soaked her entire body first, then focused in on her breasts. But that wasn’t the worst part.

The shower head moved down between her legs and aimed directly up against her cunt. She cried out as the pressure hit her so forcefully, she thought she was going to pass out. It moved in a little closer, making her howl as it then hit her clit. Which she was ashamed to realise was throbbing in pleasure.

Her head flew backwards as she tightened her hands into fists and cried out as she came hard. It wasn’t a nice orgasm though, it was a forced one. So quick, she hadn’t been able to fully enjoy it. To her horror, the shower head remained in place, aiming directly at her sensitive little clit. Forcing her into another painful orgasm.

‘Ooo, so delightful to watch, pet. I think you enjoyed that much more than you are willing to admit.’ He growled.

After twenty minutes, but felt like a life-time to Casey, the shower head stopped and she was lowered to the ground. Her legs were like jelly and she fell to her knees as the mechanical arms were retracted into the wall.

She crawled away from the wall, near the door. Panting and exhausted already. She heard a pinging noise and looked up at the screen by the door.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – completed

Clean out – not completed

Rope walk – not completed

Stuffed – not completed

‘Well done for completing the first task. I wonder how you will fair with the second.’

Casey took a while to get her breath back. Then Loki coaxed her to go back to the wall for the second one. She dreaded to think what it was going to be.

Her body was still a bit weak, but she managed to get to her feet and walked over to the wall again. The same parts in the wall opened up and the same mechanical arms came out and restrained her in a spread-eagle position once more.

‘This is my favourite task, I must say.’ Loki’s sinful voice said across the speaker, making Casey bite her tongue to refrain from saying anything smart. Considering the position she was in, she knew it was best to keep quiet.

This time, instead of a shower head coming out of the wall, two lubricated tubes came out. What was contained within them Casey had no idea. But she knew she was about to find out pretty soon.

She started whining when the tubes moved down between her legs. One positioned at her pussy, the other at her anus. And they seemed to just hover there for a moment, as if dragging out her expected torture.

Loki smirked and started stroking his cock languidly. He flicked his wrist and moaned as the tubes thrust into both of Casey’s holes.

Casey bit down on her tongue hard to keep herself from screaming as she was violated in both holes. The lube made them slip in easier and the tubes weren’t too wide, but it was still uncomfortable. Especially the one in her anus, she had never put anything up there before.

But it got a lot worse for the poor girl.

Water started shooting into her, from both tubes.

‘Oh no… NO! PLEASE NO! STOP!’ She started crying out, but all she heard was Loki chuckling in return.

The enema in her ass felt so uncomfortable as she was filled with the warm water. It made her feel so heavy and bloated. The douching felt the same, very uncomfortable. The water kept pumping into her from both tubes until she felt like she was going to explode.

Suddenly the tubes popped out of her and she gasped as the water rushed out of her. Giving her such a strange feeling, a rather erotic feeling. But she pushed that thought out of her mind, she wasn’t going to give Loki the satisfaction.

But the tubes were replaced, not just twice but three times. Making sure she was thoroughly cleaned out.

‘Excellent, that’s you sparkling clean. Inside and out.’ Loki chuckled.

He wiped his own cum up with a tissue, he never did last long when watching a clean out.

Casey was once again released from the mechanical arms. She managed to stumble back over towards the door. Looking at the screen when it pinged.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – completed

Clean out – completed

Rope walk – not completed

Stuffed – not completed

‘Oh god. What the hell is rope walk?’ She asked, looking around the room.

‘You will find out soon enough.’ Loki purred.

Casey just wanted this to be over with now. So she went back over to the wall, wanting it to hurry up. Expecting the same arms to appear, she was surprised when this time it was different.

One large hole opened up and a huge mechanical arm with one clamp came out. It reached straight for her and snapped around her middle, locking her in tightly with her arms trapped down at her sides. She squeaked and tried to kick out as it lifted her up in the air.

The floor then changed and there was a long treadmill appeared beneath her. Then a long rope was pulled from one side of the room to the other, going above the treadmill. But there were many knots along the rope.

‘What the…’ Casey trailed off when she was lowered down onto the rope. She cried out and tried going up on her tiptoes to avoid it. But the rope was just the right height, snugly fitting between her pussy lips and directly on her clit. She was on her tiptoes already and it was painful, so she knew if she let her feet go flat that would be the end of her.

‘I suggest you start walking, pet.’ Loki demanded.

‘Wh… what the hell? No way!’ She cried out, knowing those knots would be painful on her. Hell, even just the rope alone would be.

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You have to reach the other end to complete this task. If you don’t get moving, the treadmill will start. Making it so much more difficult for yourself.’

Loki was hard and throbbing once more. This task was always a delight to watch too, so much fun seeing his victims in pain.

Casey knew he wouldn’t be lying. So to try and get it over with, she started walking forward. But the drag of the rope on her clit burned and was so painful. When she reached the first knot, she struggled. It was quite a large knot and when she tried to pass it, it hit her clit and made her cry out in pain.

‘I can’t do it!’ She cried out, tears spilling down her cheeks.

‘You will be stuck forever on there if you don’t. The tasks don’t stop, another fault I need to fix.’

She soon learned how difficult it could get. The treadmill beneath her started to move very slowly in the opposite direction to where she was wanting to go, so she had no option but to walk. Not only making her tire quicker, but the movement was hurting.

To keep up and get past the knot, she had to walk even quicker on her tiptoes to beat the treadmill. She closed her eyes and took a big deep breath, then just went for it and forced herself to walk forward as quickly and forcefully as possible, getting over the knot with a scream.

Loki was jerking another one off rapidly as he watched her force herself across the rope. Crying and screaming in pain, especially when she came to another knot. But she was getting on far too easily, so to make it difficult and more of a challenge, he spun his finger around.

To Casey’s horror, the treadmill started to speed up a bit more. She couldn’t keep up, and was dragged backwards on the rope. The treadmill forced her back over a few knots, her screams of pain echoed around the room each time.

‘NO, YOU BASTARD!’ She howled loudly.

Loki laughed wickedly as he had another orgasm, making a mess of himself again.

It took three hours, three hours of absolute agony and torture before Casey managed to get across the other side of the rope. She was completely exhausted, broken. Her poor clit was battered and bruised. She was sure there were no nerve endings left.

She had never felt more relieved as she was in that moment when she was lifted from the rope and the treadmill. She collapsed in the middle of the room, unable to move. Her body so tired, she passed out from sheer exhaustion.

-

When she came to four hours later, she sobbed as she realised she was still in that room. It hadn’t been a nightmare.

But there was a tiny glimmer of hope when she looked at the screen.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – completed

Clean out – completed

Rope walk – completed

Stuffed – not completed

One more to go. She dreaded to think what it was, but surely it wouldn’t be worse than what she had just endured. It couldn’t be.

‘Glad to see you are awake, pet. One more task to go.’

‘Ok… Let’s get it over with.’ She made her way over to the wall.

Again, mechanical arms came out. This time the floor opened up to reveal a large metal table that came up and she was laid upon. The mechanical arms were replaced by leather straps. But her feet were raised up and spread wide apart, her bum just over the edge of the table.

She closed her eyes and waited, while nothing happened. Part of her thought maybe the next machine was broken, whatever it would be. How Loki had made all of these tasks, she had no idea. He must be some evil genius or something.

Fear ran through her veins when she heard heavy footsteps walking towards her. She looked down, but her head was quickly forced back down when a large strap came up from the table and wrapped around her neck, holding her down.

She was trembling badly when Loki approached her between her legs. She was startled when she felt his cool hands stroke her thighs. She could just see Loki in her view, looming over her.

‘Well, well, well. Ready for the final task, are we?’ He grinned.

‘I… I thought you couldn’t get in?’ She whimpered.

Loki chuckled and leaned down, biting into her inner thigh that made her cry out. ‘I am the god of lies, pet. And I can get in wherever I want to. Including your lovely body that has been prepared so nicely for me and my friend.’

That made her eyes widen. His friend? What?

She wasn’t left wondering for long. Another being walked over to her, but she was shocked and confused to see it was another Loki.

‘What… What the heck is going on?’

‘Shhh. Just enjoy the last ride. I know I certainly will.’ He said wickedly as he then prised her bum cheeks wide apart, revealing her puckered asshole to him. Without any warning or preparation, he rammed his cock into her, making her scream.

‘Ohh and look at that. You’ve screamed. Not for the first time either.’ He laughed as he started thrusting into her.

The second Loki walked up to her head, he stroked her cheek softly at first. Then he waved his hand over the table and had part of it disappear so her head was over the edge. He moved in and pinched her nose, forcing her mouth to open. He then forced his cock into her mouth and down her throat as far as he could, releasing her nose so she could breathe through that instead. She had no option but to do so.

The original Loki that was plundering her ass, had a large dildo form in his hand. It was a clone of his own cock. He winked at her, his hips still moving at a ruthless pace, and he pressed the dildo into her. Moving it in time with his own thrusting in her ass.

Casey was sobbing around the cock in her mouth, drooling everywhere. She couldn’t take it, feeling so full from being filled in every hole.

But what made her feel worse, was she was starting to enjoy it. Her body was starting to respond well to the violation, no matter how much she cried.

From the width of the dildo in her pussy, it was rubbing against her clit with each and every thrust. At least the nerves weren’t completely damaged, she thought. That was a plus. She just had to keep calm and ride this out, then she would be free.

Loki grunted and groaned above her, both of them did. And Casey moaned around his cock as she came, squeezing the dildo in her pussy. Loki could feel that too. He thrust into her once more, both of them did. Then he came, in every hole. Even the dildo came too, how that happened she had no idea.

But she started to feel really full again, like she had with the clean out task. But at least this time she felt fluttery and high, having came too. And at the relief of knowing it was finally over…

‘Ohhhhh now, pet. That was so much fun, I must say.’ Loki chuckled. The dildo and second Loki vanished right on front of her eyes.

Casey still had no idea how he did that. But she knew it must’ve been trickery of some sorts.

The ping from the screen made her turn her head to take a look.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – completed

Clean out – completed

Rope walk – completed

Stuffed – completed

She almost cried in relief when the door swung open.

Loki stepped back and watched as she slid off the table when the restraints let her go. She was like a baby deer taking her first steps as she rushed towards the door, grabbing her clothes on the way. Loki’s cum was leaking down her thighs and she still had plenty dribbling down her chin.

Without looking back, she stumbled up the steps and down the corridor towards the front door. It was open and she was about there when it slammed shut and Loki smoothly slid into her view on front of her. Fully clothed in his suit, not looking ruffled up at all.

‘Well, did you enjoy my Scream house?’ He smirked, folding his arms over his chest.

‘No! It was disgusting!’ She snarled at him, using her clothes to shield herself as best she could. She hadn’t even put them on yet, she just wanted out of there.

Loki chuckled, his eyes were twinkling mischievously. ‘You screamed. So no refund.’

‘Stuff your refund!’ She snapped and pushed past him, hauling the door open.

‘Oh I know. But it means I win and get my reward for you screaming.’

She paused with a foot out the door. She looked over her shoulder, shaking slightly. ‘What?’

Loki raised his eyebrows as he put his hands behind his back, looking innocent. ‘Oh dear. Did you not read the small print before accepting the terms and conditions when you booked your ticket?’

The look on her face told him that answer.

‘I suggest you take a look, pet. Before you do anything stupid.’

Casey ran out of the house and down the hill to safety. Once she was sure she was far enough away from that mad man, she stopped and put on her clothes. She pulled her phone out and was about to dial for the police, when she decided for some reason to quickly check her email confirmation.

She almost puked when she read what she had actually agreed to.

If you don’t scream in my Scream house, you get a full refund. However, if you scream, you waive all rights to contacting the police for anything that goes on within my house. You also agree to return to me every Halloween. Or I reserve the rights to come after you for a breach of terms and conditions.

Happy spooking!

[imagine-loki]

Loki's Scream House (READ THE WARNINGS) trigger warning- Rape

TITLE: Loki’s Scream House CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One shot AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine going to ‘Loki’s Scream house’ on Halloween RATING: M NOTES: Very late Halloween one shot! 

WARNINGS: Rape/Non-con, forced orgasms, trapping, douching, enema, pain play, Loki’s a sadist! 

Casey was so annoyed that her friends had all bailed on her. On Halloween, no less.

They said they’d heard rumours about Loki’s Scream house being far too scary, so had cancelled on her. Instead deciding to go to a party instead.

‘Bunch of chickens.’ Casey muttered as she made her way up the hill to where the Scream house sat. She would go to this haunted house and then turn up at the party, telling them all about her scary experience.

She snorted to herself at the thought. How scary could a haunted house be? Apparently this one was aptly named and would make her scream. But she doubted that.

As she got closer, she could indeed hear screaming from inside. But she was almost certain it was fake, she didn’t see any cars around. She doubted there was even anyone else inside. But since she had already bought a ticket, she wasn’t letting ten quid go to waste. She at least wanted to get her money’s worth with a laugh at how bad it was.

Upon reaching the door, she went to knock but the door slowly swung open. Revealing a tall man in an all-black suit. Matching his long black hair. His face was quite pale, but he had striking features. The smirk that crossed his face was slightly terrifying. But Casey smiled.

‘Welcome, to my Scream house.’ His smirk grew even larger as he put his arms out to the side and motioned for her to come in.

She stepped inside, looking around her. It was more like an abandoned house than a haunted one.

‘So… what’s the deal?’ Casey asked, stopping a few feet from Loki.

‘You know the deal. You bought a ticket for a tour around my Scream house. If you don’t scream, you get a refund. Well, I say tour. It’s more a walk around, I shall not be guiding you. Feel free to check out all the rooms. But do not, and I repeat, do NOT go into the basement. It is off limits.’ He said firmly.

Casey raised an eyebrow. ‘Okayyy…’

‘Enjoy!’ Loki bowed and then suddenly disappeared in a green haze and the door behind her slammed shut, making her jump slightly.

‘Must be on some sort of timer. It’s all just magic tricks.’ She said to herself.

Deciding to get this over with, she went down the corridor and into the first room she came across. It was a normal living room. But as she stepped inside, a web came down over her and a huge mechanical spider came flying out of the wall towards her, before then disappearing back inside. It did make her squeal, so she would give him that one. But it wasn’t a scream.

Fighting the web off, she looked around the room and wandered over to the fire place. There was a large cauldron on the fire, something was bubbling inside. She peeked in and saw some bones in there and a skull floated to the top. She rolled her eyes and moved on to another room.

She found all the rooms to be rather boring. She jumped once or twice, but it was nothing spectacular. Fake mechanical robots as witches and werewolves, vampires and ghouls.

Casey made her way to the last room, but it was just as dull. When she exited it, she was faced with the door that led down to the basement. But it was locked when she tried the handle.

Curiosity took over her though, so she had a quick search for the key. It was in the most obvious of places for hiding a key, on top of the door frame.

‘Typical.’ She huffed as she put it in the lock and turned.

She knew Loki had warned her not to go down there, but it’s like when you see a wet paint sign. You can’t help but touch it to see if it’s actually wet.

It was dark as she made her way down the steps, but once she reached the bottom automatic lights came on. There was another door just a few feet on front of her. There was no lock on it, so she was able to just push it open. But once she stepped inside, before she even had a chance to take in the room, the large door swung shut behind her.

She turned around and tried to open it again, but it was locked. She frantically looked around for a key but there wasn’t even a door handle.

‘What the fuck?’ She panicked, eyes wide. But then she noticed a small screen to the left of the door. She tried pushing on it, and to her relief it came to life.

But her heart sank when she read what it said.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – not completed

Clean out – not completed

Rope walk – not completed

Stuffed – not completed

‘What the actual fuck?’ She gasped, eyes wide.

That’s when she turned around to see what she was dealing with.

There was a brick wall opposite her, but there was nothing else there. It just seemed like an empty room. But she heard a beeping noise before Loki’s voice filled the room.

‘Naught girl, disobeying my orders.’ But he sounded delighted at the fact. ‘Unfortunately for you, you’ve stumbled into my unfinished play room. You see, I built this for an ex to have some fun in. She enjoyed some challenges. But there were a few… teething issues that I have yet to fix. There is no escaping the room, unless you follow through the entire programme. You need to start by removing all your clothes and going over to the brick wall.’

‘What the hell? Get me out of here! You perv, I’m not doing that!’ Casey stared banging on the door.

‘You can tire yourself out as much as you wish, pet. But until you do as you’re told and complete each task, you will be stuck there. As much as I would like to come and let you out, I can’t. There is no other way. And I did warn you not to enter.’

Casey checked every nook and cranny for a way out, but there was nothing. She tried pressing more buttons on the screen but nothing worked.

Loki watched in amusement from his room, the camera directly at her. It would follow her every movement and she had no idea it was there.

He smirked when he saw she finally gave in. Two hours later. Knowing and accepting there was just one way out.

Casey whined in defeat. She started to remove her clothes, feeling extremely vulnerable. Even more so when she heard his voice again.

‘That’s a good girl. The sooner you get through the tasks, the sooner you will be out of here.’

‘You creep! You’re watching?’ She gasped, trying to hide her breasts.

Loki chuckled. ‘I am. How else am I supposed to make sure you’re safe?’

Casey gritted her teeth but carried on with removing her knickers. She shivered slightly as the floor was stone cold.

‘Now, get over to the wall so we can begin.’ Loki purred.

Casey closed her eyes and tried not to cry. She had to remain calm and composed to get through this. Then as soon as she was out, she was calling the police on his freaky ass for sure. She wasn’t going to let this sick freak get away with it.

She walked hesitantly over to the wall. As soon as she was within two feet of it, holes in the wall suddenly opened up and four mechanical arms came flying out. Before she could react, they grabbed her wrists and ankles, holding her just above the floor in a spread-eagle position. She cried out and tried to struggle, but the arms were too strong.

‘Beautiful. As I said before, I wouldn’t bother trying to fight it, pet. You will only tire yourself out.’

Casey whimpered as she heard another bit on the wall opening up. But she relaxed a tiny bit when she saw it was a shower head. She was super confused.

‘Ah, power wash. The first task for you to endure.’ Loki hummed.

He watched in absolute delight from the comfort of his room. A glass of wine at hand and some grapes. His belt was unbuckled and his zipper open, because he knew it wouldn’t be long before he would need easy access.

Casey’s moment of relaxation was over very quickly. There was a whirring noise and suddenly the shower head started spraying water. But the force was very strong, more than the average shower head.

It hit her stomach first. The water was warm though, which she was glad of. It soaked her entire body first, then focused in on her breasts. But that wasn’t the worst part.

The shower head moved down between her legs and aimed directly up against her cunt. She cried out as the pressure hit her so forcefully, she thought she was going to pass out. It moved in a little closer, making her howl as it then hit her clit. Which she was ashamed to realise was throbbing in pleasure.

Her head flew backwards as she tightened her hands into fists and cried out as she came hard. It wasn’t a nice orgasm though, it was a forced one. So quick, she hadn’t been able to fully enjoy it. To her horror, the shower head remained in place, aiming directly at her sensitive little clit. Forcing her into another painful orgasm.

‘Ooo, so delightful to watch, pet. I think you enjoyed that much more than you are willing to admit.’ He growled.

After twenty minutes, but felt like a life-time to Casey, the shower head stopped and she was lowered to the ground. Her legs were like jelly and she fell to her knees as the mechanical arms were retracted into the wall.

She crawled away from the wall, near the door. Panting and exhausted already. She heard a pinging noise and looked up at the screen by the door.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – completed

Clean out – not completed

Rope walk – not completed

Stuffed – not completed

‘Well done for completing the first task. I wonder how you will fair with the second.’

Casey took a while to get her breath back. Then Loki coaxed her to go back to the wall for the second one. She dreaded to think what it was going to be.

Her body was still a bit weak, but she managed to get to her feet and walked over to the wall again. The same parts in the wall opened up and the same mechanical arms came out and restrained her in a spread-eagle position once more.

‘This is my favourite task, I must say.’ Loki’s sinful voice said across the speaker, making Casey bite her tongue to refrain from saying anything smart. Considering the position she was in, she knew it was best to keep quiet.

This time, instead of a shower head coming out of the wall, two lubricated tubes came out. What was contained within them Casey had no idea. But she knew she was about to find out pretty soon.

She started whining when the tubes moved down between her legs. One positioned at her pussy, the other at her anus. And they seemed to just hover there for a moment, as if dragging out her expected torture.

Loki smirked and started stroking his cock languidly. He flicked his wrist and moaned as the tubes thrust into both of Casey’s holes.

Casey bit down on her tongue hard to keep herself from screaming as she was violated in both holes. The lube made them slip in easier and the tubes weren’t too wide, but it was still uncomfortable. Especially the one in her anus, she had never put anything up there before.

But it got a lot worse for the poor girl.

Water started shooting into her, from both tubes.

‘Oh no… NO! PLEASE NO! STOP!’ She started crying out, but all she heard was Loki chuckling in return.

The enema in her ass felt so uncomfortable as she was filled with the warm water. It made her feel so heavy and bloated. The douching felt the same, very uncomfortable. The water kept pumping into her from both tubes until she felt like she was going to explode.

Suddenly the tubes popped out of her and she gasped as the water rushed out of her. Giving her such a strange feeling, a rather erotic feeling. But she pushed that thought out of her mind, she wasn’t going to give Loki the satisfaction.

But the tubes were replaced, not just twice but three times. Making sure she was thoroughly cleaned out.

‘Excellent, that’s you sparkling clean. Inside and out.’ Loki chuckled.

He wiped his own cum up with a tissue, he never did last long when watching a clean out.

