#That like I'm uncomfortable even around guys who are too much larger than me. It's not their fault I'm scared of course and

[justonefeather]

The game I play, they're adding in tall muscular cat women next expansion, like furries not just cat ears right? And I happened to make a comment about being excited and making an alt so I could have one w/o getting rid of my bunboy main. Someone in my FC said oh I'm not gonna make one but I'm glad others are excited. To which I replied well, I'm just furry trash, they said big powerful women and added ears and tails, sign me UP. And someone ELSE in the FC took a screenshot of something else and didnt crop out the chat and is fucking . Like it's lighthearted and funny but I'm being roasted in the discord a lil bit lmao. Like sorry y'all don't understand the level of bisexual I have achieved. I can potentially find someone of any gender hot, and my attraction is vibes based most of the time anyway. I see someone who can throw me around like a ragdoll and think hmmmmmm Perhaps I can overcome my fear of talking to people I think I can't escape from if need be

[tac0tesseract]

Time Split

((Edit: Tumblr keeps eating the time-split formatting so I'm putting it in as an image instead fhejrkfhjkehjk ))

“Try it on me.”

“I will not.”

“But I have to understand.” Emma grinned, holding her arms out to the side as if needing to make herself a larger target somehow mattered here. “I can't get better at this if I can't think the way that you do.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You know that's not how it works.”

“I knooooowwww, but I can at least do my best to get as close as possible. That's why we're such a good team! I do the 3D-thinking, you do the 4D, and by our powers combined…”

The smile grew. “We're invincible.”

“Yes!”

Sam sighed, though the smile remained, and he paced a little upon his projection pad. She got the sense he'd be pacing the room if he could; that he'd love nothing more than to move around so freely. It was an existence he did his best not to think about – genuinely desiring the orderly reprieve his chains brought him, while fiercely lamenting their limits. Emma wanted to do more research on how to extend his reach, but she knew that particular search history would not go unnoticed – or appreciated – on their network. Queen was giving her enough grief over Sam as it was.

“Very well,” Sam said at last. “But if I sense even a mote of discomfort, I'm returning you to normal.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Of course it's going to be uncomfortable. I'm a monkey! You've gotta give me time to get used to it.”

That seemed to amuse him. The flowing nebula of his hair rippled in what she'd come to know was his silent laughter. Without further ceremony, Sam extended a hand to her with his fingers pinched together. And when he opened them

It was in that instant that her own startled will kicked in, and Emma somehow snapped herself back into one piece. She sat on the floor like she'd just fallen down the stairs and stared up at him moon-eyed. His arms were still extended as if he'd meant to catch her. Sam slowly straightened. His hair went wild.

“Well that's new.”

“Have you ever used it on a person before?”

“You know how I'm going to answer that.”

Right. Never ask 'have you ever' of a Didymos.

~*~

It was a strange memory to recall in this moment, but Emma couldn't help it – not as she watched the truck-bomb split with that same telltale static that had once enveloped her. She hadn't asked Sam to do it; he'd simply deemed it necessary, knowing full well the weight of the payload it carried and how many lives depended on it. She braced for the question as to why there were two trucks now. Feren was the only other person here who wasn't spooked by NHPs; probably better to blame the time-split on the Lich and call it a day.

That sent her mind sliding elsewhere, to their earlier conversation – to the idea that she had apparently sent herself a warning from a reality where Sam wasn't there. Emma supposed that there was a timeline where Boss hadn't acquired a Didymos, either because he couldn't or didn't want to, but – surely that was a reality where either Sai got the Lich like he was supposed to, or Emma was too batshit to send herself a warning in the first place. No...the only thing that made sense was that she had somehow lost Sam in that failed timeline. And that thought...that thought made her ill.

Can't trust her...

Was the warning about Sam's killer?

“Argh. Focus...” she muttered at herself, drawing a concerned side-glance from his projection.

“Emma?”

“I'm fine. Careful with the time stuff, though. These guys aren't like our home crew, they're...kinda jumpy about it.”

“I'm not worried.”

She chuckled. “Clearly.”

He turned to her screens, as if he had the physical need to look at them. “Got the virus loaded? I'll help you deliver it. Not expecting much, but I'd still like to see whoever's in there try to keep pace with me.”

“Ooooh, I do like when you get like that, though.” Emma was suddenly glad her helmet was on, so he couldn't see how red she was.

It was a welcome distraction, though.

Over six hundred and thirty people were relying on them.

Once this started, it would be utter pandemonium.

She couldn't afford to think too much right now.

[countercharmda]

okay! so, i've mentioned it a couple of times, but i think sometime this week i will be doing some cleanup here. ( expect this around december 1st. ) this will include my inbox, my drafts, my posts, my likes, and my follower count. i will probably also be changing my url to the new one i have saved then! it's gonna be very fun and nifty.

the short of it is that i will be softblocking ( or hardblocking, if preferred ) folks who have not expressed interest in writing ic or chatting ooc. if you just got here and are panicking for xyz reason? worry not! here is my interest tracker if you're a bit too nervous to reach out ooc. this meme is also good, if you would like me to come up with some ideas! ( i will hopefully get to these in a timely manner ). and of course, if this feels too much like an ultimatum or a stressor for you, then you are genuinely more than welcome to softblock ( or hardblock ) me and continue on with your day. please curate your space! NOTE: neither of these are required if we are already talking or plotting ooc!

the long of it...will be under the cut, because i am ultimately feeling a little bit rambly.

i've been trying to figure out how to approach my larger following of people who have not reached out to me, and i think this is a good start. i've only been in this rpc for two months and so much i feel like has happened already, and one of the best things to come from it is watching this turn into...more of a community if that makes sense. i like seeing what all is going on with my mutuals and stuff on the dash. i'm aware this is a very chronically online take, but in my defense i have been...chronically online since i have been a child, and i don't believe in dismissing online friendships. i like having people to send memes to in discord dms and tumblr ims, i like feeling like i can talk to people. as mentioned in m a n y posts on this blog, i'm a chatty guy! this is why i mention that i won't cut a mutual if we're not writing ic, because i think talking ooc is just as important -- if not more, sometimes.

simultaneously, though, i find myself feeling anxious about being overlooked or forgotten. this is an insecurity i've had for my whole life. while i'm more confident nowadays that i am, in fact, the shit, i still don't want to feel this way in a hobby -- and i don't want any of my mutuals to feel this way, either. i think that if i cut my follower count down and shift my priorities in this way, then it'll help lessen this feeling for both parties.

i also want to stress that this is a hobby, and i do not want anyone to feel like they owe me anything ic or ooc. i work a hectic job, i have chores to do, and i might even be going back to college in january. there will always be real life obligations that are more important than writing blorbos on the internet. i will never intentionally make you feel guilty for not having the spoons to reach out to me. if you still uncomfortable with this post or this change, that is completely okay, and i encourage you to softblock ( or hardblock ) me. i want you to feel comfortable enough to have fun!

[stevie-petey]

hiiiiiii m! read s2 ep2 and i LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!!!! <3 i actually am so relieved that steve reader friend divorce era is over......idk why but friendship breakups make me sadder than actual romantic breakups, partly because friendships themselves are so selfless and sort of by design the least selfish, or self interested you can be, with the benefit just being "we get to hang out!". i'm fascinated that steve forgave her so quickly as well, maybe because he's in a vulnerable spot right now (???), but i really did enjoy that reader was willing to make amends instead of sort of just digging an emotional hole for herself and exaccerbating the problem. i'm excited to see if she'll be as proactive down the line when things get more serious between them.

the way you handle nancy is interesting. i'm glad you don't shy away from reader being jealous of nancy and the attention of johnathan and steve and being pretty and rich, which omg, can drive full grown adults crazy, so why wouldn't a teen girl feel it, but also see nancy as like a full person? i also really appreciate your/reader's willingness to see both sides of the conflict, at least so far. a lot of people, from what i've seen, seem to view that night as a very traumatic night for steve where he got his heart broken, and that's true! it is! but it's also a night where nancy got blackout drunk from survivor's guilt that everyone around her told her to ignore in favour of just forgetting everything she experienced. that would make anyone upset! she probably does feel like her relationship is bs if it's main priority is not allowing her best friend's parents to find peace and move on! anyways, what i'm saying is that it's nice to have a realistic yet emotionally mature main character, and one who is so because they themselves are emotional and very in tune and self aware of them and others, instead of for just like, the plot vaguely, or because of modern sensibilities, no it's just an established and consistent part of her character, which is hard to do and it's so cool that you do it so well near constantly!

but i really was cheesing a lot like it just felt like a classic early 2000s CW show which is the high i'm constantly chasing. one tree hill season 1 episode i think 13 college party was very much the vibe i was getting. i should have been wearing cheetah print and leather and listening to the strokes as my friends convinced me that local basketball player was really the only guy who ~gets~ me. "i'll be" by edwin mccain plays in the background as we make eyecontact from across the room. you set the vibe, is what i'm trying to say.

billy was weirdo and creep and i'm happy he was acknowledged as such!!! not kidding when he came up to the reader i was also uncomfortable and it just had that very deeply horrible frat guy energy that makes every person subjected to it feel very objectified, and i think it's even more interesting that this is, from what i remember, one of the first time someone's shown outright interest in her, so i can imagine that that makes it even worse. i also sort of like the set up of johnathan defending her and steve holding him back, feels very much a great physical example of their position so far, with both johnathan playing a larger role in her life, as well as maybe signalling that johnathan's role as her protector, friend, confidant, all that is now passing onto steve's "hands", as steve's quite literally holding him. idk if that's too much i just had fun! and steve's final thoughts. my god. what an oblivious young man. the immediate jealousy and awe he feels.....his willingness to forgive....her promise to him as he confesses........both very moving and also amazed he hasn't realised his own feelings yet and excited that it will take him longer to do so. them making the promise together especially was so good, and such a good parallel to the one she and johnathan made in s1, and i'm excited to see if steve and r are able to uphold it better than johnathan was and how it'll serve to highlight the differences in their relationship.

very lengthy so my apologies, have a nice day and looking forward to ur next chapter!

hi angel !!

u touched on something SO BIG and i loooove discussing it: steve forgave reader so easily. and YES it was a bit ??? but later itll make sense. overall weve seen that steve just so genuinely trusts readers intentions with him, he never doubts her honesty and hes been pulled towards her since day 1, so of course he immediately was like “oh yeah we can be bffs again <3”. HOWEVER ,,,, this will play a huuuge role later (next chapter i believe). we’ll get more insight and steves vulnerability that night also def helped

and nancy !!! yes !!! i had to rewatch her scene with steve in the library a million times and i just felt horrible for them both. they want to help each other, and as ive said before about jonathan and reader, steve and nancy take care of people in opposite ways and it makes them clash. nancy wants to be proactive, steve wants to be more on the down low and tend to those he has already. hes accepted and moved on, nancy has moved on but hasnt accepted.

and as for the jonathan n steve scene i originally had jonathan holding steve back, but honestly it didnt feel right. jonathan, as much as he sucks sometimes, will ALWAYS be the first to defend y/n. every time he will. steve will too, but jonathan has that spot rn and hed rather die than let her get hurt </3

as for billy ,,,, so incredibly excited to flesh out his dynamic with reader. it wont be romantic in the slightest, but reader will have some insight into billys homelife due to max, and u bet she’ll use it against billy.

and im SO HAPPY the party scene felt real <333 thank u for the lovely asks i adore dissecting my chapters with yall its my <3333

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

Pericles and Purple Scarves (or: why the fuck is the parrot so horny, and why does it matter)

(or: did i think about this way too much, or exactly the right amount? yes.)

[cws: fantasy racism/ableism, dehumanization, mention of homophobia and canon-typical grooming, non-detailed discussion of canon-typical SA/sexual harassment and canon-typical bestiality. this show is a thing and a half]

-

something i think about a lot is that like.... i joke about how delightful it is for various reasons that they made pericles So Relentlessly Horny, and it's fucking hilarious to me to see in real-time the dawning horror of people watching the show for the first time and realizing he's sexy. (their reactions to the tentacle scene are comedy fucking gold every time.)

on a doylist level the creators are obviously paying homage to his voice actor, making him stand out from the other mascots, and trying to make him charismatic, memorable, and that much more uncomfortable to the audience. and it worked! pretty much everyone thinks he's one of the best scooby-doo villains out there, and they're right.