Casey was once again released from the mechanical arms. She managed to stumble back over towards the door. Looking at the screen when it pinged.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – completed

Clean out – completed

Rope walk – not completed

Stuffed – not completed

‘Oh god. What the hell is rope walk?’ She asked, looking around the room.

‘You will find out soon enough.’ Loki purred.

Casey just wanted this to be over with now. So she went back over to the wall, wanting it to hurry up. Expecting the same arms to appear, she was surprised when this time it was different.

One large hole opened up and a huge mechanical arm with one clamp came out. It reached straight for her and snapped around her middle, locking her in tightly with her arms trapped down at her sides. She squeaked and tried to kick out as it lifted her up in the air.

The floor then changed and there was a long treadmill appeared beneath her. Then a long rope was pulled from one side of the room to the other, going above the treadmill. But there were many knots along the rope.

‘What the…’ Casey trailed off when she was lowered down onto the rope. She cried out and tried going up on her tiptoes to avoid it. But the rope was just the right height, snugly fitting between her pussy lips and directly on her clit. She was on her tiptoes already and it was painful, so she knew if she let her feet go flat that would be the end of her.

‘I suggest you start walking, pet.’ Loki demanded.

‘Wh… what the hell? No way!’ She cried out, knowing those knots would be painful on her. Hell, even just the rope alone would be.

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You have to reach the other end to complete this task. If you don’t get moving, the treadmill will start. Making it so much more difficult for yourself.’

Loki was hard and throbbing once more. This task was always a delight to watch too, so much fun seeing his victims in pain.

Casey knew he wouldn’t be lying. So to try and get it over with, she started walking forward. But the drag of the rope on her clit burned and was so painful. When she reached the first knot, she struggled. It was quite a large knot and when she tried to pass it, it hit her clit and made her cry out in pain.

‘I can’t do it!’ She cried out, tears spilling down her cheeks.

‘You will be stuck forever on there if you don’t. The tasks don’t stop, another fault I need to fix.’

She soon learned how difficult it could get. The treadmill beneath her started to move very slowly in the opposite direction to where she was wanting to go, so she had no option but to walk. Not only making her tire quicker, but the movement was hurting.

To keep up and get past the knot, she had to walk even quicker on her tiptoes to beat the treadmill. She closed her eyes and took a big deep breath, then just went for it and forced herself to walk forward as quickly and forcefully as possible, getting over the knot with a scream.

Loki was jerking another one off rapidly as he watched her force herself across the rope. Crying and screaming in pain, especially when she came to another knot. But she was getting on far too easily, so to make it difficult and more of a challenge, he spun his finger around.

To Casey’s horror, the treadmill started to speed up a bit more. She couldn’t keep up, and was dragged backwards on the rope. The treadmill forced her back over a few knots, her screams of pain echoed around the room each time.

‘NO, YOU BASTARD!’ She howled loudly.

Loki laughed wickedly as he had another orgasm, making a mess of himself again.

It took three hours, three hours of absolute agony and torture before Casey managed to get across the other side of the rope. She was completely exhausted, broken. Her poor clit was battered and bruised. She was sure there were no nerve endings left.

She had never felt more relieved as she was in that moment when she was lifted from the rope and the treadmill. She collapsed in the middle of the room, unable to move. Her body so tired, she passed out from sheer exhaustion.

-

When she came to four hours later, she sobbed as she realised she was still in that room. It hadn’t been a nightmare.

But there was a tiny glimmer of hope when she looked at the screen.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – completed

Clean out – completed

Rope walk – completed

Stuffed – not completed

One more to go. She dreaded to think what it was, but surely it wouldn’t be worse than what she had just endured. It couldn’t be.

‘Glad to see you are awake, pet. One more task to go.’

‘Ok… Let’s get it over with.’ She made her way over to the wall.

Again, mechanical arms came out. This time the floor opened up to reveal a large metal table that came up and she was laid upon. The mechanical arms were replaced by leather straps. But her feet were raised up and spread wide apart, her bum just over the edge of the table.

She closed her eyes and waited, while nothing happened. Part of her thought maybe the next machine was broken, whatever it would be. How Loki had made all of these tasks, she had no idea. He must be some evil genius or something.

Fear ran through her veins when she heard heavy footsteps walking towards her. She looked down, but her head was quickly forced back down when a large strap came up from the table and wrapped around her neck, holding her down.

She was trembling badly when Loki approached her between her legs. She was startled when she felt his cool hands stroke her thighs. She could just see Loki in her view, looming over her.

‘Well, well, well. Ready for the final task, are we?’ He grinned.

‘I… I thought you couldn’t get in?’ She whimpered.

Loki chuckled and leaned down, biting into her inner thigh that made her cry out. ‘I am the god of lies, pet. And I can get in wherever I want to. Including your lovely body that has been prepared so nicely for me and my friend.’

That made her eyes widen. His friend? What?

She wasn’t left wondering for long. Another being walked over to her, but she was shocked and confused to see it was another Loki.

‘What… What the heck is going on?’

‘Shhh. Just enjoy the last ride. I know I certainly will.’ He said wickedly as he then prised her bum cheeks wide apart, revealing her puckered asshole to him. Without any warning or preparation, he rammed his cock into her, making her scream.

‘Ohh and look at that. You’ve screamed. Not for the first time either.’ He laughed as he started thrusting into her.

The second Loki walked up to her head, he stroked her cheek softly at first. Then he waved his hand over the table and had part of it disappear so her head was over the edge. He moved in and pinched her nose, forcing her mouth to open. He then forced his cock into her mouth and down her throat as far as he could, releasing her nose so she could breathe through that instead. She had no option but to do so.

The original Loki that was plundering her ass, had a large dildo form in his hand. It was a clone of his own cock. He winked at her, his hips still moving at a ruthless pace, and he pressed the dildo into her. Moving it in time with his own thrusting in her ass.

Casey was sobbing around the cock in her mouth, drooling everywhere. She couldn’t take it, feeling so full from being filled in every hole.

But what made her feel worse, was she was starting to enjoy it. Her body was starting to respond well to the violation, no matter how much she cried.

From the width of the dildo in her pussy, it was rubbing against her clit with each and every thrust. At least the nerves weren’t completely damaged, she thought. That was a plus. She just had to keep calm and ride this out, then she would be free.

Loki grunted and groaned above her, both of them did. And Casey moaned around his cock as she came, squeezing the dildo in her pussy. Loki could feel that too. He thrust into her once more, both of them did. Then he came, in every hole. Even the dildo came too, how that happened she had no idea.

But she started to feel really full again, like she had with the clean out task. But at least this time she felt fluttery and high, having came too. And at the relief of knowing it was finally over…

‘Ohhhhh now, pet. That was so much fun, I must say.’ Loki chuckled. The dildo and second Loki vanished right on front of her eyes.

Casey still had no idea how he did that. But she knew it must’ve been trickery of some sorts.

The ping from the screen made her turn her head to take a look.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – completed

Clean out – completed

Rope walk – completed

Stuffed – completed

She almost cried in relief when the door swung open.

Loki stepped back and watched as she slid off the table when the restraints let her go. She was like a baby deer taking her first steps as she rushed towards the door, grabbing her clothes on the way. Loki’s cum was leaking down her thighs and she still had plenty dribbling down her chin.

Without looking back, she stumbled up the steps and down the corridor towards the front door. It was open and she was about there when it slammed shut and Loki smoothly slid into her view on front of her. Fully clothed in his suit, not looking ruffled up at all.

‘Well, did you enjoy my Scream house?’ He smirked, folding his arms over his chest.

‘No! It was disgusting!’ She snarled at him, using her clothes to shield herself as best she could. She hadn’t even put them on yet, she just wanted out of there.

Loki chuckled, his eyes were twinkling mischievously. ‘You screamed. So no refund.’

‘Stuff your refund!’ She snapped and pushed past him, hauling the door open.

‘Oh I know. But it means I win and get my reward for you screaming.’

She paused with a foot out the door. She looked over her shoulder, shaking slightly. ‘What?’

Loki raised his eyebrows as he put his hands behind his back, looking innocent. ‘Oh dear. Did you not read the small print before accepting the terms and conditions when you booked your ticket?’

The look on her face told him that answer.

‘I suggest you take a look, pet. Before you do anything stupid.’

Casey ran out of the house and down the hill to safety. Once she was sure she was far enough away from that mad man, she stopped and put on her clothes. She pulled her phone out and was about to dial for the police, when she decided for some reason to quickly check her email confirmation.

She almost puked when she read what she had actually agreed to.

If you don’t scream in my Scream house, you get a full refund. However, if you scream, you waive all rights to contacting the police for anything that goes on within my house. You also agree to return to me every Halloween. Or I reserve the rights to come after you for a breach of terms and conditions.

Happy spooking!

[writingmyselfout]

Because I Could Not Stop for Death - Chapter Three

Language: English

Rating: Teen+

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Reptilia28′s Don’t Fear the Reaper Challenge, Manipulative Dumbledore, Black Hermione Granger, Slight Ron Weasley Bashing

Prologue 1 2

Chapter 3: Here We Are, No One Else

Summary: School shopping.

SNAPE and McGonagall wait until they are outside, standing a short ways from the steps of Gringotts but still clearly visible for anyone coming out of the doors to discuss their recent discovery.

    “Severus, if memory serves, the Potters were wealthy, were they not?” McGonagall questions, looking around for a moment as she clasps her hands behind her back.

    “Yes.” Snapes tone is bitter as he agrees. “Quite.”

    McGonagall nods her head. “As I thought. So James Potter was likely the sole heir, and would have in turn left everything to Harry. I cannot imagine he, and especially not Lily Evans -- bright girl that she was--would have been so careless as to not leave a will in case of their demise. Not with how things were back then.”

    “Highly unlikely.” Snape’s arms are crossed, eyes on the bank’s doors. “Perhaps Albus Dumbledore was who they chose, because of You-Know-Who.” Despite his words, it does not sound like the Potions Master himself believes that to be the case.

    “Could be,” McGonagall concedes. “But considering how close knit James’ group of friends were, however, I find it hard to believe though. Only one of them might have been viable in the end, but considering he was the most responsible of the lot, I can’t say I’m not confused that Remus Lupin was not named as a guardian for Harry in case the worst came to pass.”

    She pauses, seeming to consider her next words before continuing, voice a little lower. “I am concerned with Albus’s decision to not only leave Harry with Lily’s sister and her family in light of what we saw, but to not once check up on the boy in nearly ten years. At the very least, the boy has been neglected, and at worse-” She looks over at Snape, expression grim. “I shudder to think.

    “Not to speak ill of the headmaster, but I must question his motive for leaving the child alone in that situation for as long as he has.”

    “He, perhaps, was simply more optimistic about what awaited Harry in Petunia’s care,” Snape offers diplomatically. “Regardless, while he is the boy’s guardian in the wizarding world, he will have the ultimate say in various things, including access to the Potters’ will and whoever else may have been named guardian.”

    “At least not until guardianship passes to Harry’s Head of House.” McGonagall considers. “I could speak with Albus about the will, but with the term due to begin soon, it may be better to simply wait for that guardianship to transfer over.”

    Snape is quiet for a moment, before he points out, “If he is in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, Flitwick and Sprout will leave Harry’s guardianship in the headmaster’s hands.” It’s hard to tell whether he thinks that’s for the best or not, his tone even.

    “I think if concerns were raised regarding the boy’s upbringing, both Filius or Pomona would take a more active role than that,” McGonagall argues. “Considering both James and Lily were Gryffindor, however, I suspect I’ll have another lion.”

    “It would be in his own best interest,” Snape states flatly. “I don’t imagine he would be all that welcomed among the Slytherin fold.”

    He does not need to elaborate for her, and McGonagall says nothing, knowing that among her students, many are the offspring of parents who had remained neutral or openly sided with the dark wizard Harry is famed for bringing down. Many of those students, unfortunately, belong mostly to Slytherin. Although she tries to treat her students fairly, and most of all to separate them from whatever deeds their families may be responsible for, she can’t deny that it may be in Harry’s best interest and safety to be in any other House.

    Before their conversation can continue, they see the hulking figured of Hagrid coming out of Gringotts, with the more diminutive Harry only visible when the groundskeeper stands aside to hold the door open for the boy. The deputy headmistress lifts a hand to draw their attention.

    “That was amazing!” Harry gushes, eyes bright. “It was like riding a rollercoaster!”

    “A Muggle ride,” Snape explains at McGonagall’s raised eyebrow and glance.

    “Infernal carts,” Hagrid grumbles under his breath. “Harry’s got more ‘an enough teh get his school supplies. I’m off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron.”

    He starts to walk away from them, but stops at McGonagall’s stern, “Hagrid.”

    “Yes, professor?”

    “While I can’t say for certain, I do have my suspicions as to what it was that Albus had you come pick up,” she lectures. “It would be best for you to take it back to Hogwarts promptly, don’t you agree?”

    “Well, yes, but.” Hagrid shifts from one foot to the other like a schoolboy who’s been scolded, and Harry tries to stifle a grin at the sight. The big man looks back the way they came in, towards the pub at the end of the road. “It’s just one drink.”

    McGonagall sighs. “Fine, but I shall accompany you until you leave. For my own peace of mind,” she declares. She looks over at Snape and Harry. “Harry, for your uniform requirements you’ll need to go over there to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. Just let her know you’re starting at Hogwarts; she knows what you’ll need and get you measured.”

    “I assume you can handle that without supervision,” Snape adds. “I will get your books at Flourish and Blotts in the meantime to save time. I will get you after.”

    With that plan in place, Harry goes off to the shop he’d been directed to, a coin pouch full of more money than he’s ever had access to bouncing in a pocket. Hagrid had given him a brief rundown of the coins, and he thinks he’s got it squared away, but he’s not too worried about being overcharged. The professors had felt confident he could manage on his own for a bit, and they surely wouldn’t have if they thought he might be overcharged or cheated.

    Still, he’s nervous as he enters the shop, whose front room has some seats, but is mostly floor to ceiling bolts of fabric, with a few ready-made robes apparently for, as the shop sign declares, all occasions. Some mannequins are spread throughout, floating in the air and rotating softly to best display the styles. He stops a few steps in, hoping that the ringing of the shop bell will bring someone over as he’s not sure where to go.

    Some curtains hanging between two tall shelves of fabric are suddenly pulled aside and a smiling, squat woman dressed entirely in mauve--from the witch’s hat on her head to the bit of shoe visible just under her matching robes--comes out.

    “Another for Hogwarts?” she asks. At Harry’s quiet nod, she waves him over. “Come on, then. I’m Madam Malkin. I’ve another student back here as well.”

    Harry walks over and she leads him into the backroom of the shop. Sure enough, there’s a boy being directed to stand up on a footstool. His blonde hair is almost white and the eyes that look over at Harry as he comes over to stand on the stool next to him are light grey. Harry feels like he has seen him somewhere before, although he can’t possibly say where, and thinks it may be down to the same feeling that had come over him when he first saw his Hogwarts letter. That déjà vu feeling is becoming so familiar now, and has worked out so well for him thus far, that he doesn’t think to question it.

    “Hi,” Harry says, not waiting for the boy to greet him first. “Are you starting at Hogwarts too?” Harry belatedly realizes it might seem like a stupid question. He’s not sure if there even are other magic schools in the country. Surely in other countries, right?

    “Hello. I am.” The boy confirms in a drawl. “Mother is next door getting books while my father is over on Knockturn. She wants us to look at wands after, but I think I’ll drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own.”

    “Is it just first years who can’t?” Harry asks, interrupting. He’s stunned at the idea of actually riding a broom, like in cartoon depictions of witches, and almost launches into more questions about it but refrains, thinking he doesn’t want to yet reveal just how completely clueless he is about all things magical. This kid clearly has magical parents and has grown up with it like it’s just a normal thing.

    “Yes, just first years.” The boy confirms.

    Around them, the witch in mauve and another has each rolled out a measuring tape that, with a wave of their wands, begins to measure each boy. Harry tries not to stare, fascinated, partly because he’s instructed to hold still. While the tapes measure them, the bell at the front rings and one woman goes to the front while the other moves to the other side of the room to start rifling through a line of black robes.

    When they’ve moved away, the blonde boy leans over to Harry and adds conspiratorially, “If I can get Father to buy me a new broom, I may try to smuggle it in.”

    “Do you think they have spells for that?” Harry asks. If there’s a rule, surely they have a way to enforce it?

    “Hm, I hadn’t thought of that,” the boy admits. “Maybe.” He seems to take a better look at Harry, then holds a hand out to him. “My name’s Draco Malfoy, by the way. I’m sure you’ve heard of my family.”

    The name he’s given brings the same feeling seeing the boy had, accompanied by a certainty that he should try to be friends with this boy. Taking the hand, he admits, “Not really, sorry. I’m Harry Potter.”

    Draco’s eyes widen, but they’re both distracted by a squeak of surprise behind them. They turn to look, and the second woman is bent over, picking up the robes she dropped. She stares at Harry, eyes comically wide, before she scurries towards the front room.

    “Are you really?” Draco asks, head tilted as he takes Harry in from head to toe. The bored quality of his voice is gone, curiosity taking its place.

    “Uh, yeah,” Harry admits. “I, uh, forget that people know me.”

    Draco raises an eyebrow at that, but whatever he might have to say is kept quiet as the two women come bustling back into the room.

    “Harry Potter! I thought I might be seeing you this year,” the mauve witch exclaims delightedly. “Are the rumors true? Do you have a scar from You-Know-Who?”

    Harry blinks at the question before simply lifting his bangs, his scar clearly visible on his forehead. The three others in the room all lean in at least slightly to get a better look, but Draco is the first to straighten, feigning disinterest.

    “Wow,” Madam Malkin breathes. Uncomfortable at how long he’s being stared at, Harry lets his bangs fall back to cover the scar, and the older woman’s eyes drop to his. She smiles at him. “Well, we have to make sure you are very well dressed for your school debut, don’t we? We’ll finish up these measurements and be sure to get these to you in an hour or so, okay?”

    Harry nods and looks over at Draco, trying to think of something to talk about with the other boy. He’s momentarily at a complete loss as to what he could possibly talk about, then remembers the questions he’d asked Snape while they walked. “Uh, so what House are you hoping to get into?”

    “Slytherin,” Draco announces immediately, explaining, “All our family have been.”

    “Oh, that’s Professor Snape’s House.” Harry’s pleased to be able to display some knowledge about the school.

    “You know him?” Draco asks.

    Harry nods. “Oh, yes, he’s actually next door getting my books right now too,” he admits. “I’m here with him and Professor McGonagall. He said both my parents were in Gryffindor, so I guess that might be where I end up.”

    “Slytherin and Gryffindor are rival Houses,” Draco says in response.

    Before Harry can reply, Madam Malkin declares she’s finished. When Harry asks how much for his robes, she waves him off, declaring it’s on the house. “Least I can do for the Boy Who Lived,” she tells him proudly.

    Harry feels his face get hot with embarrassment, and he’s not sure how if he should insist he pays or if it would be rude to refuse. He’s saved from responding by them finishing with Draco, and attention being diverted to him instead as they tell him to tell his mother that his items should also be finished within the next hour or so. It makes him relax some knowing that the other boy isn’t going to have to wait longer, although he’s still uncomfortable with the obviously special treatment.

    The two head outside, and Harry picks up the conversation where they left it. “Even if we end up in different Houses, we can still be friends, right?”

    It’s the most forward he’s ever been with someone his own age. He’s never really had a friend, his classmates always opting to steer clear when it becomes obvious that he’s Dudley’s favorite target for bullying. He can’t say he blames them, understanding not wanting to be bullied, but he wishes at least one of them had been brave enough to be his friend anyway. He hopes now things will change, and he’s willing to make the effort to make new friends.

    Draco himself seems taken aback by the question, and he looks at Harry for a moment, before shrugging. “I guess so.” He doesn’t sound very convincing, but he’s not refusing outright, so Harry takes it as a win. “Mother is probably still in the bookstore,” he says, pointing at the store next door.

    “Professor Snape too,” Harry agrees. “Should we go find them?”

    Draco agrees, and the two boys make their way into the store. They’re forced to navigate between stacks of books and a number of other customers to search the store. When they find themselves next to some stairs leading up to the second story, Harry goes up three steps then stops suddenly, causing Draco to run into him. He laughs before pointing Snape out, who he just spotted, and they backtrack to make their way towards the front of the store.

    “Professor Snape!” Harry calls when he’s close enough to think the man will hear him over the din of the crowd.

    Snape looks over, spotting the boy’s waving arms in the crowd. “Mr. Potter, just in time to pay for your books.”

    “Sure thing!” Harry readily agrees, excited to be able to pay for his own things for once. “Oh, Draco, this is Professor Snape. Professor, this is Draco-”

    “Ah, yes, Lucius and Narcissa’s son.” Snape recognizes the boy immediately, his resemblance to his father striking. He’s surprised the two are together, though, and notes that his parents aren’t around. “Where are your parents?”

    “Father had an errand on Knockturn,” Draco immediately supplies, his tone respectful. “Mother is in here.” He looks out over the crowded store, and adds, “Somewhere.”

    Snape nods, assuming the boys met in Madam Malkin’s. He directs the store employee to wrap Harry’s purchases before turning to the boys. “The two of you wait outside. I will locate her and let her know you’re outside.”

    He waits for Harry’s books to be wrapped before he shrinks them down and hands them over to Harry to hold onto. Snape shoos them outside and then turns to go search for Narcissa Malfoy. He locates her fairly quickly, her slim figure and long blonde hair--only a shade or so darker than her son’s--familiar enough to him that he can recognize her quickly.

    “Narcissa.” He waits until he’s only a step or so away from her and the woman she is speaking with to say her name.

    Blue eyes look over and, raising an eyebrow, she says, “Why, Severus Snape. I can’t say I expected to see you today.”

    “I am assisting with a student,” he explains simply, not elaborating further. “Your son was looking for you; I advised him to wait out front.”

    “So you’ve met my Draco.” She smiles fondly. She bids her companion goodbye before motioning for a house elf behind her carrying a stack of books to follow her. “Thank you for letting me know. He’s certain to be in your House this year, so I do hope you’ll do me the favor of keeping a close eye on him. You know boys that age are prone to getting into trouble.”

    “It goes without saying,” Snape agrees readily. “You know I could do no less for you and Lucius.”

    Outside, Harry and Draco move away from the bookstore’s door to avoid getting in the way of customers entering or exiting. Harry decides to admit to Draco he doesn’t know much about brooms and ask him about it, which gets the other boy going into detail on what makes a good racing broom versus what makes a good Quidditch broom. When Harry asks what Quidditch is, Draco is stunned speechless for half a second, before he launches into an explanation of what the game is and the rules. He’s just starting to get into why his favorite team (the Wimbourne Wasps) are the best when McGonagall comes over.

    “Harry, where is Professor Snape?” she asks as she comes by, looking the two boys over. “And who might this be?”

    “This is Draco Malfoy, we met in the robes store,” Harry replies. “Draco, this is Professor McGonagall, she’s the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts.” Draco greets her, and Harry answers the other question she asked. “Snape was looking for Draco’s mum in the bookstore ‘cause it’s busy.”

    “Unsurprising, considering the time of year.” She looks over at the store briefly before looking back at Harry. “Hagrid is getting you a birthday present.”

    “It’s your birthday?” Draco asks. Harry nods, blushing at the idea of someone very deliberately buying him a gift. First the clothes, and now something from the groundskeeper.

    “He doesn’t have to,” Harry mutters, embarrassed.

    McGonagall smiles at his reaction. “No, but he would like to, so it’s only polite to accept.” Snape and Mrs. Malfoy emerge from the bookstore and McGonagall lets the boys know.

    “If it’s your birthday, we should get cake,” Draco announces matter of factly.

    Without waiting for a response from Harry, he goes over to meet his mother and Snape, pointing briefly back at Harry where he stands with McGonagall. There’s a brief discussion in which Snape nods, and then he and Draco come back over to where Harry is watching them.

    “Mr. Malfoy will be joining us for lunch,” Snape informs them, “while Mrs. Malfoy finishes his school shopping.”

    The two professors and their charges make their way to one of the many cafes located in Diagon Alley. They were seated immediately despite their being decently busy, and it soon became clear Draco was the reason when the manager on duty came to greet him and ask after his parents. He seemed to sit up a little taller speaking to the man, telling him importantly that his friend Harry Potter was celebrating his birthday today and they were hoping to have a small celebratory lunch.

    As it had earlier in the day, it causes a flurry of activity, and they very clearly become the center of attention. Word spreads through the other patrons, who crane their necks to try and get a clear view, seemingly being kept from coming over by the staff. Harry is both embarrassed and amused, as his self-proclaimed new friend Draco is clearly enjoying the havoc his words have wrought. Snape grumbles under his breath, but Harry doesn’t catch it, though he does see Professor McGonagall, stifling a smile, leaning over to speak to him in a low voice the boys across from them can’t quite catch. Not that Draco seems to be paying them any real mind.

    Soon, neither is Harry. He’s too fascinated by the servers taking orders while simultaneously serving water or setting drinks from a tray down, a floating notepad and quill by their heads writing down everything being said. Trays heavily laden with food are also brought out with magic, followed closely by a server with a wand out, whose occasional flick of the wrist directs the tray to gently move to avoid other servers, patrons, and even other floating trays. Their own server makes a show of having their food fly off the tray, making elaborate turns in the air before landing softly in front of each of them, with nary a crumb falling off the plate.

    He doesn’t think he could be more impressed, until they come out with a cake for him. He doesn’t recall even seeing cake as an option on the dessert menu, so clearly they’ve either had it made or brought over specially for him. Instead of candles, little magic flames dance around the edge of the cake until it’s set down on the table. Soon after, the servers break out into a birthday song that the other patrons soon join in on and Harry’s red face doesn’t distract from the smile he’s unable to keep off his face. When they’re done singing, the little dancing flames rearrange in the air to say ‘Happy Birthday!’ and he’s directed to blow them out like he normally would.

    It’s hands down the best birthday he’s ever had.

    After lunch, Hagrid finds them and gifts Harry with a snowy white owl of his own which, he’s told, he can use to communicate with others in the wizarding world. He and Draco agree to write before the blonde goes off with Snape to meet back up with his mother. Harry in turn goes with McGonagall to continue getting the rest of his school supplies, with Hagrid tagging along.

    They go for his wand, and he’s glad to have the stern professor with him, unnerved when the old wandmaker Ollivander informs him that his wand is the brother to the one that gave him his scar. McGonagall dismisses the information, thanks Ollivander for his assistance, and outside promptly tells Harry that regardless of whether that information is true or not, he’s not to put any weight into the information. A wand, after all, is an extension of its wizard. Whether the things done with it are good or bad lies solely with the wielder. Then she marches him off to get the rest of his things and pick up his robes. Snape joins them when they reach the Apothecary, doing his own shopping. When Harry picks up a “Student’s First Potion Kit” marketed for new students, Snape scoffs loudly, takes it out of his hand, and promptly marches him over to where the fresh ingredients are, explaining that so long as he can afford fresher ingredients, they would always serve him better than any cheap kits or bundles.

    Soon, it’s time for him to go home again. He’s sure both professors are more than ready to call it a day, but Harry still finds himself wishing he could somehow prevent it from ending. His things are all put away inside his newly bought trunk, with the exception of his owl, who sits serenely in her cage. They leave through the Leaky Cauldron, Hagrid bidding Harry a good summer before heading for the bar before they make it out the door.

    It’s like emerging from a dream, Harry thinks, looking around at normal, non-magical people going about their day. No one is in robes, holding wands, or making things float or change colors or anything.

    McGonagall holds her wand out, and the Knight Bus returns once more. “I’m afraid we shall have to send you back on your own, Mr. Potter.” She directs her next comment to the conductor, an older gentleman than the one from earlier in the day. “Please see that my student gets to 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, if you please. Could you assist with his trunk? Thank you.

    “Now.” She turns back to Harry, reaching into her pocket for something. “One last thing. This is your ticket for the Hogwarts Express. It will leave promptly at eleven o’clock on September first, so please be sure you are on time with that ticket. The platform is hidden from Muggles. Go to the barrier betweens platforms nine and ten, and there you’ll walk through the barrier to reach platform nine and three-quarters.”

    Harry nods his head in understanding, slipping the envelope into his back pocket. They remind him his new owl can reach them if necessary, so he’s to write immediately if there is any trouble with the Dursleys when he gets home, though McGonagall states she’s confident that they will behave themselves from here on out. Reluctantly, he climbs into the Knight Bus, sitting at a window seat where he can see the professors one last time. He manages to wave before they are suddenly gone, and the bus lurches forward with a BANG!

Story Notes:

Chapter title is from the song "We Are Going To Be Friends" by The White Stripes. Heh.

[frostedstvrlight]

❝DON’T YOU EVER TAME YOUR DEMONS, BUT ALWAYS KEEP ‘EM ON A LEASH.❞

&&. cauldron above, ( kieran talvik ) was just spotted in the fae lands — word has it ( he ) is affiliated with ( the winter court ). ( he ) is a ( 340 / appears 31 ) year old ( half warrior fae / half high fae ). it’s been said that ( he ) resembles ( matteo martari ). ( he ) has been said to be ( charismatic & resourceful ) but also quite ( cynical & ruthless ). ( he ) is currently serving as ( a knight in the winter court ).

Basic Information

Full Name: Kieran Talvik

Nicknames: Kier

Age: 340 years old, appears 31

Birthday: November 18th

Allegiance: Winter Court (formerly Night Court)

Species: High Fae & Warrior Fae

Occupation: Knight

Sexuality: Eh, probably straight

Physical Description

Height: 6′3″

Hair Color: Dark brown

Eye Color: Brown

Gender: Cis Male

Wings: Large, sturdy, and black — similar to that of a bat’s with sharp talons

Family

Father: Kazmer Talvik

Mother: Estelle Dulcamara (née Lucero) †

Step Father: Moreno Dulcamara

Sibling(s): Unnamed half siblings via mother

Personality

Positive Traits: resourceful, strategic, charismatic

Negative Traits: cynical, sarcastic, ruthless

History

Kieran was the byproduct of a short-lived affair between Kazmer Talvik, a Warrior Fae & mercenary from the Winter Court, and Estelle Lucero, a High Fae & Duchess in the Night Court. Neither of his parents had any desire to evolve their relationship into more than fleeting lovers, so they parted ways and decided it would be best for Estelle to raise their son. Kazmer's unique lifestyle wasn't suited for a child — not to mention he had zero interest in being a father anyway.

Growing up in the Night Court wasn’t too bad for a while. Of course his mother received plenty of criticism for keeping her bastard son rather than insisting he be raised by his father or even dropping him off at an orphanage. She even let Kieran use her last name as his own (both to legitimize him as her son as well as keep his father’s identity a secret). It wasn’t until Estelle married Moreno Dulcamara that Kieran’s childhood took a turn for the worse. His new step-father didn’t like Kieran being around, but knew that Estelle would leave her husband before abandoning her son. Thus, if he couldn’t get rid of his wife’s ‘little mistake’ he would make Kieran miserable.

The older Night Fae wasn’t publicly abusive to Kieran, preferring to put Kieran through hell behind closed doors. His words were cold and demeaning, always aiming to pierce his unwanted stepson’s fragile heart. But worst of all, he plagued the younger fae’s mind with nightmares. When Kieran’s half siblings were born Moreno kept their interaction with Kieran to a minimum. Constantly being excluded from the family — an outsider in the Court as well as within his home — hurt far more than Kieran let on. His mother was the only light in his life for many years. Fitting, since her name gave her the title of Star of the Night Court. Looking back, he should have told her about his stepfather’s cruelty. He’d kept quiet about the abuse because, somehow, Moreno made her happy and he didn’t want to ruin what she viewed as the perfect family. Maybe deep down he had also feared that if he asked her to chose between him or Moreno and her other children, she would stay with them.

His mother’s death was unexpected and shook Kieran to the core. Not only because he had lost the one person in his life who loved him, but because he was there when she was murdered. The only thing that was meant to be out of the ordinary on what should have been a routine diplomatic trip was that Kieran had been permitted to accompany her on it. But halfway to their destination they’d been attacked. Kieran was young and his mother, although High Fae, had very little experience with fighting. At most she had her magic and at the very least a basic knowledge of self defense. Unfortunately brute strength overpowered magic and Estelle was killed. Kieran felt completely powerless. Frozen in fear and unable to do anything to help his mother. For whatever reason their assailants chose to spare Kieran; perhaps they had a soft spot for the young. Or maybe they knew that keeping him alive was a worse fate than letting him parish alongside his mother. They left him with wounds that weren’t fatal, but would heal into unfading scars. 

If Moreno hadn’t resented Kieran before, he certainly did after Estelle’s death. He blamed the boy for not being able to save her as well as not dying with her. The survivor’s guilt was immense. With Estelle gone from their lives, Moreno no longer had any reason to keep Kieran around. His stepfather stripped him of his title and banished him from his childhood home. Anyone who hadn’t seen Kieran return from the attack thought he had died alongside Estelle — a rumor Moreno never shed the light of truth upon. Only around a hundred old at that time, Kieran was still fairly young in fae-terms. And with nowhere else to go he left the Night Court and began the search for his father in Winter.

It took a little while to locate a mercenary who was almost always on the move, but he finally did it. Kazmer was reluctant to take Kieran in, but begrudgingly did after hearing of Estelle’s death and Moreno kicking him out. Unfortunately being reunited with family didn’t mean Kieran’s life would be any easier. Kazmer thought his son was soft and if he was going to survive in the vicious world of mercenary work he needed to toughen up. The training Kieran was put through to was brutal. He received as much paternal love from Kazmer as he had from Moreno, but the pain his father subjected him to was more physical than anything else. He also had Kieran change his last name from Lucero, his mother’s maiden name, to Talvik.

Kazmer turned Kieran into the ruthless fighter he is today. His father hardened his heart and turned his skin to steel. For quite some time he took up Kaz’s line of work, but was eventually persuaded to take his talents to knighthood. Being a knight is certainly a nobler profession than what he used to do, but that doesn’t mean that Kieran’s morals have become anything more than gray and questionable at best. 

[willow-salix]

Isolation update and one of two planned offerings for @gumnut-logic 's "Touch" prompt. Enjoy!

Day 80 of Isolation on Tracy Island and it started with Alan breaking into the bedroom while we were still asleep. I woke to him rummaging around in the bedside drawer.

“Dude? Whatcha doin’?” I mumbled, it was far too early, I was far too snuggly warm and getting up was in no way on my radar for at least another few hours.

“Oh, I just wanted to borrow your contact lens solution.”

“Huh?” I groaned, having kinda half dozed off again while he had continued to search through the drawer. “What lens solution?”

“That stuff you got with those coloured lenses you wore at halloween.”

I prised one eye open again and poked the sleepy hamster in my brain that had fallen off the wheel and was far too lazy to get up again.

“Oh...that…” where was it? Where did I even put it? I tried to mentally rewind more than eight months… it wasn't easy. Hell, without this diary I wouldn’t even know what day of the week we were on or what I did two days ago…come to think of it, what did I do two days ago?

Fingers snapped in front of my face, making me jump.

“Did you drift?”

“Yeah, sorry...lens stuff...it’s in the…” where was it? I could picture it…”drinks cabinet in the lounge!” I finished triumphantly, that was it. We’d had a small party and I’d taken the lenses out half way through as they had made my eyes itch and I’d stashed them in the first place I had come across, which just so happened to be the place where I was returning to the most that night. I blame Scott, I always blame Scott, if there is ever a drinking game happening or karaoke is started, he’ll be there.

“Alan, I…where did he go?” The drawer was still open and the bedroom door was ajar, but at least it was quiet again. I yawned so wide I almost turned my face inside out and curled back up against the warm body next to me and closed my eyes…

Coffee...I smell...delicious black gold...I sat up a little without even opening my eyes and reached for the mug, taking a sip before I felt able to face the world.

Perfect. Milky, silky, smooth, sweet perfection in a mug. I opened my eyes to see that he'd put it in one of my favourite mugs, the black one shaped like a cauldron that said "witch's brew" on the side. The paleness of the milky latte was broken up by a swirl of coffee and caramel syrup that floated peacefully on the surface like a miniature galaxy. Top ten reason to marry a guy, he makes the most amazing coffee, even if he doesn't do it very often.

“Gods that's good, thank you, I so needed this.” I sipped again then put the mug down on the bedside table, I wanted to savour this...why was that drawer open and all my stuff messed up? Not that I was the tidiest person in the world but I know it wasn't that bad. My sluggish brain managed to kick up an image of the blond baby… “Did I dream Alan coming in at stupid o’clock this morning looking for something?”

“Hmm?” John stopped rummaging in the wardrobe to look at me. “I don’t know, I don’t remember anything after we started watching that film with the puppets in it.”

“They are Muppets, you heathen and I have no idea how you could fall asleep watching that, it’s amazing.”

“Because it was after two and I was tired?”

“Pathetic excuse. Anyway, back to the original question, did I dream Alan? What did he want?”

“Again, I don’t know, you’ll have to find him and ask.”

“Mm,” I agreed, picking up my coffee again. “I’ll go in a minute, it can’t be that urgent.”

An hour later I was actually up, showered, dressed and had even had breakfast, that’s how organized I was. OK, so it was technically after lunchtime but that's beside the point. I tracked the small one down to Virgil’s studio, which is never, ever a good thing. No one is allowed in there without permission on pain of death. I caught him just as he came out with a bottle of glue in his hands.

“What are you up to, Squirt?”

“Nothing!” Unfortunately he said that at the same time as he hastily tucked the glue behind his back.

“Nope, not falling for it. What’s going on?"

"Nothing!" he insisted again.

"I can see you hiding something behind your back."

“OK,” he sighed. “ But promise you won’t get mad?”

“What did you break? Because that’s only craft glue for paper, it won't fix broken things.”

“I know that! And I didn’t break anything, you always think the worst of me.”

“Sweetie, I don’t think that, I just know you.”

He opened his mouth to argue but then shut it again.

“OK, that’s fair," he admitted

“So why would I get mad if you didn’t break anything? Not that I’d get mad if you had broken anything as I’m sure it would have been an accident.”

“Thank you for your faith in me.”

“So, what are you doing?”

“Well, I was bored-”

“Understandable.”

“And I started looking around the internet and I kinda fell into a search hole-”

“Also understandable, I’ve been there myself far too many times to count.”

“Anyways, I found this post about things that kids did in the early two thousands and one of them was to make slime. Apparently everyone was obsessed with it.”

“Really? Slime?” I found that quite hard to believe.

“Yeah, there were even whole video channels dedicated to making it and playing with it.”

“People actually wanted to watch videos of people playing with slime? That’s disgusting.”

“No, it’s not like, super sticky slime, but more of a cool slime.”

“That makes zero sense, little dude.”

“I don’t understand it either, but it seemed too cool to not at least try, you know?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I get that, I’ve done many things that seemed too cool not to.”

“Really? Like what?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“It’s not anything gross with my brother, is it?”

I gave him that look that says all and nothing, it’s always fun to keep them wondering just what the heck I even meant, the puzzlement on their faces is priceless.

“Wanna make slime with me?”

“Sure,” I shrugged. “How bad can it be?”

***

“So you pour the glue in the bowl,” Alan instructed.

“Done that, what's next?”

“Then you add a… what does that symbol mean?”

I glanced at his phone. “Tablespoon.”

“One tablespoon of baking soda.” We both dumped that in the glue.

“A couple of drops of food colouring.” We both added green, him because he wanted to make fake snot, me because I wanted it to look like Slimer had been visiting.

“Now we add one or two tablespoons of the contact lens solution and mix.”

“Better add just one first,” I suggested, “if it’s anything like baking it's always better to start with less and add more.”

“Yeah, it says the more you add the sloppier it gets.”

We dumped in a spoonful each and mixed...and mixed...and mixed. I added a little more but wanted more of a thick consistency, he added a whole tablespoon more as he wanted ‘the whole slime experience’.

“No we have to knead it,” he instructed me.

“O...K” I didn't like the sound of that. I thought I'd just be mixing, not getting my hands in it. I poked the goo with a finger. “It’s cold!”

Alan, being Alan, just dived right in, sticking both hands in the bowl.

“Coool,” he grinned, squishing the gooey mixture so that it oozed out from between his fingers. “This is so weird.”

I was a little more delicate. I pushed my finger in knuckle deep and felt around. I don’t know what for or what I hoped to achieve. It was like poking barely set jelly, it left a bit of a dent and closed over my finger like it was sucking it in. “Ewwww.”

“This is great!”

“I don’t like it.” I wiggled my finger around in the slop then withdrew it, feeling the stringy strands stick to my skin. “Ewwww.”

“I love it!”

“You would, you gross little munchkin.”

“You gotta get your whole hand in there, don’t be shy.” He slapped his sticky hand down on top of mine, smaming it into the ick. I screamed. It was disgusting.

“You horrible little worm!”

“Wiggle your fingers!”

“No!”

“Do it!”

“No!”

“Dare you.”

“Dammit.” I wiggled and shuddered in revulsion. “It’s horrible.”

Alan was kneading his like he was making bread, putting in far more effort than he had that time we made pizza dough. I glanced into his bowl and yes, it was looking far better than mine was.

“Urghh I’m gonna have to do it, aren't I?” I took a deep breath and stuck both hands into the bowl. “Yuck, yuck yuck, yuck, yuck,” I chanted as I smacked and punched at the mess. Slowly but surely, it came together, becoming far less sticky and turning into a silky smooth substance that, I hated to admit, was actually quite satisfying to play with.

“You’re having fun, aren't you?” Alan grinned.

“I admit nothing,” I sniffed, though he was right and he knew it. I picked up the mess and pushed the bowl aside.

If he was treating it like dough, so would I. I dumped it on the counter and began to knuckle it, pulling and stretching with my hands, just as I would to add air to bread. Suddenly seized by the unholy urge to whip I, I grabbed hold of one end and flung my hand back, whipping it forwards to stretch out the slime and splat against the counter. OK, that was actually pretty cool.

“I wonder if this bounces?” I balled it up again and dropped it onto the counter top where it landed with a wet splat, flattening into a puddle.

“Coooool,” Alan whistled, doing the same to his, although his was a lot sloppier and spread across the counter. Mine looked more like a fried egg, his was like spilt juice.

“Oops,” he tried to pick it up but it was far too slippery, sliding between his fingers and plopping out of his hand.

I helped by grabbing a spatula from the utensils pot and trying to pick it up like it was a pancake. It didn't work. Strings of goo slid between the slats of the spatula and dripped downwards.

“Grab the bowl!” I yelped and he held it underneath to catch the run off. I scraped the spatula against the side of the bowl and peeled the last, stubborn bits off and flicked them into the bowl along with the rest.

“What are we actually going to do with this stuff?” I asked him.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got plans,” he grinned.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” I groaned. “Just please, keep me and John out of it, he doesn’t need the extra stress, he already has to put up with me.”