(i'm not biased, i swear.)

when you look at it in-character, though, it makes a lot of sense that he'd be that way, and that's important. he's doing it on purpose.

for one thing--again--he stands out among all the other talking animals we see, because he is the one who comes across most as a depiction (an intentional one, anyway 🙃) of an actual person who happens to be shaped like a bird. the others all are Some Kind of Uniquely Goofy in the way that they act, be it how they talk or their general mannerisms or the fact that none of them seem to really have an implied Age. pericles is the only one who doesn't have some kind of silly voice or speech impediment or catchphrase what-have-you, and he's also the only one who comes across as being in specific life stages you could map onto a human corresponding to how old he is. he's even the only time we ever hear mention of a talking animal being a child, or having been once. everyone but pericles is just Mascot-Aged.

(fwiw, my personal read is that scooby is about the same age as the gang or equivalent. also there is So Much to unpack here about all that re: the mascots in general but that's a post for another time)

and the one thing they all have in common except pericles is that they are NOT supposed to be sexy. if anything, the ones we actually see talking (in a fever dream, to be fair) except scooby and pericles are obviously meant to be borderline or outright really goddamn annoying. (reggie/dyno-mutt is adorable but he is also on thin ice with me on this one, sorry little guy.)

and like. all of this lines up with the fact that the talking animals very obviously represent disabled people. even moreso than they represent racial minorities, which they very much do! they're a lot further toward ableism on the sliding scale of xeno bigotry (which is a big reason i'm iffy about just calling it fantasy racism). the infantilization of disabled people is, you know, A Whole Ass Thing, and being aggressively desexualized is a major part of that. Disabled People and Disabled Mannerisms are a Bonerkill.

enter pericles, who does not truck with any of this shit.

i've already got a lot of posts planned going into this subject in general, because there is So Much. but in short, the thing to remember when you examine anything about pericles is that he lives in a world that draws zero distinction between people like him and animals.

practically everything he does is, on some level or another, him yelling FUCK YOU LOOK AT ME I AM A PERSON, LOOK. I'LL MAKE YOU IF I HAVE TO. and what's something animals don't do, whether actual animals or annunaki descendants (at least the latter ones he's probably been around most)? they don't flirt. they aren't sexy. they don't act like a brand of seductive, even skeevy, person you might feasibly meet irl, if maybe a theatrical larger-than-life one who runs in certain circles.

(gay ones, to be specific. super, super gay ones. more on that in a minute.)

and, what's more: they don't flirt with humans. we never see anyone really comment on the very obvious Thing he's always had going on with ricky; but that doesn't come across as them thinking it's normal or acceptable so much as not noticing that it's a thing at all. it is that aggressively unthinkable that it would be. and this is backed up even more by the fact that people hear scooby ask shaggy if he's cheating on him by having a girlfriend and think nothing of it, and it continues to be treated as Romance vs Platonic Friendship/Pet Ownership. Gal Pals, but Worse!

so yeah, we have no idea what society would think of anunnaki descendants having sexual/romantic relationships with humans that they couldn't ignore. presumably it would be Pretty Well Disapproved Of, but like. who the fuck knows.

what we DO know is that pericles is considered so utterly beneath personhood that no one would so much as blink at him fucking an honest right to god animal. if it were anyone other than, y'know, pericles, they might even think it was cute.

(AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.)

(moving on.)

so all things considered, as you can imagine holy SHIT would he have a reason or two to broadcast as hard as he can that not only that he is A Sexual Being, but one intended to appeal to human standards. it brings to mind queer people presenting in ways meant to be attractive to other queers, not straight people, except, well. instead of trying to get the attention of supportive people like you on the downlow, because you don't want the majority to know what kind of sexuality you're announcing, he's blaring I AM ONE OF YOU at that majority out of desperation and spite.

which, speaking of signaling queerness: pericles is a hundred percent gay-coded, as in the actual definition of 'as close to explicit as they could get away with, done on purpose.' there's the obvious--his relationship with ricky--but his VA, who he is to some extent modeled after, is an openly gay indie horror film icon, and given that and the time period he grew up in i don't think it's a coincidence that the one piece of clothing he chooses to wear is a purple scarf. (they even made him a sexual predator! yippee!)

so like, if anything it's pretty feasible that he might have actually observed that kind of thing as a phenomenon, especially with the demographic he'd actually be interested in, and pick it up accordingly. who knows if he ever managed to actually, y'know, Involve Himself with any human men--my interpretation is that he did and it went poorly 🥲--but it makes sense to me that he'd wear something like that; that he'd use his one opportunity to express himself with clothing to go HI HELLO I AM A PERSON DID I MENTION I LIKE MEN. WHO ARE PEOPLE. BECAUSE I DO

......and he STILL gets ignored no matter how hard he tries. i feel like that's one of the reasons he ended up being such a creep, honestly: operating on similar logic to the tag rant in this post, the conclusion he comes to is that well fuck you, you can't ignore me having a sexuality if i make it a problem for you. even if you try to pretend sexual violence and harassment aren't sexual, or don't recognize that it's happening at all, you are not going to walk away unaffected by it. if the only lasting evidence he's able to leave in the world that he's a person is causing damage that can't be shrugged off or undone, so be it.

(a real irony, isn't it, given how things turn out in the end.)

and like. this is one of the things that really bothers me about people trying to act like you shouldn't ship pericles or think he's attractive because Ew Gross Cringe That's an Animal (or transparently pretending it's because Problematic, not because cringe). either way do what you want 'cause a pirate is free, to be clear, but like... that's the point, man. that's the whole point. the writers are assholes who wanted you to miss it, and you did.

basically: just about everything pericles does is acting out in some way or another, and that's why we know what this man would sound like busting a nut. you're welcome.

[team-pokefriends]

[The group of five approach the large pond surrounded by smooth stone. At the end of the pond is a really tall waterfall, larger than even the tallest non-legendary Pokémon.]

[Sophie] "Woah…"

[Seth] "Yep. The mightiest waterfall in any town, and the best place to practice swimming, too."

[Sophie] "I remember hearing about it in school. Seein' it up close, though…"

[Jolene] "Come on, let's get in."

[Jolene and Seth climb over the stone and hop into the pond.]

[Ben] "I'll stay out here."

[Sophie] "Don't want your tail fire goin' out?"

[Ben] "That's not the problem, nor is that right. I just don't like getting soaked in water."

[Seth rolls his eyes.]

[Seth] "Like always."

[Jolene splashes some water out the pond, hitting Ben and making him jump. Jolene laughs as a result.]

[Ben] "Seriously?"

[Jolene] "No, I'm kidding."

[Seth] "Come in, Cathy. The water's great."

[Catherine doesn't think about it and gets in the pond with her friends, sitting next to Jolene as soon as she does. Sophie doesn't follow her.]

[Catherine] "You're not getting in?"

[Sophie] "Nah, I'm good."

[Sophie walks up to where Catherine is sitting and faces away from the fountain, leaning on the short wall and resting her elbows on the smooth stone surface. Ben goes to where Seth is sitting and he rests his arms on the wall.]

[Jolene] "How fast can you swim?"

[Sophie] "Think about average, not for Slowkings. Faster than a Slowking, at least."

[Jolene] "You think you can beat Seth here?"

[Sophie] "Probably not, but if it was a battle, that would be a different story."

[Seth] "That makes sense. I'm not much of a battler, anyway."

[Sophie] "Seriously?"

[Seth] "I'm more of a professional swimmer."

[Sophie] "Dude, if I had wing blades, I would be cutting things up! No bad guy would ever stand a chance against me!"

[Catherine] "I think you would be strong, regardless of what Pokémon you are."

[Jolene] "Even a Magikarp?"

[Catherine] "Well, even as a Sunkern."

[Sophie puts her arms behind her head.]

[Sophie] "Okay, I don't know about a Sunkern, but thanks."

[Catherine smiles.]

[Ben] "You're very different from other Slowkings."

[Sophie looks to Ben and gives him a serious look.]

[Sophie] "Yeah?"

[Ben hesitates to speak for a second.]

[Ben] "I think it's coo- Oh no…"

[Ben turns scared as he spots something behind Sophie.]

[Sophie] "What? Just say it."

[???] "Jolene. Get out, now."

[Sophie looks to her left and sees Jolene getting out of the pond and behind a large, muscular Nidoking. The size of the Nidoking is larger than even Catherine.

Everyone, except for Sophie, looks at this Nidoking with fear, and the Nidoking looks at Catherine.]

[Nidoking] "First, you go against our wishes, then you claim yourself a 'world savior', and now you're corrupting my sister."

[Catherine feels more than uncomfortable with what the Nidoking is saying. She looks around to see everyone's reactions, including the bystanders

Sophie pushes herself off the wall and walks up to the muscular Nidoking.]

[Sophie] "And who do you think you are?"

[Ben, scared] "That's Alex."

[Sophie] "Well, Alex, what makes you think you can talk about Cath like that?"

[Alex looks down at Sophie.]

[Alex] "This doesn't involve you."

[Sophie leans forward.]

[Sophie] "Hey, nobody talks down to Cath like that while I'm here."

[Alex throws his chest forward and pushes Sophie in an act of intimidation. The weight of the bump makes Sophie stagger back a bit.]

[Alex] "If you don't want to regret your actions, you will not get in my face again, got it?"

[Sophie stands strong and leans forward.]

[Sophie] "And what are you gonna do, huh‽ I cover both your types! I have the advantage here."

[In another act of intimidation, Alex stomps down, causing the ground beneath his foot to crack and spread out almost half a foot. Sophie feels a little nervous, but she doesn't look like she's backing down.]

[Catherine, scared] "Stop!"

[Alex looks towards Catherine, his gaze piercing through any remaining confidence she had left. As a result, she sinks down the wall in hopes of avoiding further conflict towards herself.]

[Ben] "He's super strong. Don't do it."

[Sophie] "Come on, there's more of us than there is of him. We can take this bully on!"

[Alex looks back at Sophie and furrows his eyelids in anger from being called a bully.]

[Alex] "You call me a bully. You've been brainwashed by that beast. You need to be taught a lesson."

[Sophie] "The only lesson being taught is what happens when your speck-sized brai-"

[Suddenly, Catherine climbs out of the pond, rushes up to Sophie, and wraps her arms around her, putting her hand over the Slowking's mouth.]

[Catherine, scared, quietly] "Sophie, it's not worth it. Let's just go."

[Sophie grabs Catherine's hand and pulls it off of her mouth.]

[Sophie, quietly] "You just gonna let this dumb brute do that to you?"

[Catherine tries not to tear up, but a few tears begin escaping her eyes.]

[Catherine, quietly] "I'm sorry."

[Sophie sighs. She wants to beat up Alex badly, but if she wasn't getting back-up, and everyone said it wasn't recommended, then she had no choice but to back down.]

[Sophie, quietly] "Fine. But if I ever see him lay a finger on you, I won't hesitate."

[Catherine closes her eyes and hugs Sophie. Alex gives Sophie a glare before turning around and leaving with Jolene by his side.

Sophie was really upset, and she wants nothing more than to get back at Alex. She slowly wraps her arms around Catherine's left arm, returning the hug.]

[Ben] "Are you two okay?"

[Seth] "Yeah. Is everything alright?"

[Seth gets out of the pond, and he and Ben approach the Dragonite trying not to cry. Sophie stops watching Alex leave and turns her attention to Catherine, the Dragonite's head is lying on her shoulder.]

[Catherine, scared] "I… I want to… go home…"

[Sophie] "Cath…"

[Then, Sophie's attention went to Seth and Ben.]

[Sophie, angry] "Why did neither of you stand up for her‽"

[Seth] "If Alex didn't have the power to put us in bandages, I would have done something, but I'm not risking it against him."

[Ben] "Yeah, did you see that? That wasn't the move Stomp. That was a stomp. No way am I trying to fight that guy. I'm sorry."

[Sophie] "You guys are wusses."

[Seth] "Sorry. Alex has always been the strongest of the group. Not even back then could any of us beat him in a battle. He strained my arm once, and it felt terrible."

[Catherine, scared] "I remember that..."

[Ben] "Yeah. No one messes with him. I'm glad he didn't call his gang on us."

[Seth] "Oh yeah, the gang. Don't want to get on their bad sides either."

[Sophie exhales with anger.]

[Sophie] "This is dumb. I'm not standing for this."

[Catherine, scared] "Sophie… Please…"

[Sophie looks at Catherine. The Dragonite's face is pleading her not to do whatever she is thinking of.]

[Sophie] "Okay, I won't fight him now… but when I'm ready, I ain't holdin' back."

[Sophie then steps back, freeing herself from Catherine's hug, and then she holds her right hand out for the Dragonite.]