***

I was sensible with my weird goo, I added a few drops of essential oil having found, much to my amazement, that it actually was quite relaxing to squish it and play with it. I found myself taking it out of it’s tub frequently that evening while we watched a movie, smoothing out the cool jelly, kneading it in my palm and squeezing it until it smushed in between my fingers. The soothing scent of lavender wafting up to fill my nose.

“OK,” John said after watching me for quarter of an hour. “I’ll bite, what do you have there?”

“Slime, I made it with Alan,” I held out my hand and dropped the ball of eww into his palm.

The look of disgust on his face was everything.

“Squish it,” I instructed.

“Squish it?”

“Yeah, like this,” I plonked my hand down on top of his and mashed the goo between our fingers.

“That is the most revolting thing I’ve ever felt in my life.”

I pulled my hand away from his, the slime clinging desperately for a few seconds, stretching between our hands before it gave way and boinged back into one mass in his palm.

"I don't like it," he poked it with one finger.

“It’s not that bad, it’s actually quite ni-”

A pained yelp and then a bellow that sounded like an enraged bull echoed around the villa.

“That sounded like Scott,” I gasped, sitting up.

Scott skidded into the lounge, face like thunder, naked apart from a towel wrapped around his waist.

“What the hell happened?” I asked in shock. “What happened to your head?” I got up to look closer, seeing that a red bump was rapidly forming between his eyebrows.

“I was going to take a shower, but no water came out. I turned the water up higher and something green oozed out of the holes and then the whole shower head popped off and clonked me on the head.”

I bit my lip, trying hard not to laugh.

“What do you have there?” Scotts eyes narrowed, zeroing in on John’s hand where he still held the slime.

“Run!” I yelped and John, pulling on his old track and field days, leapt off the couch and ran for the door, grabbing my hand as he went and towing me after him. It was safer to hide in the bedroom.

Apparently Scott wasn’t the only victim of the slime pranks. Alan had gotten rather creative. He had sneezed goo on Gordon and had mixed up a new batch that included peas and chopped up carrots and was a lovely yellow colour which he had dropped on the floor of Two’s cockpit at Virgil’s feet after making a series of increasingly violent retching noises. Jeff has yet to discover that there is blue slime in the soap dispenser in his bathroom. I dread to think where else it’s going to turn up. But what I do know is that Alan had better avoid Scott for the next few days, because that’s going to leave a bruise.

[drjackandmissjo]

Watch me make ‘em bow one by one by

Feysand Masterlist

Feyre’s first time in the Hewn City, Rhys-less

“You don't have to go in alone.” Mor said with a grave tone. Her friend was willing to go straight into the worst place in the universe for her, in case she didn't feel comfortable.

Feyre’s heart constricted at the idea of putting the blonde in that position, even Rhys tried to limit her time under the House of Mist.

“I'm not going there alone. Do you think any of those Illyrians are letting me out of their sight unsupervised? I could try to tell Az to stay here and take you with me, but we both know he wouldn't stay put.” she laughed, fretting nonchalance although her heart was already racing and her hands were clammy, toying with her bracelets and rings to keep from shaking. Mor noticed, of course, as did the warrior behind her.

A year had passed since they defeated Hybern. A wonderful year of going to court meetings and patching years of damaged history and rewiring the mental links that kept people believing that the Night Court, her court, was wicked and cruel and violent and ruthless. Feyre worked hard, studied harder, to make sure they made their world a better place. As did Rhys and everyone of her new family. Her sisters were still adjusting, Elain better than Nesta, but slowly and neither wanted anything to do with official business. She was secretly glad about it, since it meant less conflict with her eldest sister who had an opinion, sometimes wrong or simply bad, about everything, and less pressure on the other, who was still learning how to handle her new powers.

Although maybe with Nesta by her side, Feyre would've been less nervous about the meeting.

Feeling a stroke of concern through the mental bond she had with her mate, she replied back with a calming and encouraging one.

Taking in a deep breath of the cold air, she looked up at her friend, :“Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. If something goes wrong I'll simply destroy everyone in that throne room.” she said, a wicked smile appearing on her painted lips.

Her whole outfit was picked for the sole purpose of flaunting her position as High Lady: a tight black bodice, sleeveless to reveal her tattoos that expressed her power over the court and completely backless, to remind everyone of her alliance with the monster Bryaxis; several layers of ruffled silk, rigorously black, that made her look like she was a walking storm cloud, ready to unleash rain and lighting, which she could do easily; a diadem made of onyx and silver, crowning her as High Lady, matching with a ring that signaled her imminent wedding with the most powerful of High Lords. Her eyes were lined with black kohl and lips stained blood red. She had hidden her wings, choosing instead to use Spring's powers to elongate her canines, giving her an extra cruel look. Even if he was useless as a ruined rag full of holes, she had to admit that Tamlin’s powers were quite helpful in more ways than one.

She looked powerful, felt nervous and was ready to kill. ‘Just a regular Friday, then.’ said her mate through the bond.

Mor still didn't look convinced, but patience was not amongst Feyre's virtues, so she simply waved at the other female, before turning to Azriel, who was dutifully ready. His bright blue siphons contrasted his dark clothing and his shadows circled around his body, whispering to him and following his command. He shoot them out before silently winnow away, to announce her surprise visit.

No one in the Court of Nightmares knew of this impromptu meeting, especially Mor’s father, Keir, who recently was causing some commotion. Voices travelled fast to the spymaster’s ears and were immediately reported. Rhys, who was in Winter to fix the dent in his and Kallias’ relationship, asked her if she was ready to terrorise them herself, and Feyre was rather glad of the opportunity to prove herself.

When one of Azriel’s shadows came back, she simply turned once more to her friend.

“Good luck. Don't kill them all in one sitting.”

Laughing, Feyre took off winnowing to her other formal residence.

@@@

The first thing she noticed, as always, was the cold wind. She could feel the mountain below, the life and depraved actions of the many vile creatures that inhabited the lower levels. She had appeared on the upper levels, on the mansion atop of the mountain, where she once had to stay once a month for a short period of time.

Slowly, she let a little of her powers run free, reach far into the core of the mountain. She made in tremble with a single thought and felt the panic rise fast in the minds of the Fae below her. Long gone were the days when she was the one afraid of them, a different life far away from the reality she now lived in.

A shadow patiently waited for her, leading her way as guards with stiff spines tensed and bowed at her as she walked past them, not giving a single glance to any.

When she reached the massive and heavy doors, she viciously smirked at the two other guards, that quickly opened them for her, pungent fear drenching their scents. Her Shadowsinger appeared behind her, manifesting easily out of his shadows with an unreadable expression on his stoic face.

‘Everything okay?’ he mentally asked her through the small opening she had left for him, knowing neither him nor Rhys would've let her go to the Hewn City without an emergency hidden signal for Az to read immediately.

Imperceptibly nodding, she sighed deeply before loudly complaining languidly to none in particular, :“It is rather humid in here.”. With a wicked grin, she used her Day wind, eliciting terrified screams and making cups and papers and skirts fly in a turbulent haze.

Genuinely smiling at the havoc she wrecked, the High Lady of the Night Court began to slowly walk towards the two equal thrones at the end of the room, deliberately taking her time and looking at everything and everyone. The high Faes parted on her wake and bowed deeply, averting her piercing gaze. She could easily feel their thoughts, scared and confused and silently begging the Cauldron for mercy.

‘Good.’ she simply thought.

A proud wave washed over the bond, encouraging her to keep going.

When she reached the dais off the two thrones, she casually glanced back: the inhabitants of that corrupted court were still bowing, some kneeled to the ground, all with low eyes staring at the ground. Azriel was still behind her, advert to any possible danger but looking extremely bored. She immediately spotted Keir, who was bowed next to the thrones but openly staring at her, challenging her.

Feyre had came plenty of times there with Rhys, to torment and rule beside him. But this was her first time alone, the most important of those visits. And Keir was trying to get on her nerves, to make her lose focus and slip.

‘He is an utter fool.’ she thought, sharing the message with the shadow singer, the corners of whose mouth tugged slightly upwards.

‘Show time, Feyre.’

Facing again in front of her and walking up the steps to her thrones, she called back :“Why don't you make yourself useful, dear Keir, and bring us something to drink.”, stressing her way of addressing him, the importance of the explicit delivery of the action clear.

She knew he had bolted upwards, offended by her words and speechless to reply, before she had even turned to the room. Indeed he was staring at her, pure hatred in his eyes as they burned with rage. She simply smiled sweetly baring her fangs at him, waiting for his move.

He had three possibilities, three paths laying ahead of him: retort back, commenting how he was not a squire rather rudely, and thus disobeying to a specific order from his High Lady; sending another to attend the task and, again, not completing fully her command; doing as she had politely asked, without commenting. He looked more inclined for the first choice, but he managed to regain composure, apparently remembering that she still had not dismissed them from their slouched positions and bowed once more, falsely and deep to the waist. His scent full of hatred.

‘Poor fool, he believes he's running the show!’ she thought to herself.

“Today, Keir. Unless you have something to object.” was all the attention she gave to the older male, before casting a broad glaze at the crowd beneath her. She was torn between leaving them like that for her entire stay, conscious that only few would dare defy her and ready to strike them down. Instead she simply said “Carry on with your usual stuff”, adding a dismissal wave of her hand that they might’ve missed and they quickly reverted back to their activities, the majority of their scents dripping fear.

She noticed some musical instruments on one corner of the room, undoubtedly the most acoustic place that guaranteed the sounds to be carried to all the four corners, behind stone pillars and to the walls. “Someone play.” she ordered and immediately a few inhabitants of the court of Nightmares began to stroke the cords of the harp and the piano, creating a smoothing melody that reverberated throughout the spacious area.

Pleased, she moved from her poised sitting position, sprawling on the chair like a cat on a couch, and began to stare at her black coated nails, the perfect picture of boredom.

Not even a minute had passed that she turned to her spymaster, who was casually leaning against one of the pillars of the ceiling, another picture of complete annoyance, were not for his hyper vigilant eyes. “If he's not here in a moment, break his fingers.” she said, loudly enough to be heard by all and elicit terrified gasps from the court.

The Illyrian warrior simply shrugged.

Unfortunately for them, Keir appeared to the dais off the thrones in that same instant, eyes wide at the treat. “Shame” she said, again loud enough to be heard and let him approach. She took the cup of wine he was handing her as Azriel moved up the stairs to collect his.

Keir grew bolder, “What do we owe this unexpected visit, Milady?” he asked. His tone was not openly hostile, but masqueraded poorly his blatant disdain towards her.

Ignoring him completely, she swirled her glass, focusing her interests to its red content. “Should I have it checked for poison, Steward?”

Keir nodded furiously, “Of course not, Milady. I would never hurt you.” he said, although his eyes told another tale.

Azriel moved back to the bottom of the stairs, viciously eyeing Keir and silently ordering him to do the same, but the male stood still, stiff as a wooden board.

“Milady.” he pressed her again. She merely waved her hand, sending wind towards his direction and making him tumble off the stairs, his fall ending with a loud thud. Everyone in the roomed abruptly stopped, waiting for what was to come next.

“Cheers” she said pointing her glass towards Azriel before sipping the dark beverage.

Turning towards the steward of the Hewn City, she eyed him rather violently, letting her rage show through them in the way Nesta had taught her. When it came to glaring, her sister was a professional.

After having taken another sip, she began to speak, :“We heard some interesting stories lately. I thought it might be something to report back to you, Keir, considering you are in all of them.”

She sent down the bond the image of the male below her, of how he immediately paled, of how his eyes widened almost comically and of how his hands began to shake. A wicked enjoyment ran through her and she could've swore Azriel felt the same.

“I... Milady, I have no idea…” he began to say, but she simply silenced him with her Daemati powers. His hands flew immediately at his neck, as if to protect it from her magic.

“I don't remember giving you permission to talk,” she told him, leaning forward and showing her teeth, “and I don't think you were allowed to stand up.” she continued viciously. Immediately Azriel was behind him, fast as lighting, forcing the older Fae to his knees. He fell down hard, a loud noise of bone breaking echoing in the room.

“Cassian has to pay up.” her mate said through their bond. She sent a wave of confusion back and then came the explanation:“We bet on who would break the first bone.”, he said smugly. “Illyrians.” she simply replied, before shutting him up and moving back to the scene in front of her.

She leaned back on the throne once more, resuming her drinking with a grin plastered on her blood red lips.

“As I was saying, before being such rudely interrupted,”, a harsh look thrown at her and a smirk shot back, lifting her spell, “we wanted you to confirm those stories. Apparently you're not happy with our arrangement?” she asked lifting her free hand, the one with the tattoo that declared her High Lady of the Night Court, and letting it rest dramatically on her chest, above her heart, her face a mark of mocked hurt and confusion.

When Keir didn't reply, she simply reminded him that she had asked a question, although his silence could be taken as an affirmation. “It is also not polite to avoid answering. What are you so afraid of, dear Keir?” her voice saccharine and lethal at the same time.

Slightly panicking now, he began to explain that the situation was different and making up excuse left and right, but Feyre simply raised her hand to shut him up, “It's a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ kind of question, Keir. Don't waste your breaths, Cauldron knows how many more you have left in you!” her veiled treat hitting him in full force.

He shut his mouth immediately, nostrils flaring as he slowly nodded.

Sighing loudly and dramatically swinging an arm over her eyes, she continued, “That’s what I thought you'd say, you dumb fucking horse!”

She could feel Azriel’s amusement and a smile appeared on her lips on its own accord, in her mind almost ruining her facade but probably strengthening her character.

“And tell me, dear Keir, why is that?”

“I do not think...” he began but she interrupted him abruptly, the occasion too good not to be taken, “Yes, we’ve established that quite a number of times now, go on.”. He gave her his own version of ‘if looks could kill’, but quite frankly it looked and felt mostly like he was holding back tears.

With a sudden wave of newfound courage, he straightened his spine and proclaimed loudly:“Me and my Darkbringers should be allowed more frequently into Velaris.”

“Mmmh...”, another sip of wine, “And why is that? Don’t you have the sun and the night sky here as well? You simply have to crawl your way like the worm you are, Keir, to find them waiting for you.”

The Steward froze in place, shame colouring his features as he passed such a great number of shades of pink and red. She took the time to scout the room with her eyes.

She knew that everyone was staring at them, concern written on some faces, pure terror on others. A few held disgust, whether towards her of the poor excuse of a male in front of her she couldn’t tell.

“Do you agree with him?” she asked to the crowd. Murmurs began to fill the room, male soldiers nodding eagerly as the females remained more distant to the topic, dutiful as always. Submissive as always.

That was what truly irritated her of this place, more than the depravity and corruption. The state of borderline slavery the females of this Hellhole were subjected to. The Illyrians were slowly getting around to it, incorporating them into training activities and letting them have more and more control over their own lives, partially because, if the camp lords didn’t behave, her oldest sister would wipe them off the spot completely.

But they weren’t. They kept on mistreating them and using them and it made her stomach turn. To allow them more time in Velaris...

Suddenly, a plan began creating itself in her mind. Curiosity brushed her mental walls, and she let her mate in, cautious and asking for permission.

‘You’re the High Lady, Feyre Darling,’ he purred into her mind, ‘you don’t ask permission to anybody. By all means, do as you please. I will be here, sulking over how I hadn’t thought of this before.”

She couldn’t help but laugh out loud at his answer, scaring even more the already trembling high Faes in front of her.

“Of course you do!” she said, both to the crowd and her mate. Azriel lifted a brow in her direction, a silent question, and she merely sent him the full image of her plan. He nodded once, the corners of his mouth lifting just barely. That was all she needed, before she shot another fiery question to the Faes below her, “Have you brought your females so far?”

Puzzled look replaced the optimistic ones that her previous question had created, and no one dared speaking, not even a murmur this time.

“C’mon” she nuzzled them, encouraging them to reveal themselves as monsters and to give her all the leverage she needed, “I promise I won’t bite.” she said, while barring her teeth and making sure the light reflected from her shiny fangs, sharp enough to easily bite pieces of muscle.

“If nobody answers, then I must assume that the females of this Court have never seen Velaris.” she said while reclining back on her throne, before burying her gaze onto the closest Fae. The young male paled immediately and bowed deeply as she motioned for him to fill her cup once more. “Tell me, how many times have the Darkbringers been to my city?” her voice sounded bored, nonchalant and even, although rage was boiling inside of her veins at her pre-existent knowledge of the answer. Those three days had been the hardest since the war, for her family and the whole city. “Three, milady.” he said quickly, trying to hide poorly the shakiness of his voice as he filled her cup.

“And they have never brought a single female with them?”, again, she knew the answer, but all this was to fortify her show.

The poor Fae simply nodded, before he was dismissed from his positioning and all but sprinted down the obsidian dais, pure primal fear drenching his scent.

Taking a sip of her wine, she turned once again towards Keir, who was still kneeling on the hard ground with Azriel behind him. She smiled at the scene. “I don’t think those were the accords, dear Keir. What did we agree on, Azriel?” she asked to the shadowsinger, who regarded her with something akin pride in his eyes.

“That anyone who wishes to leave the Hewn City for a chosen day, every trimester, can do so freely, except for the Steward, who has to remain to protect the Court.” He finished, the edge on his voice so sharp it could slash a throat in one effortless motion.

“Indeed.” she put down her cup, clasping both hands on her lap, “So, first of all, you knew the amount of time you were given. Quite frankly, if you had something to say, you should’ve done so back then, when we were still negotiating.” She couldn’t help feel like a teacher scolding a small child, stubborn and that still hadn’t fully learnt the meaning of a negotiation. “Me and your High Lord, along with Morrigan, Commander Cassian and Amren, settled down with an agreement with you several months ago, when our duties allowed us to make time for such an important decision.”

Truth to be told, they delayed the meeting for as long as possible, but Keir and his army were growing impatient. Mor suggested one visit a year, not on holidays or festivities, but realistically it was too little: they had indeed held on their end of the bargain by fighting alongside the Illyrians and the other courts in the war against Hybern. Surprisingly enough, it was Cassian who had the most brilliant idea: four times a year, once every three months and Keir only once a year, to ‘keep the fort protected’ he had said with a wicked smile on his lips. Keir had complained and proposed once a month, but Rhys was adamant; two days after the meeting, the Hewn City sent a letter, agreeing to their conditions, and the deed was done.

“With all due respect, Milady, we were not given much choice.” said the Steward in a pleading tone. His leg must’ve been sore and hurting like crazy, but she still wouldn’t let him up, not yet anyway.

Smiling viciously at him, she replied :“Would you rather we retort back to our original idea? Once a year?”. The crowd murmured and nodded their dissent eagerly. “Of course not, Milady. Yours was a generous offer...”

“I was not finished.” she cut him off abruptly, sending cold air in his direction to increase his discomfort, avoiding purposely the spymaster. “Or we could simply terminate the contract right now, since one side isn’t fond of its reward. After all, even with all your help, it was mostly the Illyrian cavalry that helped us win the war before it reached land.” She spoke freely, choosing her words to hurt them most, in their pride. She continued sweetly :“After all, we never specified how long this agreement stood for.”

Delight in the baffled looks that were thrown at her by stunned creatures, she leaned back on her throne and held the cup once more in the clutches, drinking the dark liquid while scanning the room with a predatory gaze.

Keir cleared his throat, once, before whispering :“We do not wish to revise the bargain.” A little was better than nothing, after all.

She had heard him easily, as had every Fae in the room, but she still nudged him to speak a little louder, blaming her former human ears. She knew it drove him mad, truly, knowing that the High Lord of the Night Court had chosen a born human, made High Fae female as his bride, instead of one of the girls that was conceived and raised in that Cauldron Forgotten place with the sole purpose of marrying high up on the social system and play Lady of the House, as Tamlin had once tried to reduce her. It also enraged him to no end knowing that she was his High Lady, meaning that she had full control on him and the Court he supervised.

‘Not bad for a once lowly human, uh?’ her mate asked down the bond. ‘At least he is smart enough not to complain about it much. It would be a burden to train another puppy like you did him.’ came her reply, which was met by a dark chuckle and a soft whisper of love.

After having repeated his statement, much louder than he was comfortable, admitting his defeat, Keir relaxed momentarily, believing that the worst was over. But he was wrong: he was in the eye of the hurricane, the calm before the actual storm.

“Now that one issue is over, let’s go back a little, shall we?”. ‘Poor Keir’ she thought to Azriel, ‘He has probably never been through so many emotions in one sitting’.

The spymaster grinned at her and shook his head a little, his amusement filling her mind.

‘I don’t like that you have another male’s thoughts into your head.’ her mate told her, ‘Territorial Fae Prick.’ came her reply.

‘You wouldn’t have it any other way, darling.’

“You said it before, that your females weren’t with you during those visits. Am I wrong?” she asked, raising her perfectly shaped eyebrows.

“No, Milady.” The older Fae cowered, bowing his head trying to his the tremor of his limbs.

“And didn’t we agree on sending whoever wanted to be in Velaris, without restraints?”

“Yes, Milady.”

“So, what’s up with that? Why didn’t you girls come?” she asked the whole room, now, moving her eyes to the females in question.

“They choose not to, mil...” tried to answer for them Keir.

She blocked his mouth from moving, open on one of the vowels of the title, “I wasn’t referring to you, Keir. Keep that tongue in place or I’ll remove it.” He knew her treats were not empty, so he stopped immediately, fear in his eyes.

Her gaze landed on a female in the middle of the room, busy looking at the ground with a pincher in hand. Probably for the husband she was forced to marry.

She beckoned her to move closer and answer her question; after a moment of uncertainty and a glare from the male next to her, she did. “We all choose not to, milady.” she said while doing an exemplar curtsy.

She felt for her, sorrow and pain at her situation, one the now powerful High Lady could’ve easily been trapped in, were not for her dark prince, coming to the rescue. But, although her emotions were rather soft for this female, her stern mask didn’t come off. “Don’t lie to me. We don’t like liars. Tell her, Keir” and with a soft twirl of her fingers she made the male crumble down on the cold stone, holding his injured leg close to his chest.

The poor female jumped back scared, but stood her position.

“Why don’t you try again. This time, I want the full truth.”

Nodding, she replied, her voice thick with emotion :“We wanted to, but our duties and our families suggested we stayed behind.”

Her face softened and smile became welcoming as she thanked the female. ‘Make sure no harm is done to her for her words.’ she told Azriel, who dissolved in his shadows to follow her order.

“Well, then.” She stood up from her throne, “I will settle this once and for all. No one of you gets more trips to Velaris, the ones already agreed upon are sufficient and enough.”

The room collectively breathed in relief, sighing at the somewhat positive news.

“But...” her smile turned wicked once more and it almost felt like her Winter ice had frozen the crowd, “if I find out that you’re refusing your females from participating to those visits...” her icy glare ran over the shocked faces of the Faes below her, “you will all see our warm invite denied. For eternity.”

And with that, she disappeared into darkness, the room exploding in outraged and scared cries as she winnowed upstairs, on her and her mate’s other residence. Memories of a different lifetime washed over her as she patiently waited for her spymaster to reach her in the designated meeting point, from where they would’ve flown back to Velaris.

A soft stroke of love and pride washed over her. ‘You are amazing.’

She shrugged, ‘You would’ve done the same. Except for my exit. That was pretty amazing’

‘I gotta concede you that, Feyre Darling. But you had a great teacher.’. She could see his annoying smirk, felt that it was plastered on his soft lips.

Her own parted in a genuine smile, such a contrast between her previous mask, quickly discarded. ‘The best when it comes to being dramatic.’

‘You wound me so, my beloved!’

Both sides of the bond remained silent, each other content of their mate’s presence in their minds.

‘When are you coming back home?’ she asked eventually.

‘Tonight. We’ve been apart for too long.’ She felt the hunger in his voice, the longing.

‘Good.’

But it wouldn’t do to end all the fun so suddenly, and so she added :‘Because if you don’t then I might have to ask Azriel to stay in my mind a little bit longer.’

Her laugh resonated all the way to the center of the mountain as her mate’s territorial growl filled her head, before feeling him open his wings and fly high in the sky, towards her as quickly as he could.

[spaceorphan18]

The Black Cauldron

You know - when we started this thing, I was looking forward to getting to this one.  There are a few Disney films I haven’t seen (a lot of them the more recent ones) but this is one of the few classic films I had never seen before -- and of course this film has a reputation of being the worst of Disney.  Well.  It’s not.  Unfortunately.  

I was really looking forward to it being a train wreck and, I mean, it’s not? It’s a competent story, even if it’s not that interesting of one.  I mean Sword in the Stone is far, far worse a film.  But -- I would definitely not categorize this film as ‘good’ either.  

So, hmmm, where to begin with this one.  The creators of this film adapted a high fantasy children’s series from the 60s.  All the elements of fantasy are there -- the epic quest, the hero, the old mentor, the princess, the magic item, the evil lord, fairies-slash-elves, weird creatures, witches, spells, etc, etc, etc.  I can see where this might be a rather entertaining series for children.  The first problem of this whole thing is that they tried to take a story that’s probably on the Lord of the Rings scale and distill it into an hour long film.  The plot was boiled down, I’m assuming, to the essentials, which leaves out world building and character -- things fantasy novels usually rely on heavily.  The script is... fine. But at no point are they able to break away from the fantasy tropes that we’ve all seen a million times.  Nothing about this feels particularly new or novel. 

On top of that -- you can tell they were adapting from a book that has certain points in the plot that you have to hit.  I mean, at point they were all like -- the black cauldron can be very hard to find, and then, bam, they’re at the place where it’s found.  Plot happens because it was something that happened in the book, not because it makes organic sense. 

But more so -- weighing it down are the characters.  They’re mostly annoying or pointless.  Our main hero is Taran -- though he spends the entire film either being arrogant or yelling at people. There’s no reason we should like him.  Then we have Princess Eilonwy -- I have no idea how she’s a princess, nor does she do anything of interest in the entire film.  There’s a bard at one point, whose purpose is.... ? Anyway, my point is that these characters aren’t fun to spend an entire film with.  They aren’t developed enough for us to care about them, and what little personality they have is kind of annoying to watch.  

Case in point - the ending sequence involves one of the furry creatures sacrificing his own life (it’s a bit dark for a children’s film) and Taran wanting to bring him back.  But since Taran spent the whole film being a dick to the creature, it’s hard to believe that he actually cares.  There isn’t any emotional satisfaction to how this film plays out.  

The villain, btw, is a dude named The Horned King.  He kind of reminds me of Skeletor from He-Man.  He’s actually not that bad - has an interesting design, and with a little development, would have been interesting! He’s definitely not the worst part of the film. 

The animation isn’t bad -- and one of the better aspects of the film.  While there are a few moments of clearly rushed animation -- most of it is rather nice to look at, and the parts they did spend time on are gorgeous.  

Another weird thing about this film is the lack of music.  The score is fine -- and has that epic fantasy thing going, but it’s unusual for a Disney film not to have songs in it.  It doesn’t stand out or anything, the film works fine without them, it just doesn’t feel like a Disney film.  

Anyway - I have to wonder if the reason this film has such a bad reputation (I mean, Disney has zero merch or recognition of it -- which is weird) is because there were a ton of changes going on at the time.  A lot of the old crew of animators were on their way out, and the people coming in were going to go in quite a different direction.  This film just happens to be at the junction of change, and the clout around that hangs over the film.  

Other thoughts: 

This is Disney’s first PG film.  I get that - there are some scarier images in it.  

Like all films of this era, it starts out with a grey sky.  What is up with that trope? Maybe it was the mood of the animator’s room. 

This is the first time the classic Disney Logo is on the front of it -- ah, childhood.  

This film also has its credits at the end instead of the beginning -- another indication that we’re headed into a new era.  

Princess Eilonwy’s haircut drives me crazy.  It’s longer, but she has two shorter pieces that frame her face, and they move about every time she turns her head, which is every time she speaks -- and it just looks weird.  

There’s an entire sequence where the bard gets turned into a frog, and ends up stuck in one of the witch’s cleavage.  It’s kind of bizarre to see, in a Disney film, a close up of large boobs for a good five minutes.  

There’s a magical pig that can has premonitions.  That’s relevant to the plot and I feel like I should mention it.  

Final Thoughts: Not the worst Disney has to offer - but they bit off more than they could chew, and the film kinda falls flat as a result.  It probably should have stayed a book.  

[niftynifflerfics]

It Smells Like You

Any type of Severus fluff please!

(A/N): Sorry this one is kind of short or ooc, I’ve never written for Severus before. None the less, I hope you like it!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,465

 In the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw dorms, students were often awoken by the rest of the world waking up around them. Perhaps their eyes draw open slowly when sunlight filters through the cracks in curtains or maybe it's the persistent twittering of birds outside that annoys them so much they can't go back to sleep. Maybe it's the hustle and bustle of the rest of the school who were awake long before them moving around the grounds or maybe it's one of their friends who awoke earlier forcing them out of their dreams. Slytherin students however, woke up in a different way.

 Often it would be by the creatures of the lake. There were occasions where one of them would come up and knock on the great big windows of the common room to make as much noise as possible. It was a kind of alarm clock - though no one ever asked for it, it worked. Sometimes one of the creatures would find the dorm windows and knock on those to wake particularly reluctant students.   Though sometimes they would forget - leading to many, many students turning up late to class despite being warned to find themselves watches and alarm clocks. Today was one of those days. 'Useless things,' you groaned, messing with your hair in a last ditch attempt to make it look as if you hadn't just rolled out of bed and started on your way to class. You were positive you forgot something and the sick feeling of panic that it brought sat there waiting for you to act on it, yet you were too far away from the common room to go back and exactly ten minutes late for your potions class. It was a good thing you were one of Slughorn's brightest students and a proud member of the Slug Club because if you weren't you'd be serving your first detention tonight.  You tried to push open the door to the potions classroom as quietly as possible in hopes of avoiding every pair of eyes landing on you, but just as things always do, the door seemed to know you wanted it to move as quietly as possible and thus creaked with each tiny movement. As soon as it was opened just enough for you to squeeze through, you did and pushed it closed behind you, heading to a desk in the back of the room and unloading your cauldron and several books onto the desk. Unfortunately, you had landed yourself one of the worst seats in the house, next to a Gryffindor and not even a nice one. 'Forgot to set an alarm did you, beautiful?' Sirius Black lent in to whisper to you. You couldn't fathom why - it's not as if he cared if he got in trouble or not. You moved as far away as you could from him without falling off of your chair and ignored his existence, focusing in on the blackboard. Sirius hissed. 'So cold.' 'I've told you a thousand times Black, I'm not interested in becoming another girl on your list,' you hissed through the corner of your teeth, watching as Slughorn charmed a piece of chalk to write on the black board on it's own accord. The word 'Amortentia' became the heading and several lines of text scrawled itself underneath it. 'Who said I had a list?' 'Girls talk Sirius.' 'Well, whichever one told you that is a liar.' 'To be honest, I'd trust her over you any day,' you unravelled a piece of parchment and put the end of your brand new quill in your mouth to free a hand to open your jar of ink. Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair and before he could speak, you let him know you weren't willing to hear it.  Sirius has had a thing for you since first year. He follows you around like a lost puppy and at this point it's getting more than just annoying. You just didn't ever see yourself with him, he did nothing but bully your friends and get himself into trouble, he just wasn't the kind of guy you would ever be able to stay with for longer than one night - which seems to work well for him seeing as half of the Slytherin girls talk about how 'Gryffindor sucks but Sirius' tongue works wonders'. Plus, if you're being honest, you already had heart eyes for somebody else.  You realised you hadn't seen him yet today and dipping your quill into the opened pot of ink, you used looking up at the black board as an excuse to search the classroom for him. Usually he sat with two or three other friends - somewhere around the middle row so that he could see everything but be unseen himself. Your eyes darted over several heads of black hair but none of them were his. Just as you were beginning to write on your sheet of parchment, a student raised their hand. 'But sir, isn't amortentia illegal?' 'Yes but for the purpose of educating you, I'm allowed to brew it. Now - I will put you into pairs and one of you will have to come collect two separate phials so you don’t all scramble up here at the same time and for the purpose of comparing what it smells like,' Slughorn lifted one of the phials out of the place where it was sitting. 'You will need to describe the way it smells to you. Of course I'm not asking you to tell me about who it smells like, just what it smells like. As an example, it might smell like roses or fresh wood in the common room fire. Be descriptive about it, don't just write down a name. You will need to write at least one roll of parchment about what amortentia is and what it is to you by the end of the lesson. Make sure that you are focusing on it otherwise it will be set as homework.'  He listed off pairs and it came as no surprise to you that Sirius had moved away to join one of his friends on the opposite side of the room, meaning you could finally move back over and sit normally at your desk. This was until you heard who you were partnered with. '(Y/N) (L/N) and Severus Snape,' Slughorn glanced up at you, '(Y/N) has cleared a seat for you Severus over where she is sitting.'  You felt your cheeks burn and your hand move on it's own accord leaving a large splatter of ink on your already half done sheet of parchment. You cursed, fumbling to find your wand. You knew a charm that would make it disappear as if it had never been there in the first place, but it looked as if you might've used it on your own wand because it was no where to be found.  Something moved in the corner of your eye and before you knew it, there was a wand sitting on your parchment and the blotch of ink had disappeared. You looked up, still with one hand in your bag buried under a stack of books in there. Someone with a head of deep black hair like the rainy night’s sky at midnight and deep chocolatey brown eyes had fixed your parchment for you - of course you knew it was Severus, you could spot him first try, even if he was in a crowd of impersonators.  He placed his cauldron down on the desk next to yours and before you could volunteer to get up, he'd gone to get two vials of amortentia. You dropped your bag back down underneath your desk and stared at his back as it retreated before distractedly writing down the last lines you needed to copy off of the black board - just in time too as Slughorn erased them. You tried your hardest to look busy when Severus came back, though you were forced to look up to take the phial off of his hands.  To others Severus seemed cruel and intimidating, but it wasn't hard to see through that. He was quiet around you but never once had he said anything mean. You'd actually been stuck in his compartment on the way to Hogwarts in first year and you were friends for almost two years but as luck would have it, you grew apart. It was so hard to avoid those deep brown eyes as he sat down beside you and pulled the cork from the top of his phial. Part of you wondered what he smelt - who it smelt like. Who ever it was was the luckiest person alive.  You placed your quill down so that it would sit upright in your pot of ink at the top right hand corner of your desk and lifted the cork off of the top of the phial. Just as you had expected, the scent was the same scent you could smell without it but so much stronger. It smelt like Honeyduke's liquorice wands as if an open box had been placed right underneath your nose paired with the scent of grass after it's rained on a hot day. It smelt like wood when you find yourself deep inside a rain forest far from home, like fresh air in the country side and like him and that poison of a cologne that he wears.  You wished that Slughorn would've let you keep it, you would've made a necklace of the thing and opened it whenever you were alone so that you could feel as if he was there. If only you had the guts to tell him how you felt, maybe you would be able to smell that smell every day without it.  You let out a long sigh and brushed your hair out of your face, picking up your quill and writing down how it smelt like to you. Severus' eyes were on you in such a way that it felt as if they were going to burn a hole in the back of your neck. It's this that makes you glance over at him. 'What is it?' 'Did you wash your hair properly?'  Startled at his question, you blink twice, openly staring. 'What do you mean?'  Severus abruptly stood and moved further away, sniffing the vial he had held up to his nose but it still smelt of shampoo. It smelt like fairy floss, sunshine as if it had been bottled, rich berries, Droobles best blowing bubblegum and that shampoo that he could smell every single time you moved your head. His amortentia smelt like you.  You were still blinking at him blankly until his eyes left the ground and met yours. 'What does yours smell like?'  You gulped, blushing and trying your best to hide it in the semi dark lighting of the room. 'Why do you care?' 'Just tell me.'  You stared at him one more time as he sunk back into his seat. You sighed, lifting the phial to your nose again and taking another deep whiff. It was as if you'd stuffed your nose right into the crook of Severus' neck. 'W-well, it smells like... Like you.' You weren't sure where the confession had come from and were hoping it was too quiet for Severus to hear, but it appeared as if he had as his eyes widened. He fixed himself, catching it before his demeanour changed and he stared blankly at you. 'What does yours smell like?' 'You.'  There were no more words exchanged, and as if all of them had failed you, you grew silent and stared down at your sheet of parchment, unsure of what to do. Slughorn must've known this situation would happen, why would he partner you with Severus, was this his plan all along?  Knowing that you had to do something but had no idea what exactly it is that you were going to do swarmed your head with a thousand and one different outcomes. Severus wouldn't push you away right? Or would he be the one who made the first move?  It was too late to think about it because class was wrapping up. You threw your bag over your shoulder and turned to smile at Severus before you handed your parchment to Slughorn and caught up with one of your friends. You were about two quarters of the way to herbology when a hand tightened around your wrist and spun you on your heels.  It was the first time you'd ever been this close to Severus and you wouldn't be joking if you said it was the best feeling in the world. For someone who acts cold, he was surprisingly warm and Merlin did he smell good. You were too euphoric to really notice the awkwardness of the whole situation and Severus found himself doing something he wouldn't normally do - he wouldn't ever do. He planted his lips on yours before he could realise he'd done it. All these years that he'd wanted to do that for and finally, he could feel your soft lips against his chapped ones. You froze for a second, before he felt you relax and kiss back. His slightly cracked lips moved against yours as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Your friend stood awkwardly behind you, awkwardly avoiding looking at the two of you and sparing glances at their watch. Severus never wanted to let go - ever. He found his hands tightening on your hips so much he thought they might just bruise, until he realised where he was and was pulled out of the heat of the moment, pulling away and staring at you.  You laughed that laugh that echoed inside his head like a siren's song. It sounded like a wind chime rustling in the wind, like leaves as they crunch under your feet in autumn, anything and everything that was good in this world. Your nose scrunched up when you smiled and he found himself smiling too. 'Well, thank you,' you felt the awkwardness creep back in at your uncertainty of what exactly to say now, but Severus was smiling - a real smile that swept the breath out of your lungs. That smile that you'd only ever seen once before, in that compartment when you'd been spilling a thousand questions and facts about your favourite animal. 'Let me walk you to herbology?'  It came out as more of a statement than a question, but it wouldn't matter either way. You nodded fervently and as you, Severus and your friend walked down the remainder of the hall, Severus' hand slipped into yours. He didn't meet your eyes when you looked up at him curiously, but rather squeezed your hand again.  You had a feeling that you'd never need amortentia again.

[grace13star]

Better Get Superstitious (Chapter 2)

Logan Dennison is a firm believer in science, and the facts are that no one can come back from the dead. Witches and magic could never exist, he's known this since he was a kid. But after a sudden move to Salem, Massachusetts, suddenly everything he's ever believed is challenged by a talking cat, a cute believer, and a trio of undead witches from the 17th century. What's a skeptic to do?

Character(s): Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Deceit Sanders, Remus Sanders, Anton (Antagonist, Sanders Shorts), Joan Stokes (mentioned)

Relationship(s): Analogical (Virgil/Logan)

Triggers: Deceit, Remus, graveyards, death mentions, spiders, eating spiders, minor sex joke, electrocution, poison mention, needles mention

AO3  Prologue  Chapter 1  Here  Chapter 3  Chapter 4

“Oh, sweet revenge,” the leader said. This was, presumably, the famous Damien Sanders. “Do you see, brothers? My curse worked perfectly.”

“Damn, I left the cauldron on,” the orange one muttered. Anton Sanders.

The last one, Remus Sanders, grabbed something from the wall. “My lucky rat tail! Right where I left it!”

“But who lit the Black Flame Candle?” Damien mused, mismatched eyes searching the room.

Logan tried his hardest to sink into the floor. This could not be possible. They were just very realistic costumes! And realistic special effects. They were just being pranked. It was trick or treat, right?

Damien spotted the display case with the book and rushed over to it. “Wake up!” He ordered. Then his voice softened. “Oh, how I’ve missed you. Come on, now, we’ve got work to do.”

“Hey, Damien?” Anton said.

Damien whirled around in a swirl of his cloak. “What is it?” He snapped.

“I smell a child.”

Logan tensed up. He could smell children? Was he like a bloodhound or something? A childhound?

He was far enough back that the witches weren’t in his view, but he could practically see the evil look on Damien’s face.

“Sick ‘em.”

There was some sound of moving, and then Anton spoke up again. “It’s a little boy, maybe seven or eight.”

“Come out, dear, we will not harm thee,” Remus crooned.

“We love children,” Anton said, sounding like he very much did not like children.

There was a banging sound, and Patton yelped. Logan was about to stand up to protect his brother, when he started talking.

“I thought thou’d never come, brothers,” he said, voice shaking.

“Greetings, little one,” Damien said.

“Twas I who brought you back,” Patton continued.

“Tell me, child, what year is it?”

“1993.”

“Brothers! We have been gone 300 years!” Damien announced.

Patton came into view as he was pushed into a wooden chair in Logan’s view.

“Well, how time flies,” Anton grumbled.

“When you’re dead!” Remus giggled.

The witches laughed, and Patton joined in hesitantly.

“Well, this has been fun, but I’d better go,” Patton said, making to get up.

“No, stay for supper,” Damien said.

“I’m not hungry,”

“We are,” Remus exclaimed.

Patton got up and tried to run, but the witches caught him and shoved him back in the chair.

Logan mustered up all the courage he had and leapt up.

“Hey!” Everyone turned towards him, the witches letting go of Patton in surprise. “Let go of my brother!”

“Roast him, Damien,” Anton growled.

“No, let me play with him!” Remus laughed.

A bolt of lightning appeared from Damien’s fingers and hit Logan in the chest. The force of it pushed him up a wall.

“Logan!” Patton yelled.

Logan dimly heard Virgil yell, “Hey, Anton!” and then the sound of grown man hitting the ground. Then Patton was yelling, and then Damien was on the ground and Logan was free.

The black cat that had attacked Logan earlier jumped on Damien as he tried to get up.

“Ahh!” He shrieked. “Remus, get this filthy thing off of me!”

“Go, get out!” Logan yelled.

Virgil and Patton ran out the door, but Logan had an idea. He climbed up to the second floor and raised the lighter.

“You messed with the great and powerful Logan,” he announced. “Prepare to face the consequences. I summon the burning rain of death!”

He flicked the lighter open and held it up to the sprinkler near his head.

“He makes fire in his hands,” Remus said wonderingly.

It took a second, but the sprinklers went off, splashing everyone with water. Logan stood in triumph as the witches shrieked and ran for cover.

Logan jumped down and ran for the door, but he slipped on water. He groaned as his head hit the floor.

The black cat jumped on his chest. “Nice going, Logan.”

He stared. “You can talk?”

“Yeah, no kidding. Now move it! Grab the spell book!”

Logan decided to have the existential crisis later. He got up and tore part of his shirt off, then wrapped his hand to smash the glass encasing the book. He grabbed the book and ran, leaving Damien wailing for his precious book.

“Oh, confound it,” Damien cursed. He held out a tentative hand and felt the water.