[Sophie] "Come on, let's head home."

[Catherine grabs Sophie's hand.]

[Seth] "Hey, it was nice meeting you, Sophie."

[Ben, nervous] "Yeah. Can we see each other again? Maybe in Dewdrop?"

[Sophie looks at Catherine. The Dragonite is wiping her eyes with her right hand.]

[Sophie] "Cath?"

[Catherine, scared] "Um… Later. I mean, not now, but… I'll write to you when I'm ready."

[Sophie] "Okay. Come on, Cath."

[Sophie and Catherine begin walking away.]

[Catherine, scared] "Goodbye."

[Seth] "See you later."

[Ben, nervous] "Bye."

[Everyone, except for Sophie, waves at each other before Catherine and Sophie leave the city.]

[Sophie] "You okay, Cath?"

[Catherine, scared] "I need rest."

[Sophie] "I gotcha."

[Sophie is quiet for a second.]

[Sophie] "So, your friends… The nice ones. I mean, I didn't like them not standing up to that Nidoking, but they seem pretty alright."

[Catherine, scared] "I'm sorry about Alex…"

[Sophie] "Hey, it's fine. I can see why they were fed up with him."

[Catherine looks away doesn't say anything.]

[Sophie] "You need another day off?"

[Catherine] "I think I do."

[Sophie] "Alright. You thinkin' of inviting your old friends over ?"

[Catherine] "Um… Fredrik."

[Sophie] "Him? No one else?"

[Catherine] "I just want a peaceful day off."

[Sophie] "Ah. Guess that means I'm workin' tomorrow."

[Catherine] "That's okay. But, please be careful."

[Sophie gives Catherine a confident smile.]

[Sophie] "Don't worry. I won't get in any trouble like that."

[Ask Hints have been updated.]

[casspurrjoybell-30]

Bonding with the Enemy - Chapter 4

*Warning Adult Content*

So... He's a Rogue

9 Years ago...

"Please?" the man asked, hands folded in front of him as he bowed his balding head.

Darren gripped his books a little more tightly, regretting ever looking at this man. This ghost had been following him around all day.

Unfortunately Darren had mistaken the spirit for a new teacher since he was not quite able to tell the difference between the living and the dead yet.

"She's gonna look at me weird," he said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one could overhear.

"I just need you to tell her and then I'll leave. That's it. Just a few simple words and I'll be gone, I swear," the ghost pleaded desperately. 

Darren didn't know who this man was but he was somehow connected to the school librarian. There was something he claimed she needed to find and Darren was the only person who could relay the message for him. 

It's not that Darren didn't want to help the spirit, it was just that he was often made fun of for his odd behavior, such as talking to himself or relaying cryptic messages. Unfortunately if he didn't do as this guy asked, he was sure to haunt him for the rest of the school year.

Glancing up and down the hall, he gave a quick nod towards the man who 'whooped' in glee as the teen quickly scurried towards the library. Inside, he found Ms. Powers on a stepping stool, carefully organizing the books on the shelf above her.

He approached her and stood silently, not quite able to work up the nerve to speak.

"What are you doing?" the ghost asked, exasperated.

"She's right there. Just say it."

Darren shook his head, his cheeks blushing furiously as he quickly lost his nerve to address the woman. He was about to forget the whole thing and leave when she stepped down and smiled at him.

"Yes?" she asked, her mousy brown hair perfectly framing her face.

"Is there something I can help you find?"

"Do it," the ghost urged.

Darren just stared at her, his mouth flapping open and closed as he failed to cough up the words. She waited patiently but her smile soon began to falter as his ridiculous display carried on for far too long.

Then, he finally blurted out what the spirit wanted him to say.

"The papers are in the match box behind the unicorn."

The woman raised her eyebrows in surprise but before she could even ask what the teen meant, he lost his nerve and bolted out of the library. The ghost followed close behind with a big grin on his face.

"Thank you," the man hollered after him.

"Go away. You promised."

Darrin spun on his heel, pure embarrassment painting his cheeks red. A normal person could probably have tapped on the woman's shoulder and explained that they had a message for her.

Unfortunately Darren had a terrible social phobia that made him unable to speak up properly around anyone but his parents. Luckily that started to change after he began seeing ghosts.

Thanks to his frequent run in's with the dead, he found himself forced to face his fears and was slowly coming out of his shell. Had this ghost made such a request a year ago, Darren would never have even made it into the library. 

"You screaming at the walls again, Schitzo Freak?" came an uncomfortably familiar voice.

Turning, Darren realized he had stomped his way towards the gymnasium and had failed to notice the pool of kids stepping into the hallway for break. Three of them began approaching him.

Quickly he tried to turn before they caught up but found his escape already cut off by a fourth person. Jasper's gang.

"I was talking to you," Jasper snapped as he crossed his arms and stood before the pitiful twig of a teen.

He was a full head taller than Darren was and much more lean. Darren kept his eyes averted like the counselor suggested. 

"Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you," the larger teen grabbed his shirt and pulled him forward, forcing Darren to look into the jerks bright green eyes.

"Or are you going to keep ignoring me like usual?"

"I bet he was talking to the walls again," a red head boy by the name of Jacob Dobbs chirped up from the gang.

"Nah. Just himself," a second gang buddy joined in. He was behind Darren though so he wasn't sure exactly who it was.

"The guy's got no friends so he was probably feeling lonely or some shit."

"Is that it?" Jasper asked curiously as he stared Darren down a little more closely, then dropped him back onto the ground where Darren's legs buckled, sending him flat on his ass.

"You know we can fix that right? How about you be our friend?" he added, his smile widened.

"Just be our little errand boy and do stuff for us. You'll never have to talk to chairs again."

"Nice," one of his goons grinned.

"I always wondered what it'd be like to have a slave."

The group began to cackle evilly as Jasper tilted his head down at the unfortunate teen. Then he kneeled until he was eye level with him.

"What do you say?"

He reached out and began patting Darren's head like a dog. Darren glanced at him for just a moment, then averted his eyes again and stared intently at the tiled floors.

Jasper's amused grin faltered and he genuinely frowned at the teen's silent rejection. 

"What are you guys doing?" the gym teacher, a burly round man who had no business teaching fitness, emerged from the gymnasium and blew his whistle.

"Break it up."

The group immediately dispersed and Jasper gave one last strange look towards Darren before following them. Darren waited until the footsteps faded before even attempting to stand.

Once back on his feet, the man's ghost hovered beside him. Having finished his business, the ghost began to slowly fade out of existence as his last words echoed in the teens ears.

"What an asshole..."

Present day...

"See any here?" Sophie asked desperately as they circled the playground for the millionth time.

The sun was beginning to set and Darren was quickly growing exhausted by this monotonous routine. His aunt had insisted they visit all the last known places that the kids were seen in case there were any ghosts but so far they've had no luck.

"Again, no," he grumbled, leaning his head against the window, half asleep.

He had made the mistake of explaining how ghosts could appear and disappear between moments, meaning that just because a ghost wasn't visible now, didn't mean they wouldn't be there later. His aunt kept glancing out the window like she would somehow obtain the ability to see the dead as well if she kept trying and it was all Darren could do not to roll his eyes at her.

Eventually she realized it was getting too dark out to continue and finally headed back home. Once they arrived, he grabbed his luggage and carried it to the upstairs guest room where he flopped face down on the bed.

The Rogue's Collar pinched his neck as it stuck to his skin, so he tried digging a finger under the leather. It didn't help make it any more comfortable though, so he unclasped it.

Jasper was far away anyways, so it wasn't like he had to SLEEP in the damn thing. Setting it down on the bedside table, he laid back with his eyes closed only to be suddenly bombarded by a second presence.

This wasn't like any presence he'd ever felt before. Somehow he could tell it wasn't a spirit but a living person.

Someone who was all the way on the other side of town. But wait, how the hell was he able to tell that?

Suddenly the presence seemed to take on a life of it's own as it focused on him, honing in on his location. Quickly he snatched up the collar and put it back on.

As soon as he did, the presence disappeared. Jasper. Darren sat up and mulled over what just happened.

Somehow, despite being so far away, they were still able to detect one another, which shouldn't be possible. The mating bond was nothing more than pheromones after all, so as long as they weren't within sniffing distance, they shouldn't be feeling any sort of pull.

What if there really was some sort of supernatural force playing part in this whole bond thing though? After all, it wasn't exactly normal for a human to be able to change into a wolf and it was common knowledge that werewolves had some degree of magic in them. 

At one point his parents did try to have 'the talk' with him to explain how the bond worked but they had made it seem like another life lesson about how you should be happy with what life gives you.

Naturally he blocked them out. Downstairs, he heard the sound of knocking at the front door and nervously sucked in a breath.

That couldn't possibly be Jasper, could it? No, he was too far away to make it here so fast. 

"Be right there," his aunt called and he heard her footsteps as she answered the door, followed by girly squeals and chatter.

He rolled over realizing it was one of her friends, then laughed to himself over how paranoid he was being. Darren instantly flopped off the bed in shock.

"Is that true?" his aunt asked.

"When?"

"Today apparently. Though it seems like the poor girl is shy. She ran before he even got a look at her and now he's moping about it at the Alpha's house."

Sophie laughed.

"I don't blame her. I'd be overwhelmed too if I found out my mate was a future Alpha. I can't imagine having all the stress of helping to run a pack suddenly thrust on me."

Darren snorted disdainfully. That wasn't it at all. He simply had zero interest in staying here very long.

"Oh by the way, my nephew is visiting this week. DARREN," she abruptly shouted.

"Get down here. I want you to meet someone."

Bracing himself for unwanted social interactions, he quickly fixed his hair and went downstairs where he met a rather round yet giggly looking woman in a red summer dress.

Her cheeks were rosy, possibly from too much blush and she had the reddest of lipstick on.

Over all, she reminded him of a tomato. The woman's smile faltered when he entered but she quickly put it back on.

"Oh, hello. I don't think I've seen you around before?"

"Alysha, this is my nephew Darren. Darren was raised here but moved out about eight years ago," Sophie explained.

"To another pack?"

"To live with my brother."

Alysha gave him another once over before her smile faded completely.

"So he's a rogue."

The woman's tone had flattened and she was poorly masking her immediate distaste. This was normal though.

Rogues were known for having poor pack mentality and only ever looking out for themselves. A good pack member would put themselves last. Sophie sighed.

"Just because he's a rogue, doesn't mean he's a bad kid."

Alysha turned and smiled at Sophie like one would do with a child.

"Oh I get it, he's your family. Of course you're worried for him. Just don't let him get you into any trouble. Especially not with..."

She quickly glanced at Darren before leaning closer and whispering,

"Not with everything else that's going on."

It was laughable to think the woman wouldn't expect him to over hear but he just shrugged it off, not wanting to pick a fight with Sophie's friend.

"I'm just gonna head upstairs, that's all."

He pointed upwards and began backing away.

"You two have fun."

He put on the fakest smile he could before leaving. Normally he would have snapped at the woman like he did with Jasper but at the same time he didn't want to end any of Sophie's friendships.

She was a member of this pack after all, so it was natural that her pack friends would be wary of her rogue nephew. He just had to swallow his pride and deal with it.

This time he closed the bedroom door behind him to drown out the women's chatter but when he turned, his heart nearly leapt out his chest as he was startle by the floating figure of the dead hunter just outside the window. 

[ilove-cedricdiggory]

Moony

Remus x Reader

Part 2

Summary - After you left Remus after telling him about your pregnancy, you're now trying to juggle being pregnant by yourself in a foreign country, along with your three best friends searching for you.

Trigger Warning - Cursing, mentions of abortion, angst, it's longish? I think that's all. Let me know if there's more though.

Italics are letters, Bold is unknown to the readers.

America.

That's the only way you can really describe it. It is, well, America. Some places are incredibly beautiful, some terribly ugly. Some incredibly cold, some unbearably hot. Some busier than Diagon Alley on the day all the kids come to buy their things, some slower than a virgin's bedroom.

You hadn't seen much, especially seeing as how you had only been there for a week, but it was already more than you expected. You expected a stern talking to, you expected a bed rest, you expected a midwife in every thirty minutes, and you definitely expected to have someone at your side every second of the day. But, that wasn't what you got.

Especially seeing as how, your Great Grandpa kicked the rest of your family out of the house before you arrived, not wanting his favorite grandkid to be in an uncomfortable home, especially while she was growing his two great, great grandkids.