“Damien!” Anton said, uncharacteristically worried.

“Shut up!” He snapped. “It is but water.”

Remus stuck out his tongue to catch the water. “Tis most refreshing.”

“You idiot,” Damien sighed. “The boy has tricked us, and he stole the book. After them!”

They hurried outside, but were stopped by...something.

“‘Tis a river,” Anton said.

“Maybe it’s not too deep,” Remus said. “Ha, that’s what she said.” He stuck a foot out to test it. Damien and Anton pushed him from behind, causing him to fall onto it. He waited for a second, expecting himself to sink, but nothing happened.

“It is firm!” He announced.

Damien took a step onto it as well. “It is a road. Now, onto my book!”

They were about to continue, but a strange contraption with flashing red and white lights came screaming past. They all screamed and hid in the bushes.

People came out, wearing strange clothes and carrying axes and red containers. They ran into the house.

“Why are they in our house?” Remus asked.

“Shut up!” Damien snapped. “They beest witch hunters! Observe their black robes and axes.”

A few minutes later the witch hunters came back out.

“Teenagers again. Another stupid Halloween prank,” one said.

“Man, this is the worst night of the year,” another one complained.

They got back in the contraption and it turned around towards the village.

“Alright, they’re gone now,” Anton said. “What should we do next?”

“Brothers, listen closely. The magic that brought us back only works this one night. When the sun comes up, we’re dust. Fortunately, that potion will keep us alive and young forever. Unfortunately, the recipe is in my spell book. That little miscreant has it. Therefore, we must find him, take back my spell book, brew the potion and suck the lives out of children by sunrise.”

“Ooh, what a pretty spider,” Remus said. He picked it up and put it in his mouth. All that was left was one leg hanging out.

Damien groaned. “You’re an idiot. Come, we fly!”

So, yeah, the cat could talk. Logan was definitely going crazy.

Nevertheless, he followed the cat, Virgil and Patton trailing behind him. They were led to the gates of graveyard, where they stopped.

“Woah, woah, This is a graveyard.” He said.

“It’s hallowed ground,” the cat replied. “Witches can’t set foot in here.” Then he jumped through the gates.

Logan turned to see Patton looking confused and Virgil even paler than he had been before.

“Uh, yeah the cat can talk,” he said. He pulled on the gate and opened it, letting the other two go first.

“Follow me,” said cat called. Logan could barely follow him in the dim light.

“Who are you? Why are you a cat?” Virgil asked.

“My name is Roman Binks,” the cat said. “I was cursed 300 years ago into this form by the Sanders Brothers.”

“So that’s what happened to you!” Virgil said. He still looked pale, but now he seemed to be calming down a bit.

“Guys,” Logan spoke up. “Um, I wanted to apologize. I don’t believe in any of this stuff, but I was never going to light the candle. I don’t know if you’re going to believe this, but there was like, this force telling me to light it.”

“Maybe the Brothers put a spell on the candle to make sure someone would light it?” Virgil guessed. “Or maybe the spell they cast to make them come back from the dead was more of a prophecy.”

Logan shot him a grateful smile. At least someone believed him.

“I believe you, Lo-Lo,” Patton said, hugging him from behind. “I’ve never seen you like that before. It was like you were a different person.”

“Whatever it was, you still did it,” Roman snapped. “But fine. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” He stopped in front of a grave. “We’re here.”

“Where is ‘here’ exactly?” Logan asked.

“I wanted to give you an idea of what we’re dealing with.” The cat motioned towards the headstone.

“‘Joan Butcherson, Lost soul.’” Logan read.

“Joan Butcherson was Damien’s lover, but he found them...ah, fooling around with Remus. So, he poisoned them and sewed their mouth shut with a dull needle so they couldn’t tell his secrets, even in death.”

Virgil whistled. “That’s messed up.”

“Indeed,” Roman said. He moved to another headstone nearby. “Because of me, my sister’s life was stolen. I swore to myself that I would never let it happen to another child.”

“I mean, we’re talking about three ancient dudes against the 20th century,” Virgil said. “How hard could it be?”

Logan started to open the book out of curiosity, but Roman interrupted.

“Stay out of there!” he demanded.

“Why?” Patton asked. “I wanna see their spells!”

“Damien cannot be allowed to get that book.”

“Why don’t we burn it, then?” Logan flicked open the lighter again.

“It’s protected by magic,” Roman said. And indeed, the pages seemed to repel the fire whenever Logan brought it close.

Stereotypical evil witch cackles filled the air, and the Sanders Brothers were there on their broomsticks, hovering over the ground.

Damien pointed in different directions and Anton and Remus split off to come behind the group. They were surrounded.

“Hey!” Virgil snapped. He grabbed a tree branch from the ground and swiped at Remus when he got too close. “Take a hike!”

“Book!” Damien called. “Come here, baby.”

The book started rising off the ground towards the witch, but Roman jumped on it before it got too high, sending it back to the ground.

“‘Fraid not,” he snarked.

“Ahh, Roman Binks! You’re still here, are thee?” Damien purred.

“And waiting for you,��� Roman growled.

Damien laughed. “Then thou hast waited in vain! Thou shall fail to save thy friends, just as thou failed to save thy sister!”

Roman hissed at her, then called back to Logan. “Grab the book!”

Logan scooped it up, then retreated back to the safety of the group. Virgil and him stood back to back, Virgil brandishing his branch and Logan hugging the book to his chest.

“They can’t touch us here, right?” Logan asked, voice high pitched with fear.

“They can’t,” Roman muttered.

[demiwitch527]

 Chapter 1

"Does it count as saving someone's life if you refrain from killing them?​​​​​​​​​​​​"

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY ~ 1975

Isabelle was sat in Professor Slughorn's Potions class, which was held in a cold and not particularly large classroom in the dungeons with walls that were lined with pickled animals in glass jars. Isabelle shivered, though she wasn't sure if it was due to the cold or the dead animals that surrounded her. Maybe both.

For the past months, Professor Slughorn had been having them brew various potions in preparation for the O.W.L. exams that they were supposed to take at the end of the year. Today was no different. However, he did have them split up into pairs for this lesson, which wasn't a usual thing he had them do. The only plus side was that they were allowed to choose their partners.

The Slytherins shared Potions with those insufferable Gryffindors. Isabelle had no idea what she would've done if she got stuck with Sirius Black. She didn't want a repeat of the absolute worst Defense Against the Dark Arts class she had ever had. Her blood boiled at just the memory of it.

If she had any other options, she would've chosen to do the potion alone. She didn't need any help when it came to Potions, that was her area of expertise, after all, but Professor Slughorn wouldn't allow her. So she needed someone remotely competent.

Her choice had been Severus Snape, a fellow Slytherin, who had a stringy, pallid look about him, like a plant kept in the dark. Isabelle didn't mind working with him much. It absolutely pained Isabelle to admit it, but Severus was pretty talented with potions—for a half-blood that is. Besides, her brother had taken Severus under his wing before he graduated. Surely there was something about him that Lucius saw was worth while.

Though, Isabelle wouldn't really know, she didn't really bother much with making friends during her years at Hogwarts. She'd always thought that her time was best spent doing something else. But don't ever mistake her for being ignorant of her surroundings.

The current potion Professor Slughorn had instructed them to brew was a Draught of Peace. A potion that was supposed to relieve anxiety and agitation. Ironically enough, it was a very difficult potion to brew. One mistake can have drastic consequences, which could take the form of a deep, irreversible sleep or an explosion.

This made her slightly appreciative of Severus's assistance. Slightly.

Severus continued to stir the potion as Isabelle added more powdered porcupine quills and continued to do so until the potion finally turned white. Once the potion started to simmer, Severus lowered the heat while Isabelle started adding the last ingredient, exactly seven drops of hellebore.

"Is that it?" She asked Severus once she was done adding the hellebore.

"Yes," he said, scanning the instructions in his textbook. "We just have to wait for it to turn a turquoise blue colour."

Surely enough, the batch began to change it's shade into that exact color. But before it was finished the liquid began to bubble. Wafts of sulfurous odoured smoke rose from the cauldron. Isabelle could already tell what was about to happen before it did.

"Duck!" She yelled.

She and Severus dove under their work table just as the cauldron exploded. There were gasps and screams coming from their classmates, followed by the sound of glass breaking and chairs toppling. Isabelle had to pull her robes up to her nose to prevent herself from inhaling any more of the putrid odour that was now spreading throughout the room.

A few moments had passed before Isabelle deemed the situation safe enough. She and Severus cautiously got out from under the worktable and at last saw the disastrous effect the sudden explosion of their potion had caused. The classroom was a mess. Broken glass and spilled potions littered the ground and tables. There were some parchments that had caught fire along with a few of the students's robes, like Severus who was frantically trying to extinguish his robe sleeve.

On the bright side, at least they didn't put anyone to sleep.

Isabelle glared accusingly at Severus. "What the bloody hell happened?" She demanded. "We followed the instructions exactly. What went wrong?"

"How am I supposed to know?" He said. "You could've miscounted the drops of hellebore, as far as I'm aware."

"Now, now let's all calm down." Professor Slughorn said, but Isabelle wasn't having any of it.

This pathetic half-blood had just caused her her grade for the day. She swore that she would throw him off the Astronomy Tower if this caused that Gryffindor mudblood, Lily Evans, to take Isabelle's place at the top of this class.

"Feel free to correct me if I'm mistaken, but it sounded as if you were blaming me for this disaster." Isabelle tried to keep her voice as level as she could.

Controlling her temper wasn't an easy task, however, she needed to take her position into account. It wouldn't look good for the newly appointed Slytherin prefect to scream at her fellow student, especially when there was a professor present.

But how dare this diluted breed accuse her of messing up the potion. This was what she gets for working with second class wizards. She most definitely learned her lesson.

Just then she heard sniggers coming from the back row of the class. She whirled toward the sound and surely enough, Sirius Black and James Potter were trying—and failing—not to laugh. Remus Lupin rolled his eyes at his friends. He was at the worktable next to Sirius and James's with Peter Pettigrew, who seemed to be trying desperately to disappear into the shadows once he saw that Isabelle had noticed his friends and was now making her way to them.

"Black, you son of a bitch." She scoffed, sending a murderous glare toward her least favourite Black. "I should have known this was your doing."

Sirius smirked, shrugging. "Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. Either way, you can't prove anything, Malfoy. I wasn't anywhere near your cauldron."

There was a reason Sirius had suggested to his mates that they sat further away from Isabelle and Snivellus. He could barely contain his laughter as he watched the pair hurriedly hide under their table and the class spread out in a frenzy. And all that thanks to a little jinx he had cast on Isabelle's cauldron.

He smirked as Isabelle gave her a death glare he knew all too well. After all, he had been on the receiving end of it for the past four years.

"Ms. Malfoy, I know that you are upset, but kindly watch your language." Professor Slughorn said, before clearing his throat. "Unfortunately, Mr. Black is correct. You don't have any evidence that he had deliberately sabotaged your potion. I'm afraid I have no choice but to fail you and Mr. Snape for today's class."

Hearing himself be called Mr. Black sent a shiver down Sirius's spine. He didn't like being addressed in the same manner as his father. But even that wasn't enough to dampen his good mood. He just hit two birds with one bloody stone. He was having a perfect day.

"But—" Isabelle tried to argue.

"No buts. Better luck tomorrow, Ms. Malfoy." he said before returning to the front of the classroom. "Oh and kindly tidy up the mess."

Isabelle glared at Sirius even harder. And as soon as Slughorn was out of earshot.

"This. Isn't. Over." She threatened through gritted teeth.

Sirius just winked at her. "We'll just see about that, doll."

She turned away from him with a huff and started cleaning up the mess caused by her potion. Snivellus fixed Sirius and James with a nasty look before helping Isabelle.

Once it was only the four of them, James almost doubled over in laughter. He clasped Sirius's shoulder as he wiped a tear from his eye.

"That was ingenious, Padfoot." He said.

Sirius howled in laughter. "All in a day's work, mate."

Remus sighed in exasperation. "Idiots. Idiots is what you are."

Later that day, Isabelle laid on her bed in her dorm room at the Slytherin dungeon. She was revising for tomorrow's Potions class to make sure she wouldn't make a mistake. Thanks to Sirius, she needed a to get a perfect score tomorrow if she wanted to maintain her grades. And to top it all of, she still needed to think of the perfect revenge for Sirius. She wasn't going to let him get away with that little stunt.

Without any warning, the door to her dorm flew open as Regulus Black came rushing in, sweaty and still dressed in his green and silver Quidditch uniform. That's right, Black. Regulus was Sirius's little brother. But unlike his arrogant twat of a brother, Regulus was quite easy to get along with. He was actually like a brother to Isabelle.

Isabelle almost jumped out of her bed in surprise.

"Blimey, Regulus! Don't you know how to knock?" She chided, sending him a small glare.

Boys weren't technically allowed anywhere near the girl's dormitories, but for some reason Regulus had managed to figure out a way to get past the enchantment keeping the boys away. Which allowed him burst into Isabelle's dorm anytime he wanted, much to her frustration.

"Sorry," he said. "But I heard what happened during your Potions class today and I may just have the perfect idea on how you can get back at my brother."

Isabelle closed her book and sat up on her bed. This should be good. Regulus was a very clever wizard, he was just, more often than not, overshadowed by his infuriating brother. What Isabelle couldn't wrap her mind around, however, was how that was the case. Sirius was only more rambunctious and definitely much more of an arse than Regulus, who was quiet and more gentleman like. But when it came down to looks and smarts, Isabelle would say that the two were almost an even match.

"Well?" Isabelle prodded. "What's your brilliant idea?"

Regulus sat at the foot of her bed. He reached into his bag and brought out a box of tiny marble like things that Isabelle knew all too well.

"Hold on, are those the Prewett brother's dungbombs?" Isabelle asked.

She would never forget those horrid tiny things. In their fourth year, the Prewett brothers made their own version of the dungbombs sold at the Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop. Ordinary dungbombs always left a person's hands dirty when handled, so they gave it a thin glass like exterior. They also made it smell extra putrid.

One time, Sirius had placed one of those under the cushion of her chair during Divination class. As soon as Isabelle took a seat, the glass marble container broke under her weight and the classroom was filled with the smell of crap, which of course came from Isabelle's chair. It was absolutely mortifying. She got back at Sirius for that by using the Dancing Feet jinx on him later on, which didn't wear off for an entire day. She even heard that his legs wouldn't stop moving even as he slept.

"Yes, but with a few of my own modifications, of course." Regulus said proudly. "I replaced the potion mist inside with skunk spray. I also made the containers extra fragile, so even just the normal amount of pressure could cause them to shatter."

Isabelle took the box from him, impressed and slightly pleasantly surprised. "When did you have the time to do all this?"

Regulus rolled his grey eyes playfully. "I have a life outside of you girls, you know."

"Sure you do." Isabelle ruffled his jet black hair, causing Regulus to grab her hand and pull it away from his head.

"Will you stop doing that." He complained, still holding Isabelle's hand in his. "I'm not a little kid anymore."

"Whatever you say." Isabelle chuckled. "So what's your plan with these?"

"We were thinking of maybe planting them in Black's dorm room." Emma Vanity, one of Isabelle's roommates and probably her closest friend, said as she entered their room. Like Regulus, Emma had just come from the Slytherin team's Quidditch practice and was still in her uniform. "Sirius Black, just so were clear."

"That goes without saying, Emma." Regulus said. "I would never plant skunk bombs in my own dorm room. I'm not daft."

"Wait a minute, you're in on this?" Isabelle asked Emma, gently pulling her hand from Regulus's grip. "I thought you didn't like getting involved with my feud with Sirius."

Emma snorted as she released her choppy brown hair from her ponytail. "You weren't the only one that failed today's Potions class because of Black's prank." She glowered. "I'm fucking out for revenge."

"Anyway," Regulus said. "There's one problem, however. How are you gonna get inside the Gryffindor common room?" He asked Isabelle. "It's not like you could just knock on their door and they'd let you in."

"Imperius curse?" Emma suggested. "Lucius taught you the spell last summer, right, Belle? Use it on one of those Gryffindors. That'll save us a whole lot of trouble."

"There's no bloody way I'm using the Imperius curse for a prank, Em. It's too risky." Isabelle said. "Magic always leaves traces, especially dark magic. There's a chance that they'll follow those traces back to me, if ever they discover the spell's involvement."

"She's got a point." Regulus agreed.

"So what now?" Emma asked.

Just as Emma said those words, an idea popped into Isabelle's head. She knew how she would be getting into Gryffindor tower.

"Don't worry about it." Isabelle said. "Just leave that part to me."

Sirius lazily lounged on the floor of his dorm room. James was trying to get him to attend the Quidditch practice. But he wasn't feeling up to it today. He was never even interested in trying out for the team in the first place, but he lost a bet with James last year and the deal was that he tries out for Quidditch. He didn't know that he would actually get selected.

"Our first match is in a few weeks, mate, and it's against Slytherin, we need to be in top shape." James said.

Out of all the classes and activities in Hogwarts, Quidditch was the only thing James ever took seriously, especially after he became the team's captain. Which was why he's getting so worked up about practice. But, like Sirius had mentioned, he didn't want to play Quidditch and especially not against Slytherin. He much preferred to put them in their place in other, more unpredictable ways.

"We'll be fine, Prongs." Sirius said, placing his arms behind his head. "Tell him, Moony."

Remus looked up from his book, he was sitting on his bed as he tried to block out his arguing friends. "Don't get me involved in this."

Sirius threw a small pillow at Remus. "Coward!" He said.

He blocked the pillow with his arm. "And I'm out." Remus said as he got up from his bed. "I'll be in the library if you need me. Good luck." he told James before heading out.

After Remus was gone, that's when Sirius noticed that they were missing one Marauder.

"Where's Wormtail?" He asked.

"Hmm?" James said, apparently also just realizing Peter wasn't present. "Probably already at the pitch." He said dismissively. Then seeming to remember that they were arguing, he said. "Don't try to change the subject!"

"I'm not feeling well, Prongs." Sirius said as he attempted to feign being ill.

Sirius and James argued for a few more moments until Sirius finally agreed to attend the practice. Sirius reluctantly got up from the floor and changed into his Quidditch uniform. It was scarlet and gold, like the rest of team's, with his last name, Black, written at back above the number 5, his player number.

"I fucking hate you." He muttered dejectedly once he rejoined James.

"Chin up, Padfoot. Look at the bright side." James said. "There'll be ladies watching us practice."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Maybe you'll even get lucky and find Malfoy there." James added. "Just imagine, hexing her twice in one day. She'll surely explode."

He smirked. "Now that's a thought."

Seeing Isabelle Malfoy's infuriated face after every prank was what always made Sirius's day. It's what made Hogwarts exceptionally interesting. They've been at it for years now, yet he never gets tired of seeing her fume in anger. The fact that the more he pranked her, the more she hated him and the more likely she was not to marry him, like their parents wanted, had turned into just a bonus years ago.

However, he knew that Isabelle never really involved herself in Quidditch. The last time he saw her out in the Quidditch pitch that he could think of was back in their third year, when she went all the way down there to support Regulus when he tried out for the Seeker position on the Slytherin Quidditch team. But hey, a guy could hope.

Sirius and James made their way down the spiral staircase of Gryffindor tower to the common room, where some students were relaxing after a long day of classes. Most of the girls looked their way once they heard the two Marauders coming down the stairs.

James's hand immediately went up to his hair and he casually messed it up—well, more than it already was. A few of the girls sighed dreamily, though Sirius knew that James was really just showing off for one girl in particular.

Lily Evans.

Unfortunately for his best mate, Evans was obviously not interested in him and she seemed to always hang out with Snivellus.

Sirius bit back a laugh at his friend's failed attempts to catch Evans's attention, completely ignoring the girls staring hopefully at him. Sometimes it impressed him how persistent James was to gain Evans's attention, but most of the time it's just a bit pathetic if you asked Sirius. He couldn't even imagine how a girl could have such an effect on a guy, but he was sure that that would never happen to him. He swore it on his mother's grave.

"Bad luck, Prongs." He whispered to James as they opened the back of the Fat Lady's portrait. "Evans is still ignoring you. Face it, mate, she'll never go out with you."

"Piss off, Padfoot!" James said.

They opened the portrait door and before either of them could step out, an all black cat with green eyes rushed through the door. Sirius had to raise his left foot to prevent the cat from hitting his leg, head first.

"Meow!" The cat hissed angrily at him as it passed.

Sirius glanced over his shoulder, and saw the cat rushing up the spiral staircase leading up to the boys dormitory. Strange. He can't remember ever seeing that cat before. But he just shrugged it off before stepping out into the lavish Gryffindor landing. Maybe someone had just gotten themself a new pet. Yup, that's most definitely the case.

"Looks like we're about to have some good luck today, mate." James said as they headed toward the grand staircase, referring to the black cat that had just passed them.

[imagine-darksiders]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart.

Chapter 6 - Vulgrim. 

Chapters 1-5 on Ao3.

Summary: It’s the beginning of your journey to the Cauldron. Along the way, both you and Death find yourselves learning something new about the other and it isn’t long before you run into your first obstacle. 

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Navigating the long, crumbling bridge cavern was easy.

Navigating it with a human tagalong however was....interesting.

Death – who had no idea there were so many fascinating distractions to be discovered – stalks several feet behind the young human; now his little travelling companion, it would seem.

The absence of any immediate danger has clearly lulled her into a false sense of security and as such, she's become bolder. Glowering at the back of her head, Death wonders how long that will last. She's even begun to stray from his side, venturing further and further every passing minute as soon as something new catches her eye. The basis for her intrigue in these discoveries are, as far as he can tell, based on absolutely nothing at all, and with not much else to do, he starts languidly trying to predict which mundane, uninspiring object she'll scurry over to next.