He was incredibly wealthy, a pure blood from England gone American. You had been the only one that actively spoke to him and visited him as often as you could while he lived in England. Now, your family was watching the sand fall in his hourglass to see who got the most money from his will. Honestly, though, you could see the man living another 200 years - just to spite them all.

He had taken you out, shown you incredible things, although you were stuck in a stupid state of unbearable heat - Texas. Although, the heat had taken you out of the sweaters that had you crying every time you got a whiff of his scent, and into some beautiful maternity sun dresses. You had already sent 20 pictures to Molly.

You had yet to write to Lily though, but her owls came twice a day, at least. You were starting to worry that she would get on James' broom and follow the owl herself to find you. Her letters really all stayed the same.

Y/n, just tell me where you are. I won't tell Remus, or Sirius. Heck, I won't even tell James. Harry and I will come visit and I'll tell you all about how I beat Remus' arse. Or how James did....Or how Sirius did. But, please, just write me back. I love you. I miss you incredibly.

Then you had

Y/n, come on, you really have me worried. The entire order has heard about what happened and I think they're all freaking out each second like we are. We miss you. You're the ray of Hufflepuff joy we all need, the always Ravenclaw intelligence the boys really need, the absolute Gryffindor bravery in the craziest of situations that the order needs, and the Slytherin strength I need. Please, just write back.

Then, she got help from the boys - or, the ones you would be open to hear from.

Y/n, while I have to be honest, Lily is standing over my shoulder watching me write this, I was going to do it either way. Remus was an absolute arse, I understand that, but we miss you. Lily, Harry and I want nothing more than for you to be home, with us even. You don't have to see him, you really don't. We just want to be here for you through this time, the good and the bad. Please write back.

When that didn't work, you had a howler from Sirius.

Y/n Y/l/n, I swear, if you don't write me back, I'm gonna jump into the paper and send myself! I'm going absolutely crazy watching Lily freak out every day! You're the only one that can calm her, not even James is doing it! You're taking away my precious James time! I fucking miss you - okay? Moony is an absolute dick. He deserved you walking out on him, he really did, but please don't walk out on all of us too. Y/n, we miss you, we really do. Moony isn't even here anymore, he left after we all went to Molly's - Sirius, don't tell her that! - Shit, fuck, how do I scratch that? Uhhh, I didn't say that. Erase! Erase! Lily, how do I erase on a howler? Fuck. Whatever. I'm sure it erased. But, come home. I'll make James make you that surprisingly good chicken he makes and I'm sure Lily would love to give you some old baby momma clothes or whatever the fuck they're called. I just - we just - no, I miss you, okay? Come home.

Your heart broke, not just because Remus was missing, but because your friends were hurt.

You sat down at the table in your guest house, sighing softly. A quill and some parchment sat before you, your hand shaking as you dipped it into the ink.

Lily, James, and Sirius.

While I know I could write a letter to each of you separately, I'm almost positive you're all together, or you're gonna call each other as soon as you get my letter.

I'm okay, I think. Not as okay as I wish I was, I cry a lot. While I wish I could blame it on the hormones, I know it's not. Everything reminds me of him, even here. No, I'm not in England, I'm in the states. I'm staying with some family and I think it's doing me well. At least, I've started to own my pregnancy.

After what Remus said to me, my body broke. I just about hated the fact that I was pregnant. Not my kids, just that I was pregnant. But, with each day, I realize that this pregnancy is the thing I needed most. While I wish I didn't have to say this - it showed me the man Remus is. Does that mean I cry any less? Of course not - you guys know me.

But, I really don't think I can come home, at least not yet. I'm still trying to figure out what I'm to do. I love Remus with every fiber of my being, but how do you love a man that told you to get rid of your own children, the minute he gets home from a mission he could have died from? How do you let him hold you as he feels the two children you both created grow in your belly knowing he hates them?

I'm going to come home eventually, of course I am. And I already promised Molly I'll be back for a visit soon, and you guys are more than welcome to come visit once I teach my family how to properly floo in America - did you know they don't do that here? It's super weird. But, I love you three incredibly. I'm so sorry this has happened. Be safe.

Your heart broke as you debated on writing more, about what your heart was still set on. Remus. Where was he? Where did he go? Had they heard from him? Was he looking for you? But you couldn't bring yourself to ask them.

The owl was sent with their letter, leaving you in the silence once more.

How could you feel so absolutely alone when you had people wanting nothing more than to be with you? Is it what you thought you deserved? They were his friends before they were yours. You felt horrible that they were taking your side. You felt your heart ripping slowly with each beat it made in it's spot in your being. It was like one half of your heart was tied to Remus' and with each beat away from him, it tore you apart - slowly, filling you with excruciating pain.

Five minutes after the letter was sent, you were standing, trying to find a way to busy your mind.

Ten minutes after the letter was sent, you were crouching in the corner, the weight of your predicament pressing down on you so hard, it's like it formed hands and was set on pushing you six feet under without any hole dug for your body.

Twenty minutes after the letter was sent, your body was shaking with it's sobs once more, the loss of not only your spouse, but also the friends you loved almost as much as him.

An hour later, you had fallen asleep on the floor, your mind groggy and your heart tearing with each beat, your conscious hoping to pull you away from the pain your felt in the body that was supposed to be yours - but belonged to the man who seemed to not want you anymore.

It was dark, so incredibly dark. The only thing that was seen was the moon, halfway full in it's wake. The only thing heard was the pads of feet stomping on the ground as they ran. Ran where? Ran why? You could feel the pain in your chest, but it was like it wasn't your own. As you came to a stop, you looked at a building that seemed a familiar kind of unfamiliar - although that didn't really make much sense to you.

Before you realized it, you were slumped over the toilet, letting out the contents of your stomach. One of your hands pulled your hair to one side of your shoulder, keeping it there. But all you could think was how badly you wish it was Remus holding your hair, rubbing your back as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

But all that mattered today was to get through it, like any other day.

One day following the motions.

Two days following the motions.

Three, four, five days.

Until your hands were pulled from your face, the skin around your fingers almost chewed to nothing, the warm face of Lily standing before you.

"If I see you bite your fingers one more time, I'm going to hex them to taste like Harry's dirty diapers." She spoke, pulling you up from your spot on the couch.

"Lily - I." You stopped, looking around her to see James, Sirius, and Harry. "How?" You asked, looking back into the eyes of your best friend.

"Your great grandpa is super cool. I think he was getting tired of all the letters we were sending him too and gave us the floo network here to knock you out of whatever it is you're in." Sirius spoke, Harry on his shoulders, pulling at his hair.

"You guys-" You were cut off with Lily pulling you into her hold, her larger belly pressed against yours as you both attempted to properly hug one another.

"I have missed you, so much" Her voice was soft, uncommon for Lily. Her hands held you tightly, almost like she was holding onto you to make sure you didn't disappear once more.

"Come on Lils, other people missed her too." Sirius spoke to cause her to pull away and glare at the man. "If you weren't holding onto my kid, I'd have hexed you so hard for that." She said, moving to grab Harry from his shoulders as James wrapped you up in a hug himself.

"If we hadn't seen you for another day, I think Lily was going to fly off on my broom." He said, causing you to laugh at your own prediction.

You finally got to Sirius, his arms holding you tighter than the two. "I'm sorry." He mumbled, his hold growing tighter. "What are you sorry for, Siri?" You asked him, pulling away to look into his face.

"What he said, what he did. That's not what you deserved." He mumbled, pushing your hair back a bit. "I swear, I about pounded his face in at Molly's. I think Arthur had to separate me magically." He trailed off, looking at the floor.

His words brought tears to your eyes once more, your heart feeling empty, yet full. "That's not your fault, Sirius. We all knew he didn't want kids, but we weren't careful. I don't know why his reaction surprised me." You were honest with them, having thought this entire thing was truly your fault.

The three of them surrounded you, their eyes narrow with intent. "Y/n, the last thing this is, is your fault. You're his fiancée, not a random person. Either way, those are his kids. He shouldn't have treated you like he did." James spoke with meaning, wanting you to understand each word he spoke.

Somehow, the four of you relaxed enough to find yourself growing to bed. You showed Sirius his room, a place where James and Lily can lay Harry, and then their own room, before finding your way to your own.

You laid in bed, wide awake. You knew what tonight was, the night before the full moon, and knew that Remus was probably out wherever he was, already in pain. Every turn was different, it truly was, but each night before the full moon, his body ached, his bones almost softened, knowing they would be breaking and turning in 24 hours, and his head psyched him out, especially when you weren't there. This was now the third full moon your financé was to handle without you.

You refused to cry, knowing Lily always had a third sense to that stuff, and willed yourself to sleep. But, you laid there.

And laid there.

And laid there some more, until you couldn't handle the quiet, and found yourself moving out of the room and towards Sirius'.

You had slept with Sirius before, each time when Remus was gone and your heart could hardly handle it. Now, the three hearts inside of you couldn't stand the guilt of not being with him.

The door didn't creak when you opened it, none of the floor boards made a sound, but that somehow made it worse. Your feet carried you to the dark haired man, seeing his sleeping frame move, sensing another person there.

His eyes jerked open, coming to look at you as he smiled sadly. "How did I know you'd come in here. Just can't resist the charm, can you?" His voice was deeper, rougher from sleep. It calmed you, but never like Remus' did. You waddled closer to the man, his arms opening for you as you crawled into him.

You both laid in silence, but awake now, as you took in the moment.

"I miss him, Siri. I know I shouldn't, I know I should hate him, but my entire being misses him." Your voice was softer than his was, much softer, but it wasn't because you were afraid of him, but because you were afraid of your own truth.

"I know you do. I know he misses you too. You guys are kinda like Lily and James, meant to be. He's just, an absolute git for this." His fingers worked in your hair, rubbing your scalp and causing your eyes to close in comfort.

"I thought we were meant to be too. But, he doesn't want me anymore. He doesn't want us." At that, Sirius rested a hand at your bump, this being the first touch they really had beside your own. "He does, he's just stupid and scared. Either way, you have us. Aunt Lily, Uncle James, and, the absolute best uncle in the world, Uncle Siri. We've got you." His sensere words lulled you to sleep, a sleep where you felt safe and happy falling into.

You were running again, but it didn't feel like you were in danger. It felt like you were running to run, really. Which, was something you did not do. You weren't in the woods, but you didn't know where you were. All you did know is that you were still scared. Absolutely, bone crushingly scared.

With each step you took, the fear grew. How could you possibly be this scared? You were looking for something, but you didn't know what. You were shaking, but from both the cold and the fear. You were shaking. Shaking. Shaking

Shaking. "Y/n, wake up!" Sirius was looking down at you, his eyes full of excitement. "Your great grandpa is showing us the American version of Diagon Alley today!" You smiled up at him, nodding.

"Okay, okay, let me get changed."

The four of you had left your Grandpa once he settled himself down to play some wizards chess, waving you off.

"You know where the house is when you're done, I've got a title to keep."

You wandered through stores, showing them the few things you had learned so far about the wizarding world here. The four of you had just walked into their version of Flourish and Blotts when you were stopped by an older couple. "Oh, you both look absolutely wonderful! I remember when I was that pregnant. How far are you both?" she was smiling at you and Lily, growing closer to you.

"I'm due in about a week and a half. We already have one, Harry, who's staying with her family." She had pointed to you, smiling at the older woman. "Oh, I'd expect you to be due any day now. Seconds always come early and you look family dropped. What about you dear?" She had looked to you, glancing at your own belly.

"Oh, I'm only a few months along. Twins." You laughed, your hand resting protectively on your belly. "Awe, that's lovely. You both look radiant. Two amazing father's, I hope?" She now looked at James and Sirius, smiling at them. "Oh, no, I'm not the father. Our best mate is." Sirius spoke, gesturing to you. "Well, I dunno, is he?" He asked, looking at the three of you. "It's complicated." Lily said, smiling.

The older woman nodded, smiling. "I completely understand. I wish you both the best of luck." She bid you all adu, leaving with her husband.

"I can't tell if that was awkward or sweet." James laughed, leading you all to the door to leave.

You all laughed as you walked through the Wizarding space until you and Lily began complaining about the swollen ankles and bloated stomach enough to convince James and Sirius to guide you both home.

As the day turned into night, you now showing your friends the muggle artifacts your grandpa has collected from his move to the states. That was, until Lily groaned in pain.

"Fuck, she was right." The young woman grumbled, clenching her bump. "What do you mean?" James asked, his hand on her back softly. "He's coming early, James. I'm in labor, fuck." She groaned again, tilting her head back at the pain she was feeling for the second time in her life.

"Shit, Sirius, go find some towels. I'll go tell grandpa to write the healer for labor." You spoke, pointing Sirius in the direction of the towels before moving to Lily. "It'll be okay, okay? Everything will be fine." She nodded, gripping your hand tightly as she looked in your eyes. She smiled before groaning once more, a contraction hitting her. "Okay, okay, healer. You guys lay her down." Sirius returned with multiple towels, James and him laying a few out before helping Lily lay down on them.

You turned to waddle out of your home, attempting to get to your grandpa's house as quickly as possible.

Three steps towards his house, you heard a twig snap.

Five steps towards his house, you heard a thud.

Nine steps towards his house, a figure stopped before you, it's frame furry and bent, a growl releasing from his lips.

A werewolf.

How the fuck is a werewolf standing in front of you, in the middle of fucking Texas, in a populated muggle area?

You took a few steps backwards, until it clicked.

The only Werewolf that would spend his full moon looking for you was the same werewolf that has plagued your mind for the past month.

Moony.

~

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[itsclydebitches]

Hi! I was just watching good omens and I came up with some questions, but I didn't know whom to ask, so I was digging around for go analysis blogs and found you. *takes a breath* So, I was wondering if you had any thoughts on why Heaven's camera angles are the way they are. I noticed that, in heaven, the camera tends to focus on the characters' heads specifically, so they fill most of the screen. Either it's a meta reason or a reference to something (like Newt with the Office) that I'm not getting. That's the main thing, but I've also wondered why exactly Aziraphale uses the verb "fraternize" in the 19th century. It seemed an odd pivot from caring about Crowley's safety to Heaven's rules. Thanks so much!

Hello! Omg yes, let's talk Good Omens cinematography.

First, the obligatory Analysis Disclaimer: I doubt there's a specific interpretation that you're just not getting, some singular, "correct" reading of the scene(s). Two years past release, I'm positive the fandom as a whole has come up with plenty of ideas (I mostly hang on the periphery. I'm far from up to date with GO meta), but any and all of it will, by nature, be subjective. Thus, all I can offer is my own, personal interpretation.

So for me? It's about intimacy.

Not intimacy in the sense of friendship, but rather the broad idea of closeness. Confidentiality. Emotion. Knowledge. Understanding by means of literally getting into the thick of these conversations. I love the camerawork in Heaven (and elsewhere) because the camera itself acts like a person — an additional party to these interactions. And, since we're the ones watching this show via the camera, it makes it feel as if we're peeking into scenes that are otherwise private. Obviously all cinematography does this to a certain extent, the camera is always watching someone or something without acknowledging that we're doing the watching (outside of documentary-esque filmmaking), but GO uses angles and closeups to mimic another person observing these scenes, someone other than the characters involved.

The easiest example I can give here is when Michael makes their call to Ligur. Here, the camera is positioned up on the next landing of the staircase, as if we're sneaking a look down at this otherwise secret call. There's even a moment when the camera pans to the right to look at them through the gap in the railing, briefly obscuring Michael from our view.

Here, a standard expectation of any scene — keep your character in focus — is done away with to instead mimic the movements of someone actually hiding in the stairwell, listening in on the conversation. It creates that feeling of intimacy, as if we're really there with Michael, not just watching Michael through a screen. The camerawork acts like a person overhearing an illicit conversation prior to falling back on mid/closeup shots. We're spying on them.

To give a non-Heaven example, the camera helps us connect with Aziraphale during Gabriel's jogging scene. It's hard to show through screenshots, but if you re-watch you'll see that the camera initially keeps them both in the frame with full body shots, allowing us to compare things like Gabriel's unadorned gray workout clothes with Aziraphale's more stylish outfit; one's good jogging form and the other's awkward shuffle. However, this distance also creates the sense that we're jogging with them, we're keeping pace.

That is, until Aziraphale begins to lag. Then the camera lags too, giving them both the chance to catch up, so to speak.

Until, finally, Aziraphale has to stop completely and the camera, of course, stops with him. We're emotionally attuned to Aziraphale, not Gabriel, and the camerawork reflects that. Even more-so when we cut to a low shot of Gabriel's annoyed huff at having to stop at all, making him appear larger and more imposing. Because to Aziraphale, he is.

This work carries over into Heaven's other scenes. The closeups are pretty much a given since, whether it's Gabriel realizing Aziraphale has been "fraternizing" with Crowley (more on that below!), or Aziraphale choosing to go back to Earth, the scenes in Heaven are incredibly important to the narrative. Closeups allow the viewer to get a good read on each character's emotional state — focusing on minute facial changes as opposed to overall body language — and that fly-on-the-wall feeling is increased as we literally get an up close and personal look at these pivotal moments.

Compare a shot like this one of Gabriel to the line of angels ready for battle. We don't get closeups on any of their faces because their emotions aren't important. Yes, that's in part because they're background characters, not main characters, but a lack of emotion — their willingness to enter this war without question — is also the point of their presence in this scene. So they remain a semi-identical, nearly faceless mass that runs off into infinity down that hallway, not any individual whose inner life we get a peek at via a closeup.

I particularly like Aziraphale's conversation with the angel... general? Idk what to call this guy. He's just gonna be Mustache Angel. But, getting back on track, his scene has a lot of over the shoulder shots which, admittedly, are pretty common. From a practical perspective they're used to help the audience situate both characters in the scene — you're here, you're there, this is how you're spaced during this conversation — but it can also help emphasize that closeness between them. Keeping both characters in the shot connects them and though Aziraphale and Mustache Angel definitely aren't on the same page here, those shots help cue us in to the unwanted intimacy of this moment. They're both angels... even though Aziraphale no longer aligns himself with them. They're both soldiers in a war... but Aziraphale will not fight. This angel has a list of Aziraphale's secrets, including that he once had a flaming sword and lost it... but Aziraphale doesn't want to admit those circumstances to him. This angel wouldn't understand, even if he did. Intimacy here, connection and closeness, is something discomforting because Aziraphale can no longer embrace those similarities. They put him (and us) out of sorts, so when we get them both in frame, that connection creates tension, not relief.

And many of those over the shoulder shots are given sharp angels, or the camera is placed too close to the "off screen" party. Compare a shot like Luke and Rey to Aziraphale and Mustache Angel. Here, Luke is a clean, solid line on the left side of the screen, just enough there to cue us in to where he is in relationship to Ray, In contrast, Mustache Angel's mustache is Too Close and proves rather distracting. Rey and Luke are connecting here over being Jedi with responsibilities to uphold (or at least, Luke will acknowledge that connection later lol); Mustache Angel is forcing a connection with Aziraphale that makes everyone uncomfortable.

We are too close to him here. He feels too close to Aziraphale too. This whole conversation is upsetting and discomforting, pushing Aziraphale to finally choose which side he's on (his own with Crowley). The shots aren't meant to subtly keep the audience from getting lost and then otherwise be unobtrusive, we're supposed to be Very Aware of this angel's body and how close he's getting to the character we've come to identify with — both literally (he's leaning in) and in terms of forcing Aziraphale to finally make his choice.

When Mustache Angel marches forward and gets all up in Aziraphale's face, the camera positions itself behind Aziraphale in a way that makes it feel like we're hiding behind him, with Aziraphale taking up far more of the screen than Luke does. Like the scene with Michael or running with Gabriel, the camera often likes to mimic a "realistic" response to these events. This angry, shouty angel is getting closer, best take a step back and stay out of sight behind Aziraphale, holding his ground.

These closeups also serve as a nice contrast to the wide and longshots we get of Heaven. It's an imposing place with skyscrapers in the distance, lots of steel, immaculate floors, and endless white. It's overwhelming and it's cold. But then we cut to those mid-shots of Gabriel and Michael, telling us that they're in control of it all.

Aziraphale? Aziraphale is not in control. Not now, anyway. When he appears in Heaven we get a longshot to show off this endless void and he's just another, tiny speck in it. If he weren't flailing around — an acting move that likewise helps sell how out of his depth he is — it's unlikely you'd even notice him. Aziraphale's clothing and hair blends in perfectly with the background. He's forgettable. Easily overlooked. Someone to underestimate. And when he moves, he has to come to the camera. We don't cut to Aziraphale to establish control like we do with Gabriel. He's left to awkwardly shuffle up to Mustache Angel until he's finally come into view.

Yet when Aziraphale makes his decision, he aligns himself with the brightest, most colorful, most interesting thing in the room: Earth. Earth, with all its messy individuality, is the antithesis to Heaven's controlled uniformity and a bright blue orb hanging in the midst of all this white helps remind us of that. Aziraphale rejects becoming one of the identical soldiers and instead literally reaches out for the one thing in Heaven that doesn't fit in.

When he leaves, we get an extreme closeup for the first time. Mustache Angel is pissed and as such we not only get a good look at his face in the aftermath of Aziraphale's choice, but that extreme closeup on his mouth as he's shouting too. It's like he's shouting directly at us, the viewer who is currently cheering on Aziraphale's decision. There's a war, dammit... but we don't care. Not in the way he cares, anyway.

So there's a lot! And I could probably go on, but apparently I'm only allowed to add 10 images per post now (tumblr what the actual fuck if anyone knows a way around this please share!) and I've already had to merge a bunch of images like an animal. So let's awkwardly finish up with the duck pond scene.

...without a GIF because they apparently count as images too 🙃

Simply put, I don't think Aziraphale bringing up fraternizing is a pivot from one to the other — from caring about Crowley to caring about Heaven's rules. I mean yes, Aziraphale is lagging behind Crowley in terms of rebellion and a part of him is, at this point, absolutely concerned with how he'll come across to the higherups, but that worry doesn't stem solely from a (now very shaky) desire to obey for the sake of obeying. The thing is, Aziraphale's disobedience is, by default, also Crowley's disobedience. If they're friends and they're ever found out, they'll both get in trouble. Which, we know from the end of Season One, basically means being wiped from existence. That's horrifying! And it's a horror that threatens them both. I don't think Aziraphale cares about rules for the sake of rules; after all, he started off by giving away his sword, lying to God, is currently meeting with Crowley anyway... this angel has always ignored/bent the rules — established and implied — that don't suit him. Rather, he cares about the rules if he thinks they have a chance of being enforced. If there will be consequences for breaking and bending them. This is still about caring for Crowley (as well as saving his own, angelic skin). If they're found out, Crowley dies. And, as we the viewer learn, Heaven was indeed observing them that whole time. There was always legitimate risk attached to this relationship. Aziraphale's fear, hesitance, and at times forceful pleas to stop this stem as much from Aziraphale worrying about Crowley's safety as they do a learned instinct to obey the rules without question. He pushes to end the relationship because the relationship threatens the only thing Aziraphale cares about more than that: Crowley himself.

As for the term "fraternizing," that's a loaded one! I won't go into a whole history lesson here, but suffice to say it has military roots: to sympathize as brothers with an opponent. That is literally what Crowley and Aziraphale are doing. They are an angel and a demon, supposedly innate enemies, supposedly poised for an inevitable war... yet they've formed an incredibly strong kinship. They've both learned to love their enemy, the thing every army fears because, well, then your army won't fight (just as Aziraphale won't). However, beyond the enemy implications, "to fraternize" eventually took on a sexual meaning: to not merely love as a brother, but to lay with the enemy too, usually women from enemy countries (because, you know, heteronormativity). Nowadays, "to fraternize" often implies a sexual component. I've been rewatching The Good Wife lately and in one subplot, the State's Attorney cracks down on fraternization in his office. He doesn't mean his employees are forming bonds with assumed enemies, he means his employees are having sex on his office couch. So Aziraphale's phrasing here carries a LOT of weight. He's both reminding Crowley of their stations in the world — you are a demon, I am an angel, us meeting like this can have formal, irrevocable consequences for us both — as well as, given the fact that this is a love story, drawing attention to the depth of this relationship. They love one another, as more than just friends. Though whether Crowley's scathing "Fraternizing?" is a response to Aziraphale falling back on the technicalities of their positions, or acknowledging a love he's yet to overtly admit and commit to — or both! — is definitely up for debate.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

We've Got Tonight - Ch 6

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

The next chapter is the last part. I'm truly sorry.

In case you missed it: Chapter 5 ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 6

“Cas, you’ve got to listen to me.”

“I’m sorry, miss, I think you have me confused with someone else. My name is Agent Michael Jagger.” Castiel’s bewilderment is so endearing and familiar that Andy nearly loses her composure.