'A rock,' he notes, rolling his eyes as she bends down and selects a smooth, grey stone from the weathered path at her feet. Then, turning it over in her hands, she looks around, searching. 'Ah. Not the rock itself.'

He watches her trot ahead a few more metres to the edge of the grassy walkway that spans one side of the cavern to peer cautiously over the edge. Extending an arm out, she holds the rock above a pool of water gathered at the bottom of a deep, wide chasm cut out of the floor and promptly tips her hand, letting it plummet several feet into the natural pond with an negligible 'sploosh'.

The horseman blinks. What that accomplished, he'll never know but she seems to be satisfied with her findings, judging by her decisive nod. At least until Dust swoops overhead and lets out a conversational squawk, startling the human and sending her back-peddling to sheepishly fall in line with his long strides.

Despite her jittery disposition, he has to give credit where it's due; She came with him. Namely, she left the promise of safety to follow him out into a world she'd never experienced before....and yet, she jumps at shadows.

'How can one person be afraid of everything yet fear nothing?' Boundless as the universe is, there are very few mysteries in it that the horseman gives much thought to. Nothing perplexes him anymore, but he puzzles over this particular paradox for some time until your voice rudely snaps him from his thoughts.

“What...The Hell....Is that?”

-----

With his brow still creased in a pensive glower, Death follows you beneath a structural archway built around the tunnel's exit and steps into the sunlight. A verdant, boundless valley stretched out before him, surrounded to the south, east and west by craggy, sandstone cliffs. Beyond them, far on the distant horizon, a ring of snowy mountain peaks climb up into the sky - cold, foreboding and just as unforgiving as the land itself. Through his mask, Death's nostrils catch a strong whiff of wood smoke and beneath that, the acrid stench of brimstone, carried on an autumnal breeze from the east. The horseman scrunches his face up distastefully. Regardless of Alya's directions, it would not have been difficult to determine the location of The Cauldron. He need only use his sense of smell.

Meanwhile, you have a hand held over your squinted eyes to shield them from the occasional sunbeam that breaks through the thin, fast-moving layer of clouds rolling by overhead and you're staring avidly across the vale, a haunted expression darkening your features. He watches as the wind lifts your hair, buffeting it around your face and when a wayward beam of sunlight shimmers brilliantly off the glossy strands, he huffs and looks away.

The horseman's own hair – weighed down by grime and dirt – hangs stubbornly around his shoulders, as if the wind alone weren't a strong enough force to affect it in any way.

He follows your line of sight to the north, landing upon an archway formed by two, adjacent statues depicting a pair of stone makers that tower hundreds of metres up into the air, their arms raised to hold aloft a spherical boulder, engraved in the centre of which is the unmistakable outline of a tree. It's a gateway, if ever he saw one. Enormous and far too gaudy, in typical maker fashion. His eyes rove above it and in the distance, he can just make out the faint outline of an impossibly tall tree trunk with branches twisting and spiralling upwards for miles before they disappear beyond a layer thick, grey clouds.

It's a landmark that can be found in every corner of all the galaxies, its roots connect each realm and serve as a portal network, or a bridge to those seeking worlds beyond their own. Every world has its own Tree, all unique in appearance and placement, but it is still the same. There is only one Tree of Life even though technically, there are thousands. It's a phenomenon Death has never bothered to try and understand. It's just part of the furniture now.

But the object of your abhorrence isn't the Tree of Life, nor is it the ostentatious gateway. Although with your seemingly endless supply of doe-eyed wonder, he doubts you'd share his sentiment. In fact you'd probably think the statues were impressive.

No. The thing that captured your attention, stretching between the statues like a highly inconvenient roadblock is a gigantic, writhing black land mass, a hideous, undulating bubo of squirming tendrils and glistening, oily flesh, marring the otherwise bucolic landscape.

And as if he hadn't seen it, as if he hadn't clocked such a disturbing shape the moment he stepped out into the valley, Death casually asks, “What the Hell is what?”

He anticipates the scoff you aim at him, but he's wholly unprepared for you to suddenly let out a yelp and latch onto his bracer a second later, mouth agape whilst you point fervently at the black growth. “Oh, ew! It moved!”

Indeed it had. As you watch, trying to gauge just what in the world you're looking at, a crack of light appears in the centre of the glistening mess, splitting open horizontally like a fissure and widening into a sphere of putrid yellow with something long and dark curving down the centre, not unlike a slitted pupil. At that point, it's with no small amount of horror that you realise you're gaping at an enormous, bulging eye! Then, to make matters worse, it promptly snaps in your direction, the tendrils that form grotesque eyelids pulling apart to zero in on you and Death from all the way across the grassy vale.

The horseman makes a noise in the back of his throat, whereas you – still hanging from his arm like some kind of human shaped limpet – mutter a creative compilation of “Ew!” and “Gross!” with the odd, “Oh that's grim!” thrown into the mix.

After a moment or two spent gawking, you manage to croak, “That is probably the foulest thing I think I've ever seen.”

You'd also like very much to look away from it, but find you're unable to do so.

Casting his mind back to a time before humanity came on the scene, Death recalls a similar occurrence, of a realm whose entire landscape consisted solely of pulsating, pink flesh. The hills, the trees, even the rocks and residences. One of those hills had opened up, much like this one, to reveal a gigantic, swollen eye that stared at him as he passed by, following his movements, seemingly keen to catch his gaze.

Suppressing an involuntary shudder, the horseman tilts his head towards you and offers, “Not even in my top ten.”

Morbidly curious, you glance up at the underside of his chin and open your mouth to ask if he'll tell you what could possibly beat this thing to the number one spot, when the writhing mass suddenly lets loose a blood curdling screech. The sound rolls across the vale, rattling the ground as it goes and shaking pebbles free of the cliff behind you. Gasping hard, you take an automatic step behind Death.

“Wonderful,” he remarks snidely with an elaborate eye roll and raises his free hand, the other now bent behind his back, still clasped by your trembling fingers. Several feet away, there's a spectral whinny preceded by Despair suddenly bursting out of the ground in a flurry of green mist. “Isn't this a surprise. We've found yet another thing for you to be afraid of.”

Although his words are completely accurate, they still strike a delicate place in your heart. The look of hurt that flashes across your face is there and gone faster than he can blink.

Unfortunate then, that the horseman seldom tends to blink at all.

He catches that almost imperceptible twitch of your eyebrows, the flash of your throat as you swallow thickly and the minutest tug of your lips and he's bewildered to find that your expression unsettles him. Not much, admittedly. But enough that he notices.

It's...odd.

For as long as he can remember, he's been like this.

Teasing at best and downright disparaging at worst. And never once has he wished he could take a snide remark back. Which is probably why the curl of his gut agitates him now, because for the first time in his immeasurably long life, he's struck with the temptation to snatch his words out of the air and stuff them back down his throat.

It occurs to him, after a quick moment of reflection, that usually, his remarks are met with anger, cold indifference, or they're simply ignored altogether.

Oh, he's upset people, certainly. But they'd always be too proud or too irritable to show that his comment had any kind of negative effect. The fact that you had allowed hurt – however briefly – to creep onto your face leaves Death....not ashamed, per se, but undoubtedly disconcerted, aware that this is a human in his company. One who'd just lost everything she's ever known in the span of a day. If anyone deserves to be spared his insensitivity, at least for a little while, it's you.

Death sighs, turning an apology over and over on his tongue. Yet before he can stumble out an awkward 'Sorry,' you whirl about and stalk purposefully over to Despair, stomping your new boots on the ground to emphasise that you're upset, as if he needed another clue.

“I think, given the circumstances, my fear is completely rational!” you call back to him over a shoulder.

“Mmmm...”

With the swollen, yellow eye still trained on his every movement, Death finds he's inclined to agree. The horseman trails along behind you, watching closely as you reach up to give his steed's hairless nose bone a friendly scratch and mutter, “What is that thing anyway?”

At least the wounded note has disappeared from your voice.

Death hums as he approaches Despair's side and pats the saddle, moving back to allow you up first, a move that surprised all parties – the horse, Dust, who'd since taken up his usual perch on the saddle-horn, you and Death himself.

Lips pulling up into a tiny grin, you huff out a quick laugh. “And they say chivalry is dead.” Then  you're suddenly stifling a girlish titter at your own joke.

Huh. Another new feeling, the complete antithesis to the previous. This time, when Death's stomach gives a meagre lurch, it isn't followed by a sour taste in his mouth. First, you'd been upset by something he said, and now you're laughing because of something he did.

The horseman's eyes roll up to the sky and he grumbles, “Humans,” under his breath, then realises that, before your little jab at his expense, you'd asked him a relevant question.

“That,” he nods to the giant, perversely twisted version of what he can only assume was a Shadow Lurker, “is Corruption, it's also where we need to....” He trails off with an amused chuckle, watching you try to mount his horse. “Would you like a hand?”

As he'd been talking, you made several sad attempts to get your leg high enough to reach Despair's stirrup, failing every time. Embarrassed beyond comprehension, you nod, hoping that he won't notice your burning cheeks. “Yes please..”

Death's cold hands slide under your bent shin and, with surprising gentleness, he gives you a helpful leg-up, his fingers hovering just above the back of your thighs until you're properly seated, both of your feet dangling several inches above the stirrups.

Suddenly, he understands why the makers were so hung up on your size.

Perched upon his comparatively massive horse, it's difficult to ignore just how small you really are.

Mumbling out a word of thanks, you scoot forwards to make room for him at the back. When Death pulls himself up behind you, it's effortless, seamless and sure.

Taking hold of the reins, the horseman barely squeezes his heels and Despair stops trying to bend his head around to nibble your booted toe, instead facing forwards again and ambling lazily over the dry grass, heading for the eastern cliffs and a narrow gap carved right through the centre of the rock face. The impermeable arms of the horseman circled to your left and right provide you with a fleeting sense of security, though you still glance warily at the eye as it trails after you, unblinking. “So...that's Corruption, huh?” Your voice is as tiny as you are, he notes.

“Well, part of it,” he elaborates, “More the effects of Corruption. I'd wager that used to be a Shadow Lurker, or something of that ilk. Eye's a dead giveaway....”

Swallowing, you tear your gaze off the slithering, expansive tendrils that seem to beckon you closer enticingly, waving back and forth like airborne leviathans.

“Is that what happened to the other makers?” you croak, “Eideard said it...changed them. Got iside their bodies and minds and made them...bad.”

“I suppose if one were to boil it down, that's essentially what happens, yes.”

Silence again and Death watches you distractedly run a finger over Dust's wing. Then, softly, you murmur, ”Do you think it can corrupt humans?”

The horseman scoffs. “I imagine if it can corrupt the makers, then it should have no problem infecting one, little human. I'm fairly certain Corruption doesn't discriminate, so long as the prey is alive..”

A shudder ripples from the tips of your fingers to your shoulders, travelling through so violently, he feels it against his leather faulds. Letting out a soft 'ah,' Death leans down, his height advantage granting him the leverage to peer around at the side of your face. “You're afraid it'll corrupt you.”

Bowing away from his intrusive gaze, you keep your eyes fixed on the ground passing by and lapse into a deep quiet, at least until Despair finally reaches the valley's end and steps into the craggy notch. There's an unspoken, unanimous agreement that everyone is glad to have shaken the glare of that corrupted eyeball.

High overhead, vines of mottled green tangle together, forming a canopy that stretches between the two cliff faces, effectively blocking out the sun and casting all three of you in a pretty, dappled light. Behind you, Death waits patiently to see if you'll respond. It takes several more moments before you draw in a slow breath, exhale it, and utter quietly, “I don't want to be made bad.”

Despair's hoofbeats echo and bounce around the notch until he sound of running water hits your ears, cutting above his soft clops. The narrow passage opens out a little and you find yourself in an enclosed basin with a waterfall tumbling from the cliff to your right, disappearing beneath a wooden portcullis that bridges a gap in the path over a crystal-clear, sunken lake. To the left, there's a dilapidated, half flooded dungeon carved out of the cliff wall, every stone glistening wet with precipitation.

Wary of an ambush, Death scans the ramparts and extended balconies, his eyes narrowed and focused.

Half of his attention on the human in front of him, half on a suspicious shadow that turns out to be nothing more than a huge, ceramic pot, he casually remarks, “So long as you don't let any corrupted creatures get a hold of you, you'll be fine.”

A skeptical snort jumps out of your nose. “Uh...I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly the fastest thing on two legs.”

Still perched on the saddle horn, Dust bobs his head - whether in agreement or just because he's a bird – either way, you shoot him a half-hearted glare.

“Well then, I suppose it's a good thing I am, isn't it?” Death hums coolly, eyeing a ripple that had disturbed the lake's surface, “I won't let anything touch you.”

He had meant it to be ignorable, a throwaway statement. He hadn't even realised there was an underlying significance behind it until you purse your lips, eyes wet and conflicted, and promptly blurt out, “God, I don't get you.”

Caught off guard by the shift in your tone, Death blinks and drags his attention from the water to peer down at you curiously. “I beg your pardon?”

He abruptly draws back when your hands are suddenly flung into the air, a clear sign of exasperation. “Well, you're just so...so contrary! Everything I say, you've got some smart aleck remark to hit back with, but every now and again, you turn around and say something that could almost be construed as...as nice!”

Leaning over Despair's neck, you run your fingers along the horse's protruding vertebrae and chew on your lower lip, and in a small voice, you murmur, “Like...like, I get that you don't like me because I'm a coward or whatever. But then you'll say and – and do stuff that makes me think, maybe you don't not like me. Why can't you just-”

“You're not a coward.”

Several rapid blinks convey your surprise and you almost dislodge yourself from the saddle with the speed at which you swivel around to ogle him. After a few moments of staring at each other, you scrunch your nose up and with a definite crack in your voice, swiftly declare, “Yes I am! I'm afraid of everything! You literally just said so yourself back there with the - with the Corrupted thing!”

“I-” He falters, casting his mind back.

“And back on the mountain,” you continue accusingly, “The first time I met your horse, you called me a coward.”

The death mask - blank and impassive as ever – provides you with no indication of his thoughts. Even his burning eyes betray nothing, staring down at you unflinchingly as opposed to yours that widen, resolve faltering until at last, you can no longer meet the horseman's gaze any more than you can stare at the sun for too long. Biting the inside of your cheek, you twist around and face Despair's neck once more.

The moment your back is to him, Death blinks. He had called you a coward, hadn't he?...

'I was wrong,' a tiny, irritating voice breathes into his ear.

The horseman opens his mouth - 'Say it!' - and slowly lets it fall shut again.

'Now who's the coward?'

From the corner of your eye, you see his finger tap idly on Despair's metal reins.

Wracking his brain, Death draws in a frigid breath, his chest expanding and pressing firmly against your back as he gently puts, “I did.”

Apparently, you don't pick up on his deliberate use of the past tense because your shoulders slump, head sagging down closer to your chest.

“Let me ask you something,” the horseman declares abruptly, “When you first saw me, you marked me a monster, yes?”

Confused, you raise your head again and squint. “Well, I-”

He clears his throat pointedly and you realise that perhaps being polite isn't necessary in this instance. Still, uncertain where he's going with this, you tentatively reply, “Okay, yeah. Yes, I did.”

“And when I first spoke to you on that mountain, I had you pegged as a coward.”

Although you certainly can't dispute that, you still grumble, “Yeah, I think we established that..”

At your back, you feel a rumbling laugh reverberate through his chest. “You are perhaps not what I'd call 'lionhearted,' certainly. But-” He pauses to note the white-knuckle grip you have on the hem of your jumper. “- You left Tri Stone.”

Failing to see his point, you cock your head back to look at him. “Yeah. So?”

Death patiently appraises you down his nose ridge, his eyes hooded and sage. “A coward would have stayed in the safety of the village, with the makers.”

“I was....tempted, believe me,” you murmur after a moment of quiet thought and, shame-faced, you face the path again.

“But you didn't give in to temptation. And that makes all the difference.” He falls silent, allowing his meaning to sink in as he thoughtfully regards the top of your head. After several seconds pass again in total silence, he bites down hard on his pride and sniffs, voice as nonchalant and level as he can make it, “I don't think you're a coward anymore.”

Just like that, the fingers trying to catch Despair's wispy mane fall still and rigid in mid air. All the air leaves your lungs.

Death is....definitely not what – or who - you'd expected. When you first learnt his name, you never expected he would be capable of anything other than cold indifference, apathy in spades and a complete disregard for any and all life. But as you talk with him, communicate with the Grim Reaper himself and hear the fluctuations of his voice and think back on all the things he's done that – if done by a human – wouldn't have been all that odd, you realise that he may not have been the only one to judge someone based on what they are.

You a human; He'd taken you for a coward, and you can't fault him for that.

But you in turn, took him – Death – for a monster.

Even after he saved your life, slung you over his broad shoulder and carried you off your dying world. Even when he rescued you from that skeletal beast on the mountain, you'd still been afraid of him. Hell, you still are, on some level. He just has an air about him that promises danger, trouble and ill-fortune.

But aside from making a few, careless comments along the way, the fact that he hasn't actually done anything even remotely monstrous to you, hits you like a tonne of bricks. He even told you he wouldn't let Corruption touch you, and you're mouthing off? He probably didn't ask for this situation any more than you did and on top of that, he's having to deal with you treating him like the bad guy. All too suddenly, you realise that if you're going to be travelling with Death for the foreseeable future, sooner or later you'll have to cut him some slack.

Starting with....

“I-I don't think you're a monster by the way....” you whisper shyly, “Not anymore, I mean. I-If that matters..”  

And to the unflappable horseman's own astonishment, it does. If only because the statement is one he's seldom – if ever – heard.

Without even discussing it with each other first, all of Creation seemed to have come to a collective consensus regarding Death.

He is hated.

For as long as he can remember, he's been the antagonist in horror stories told by angels to their children of a monstrous spectre who'll steal their souls if they misbehave, who's stolen the life from even the bravest of Heaven's warriors for no reason other than contempt. Even demons find him abhorrent, the hypocrites. Then there were the humans, who feared the concept of Death more than they despised the horseman himself. Although the lines between fear and hatred are so often blurred, sometimes even he can feel the sting of their dread and he can't help but take it personally.

The truth of the matter is that Death is accustomed to being the Bogeyman of Creation. And the firmer truth - he wouldn't even argue it, because they're right. The truth is as indisputable as the fact that angels have wings or demons have horns.

He is hated because he is monstrous.

The temptation to call you an ignoramus arises out of nowhere, to chide you for being so naïve as to think the creature sitting at your back is anything less than a monster. But what would the point be in making you afraid of him again? Any fear you harboured before had been natural, not to mention understandable. Good instincts, that one.

Yet, you'd gotten over that fear blindingly fast, faster than he would have thought possible. In the end, he chalked it up to the humans having such a short lifespan. After all, yours is a species whose brains process everything – emotion, pain, change - at astronomical speeds. In the span of a single day, your opinion of him had apparently undergone a complete about face and he, in turn, is forced to revisit his own opinion of you, and by extent, mankind as a whole. This is the longest, uninterrupted amount of time Death has spent in the company of a human and already, he's beginning to realise that he might not be as well-versed on the species as he originally thought.

A sudden whicker from Despair snaps Death from the moment of quiet intrigue and he glances up, immediately spotting what the horse wanted him to see. Up ahead, the path forks, and hanging from a thick vine on the left trail are several, hanging sigils, swaying gently back and forth in the breeze and clinking together like metallic wind-chimes. He just about holds back a groan. They're a familiar, if unwelcome sight, heralding the presence of one of the most suspect characters he's ever had the displeasure of interacting with. The horseman briefly wonders if you'll even notice them.

Clearing his throat, Death tugs the reins and the horse tosses its head, hooves thudding dully on the soft grass as he starts to slow. “Perhaps we are both more complicated than either of us realised,” he admits distractedly.

“I just thought you deserved to know.”

“Well....I appreciate the sentiment,” he murmurs, adding softly a moment later, “You.... continue to surprise me, you know.”

It's more than that though, and perhaps he's being unfair by not telling you. You're proving him wrong.

Craning your neck around to squint up into the horseman's red-flecked irises, you ask, “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Well,” he grunts, shrugging a pale shoulder, “considering not much surprises me these days....”

Ever so slightly, you perk up, encouraged, even though his way of giving praise is so frustratingly abstruse. “...You know what? I think I'll take that as a compliment....Hey, what's that?”

'Ah, not so unobservant either. Interesting.'

You've raised your hand to point up between Despair's ears at the ominous sigils Death had spotted, staring to the left, up a small grassy trail set apart from the main path. At the very end of it, overlooking the nook you'd just passed, is an intricate, square dais, surrounded by the same symbols that hang and sway from the cliff above it.

Drawing the horse to a complete stop, Death casts a wary glance over them, grumbling under his breath. “What is he doing here?”

“Who?” you start to ask, but he's already sliding onto the ground and trailing his fingers over Despair's neck as he passes, murmuring for the horse to stay put.

“H-hey!” you call, scrabbling to swing your legs over the back of the saddle, “Wait up!” Your descent is far more clumsy and takes twice as long as Death's, all the while you can feel Dust and Despair's eyes on you, both of their heads cocked to one side. Suddenly, just as you drop from the saddle onto the ground, your left boot snags on a jagged scrap of metal sticking out of the stirrup and you're forced to hop around on tiptoes for a moment, trying feverishly to pull yourself free. A loud snort blasts from Despair's nostrils and the crow gives an answering squawk, bobbing his neck up and down several times before you snap, “It's not funny!” to which you receive an obstinate hiss from Dust.