She grabs his hand, pulling him uncomfortably close, and she can see suspicion dawning amidst the confusion. She tows him to the back area of the restaurant, technically for staff only, but she doesn’t figure petty rules like that matter just now.

“Listen, Miss, you’ve shown interest in my partner and scheduled time to socialize with him later. While I do understand that you are traditionally attractive, I really-“

“I need you to listen, and then I need you to look. Do you understand?”

“Not even a little.”

“That’s okay, hun, neither do I.”

And then she tells him everything. He can only stare at her silently afterwards, his mouth working as if he’s lost the ability to speak.

“Read me, Castiel. You can see if I’m telling the truth. Hell, go deeper and see what I’m telling you. Please, it won’t hurt anything if I’m lying, and if I’m telling the truth, you and I can save them. Please, please, I’m literally begging you. Just look.”

Castiel gingerly slides his fingers into her hair until the heels of his hands are resting on her cheekbones and his thumbs rest on her temples. His eyes slide shut, his face going just a little slack, and then he’s there with her in the memories, memories that faded with the sunrise but seared themselves permanently on her brain the second she saw the three of them again. She knows the moment he sees his own death because his body convulses ever so slightly, but he holds on until the scene plays out and she takes her last breath in the dream.

His eyes snap open and unerringly find hers.

“How is this possible? Who are you?”

If she didn’t have those weeks of memories, she might be afraid of him right now.

“Cas, you know who I am. You saw me. I have no more idea why this is all happening than you, but we’ve got this second chance, and we have to take it.”

He eyes her cautiously, but his mistrust is beginning to fade. “I’ve been fooled before. You could be hiding something, I suppose, but...I don’t think you are.”

Relief floods over her, though a bitter tinge underlies the sweetness.

“You believe me?”

He nods reluctantly, his dry lips thinning unhappily. “I saw your plan. Are you certain this is what you want to do? Do you think it will work?”

“Well, Cas, you can see I don’t have the best track record with plans. Can you think of anything better that leaves the world intact and you, Sam, and Dean all standing?”

Even though she knows what his answer will be, her stomach still drops a little when he shakes his head.

“Yeah, me neither. It was worth a shot.”

He searches her face without suspicion this time, only a deep, genuine sorrow. “I wish I could have had those weeks with you, Andrea. In the vision, you were a good person to spend time with.”

“Call me Andy, Cas. I swear, I never could get you to call me Andy.”

“But your name tag-”

She cuts him off with a kiss to the cheek. She holds back everything else she wants to say to her friend-that-never-was. It wouldn’t make any sense to him now, on this side of their non-existent time together, and it wouldn't make either of them feel any better. She hands him a piece of torn paper from her order pad, this one larger than the one she gave Dean.

“Check the memories you read off me to be sure, but I remember the ritual starts at midnight tomorrow night. They took me from the Brass Monkey not long before then. You can investigate if you need to, but I would bet that they’ll be at the first address I gave you a few hours before then, say eight or nine o’clock, getting everything set up before they come to snatch me. You know what you and the guys will need to take them out; without my blood and the ritual, they’re still dangerous, but they’re only human. Tell Sam and Dean whatever you need to get them there, but...I don’t think you should tell them what you saw. I think everything would get too muddled, and we’d end up right back at the same crossroads with Crowley.”

“Are you sure it’s wise to still meet up with Dean tonight? What if-”

“Everything has happened the same way so far, Cas, down to Sam nagging Dean about vegetables. And I’ve got to give myself something,” she says, her laugh a little more desperate and hysterical than she intended. “I can’t just...Look, just give me this one night, okay? I think I deserve that. I think Dean deserves that.”

He glances from her to the scrap of paper in his hand. She notices that his lips move a little when he’s reading, and she thinks that little quirk suits him just fine.

“Why is there a second address?”

Thanking whatever higher power gave her this second chance and the ability to keep the fallen angel out of even a few of her thoughts, she turns away from Castiel, moving towards the sink to start on some dishes that someone has let pile up. She’s under enough strain right now that she can’t disguise her expression anymore, and she honestly doesn’t think she can handle the sadness in his eyes for one more second.

“I’m going to keep myself out of the way this time; I have no intention of starting another apocalypse. I’ll stay in tomorrow night and triple lock every entrance to my apartment until you tell Dean to call me and give me the all clear. That’s where you’ll find me when the job’s done. And, Cas?”

He pauses in the doorway, looking back at her with a tortured expression she never sees.

“Remember, we can’t leave any loose ends this time. That’s how you get more apocalypses.” ...

She’s ready and waiting for Dean when he walks in the bar. She can tell he’s taken a little effort with his appearance: his hair is freshly styled, he’s wearing a button-up that isn’t a flannel, and - wonder of wonders- he actually shaved. Having spent an extra minute or thirty on her own primping, she is pleased when his eyes go a little wide as they rake over her seated form.

“I already know I look good, but damned if you didn’t just make me feel edible,” she quips.

She is rewarded with the warmth of his smile as he takes the stool next to her. She’s pleased (but not surprised) when he brushes a kiss on her cheek in greeting. She sips her drink as he orders one of his own, and then they turn on their stools to survey the crowd. He leans a little closer to say something, and she hears him inhale when he gets near.

“You smell amazing. What is that?”

She grins behind her glass. Dean Winchester is not one to comment on a woman’s scent, at least, not in such an innocent, non-sexual way. And yet, both times around, he does just that.

“Lavender and clover blossoms from some boxes on my balcony. I clip some fresh bits sometimes and rub them on instead of perfume. Smells cleaner, less suffocating.”

“I like it.”

They talk about little nothings and nonsense for the next few minutes, favorite bands and movies and foods and anything she can think of just to listen to him talk, to experience him a little more. She doesn’t remember being able to make him laugh this much before, and she thinks maybe she’s doing just a little better time around.

“So, what’re you gonna wow me with?” he asks, gesturing towards the stage with his half-full glass.

“I was thinking ‘Making Love out of Nothing at All,’ but you could probably talk me into ‘Lonely Is the Night’ or even ‘All out of Love’ if you get me tipsy enough.”

He laughs, a bright, weightless sound that cracks her heart in half. She can’t help leaning in and kissing him then, and he leans right back, blissfully unaware of the burden she’s struggling more and more to hide. She pulls away, and he opens his mouth to say something, but she pecks him on the lips again just long enough to stop him speaking.

“You don’t. But you could.”

There’s that smile.

They sit in companionable silence for several songs, sipping their drinks and listening to the other singers. She’s just about to go put her first song request in when he looks over at her, freezing her utterly with one side-long glance.

“How long?”

She can’t have heard him right.

“I’m...I’m sorry?”

“How long have we got? Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight, or can I keep you out later?”

Oh. Oh, God, Dean, why?

“You know what? I think I might actually go for some Bob Seger. Come help me pick one out.” ...

Chapter 7 (end)

[tazmuir]

Hello! I loved Gideon the Ninth so much!! and would like to draw fan art, would you mind sharing any helpful summaries of what each character looks like? or must us fans hunt through the book for every offhand line of description? (not that I'm not planning on rereading it anyway)

I have let myself drift back onto Tumblr after two weeks, am deeply affrighted and excited at the idea that anyone has drawn my kids (I had an AMA on Reddit and as said there, my editor every so often hollered into my inbox about amazing shit people were doing, but I was too busy complaining back to him that my face had gone numb and that I no longer slept, but instead the darkness of the grave claimed me for four to five hours each night). Thank you so much to anyone who has already done this. Many people on my team have yelled and yelled.

Back early on in the piece I made a document for him about what characters looked like in terms of basic ideas/outlines for copyediting, covers and sense purposes, and I’ve dug out that document and slapped it up here for general delectation. As a note: I imagine specific things when it comes to my characters (I am a Kiwi: I write Kiwis In Space as a default) but as I have nothing but joy in my heart for how anyone would want to draw these characters, feel free to glance over this, then toss it out the window. It would bring tears of beauty to my eyes if anyone was like “Yes, but when I was reading I imagined Naberius Tern as a huge monitor lizard,” because absolutely yes, Naberius Tern was just a huge monitor lizard, godspeed.

I had only described below the specific cavalier-necromancer pairs, so that’s what you’ll find below, sorry if anyone wanted Teacher.

SECOND HOUSE

The only ones who seemed even vaguely compos mentis were the Second House: as it turned out, they had been the ones to call Teacher to the access hatch, and now they sat ramrod-straight and resplendent in their Second-styled Cohort uniforms, all scarlet and white. They both affected the same tightly-braided hairstyle and the same amount of extremely gilt braid, and also the same serious-business expression, and they could be told apart by one having a rapier and one quite a lot of pips at her collar.

Captain Judith Deuteros and Lieutenant Marta Dyas are alike in posture, bearing and extremely crisp military uniform (think a cross between US Navy whites and the Regency navy). Unlike every single other necromancer on the cast, Judith never wears necromancer robes, but is dressed in the exact same way as Marta. Judith is somewhat less completely scrawny than other necromancers on the cast, though she should be less built than Marta is; Judith is imposing, solemn-faced and reflective, Marta is more keen-eyed and restless. I imagined both as Tongan.

THIRD HOUSE

[Coronabeth] was tall and regal, with some radiant, butterfly quality – her shirt was haphazardly tucked into her trousers, which were haphazardly tucked into her boots, but she was all topaz and shine and lustre. All necromancers affected robes in the same way cavaliers affected swords, but she hadn’t tucked her arms into hers, and it was a gauzy, gold-shot, transparent thing floating out around her like wings. There were about five rings on each hand and her earrings would’ve put chandeliers to shame, but she had an air of wild and innocent overdecoration, of having put on the prettiest things in her jewellery box and then forgetting to take them off. Her buttery hair was stuck to her forehead with sweat, and she kept tangling a curl of it in one finger and artlessly letting it go.

The second twin was like someone had taken the first to pieces and put her back again without any genius. She wore a robe of the same cloth and colour, but wore it like a very beautiful shroud on a mummy. The cavalier had lots of hair, an aquiline face, and a self-satisfied little jacket.

Coronabeth is massive, taller even than Palamedes, larger-than-life – statuesque, very bright gold hair, golden/bright skin, violet eyes. Ianthe is the same height but gangly and washed out. Skin colour defined heavily in Corona’s case as golden/olive-hued brown/tanned; Ianthe similar, but less radiant/more pallid whatever the case. Both have long hair: Corona’s should be big and bouncy, Ianthe’s flat/sleek.Naberius is shorter than both, brown-haired (brown can be light, medium or dark, it’s not defined) and blue-brown hazel eyes. Also has lots of hair, cut short, but sense of pompadour/waves. I imagined all three as Pakeha/white.FOURTH HOUSEBoth Isaac and Jeannemary are around fourteen and have pretty much the same body shape still: Jeannemary is semi-muscular and has lots of corners, Isaac is skinnier. Both are natural brunettes, though Isaac has bleached hair (orange, fauxhawk) and Jeannemary is described as having curly hair. Both have multiple ear piercings and eyeliner and the visual is somewhat Glassons storecard punk. Both have dark brown eyes. Jeannemary has a somewhat dusty, fierce, monochromatic appearance (brown hair, brown skin), and I imagine her as Māori. Isaac I imagined as NZ Chinese.FIFTH HOUSEMagnus Quinn is a man in his middling to late thirties, with short, curly hair: he is a frank-faced, nice-looking guy of medium build with a face inclined to wholesome smiles. His outfits should be absolutely exceptionally well-tailored and not very flashy. Imagined him as Samoan. His wife Abigail is perpetually neat, wears round spectacles and has long, glossy dark brown hair – she is the least described of a cast not very specifically described. Much like Magnus, she should always be beautifully and tastefully dressed, though in her case she would affect trousers as well as a robe. Imagined her as Pakeha/white.

SIXTH HOUSECrouching in front of the hatch was a rangy, underfed young man: he was wrapped in a grey cloak and the light glinted on the spectacles slipping down his nose. Standing next to him holding a big wedge of broken sculpture and the flashlight was a tall, equally grey-wrappered figure with a scabbard outlined at her hip. She had hair of an indeterminate darkness, cut blunt at her chin.Up close, he was gaunt and ordinary-looking, except for the eyes. His spectacles were set with lenses so thick they could make spaceflight grade, and through these his eyes were a perfectly lambent grey: unflecked, unmurked, even and clear. He had the eyes of a very beautiful person, and the head of someone with resting bitch face.

Palamedes is seriously underfed with a bony, thin face and glasses: medium brown hair cut short and with no particular thought for aesthetics, dresses just in greys, eyes particularly lovely clear grey. Camilla has very dark cold-brown hair – chin-length, straight and with a fringe – dark eyes. She’s compact and has lots of lean muscle, and I imagine her of being Middle Eastern extraction, though due to Sixth House parameters both will be fairly mixed. They’re actually second cousins, so there ought to be a faint resemblance.

SEVENTH HOUSE[Dulcinea] was a slender young thing whose mouth was a brilliant red with blood: her dress was a frivolous concoction of seafoam green frills, and the blood on it seemed more somber against such a backdrop. Her skin seemed transparent – horribly transparent, with the veins at her hands and the sides of her temples a visible cluster of mauve branches and stems. Her eyes fluttered open: they were huge and blue, with velvety brown lashes.

Dulcinea is a girlish woman who looks extremely fragile and sickly, like a neurasthenic Victorian maiden. Eyes should be extremely blue. Hair is light brown in long curls; skin is pale. Pretty in a frivolous, invalid way. Gives the impression of being slight. Outfits should be gauzy and nightgownish. Imagined her as Pakeha/white.

The man who’d put the sword to her neck was uncomfortably buff. He had upsetting biceps. He looked like a collection of lemons in a sack. He didn’t look healthy; he was a dour, bulky young person, whose skin had something of the strange, translucent tinge that the girl’s had. He was waxen-looking in the sunlight […] He was dressed richly, but with clothes that looked as though they’d seen practical wear: a long cape of greyish-green, and a belted kilt and boots. There was a long, shining length of etched chain rolled up and over his arm, and a big one-handed sword hung at his hip.

Protesilaus is massive, buff, and also sort of sickly and indistinct-looking in his colouring – he is described as being made up mainly of muddy, ashen browns. Think Greek warrior, but with no vibrant colouring. Biggest on cast, even bigger than Colum Ash. Imagined him as mixed Pasifika.

EIGHTH HOUSEIt was a pair who were both boys – well �� a boy and a man; one was a wan, knife-faced kid dressed in antiseptic whites and useless chainmail you could cut with a fork, it was so delicate. [Silas] was draped in it even down to a kilt, which was strange: necromancers didn’t normally wear that kind of armour, and he was definitely the necromancer. He had necromancer build. […] He gave the impression of being absolutely no fun at all. He was prim and ascetic-looking, and his companion – who was older, a fair bit older than Gideon herself – had the air of the perpetually disgruntled. He was rather more robust, nuggety, and dressed in chippy bleached leathers that looked as though they’d seen genuine use. One finger on his left hand was just a gross-looking stump, which she admired.

Silas is in his teens, has shoulder-length white hair in a braid and dark eyes. He has extremely pale skin, and coupled with the white robes and silver chainmail (all of which somewhat swamp him – he’s sort of slender and purse-mouthed) gives the impression of being arrestingly white all over. Pointy chin, oval face, disapproving expression, a little insubstantial. Colum, his older, larger nephew is much taller, broader and in his early thirties. He has medium brown hair in a short back’n’sides crop, dark eyes, and appears jaundiced in skin tone – he’s very weatherbeaten and tan-skinned, scarred, and though he’s dressed in the same colours he tends to contrast heavily with them and his leather armour is also beaten-up. He looks tatty and ill-used, expression is apathetic or forbidding; Silas always looks perfectly clean, crisp and white. Facially there should be a similarity. They’re both Pakeha, with Silas being significantly the palest person on-cast.

NINTH HOUSEThe light fell on [Harrow’s] painted grey face and black-daubed chin, and her short-cropped, dead-crow-coloured hair. […] She had such a peculiarly pointed little face, high-browed and tippy everywhere, and a slanted and vicious mouth.

Harrow is a scrawny teenage girl with black hair cut short (as befits someone in a monastery) and truly black eyes: she never appears except in black and white skull facepaint. She has a pointed, rather triangular face, not very long, a triangular heart rather than a triangular diamond or oval. She wears black robes and long-sleeved, long-trousered clothes – all black – with no skin showing: the main decoration on this is bones. She wears a corset of rib bones and could have any other bone decoration, which has been written of in the book as bone bangles and multiple bone stud piercings in the ears. She’s more femme-androgynous than outright butch; in Book 1 she’s a bit birdlike and free of specific masc or femme gender markers in terms of outfit or build. I imagined her as being mixed Māori.Gideon is true butch: tall of height – at least, taller than Harrow – extremely, shreddedly fit with the muscular arms of a swordswoman or boxer. She should have a strong-jawed, boyishly pretty face with a big douchebag grin. Cropped hair same as Harrow, except that hers as an oblate is more of an in-your-face mop (could be partly-shaved except that implies more care than Gideon possesses) and is intensely, vividly red.  I envision her as mixed Māori, darker-skinned than Harrow.  She also wears skull facepaint, though hers tends to be much less careful and baroque than Harrow’s. She often affects a pair of black aviator sunglasses. She wears the same black cloak as Harrow, without any decoration, and a plain black shirt and trousers underneath. Her eyes are an extremely vivid amber with more of a yellow/golden tint than a russet one.  

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Catching Up: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: This is my first dark fic and it is my entry for  @stargazingfangirl18 & @navybrat817  ‘s August writing challenge. Hope you all like it. 

Prompts:    11. “We’re not done yet.” and  4. “Shhh, be good for me.” And Gif 3.

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: Ransom rarely gets a hold of you and this time he isn’t letting go

Warning: Drugging/spiking a drink, implied non-con, ransom being his asshole self, 18+. I do not condone any such behaviour in real life. Your Media consumption is your own responsibility.

"I really think I should get going, I have some errands to run." You said standing up from the Sofa Ransom forced you to sit in, in his living room.

You knew coming to give him some documents in the evening was a bad idea but your employer, Linda deemed it 'absolutely necessary' for Ransom to have the files.

"At 9 in the evening? Don't kid me now, I'm pretty sure all shopping centres are already closed due to the freezing temperature." Was Ransom's reply from the kitchen.

"A lot of retail shops are still open near my area, and I really don't want to be imposing." You said gathering your purse and looking for yours keys from the coffee table in front of you.

"Don't be so rude (Y/N), I poured you some wine to warm you up, plus I was pathetically alone right now streaming through Netflix. I'm pretty sure you would be significantly interesting than that." He said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, that shook your spine, raising goose bumps on your neck and blasting sirens in your head. He motions you to your sofa again while fetching two wine glasses in his hands.

You took the one with lower level of wine as you had to drive back home within 15 min, after entertaining Ransom's ass for some time until he got drunk enough to notice your absence.

Hopefully.

"Let me raise the temperature, it’s awfully cold." He said raising the thermostat to some temperature he found pleasant and then returned to his seat in front of you.

You took a small sip of your wine to calm your nerves as you looked at the man ahead of you. Ransom's presence had always irked you for as long as you could remember, and that too in the most unpleasant way imaginable.

His eyes, though the most beautiful ones you have ever encountered, seemed animalistic and predatory no matter who they looked at: Harlan, Joni, Marta; like he had something to claim from everyone, including you.

You had always been a simple girl, with no larger than life goals, just surviving and serving enough to please yourself and everyone. You took your work seriously, sometimes drank and never stepped out of a line you fixed for your own self. Call it boring, but you were sure you owed all your life's stability right now to these self imposed rules.

One of your rules, however, told you to avoid situations just like these, with insatiable spoilt boys that had unknown unappeasable endless desires.

And how stupid were you being, drinking alcohol as we speak.

"So how come you have never had a conversation with me, even at any of my mother's parties?" Ransom interrogated though you think you heard some bitterness in his voice as if you've never paid attention to his God like presence.

"I didn't mean it purposely, I always had to look over and manage all the things at the parties, I have never had time to indulge in it myself. Besides I always did greet you and your family if i came across." You said in a calm tone, not to pick a fight but not to weaken your stance either.

“No worries now though, we will have plenty of time catch up soon.” He said, making you panicked and petrified as you almost did a double take.

“What did you mean by that?’ You asked not even bothering to hide your accusing tone this time.

“I was simply referring to the Christmas party due next week.” He replied after a while, but you did not believe him.

“What are you planning on your wearing?” He suddenly questioned, as if to redirect the conversation to another topic.

You let it go, feeling uncomfortable dwelling on his intent behind those scary nerve-wracking words any further. You didn’t know if you were reading too much into it, but it was better to be alert and alarmed than to be sorry and grieve later. Well, however alarmed your inebriated self could be.

Your thoughts distracted you making a little late to answer, such that you found Ransom picking up the discussion again.

“I hope you wear that wine dress you wore when i came across you at the bar downtown, or maybe the black dress you wore at the company’s last event. God that slit looked so sexy on your legs.”

Your eyes widened as your fuzzing mind slowly registered his words, and you were freaked out now, because he wasn’t even trying to censor his filthy thoughts anymore.

Filthy? You haven’t even heard filthy yet.

“Ransom, I don’t appreciate you talking about me like that. I think... I think I should go.”  You said, leaving the somewhat filled glass of wine on the table and moving to collect your things. This time, however, Ransom made no move to stop you.

Instead with an irritated scoff he replied, “You can’t blame a guy for checking out nice curves on girls. Even that blonde friend of yours was not so subtly looking at your rack. At least I have the decency to be honest.”

Decent was definitely not the word you would use for him. Not even among the first thousand words that might fall from your lips.

“As pleasant as our meeting was” A totally obvious lie, “I should get going.”

You said, totally ignoring his comment about your friend Niall, you made your way towards the door.

“(Y/N), Why don’t you stay a little longer?” 

You ignored his polite invitation and exited the door, taking deep breaths. Maybe it was the alcohol, or Ransom’s suffocating perversion, or maybe the single digits temperature surrounding you, you were feeling lightheaded and frenzied.

Just hang in there and get in the car. Rest we’ll figure out later.

You kept repeating the notion. Standing beside your car, you looked in the purse for your keys under the dim gleam of a streetlight nearby.

The black insides of your purse starting blurring just a bit and you tried to stay calm.

A grip on your arm startled you as you spun just a little to look at Ransom holding you, his blue eyes looking almost pitch black and sinister.

“Wh-What do you want? Let me go home.” You asked your eyes going wide, heart beating several miles a minute, blood pumping loudly through your veins as felt your legs shaking. Relieving yourself of his grip was not an option when you could barely stand on your own.

“Darling, We’re not done yet.” He said, his voice almost soothing you, lulling you to sleep.

“Please Ransom, just st..” You mumbled incoherently, your vision closing in on you as you embraced the deceiving arms of sleep.

“Shhh, be good for me and you’ll be okay. Now come on, the night is young and I have a lot to memorize about you.”

He cradled you and picked you up bridal style as your head lolled to the side resting on his shoulder. He picked your purse up from the ground as well and entered his house with a minacious smirk on his face, his pants already tightening around his crotch.

Guess you were going to catch up.

[notaversetohedonism]

Daisy Chains and Daydreams

Pairings: Mostly Moxiety but with some Logince as well because I love them and couldn't resist

Content : Fluff, Probably a bit long winded but it's the first fic I've ever finished 😅, mentions of food as a potential CW, as well as mentions of anxiety/panic attacks as well as general feelings of mild anxiety

Word count : 1960, jus a little one shot :)

"I'm boredddddd" groaned Roman, leaning his head back so that it rested on Logan's lap. Logan flinched slightly at the gesture, but was able to keep his composure well enough not to let out the squeak playing on his lips.

"I suppose today has been rather slow" he replied, turning a page from his novel without looking up. Virgil and Patton walked into the room quietly, perhaps hoping that the other sides would not have noticed their absence. No such luck, unfortunately.

"Hmm, Winnie the Blue and Patty-Cake," Roman began with a smirk "Couldn't help but notice that the two of you were, should I say, mysteriously absent?" Virgil simply shot him a death glare, where Patton looked sheepishly down at the carpet, a blush forming upon his freckled cheeks. God. His freckles. Typically his face was clear and bright, but on the odd summer where the sun shone a little brighter, they appeared. Virgil, as should surely be apparent, was a fan. Before they had gotten together, he often lay awake at night staring up at the ceiling, imaging tracing every single one beneath his fingers.

Virgil collapsed in an undignified heap on the couch. He, as the most cynical side, was not a fan of weather in general, but he despised these summer months. How was he supposed to maintain his edgy persona without a hoodie to pull over his head when he had had enough with Logan and Roman's nonsensical bickering? The only thing that had convinced him that dying of heatstroke was not the way to go was Patton tentatively offering up one of his many identical blue shirts.