With a sharp tug, your foot finally rips loose and you stumble, tottering for a moment, arms flailing. Just as you begin to teeter backwards though, you feel cold, solid knuckles press into the small of your back and suddenly, you find yourself being nudged safely upright again.

In a flash, you spin around to sheepishly peer up at Death from beneath your lashes, mortified that he'd witnessed your floundering. “Y-you're still here? I thought you went on ahead.”

Shrugging one, massive shoulder, he states, matter-of-factly, “You asked me to wait.”

“I...yeah..But I didn't think you'd actually -” Death blinks at you, long and slow and you stammer to a halt. “- You know what, never mind. Thanks.”

He harrumphs and sweeps a hand out to his side. “Shall we?”

With that, the horseman turns and starts to stalk up the grassy pathway, one hand resting on the hilt of his scythe.

Crossing your arms over yourself, you scuff your boot against the ground and trundle after him in silence. The closer you get to the raised dais, the less your cheeks burn, replaced slowly by a creeping sense of trepidation. Death still hasn't removed his hands from the weapon, a fact that doesn't go unnoticed by you.

“Hey..What's-”

The words die on your tongue because as you get within a few feet of the square plinth, something begins to stir.

A pulse of electricity sucks past your ears and raises the hair on your neck as if someone had stuck a static balloon there and then dragged it up through your hair. Seconds afterwards, you jump as pallid, blue smoke erupts from the centre of the dais, billowing up and spilling outwards along the ground to chill your toes. Inside the column of thick mist, half-obscured, is the vague silhouette of a person.

Cowering back a few steps, you're about to duck behind the safety of Death's bulk when you stop and think. 'Not a coward,' you remind yourself as you set your jaw and puff out your chest, moving to stand beside the horseman instead. All of a sudden, a rasping chuckle slithers out of the smoke and sends a shiver racing down your spine.

Almost as though it's blown by an ethereal wind, the wispy smog finally begins to thin and disperse.

As the outline of the mysterious figure becomes clearer,  you're abruptly caught in the stomach by Death's large hand and without warning, he shoves you – none too gently – behind himself. Such a move is disturbing because it dawns on you that whoever this stranger is, Death obviously perceives them as a threat. And seconds later, you understand why.....

The last traces of smoke and mist fall away to reveal a creature that immediately drains the blood from your face.

Enormous, charcoal horns with blunt, tattered ends curve up about a ghastly, barely humanoid face, framed by a hooded headdress of darkest violet and trimmed in golden silk. Gleaming teeth taper into wicked-sharp fangs that jut from its angular jaw, a jaw that stretches into a lecherous smile when a pair of cunning green eyes land on the horseman, growing wider still as its gaze draws down to where you're poking your head out from behind a guarding arm.

It locks you in its sights, holds your attention and you press a hand over your mouth, panic rising like a slow tide from the pit of your stomach, realising – horror stricken – what this thing is.

There's no mistaking those horns, the monstrous claws, the vestigial, fleshy winds sprouting from its shoulder blades and the most depraved grin you've ever seen.

It's a demon. Here, right in front of you. Just like the ones who destroyed your home.

Yet to your surprise, where rage should probably coil and churn in your stomach, there is only the cold, empty ache of fear. Gritting your teeth, you try with all your might to be angry, to let fury override the terror.

But it doesn't.

Shaking limbs and clenched fists betray you and the only thing that comes close to matching the dread is shame. Shame at what you are.

In a throaty, slimy voice that curls your toes, it drawls, “Greetings horseman! And welcome.” Leaning back, it spreads its long, gangling arms as though greeting an old friend and your eyes snap down to see that it has no legs, only a tattered skirt adorned with all manner of scrolls, round, glowing lanterns and a thick harness hanging from its skinny waist. “I've been expecting you.”

Judging from Death's tone, you can hazard a guess that this demon does not fall within his purview of 'friends.'

“Vulgrim. What brings you crawling out of the shadows?” the horseman grumbles, oblivious to the rapid intakes of breath coming from behind him, nor the little fingers that slide around one of the loops in his belt and grip tight.

The demon chuckles, slowly drifting closer, his greedy eyes flickering from you to Death and back again. “I wouldn't want to lose my most valued customer. Not to what lurks at the edge of shadows. So here I am, to offer my wares.”

Quivering muscles tense and bristle as the horseman barks, “What do you know that I don't? I'm not here by choice, demon.”

“I merely followed the trail of carnage. And when I detected the scent of this....” He pauses to waft a hand beneath his nose, doing an eerie impression of someone who's just smelled an especially good meal. “...delectable little morsel-”

Your stomach does a somersault.

“- I simply couldn't stay away!”

Before you have time to react, Vulgrim takes his opportunity to glide closer and leans down, peering at your petrified expression, sunken lips pulling taut over too many teeth. “This one is so....new, so fresh! Only the second time around, I'd wager....Mmm. Maybe third.” He sounds too excited, whatever he's talking about and suddenly, at the demon's threatening proximity, your pulse races into overdrive and you find that your legs are no longer adhered to the ground.

Just as Death opens his mouth to warn the merchant away, you move.

He catches the little blur of motion from the corner of his eye, yet instead of going backwards, as he expected, you lunge forwards clumsily, almost tripping over your own feet whilst you fumble with the sword at your waist.

If the action hadn't been so unexpected, he reckons Vulgrim would never have shot back quite so fast or hold his hands up in surprise when a small, unintimidating blade is promptly shoved under his nose.

“Rargh!” Your shout of anguish comes out garbled and nonsensical, made only more indecipherable by the wobble in your tone. Spine rigid and teeth bared, you manage to grind out, “H-how could you!?”

Shocked at the unexpected display of ferocity, Death softly calls your name and reaches out to touch your elbow but you rip it away from him, trying to steady your shaking arms to keep the sword trained on the equally bewildered demon's head. Again, quieter this time, you croak, “How could you?”

Vulgrim's eyes dart from side to side until they settle on Death, silently asking for clarification.

Meanwhile, the horseman has his hand still held out towards you, fingers suspended as he scrutinises the bungling grip you have on your sword and the unsteadiness in your stance. It doesn't take a genius to discover the reason for this outburst. “Y/n,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his mask's nose-bone, “Put that sword down, before you embarrass yourself further. You're no threat to anyone holding it like that.”

Feeling betrayed, you glance at him over your shoulder and blink the moisture from your eyes. “But! But he's a – a demon!”

“He is,” the horseman agrees, nodding sagely, “A demon merchant, to be precise.”

Perplexed, you gape at him. ‘How can he be so calm!’

“His kind, they – they killed humanity! They destroyed Earth!”

Again, Death nods. “They did.” Then, pointing a rawboned finger at Vulgrim, he adds, “He, however, did not.”

You look back at the demon and blink, noting how his hands are still raised into the air placatingly, a lump moving down his throat as he swallows. He hasn't attacked you when he could. He very easily could with how badly you're poised. Licking your lips, you plant your feet more firmly and give him a wary once-over. “He....he didn't?”

Vulgrim, realising that he's in absolutely no danger whatsoever, releases a sharp cackle and swipes a claw across his forehead, the very picture of melodrama. “My, my! Such spirit! How....unusual...” Tapping his fingertips together, he drags his eyes off the tip of your sword and addresses Death, his tone low and business-like. “Let's make a deal...What do you want for her?”

Your head whips around to look at the horseman so quickly, you almost lose your already questionable balance and the sword swings several inches to the left, now pointing at a spot just above Vulgrim's shoulder. Exasperated, Death heaves out an overworked sigh. He'll have to teach you why turning one's back on a prospective enemy isn't the best idea in the world some other time though, because the demon merchant's hungry gaze has fixed itself on you again while your wide eyes remain locked with Death's, as though you're fully expecting him to just name his price, fork you over and ride off into the sunset with a satchel full of gilt and hands wiped thoroughly clean of responsibility.

In an attempt to hide how tense his shoulders are, he rolls them and regards Vulgrim coolly from beneath heavy-lids. “I don't want anything for her. This particular soul is not for sale.”

“He wants my soul?” you balk, face paling.  

Ignoring you, the demon visibly deflates and whines, “Are you sure? I could reward you handsomely.”

“I'm sure.” Death's arms fold across his chest and he tips his chin towards you. “Besides, I highly doubt you can offer me anything of her equivalence.” He must have imagined the tiny, grateful smile on your face because when he looks properly, it vanishes, as if it were never there at all.

In an effort to coax you into lowering your sword, he risks another soft touch to your elbow, this time holding it securely between his thumb and forefinger when you don’t pull away and giving it a gentle tug. “I promise you can put your sword down, Y/n. As malicious and duplicitous as Vulgrim is, he's a scavenger, not a warrior. I don't believe for a second that he was among the demon hordes who marched on Earth.”

“Right you are, horseman!” the demon in question praises, turning to you, “Would you believe I've never actually killed a human?”

Deadpan, both you and Death reply with a firm, “No.”

Undeterred, he places his hands on his chest imploringly. “It's true! Oh, I've collected a soul or two from the dead ones, certainly.” He brings his hands together, forming a cage with his fingers. “After all, one must be dead before a soul can be captured. But killing a human? Bah! Do you know how hazardous an occupation that is?”

“Hazardous?” you scoff, but allow Death’s guiding hand to lower your arms as you realise that, although he shares many of the same features as the demons that destroyed your home, this Vulgrim doesn't seem nearly as murderous as the others. Creepy, yes. But not murderous. “Your kind seemed to have no problem killing mine from where I was standing?”

“Ah. But as your horseman friend rightly put; I am no warrior. And a human can be as deadly an adversary as any creature with its back to a wall.” He glances down at you and your trembling arms. “Present company notwithstanding.”

Squinting up at him suspiciously, you tilt your head to one side and slowly ask, “So...you're not going to steal my soul?”  

He seems laughingly appalled by the idea. “And risk losing my best client and my head!? Hell's bells human, I haven't survived this long on brawn alone.”

Suddenly, you feel very sheepish. At last dropping the point of your sword away from Vulgrim's chest and letting it stick into the ground, you let out a shaky exhale. “Right. Sorry. I-...I'm sorry.”

The demon's eyes promptly bulge open, his eyelids fluttering madly as though he's never heard the word 'sorry' before in his life, and certainly not when it's directed at him. “Why...is she apologising?” he asks, addressing Death. 

“Because I assumed you were like every other demon and I stuck a sword in your face,” you answer before Death can, “That was kind of high-hat of me. I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.” 

Incredulous, Vulgrim merely gawks at you until, to your right, the horseman snorts, bemused. “Oh, don't apologise. If you were to drop dead right now, he'd snap up your soul before you hit the ground.”

“Alas, once again, his words ring true,” the merchant sighs wistfully, “I have quite the voracious appetite.” Seconds later, he perks up, clapping his oversized hands together and bending down to give you that hungry, predatory stare, his long fingers slowly creeping towards you but stopping short as soon as Death's hand falls pointedly on his scythe. “But, worry not my little morsel– Er, I- I mean, little human.” He finally backs off and floats over to his dais again. “If Death says you're off the menu, then you're off the menu. I'm more interested in building bridges than burning them, after all.”

“Yeah,” you agree, giving him a hard, meaningful stare, “Me too.” 

You jump when Death's forearm bumps into you, physically turning your body back in the direction of his horse. “We should be getting on,” he tells you quietly. With a quick nod, you let him push you in front, keeping himself between you and the demon as you retrace your steps back down the path. 

“Oh and by the way!” Vulgrim shouts suddenly, his voice lacking any kind of sincerity when he continues, “My condolences for what happened to Earth!” Stopping abruptly, you blink and turn to look back at him over your shoulder. ‘Well..It’s the thought that counts.’ 

“Yeah!” you call back around Death, “And I’m sorry again about the whole, sword in your face thing!”

It might just have been a trick of the light, or your over-active imagination, but in that moment, the merchant's grin seems less sinister and more bemused than anything.

Cackling, he lifts a hand to wave you off. “My dear, I simply wouldn't call a day successful unless I'd had some manner of sharp object thrust into my peripheral.”

Hesitantly returning his wave, you allow yourself to be guided forwards again by the horseman's impatient grunt. Behind you, Vulgrim begins to sink back into his plinth, calling out before his head disappears, “Oh and horseman, if you or your new friend ever have need of my wares, seek me out.” He watches as your larger companion hoists you into the saddle, pulling himself up afterwards. As the bizarre duo disappear around the corner, Vulgrim’s teeth part into a wide, insidious grin. 

“I do so look forward to seeing you both again.”

------

For some time after leaving Vulgrim’s hideaway, Death rides in silence, mulling over your first interaction with a demon since you left Earth. All things considered, it could have gone a lot worse. 

“I'm surprised you didn't run him through,” he pipes up conversationally, ignoring the tiny flinch that shakes you from your own musings at the sound of his voice. “In fact, I'm almost sad you didn't.”

Furrowing your brow, you reply, “Then why'd you stop me?”

“Ha! Besides the fact I didn’t think you’d ever be able to with the way you held that sword?... Because he hasn't really done anything to warrant us killing him. Not yet, at least. And his wares are – to an extent – somewhat useful.”

Finally, after winding your way through what seemed like the ceaseless, high-walled passage, the cliffs finally come to an abrupt end and you’re suddenly greeted by soft sunlight filtering through a luscious canopy of green and golden tree leaves. 

Up ahead stretches a vast, spacious wood. Several ruined structures are dotted between the trees, vestiges of the maker civilisation lost to the corruption that ploughed through their land like a dark tidal wave, leaving a sort of kenopsia in its wake. Casting a sad smile at the twisting roots and leaves fluttering gently to the ground, you pump out a longing sigh. “This place is so beautiful...” 

Behind you, the horseman has already spotted several threats, all skulking about between the shadows of the trees. “Hm. Don’t be fooled. There are far worse things out here than demon merchants.” As if on cue, something big roars loudly, making its presence known and from behind a thick trunk, something huge and bulky steps into view.

Just like that, your wanderlust dies and you shrink back involuntarily underneath Death’s bristling chest. He spares you a cursory glance as he unsheathes his scythes, feeling Despair quiver in anticipation, ears pricked sharply forwards. Flapping off the saddle horn, Dust shoots into the sky with a resounding caw. “Hold on tightly,” Death murmurs, “Keep your head low and don’t let go of that saddle.” He reaches around with one hand hand grabs yours, moving them down until your fingers latch reflexively around the metal pommel. “It seems getting to the Cauldron won’t be a simple ride after all. Are you ready?”

“Not in the least.”

“Good,” he smirks, urging Despair into a hard canter, “No warrior worth their salt is ever ready for their first few tastes of real battle.” 

Thundering along through the leaf-strewn woods, Despair releases a squeal of excitement and charges into a breakneck gallop, the equally fearsome rider poised and ready to swing his deadly scythes as they fly towards their first destination; The Cauldron. 

[turning-a-critical-eye]

Turning a Critical Eye on: The Lion King Teaser Trailer

So the teaser trailer for the remake of The Lion King came out, and people are eating it like it's being spoonfed to them. That of course means there's absolutely no risk in me saying... I'm not impressed. In fact, I'm worried. The main reason I'm worried is because every shot in that trailer is just a CGI rendering of the original. And no, beyond this point, I'm not going to complain about how it can't even hide behind the tissue-thin excuse of 'it's live-action, not animated this time around' because it's still animated, just in a computer. No, what worries me about this trailer is just the sheer lack of creativity on display here and the cynical nature of the studio bringing it to us.

Now, that's always going to be a tall order when remaking a classic as iconic as The Lion King. I don't think it's hyperbole to say that when it comes to iconic moments in movies, this could very well be the king, pun intended. Maybe not winner by default, but definitely a strong contender. So that's something director Jon Favreau was always going to be struggling against, and this trailer suggests that he lost that struggle. And before you go off on me saying that it's unfair to judge a movie strictly by its trailer: it is. That having been said, I'm not only judging this movie by its trailer, but by the broader precedent that has been set by the previous Disney remakes. My least favorite movie of 2017 was the Beauty and the Beast remake, not for being the worst movie functionally, but for what it represented and how it got rewarded for that. It doesn't really help that I think a lot of the elements in play don't work and that it screws up on pretty much every level in key areas, ranging from narrative, to theme, cinematography, writing, directing, and especially singing, but because it sticks pretty close to the original, when you strip it down all the way to ground level, it's good enough. That turned out to be enough to draw people in, because it made over a billion dollars. And yeah, that stings. It stings that a childhood classic of mine, a movie so good that and unfinished rough cut got a standing ovation at the New York Film Festival, a movie so good that it was nominated for Best Picture, which was unheard of for animated movies, is reduced to nothing more than basically functional, and then gets rewarded for it.

And that's why this Lion King trailer bugs me too. I am not worried that this movie is going to be bad, far from it. I'm worried that it's going to be basically functional and nothing more. Something that's very important here is the movie landscape it's being released into. You see, back in the mid-'90s when the original came out, we were in the middle of the Disney Renaissance. The origins of that period can be drawn back basically to the death of Walt Disney himself back in 1966, after which the animation department of the studio was really struggling to keep the movies coming, and even worse, keep good movies coming. In 1985, The Black Cauldron bombed so hard at the box office that Disney was seriously considering shutting the whole animation department down permanently. That was until Jeffery Katzenberg took over as studio head, and revitalized the Disney brand by taking it back to its roots, starting in 1989 with The Little Mermaid. These movies took the original concept that made Disney movies great in the first place and ran with them, but in an evolved and modern way. We went back to a fairy tale, a musical that wasn't trying so hard to be hip and trendy, but instead to be timeless, and it worked out. Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, these were great movies, and that brings us to The Lion King.

Finding its roots in Shakespeare's Hamlet more than anything (don't even bother bringing up Kimba the White Lion, that's an old joke that doesn't make sense when you think about it for more than ten seconds), The Lion King was a profound risk for Disney with how dark it was going to be. The other three major hits of the Renaissance had their darker moments, but none were as graphic as this one. The scene I'm referring to is of course the iconic 'Long live the King', where Scar kills Mufasa, and it's in the middle of a brutally intense action scene, and right on screen. It's not like Bambi, where the mother gets killed off-screen, no, this was front and center, killing off a major supporting character right at the end of the first act. That took balls. So did making the hyena army analogous to the goose-stepping Nazis, the scene in the elephant graveyard being quite dark, and the climax being appropriately hell-on-earth-ish.

And being dark is not the only way in which this movie was a big risk. Unlike this new remake, the trailer you got to see when you went to theaters in 1994 was just The Circle of Life, exactly the way it appears in the movie. Just the opening four minutes, that's all that was needed. A lot of people at Disney were nervous about this at the time, because they were worried that the sheer size of that scene couldn't be met by the movie itself, and that it would turn people away. Now, while of course not the entire movie is that big, the most important scenes definitely are, and that's not just in the animation. It's in the characters, the narrative, the way the story is told and the visuals are scored. This was rewarded by the public in droves, making it the highest-grossing 2D-animated movie to this very day, a record that's unlikely to be broken any time soon.

So with that kind of pedigree working against the remake, my concerns start coming into sharp focus. Again, even if they do a shot-by-shot remake, which this trailer is suggesting, it probably won't be bad, but basically functional. If you're expecting this movie to make you feel like a kid again, all wide-eyed and innocent, crying at the moment where Scar killed Mufasa, you will be bitterly disappointed. Nothing can make you feel that way anymore. Not just because you'll be in a 'been there, done that'-attitude, but because so many movies have since tried to capture a shock and awe moment like that. That's the thing about shock and awe, it only works when you're not expecting it.

And that brings us to this remake's reason for existance. With everything I've told you about the original, it's very clear that the creative team wanted to push the boundaries on what movies predominantly aimed at children, particularly Disney movies, could get away with. They wanted to adapt a story that's as well-known by adults as Hamlet, and introduce it to a new audience of children who weren't familiar with it yet. And it does that but filling the movie with colorful characters and catchy songs, but when it comes to the narrative, they didn't really pull any punches.

So what can the Lion King remake offer that the original can't? It's not going to shock us in the same way, there's a perfectly good kid-friendly adaptation of Hamlet already out there, so why make it at all? I'm not going to insult your intelligence by pretending that you don't already know why: to transfer money from your pockets into Disney's pockets. Now, all movies are business ventures that want to make money, but there should be some creative spirit on display. When it's doing nothing but copy-pasting what's already popular, it doesn't challenge us as an audience, it doesn't treat us like people. It treats us like a statistic, that because you're of a certain age, you've got some disposable income to spend on movies and are likely to have children ripe for this movie or are about to, and therefore you are statistically very likely to spend money on this. It's banking on your nostalgia for the original classic, that it's trying to lull you into a false sense of comfort, that if you pay it money, it'll make you feel all child-like and innocent again for a good hour and a half. It's a cynical move on Disney's side, treating you not as a member of the audience with the potential to be introduced to a new and exciting story, but instead as a bank account number that they can try to drain. I firmly believe that we as an audience have both the right and the obligation to ourselves to demand better than that, and that what the movies studios are giving us should be more than basically functional. That we deserve to be both challenged and treated as thinking, feeling people, and not just a wallet full of nostalgia dollars waiting to be extracted.

Unfortunately, it's unlikely that's going to happen, and that I'm mostly alone in that actually wanting to see that belief through. Judging by the successes of movies that came before like the remakes of Beauty and the Beast and The Jungle Book and the reaction to the new trailer for The Lion King, it's going to work again, and so we'll get nothing more than this treatment for the foreseeable future. And that is why I'm worried.