Patton sat down next to his boyfriend, sliding his fingers into Virgil's and tracing his thumb in gentle circles on the top of his hands. The one gesture that was sure to make Virgil melt. As if he wasn't already doing that in this ridiculous heat. He looked up at Patton, the softest of smiles on his face. In return, Patton gave his usual wide, brighter than the sun itself, grin.

"Hey everyone! I had an idea!" he suddenly burst out, as if the thought had just entered his mind and he had to get it out before it left again.

"Yeah Pat?" asked Virgil softly, a light blush emerging just barely visible underneath his foundation when he saw the identical smirks on Roman and Logan's faces. Patton of course, noticed this. He gave Virgil a look the two of them had come up with together, asking with his eyes if Virgil was ok with this or if he needed to stop. Reassured by the slightest nod of Virgil's head, he continued,

"Why don't we go for a picnic? It'll be fun, and with the breeze it'll be cooler out there than it is in here!" Patton giggled, practically clapping his hands in excitement. There it was again. The ache in his face. Virgil, despite his reservations, had absolutely no intention of giving one of his typical cynical remarks that would have no doubt have been rewarded should any of the other sides been the one to suggest the concept. Logan and Roman both at the same time had said

"Sure!" causing them to blush and turn away from one another. Patton had been badgering Virgil for weeks to let him help set them up, but Virgil had gently insisted that this was something for them to discover in their own time.

"Let's do it," Virgil said, his voice starting out very quiet but becoming a little louder as he continued "It could actually be fun" Patton all but squealed with joy as he jumped up to prepare the food. That was another thing Virgil's mind would often wander to.

They could all cook to some degree. But Logan followed the recipes so meticulously and to every minor detail that the food was often a little bland, Roman had a bad gague of how hot was too hot, and Virgil, naturally, was petrified by the idea of burning himself on the hot stove. When Patton stepped up to the stove, however, it was like a whole other world. One could taste the pure love worked into every bite. The sides would typically cook for themselves, but if one was having a particularly rough day, or if they got sick, then Patton's cooking was sure to make them feel better. Virgil often received it after a panic attack, and more often than not it was the thing that grounded him.

"Oi, Panic at the everywhere, go get ready!" Roman's voice cut through Virgil's thoughts. The nickname still bothered him somewhat, but he could tell Roman was making the effort to be a little nicer to him.

"Alright Princey, if you insist." he smirked, sinking out and back into his room. He wasn't the biggest fan of wearing shorts, but he knew wearing jeans probably wasn't his best idea. He pulled on some loosely fitting jean shorts and, of course, Patton's blue shirt stayed on. He sat for a second on his bed, no longer feeling the need to repress his smiles now that he was alone. Patton saw them; when Virgil was with his boyfriend he couldn't keep them in, but he still felt a little wary around Logan and Roman. They had accepted him, but as the anxious side he still had his reservations. As he sat, Patton suddenly appeared at his side.

"Virge, are you ready to go? We're leaving soon!"

"Gah, Pat! What have we said about appearing in here with no warning?" Virgil exclaimed, but with no real bite to his voice Patton knew he was only kidding.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! This is gonna be so much fun!" Patton giggled, pulling at Virgil's hands. Virgil would never in a million years admit it, but secretly he found Patton's somewhat childish nature the cutest possible thing.

Before they got to their picnic spot, they had a short walk to complete. Roman and Logan forged ahead, arguing about something Virgil didn't understand, nor did he really care about. He was with Patton, and he felt safe. Their hands were loosely intertwined, their pinky fingers locked but not so tightly that Virgil could not pull away should he feel the need. It had taken a little bit of time and a lot of clear communication, but Patton was now very good and understanding of the way his boyfriend felt about affection. He craved it deeply but it often overwhelmed him. But right now, Virgil was quite possibly the calmest he had ever been. The two didn't exchange many words as they walked side by side, only the occasional comment on the beautifully scenic park, or a stifled giggle between themselves as Roman or Logan would make some loud statement.

Finally, the close-knit group of friends found the place they were seeking. They stood in a little alcove discovered by Patton and Virgil on their first official date (by that point they had actually been on about seven, but Virgil was not exactly good at reading the room and thought Patton was just being friendly. Friends kissed on the forehead goodbye, didn't they?). Tall willow trees encircled them. The space was small, but not so small that it felt uncomfortable for their slightly larger than usual party. But what Patton and Virgil unanimously agreed was the best part was the daisies. They grew here wild and free, mostly white and pure but with some pink and some purple, exciting and joyful.

"Thank goodness! I understand that being fit and healthy is necessary for me to remain the most handsome Prince in all the land," Virgil barely stifled a snicker, "but seriously guys? Now I see why your dates always take such a long time!" Logan said nothing, but gratefully slumped onto the soft grassy ground. All those long hours and late nights working tirelessly on his computer did not leave optimal time for exercise.

"Ok everyone, food time! I know it was a little short notice but I hope you all like what I've prepared for us!" Patton said, grinning. Virgil looked inquisitively into the basket that Patton had carried with them for their whole journey. And just. Wow.

Sandwiches in the flavours each side liked best, as well as at least five different types of cookies, and best of all? A rather respectably sized vanilla cake. Their favourite. Roman clapped his hands, Logan raised his eyebrows with a pleasant surprise, and Virgil once again gave his tiny smile. Just a slightly lifted corner of his mouth, but still one Patton recognised well. His own mouth initially mirrored Virgil's, but his smile only grew from there into the one the sides knew so well.

"Alright everyone, dig in!" Of course, no convincing was needed here.

After having stuffed themselves silly, the group sat on the ground, quiet and content. Even Logan, who at this point during an outing would typically be badgering the sides to get back so that he could finish his next series of extraordinary projects, simply closed his eyes and looked up, barely concealing his satisfied smile. With his closed eyes, he did not notice the barely concealed glances of pure adoration given to him by Roman.

Virgil sat propped against a tall, sturdy willow tree, staring at Patton's back lovingly, quietly pondering what the taller side was doing: his back hunched slightly, humming a tune to himself. Within less than five minutes of wondering, he had his answer.

"Uh, Pat? What's this?" he stared in mild confusion at the interwoven daisies sitting in a loop against his pale wrist as Patton looked at him with soft eyes.

"It's a daisy chain! See, I wove them together like this!" As Virgil sat patiently listening as his boyfriend weaved together the pretty little flowers, a thought wandered to the front of his mind. "How on earth did I get so lucky?" Overcome by emotions and bravery, he dared to utter,

"Pat, is it ok if I kiss you?" As Patton gave him an unreadable look for just a few seconds, he wondered if he had crossed a line. But suddenly, he was rewarded with an enthusiastic

"Of course!" and a pair of lips on his own. As Patton eventually leaned back from the kiss to regain some of his air, he suddenly stared at Virgil intensely.

"Uh, y-yes, Pat, what is it?"

"Your eyeshadow, it's purple!" Patton conjured a mirror, shyly holding it up to a stunned Virgil's face.

"And it is. The credit for this one goes to you, Pat." Patton, clearly thrilled but wanting to make sure his boyfriend was comfortable, opted, instead of saying a word, to lay his head down in Virgil's lap, looking up at him with what could only be described as pure adoration. In that moment, it was just them. Roman and Logan's quiet chatter faded into a barely audible whisper, the bird song silenced. They were together, and they were in love. A realisation that would later strike Virgil, and he would spend many am hour wondering how best to say so to Patton, but for now, they sat happily.

But what was the most exciting thing about the beautiful day they all shared together was that by the end of it, as Patton layed his head on Virgil's legs, Virgil saw Roman and Logan's tentatively intertwined hands, the awkward but hopeful smiles on their lips. Virgil decided not to tell Patton right now. Because at this moment, with his hands gently running through his boyfriends soft hair, a daisy chain around his wrist, he felt calm. He felt happy. Maybe tomorrow things would change, but just this once, Virgil decided it was alright to focus on today.

[wreckofawriter]

~Part 1~ ~Part 2~

Parings: Sirius Black x Reader, Regulus Black x reader, Remus Lupin x Reader, James Potter x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Mentions of blood, fist fight, crude language

Summary: Everyone is lost in the world as the man soon to be called the Dark Lord rises to power. Your parents are already ready to give their life along with your own for this man. You spend your seventh year in Hogwarts being pulled apart by the expectations for you and the hope placed in you by your childhood friend Sirius and his closest companions.

A/n: I'm not a huge fan of this chapter, but here goes anyway. Sorry for inactivity, I've been struggling to focus. I hope you guys enjoy!

~▪︎~▪︎~▪︎~▪︎~▪︎~▪︎~▪︎~▪︎~▪︎~▪︎

    James Potter was simply exhausting. His voice rang in your ears unpleasantly and each time he threw his arm around your shoulder you had to resist punching him in the nose. Unfortunately, there was no escape. The moment he heard you had accepted Dumbledore's offer he had taken the liberty of being your personal owl. Every bit of information you were given about the Order was passed to you through him. His preppy attitude became tiresome quickly and it didn’t take long for you to picture yourself breaking his glasses with your knuckles every time he appeared in front of you.

    You knew it was really jealousy eating you alive not anger but the hatred remained the same. You had never much liked the head boy. He was privileged in a way no other was. You had the money he had but you got the pain that came with it. His full childhood and easy life made your blood turn green with envy. 

    He didn’t seem to catch on.

    “You should come to my quidditch game on Sunday.” James mused beside you his arm rested on your head. 

    The thin thread of your sanity had been torn apart by worries and anxieties. You couldn’t seem to think straight recently as strange dreams you couldn’t quite remember ravaged your mind. You felt like you were thrust into a poisonous haze.

    “It would be really fun,” He continued not noticing your unstable state of mind, “You could see what a badass I am on the pitch.” The wink he threw at you made all that uncomfortable envy you had been holding spill out in front of you. How dare he flirt with you while you were thinking about your very plausible death?

    You stepped away from him fast enough to make him stumble, your books drawn to your chest, “Do you have anything related to the Order to speak to me about?” You spat.

    James suddenly noticed the anger you exhibited, his doe eyes blowing wide for a small moment. He reached for his glasses fidgeting with them for a moment, “Only one thing.”

    “Then say it.” You muttered.

    James didn’t argue, “Dumbldeore wants you at the meeting tonight. No else one but Remus, Peter, Sirius and I know.”

    “What time?”

    “Midnight. You know where.” 

    You nodded curtly turning to leave. You stopped in your tracks turning back towards the curly-haired boy, “Just because I’m friends with Sirius doesn’t mean I’m friends with you.” 

    James felt his face crumble, you didn’t speak another word to him disappearing from his view as you headed towards your class. 

    Remus watched as you chewed on your nails, their polish chipped and uneven, “Are you alright?” he whispered.

    You froze for a moment, “Oh I'm fine, just a bit nervous.” 

    He nodded, taking you half-assed answer and going back to side-eyeing you skeptically. A few minutes passed and you only continued to look worse and worse, your face seeming to pale as seconds ticked by.

    Remus sighed, “Look if you’re worried about the meeting tonight, you’ll be fine. You’ve got James, Sirius and I at your side. Not to mention Dumbledore.” 

    “It’s not that.” You mumbled, “Look I’m fine okay, just…” your sentence trailed into nothing and Remus didn’t want to pry. So instead he watched you suffer, not sure what had you biting your lip raw but wishing he could help you. 

You knew he would be waiting for you. He always was on Fridays, then the two of you would walk back to the dungeons for your little gathering with psychopaths and killers. 

Regulus had his back pressed against the wall next to your classroom, his hands were stuffed into his pockets, eyes on the ground. 

“Hey, Reg.” You grinned watching as he looked up to find you.

His smile was soft as he approached you, not even asking as he swept the books from your hands. 

“I can carry them myself.” you huffed.

“I know.” He shrugged, “Doesn’t mean you have to.” 

You felt a smile twitch on your lips, “You’re such a gentleman Reg! How do you not have a girlfriend?”

His face erupted with color, “Anyway. The meeting is canceled today.”

The rush of relief that you felt kept you from picking up the intentional switch of conversation. You felt suddenly at peace, the world had stilled. You felt comforted and safe like you had been laid down onto clean bed sheets. 

“Oh.” You tried to remain stoic. 

Regulus nodded, his eyes flickering around you, almost as if he was scared. You frowned but spoke nothing of it. The air was suddenly tense, the strange electricity of it almost startling you.

Regulus cleared his throat before speaking, “Actually y/n, I was wondering if you wanted to go on a walk with me?” 

You scrunched your brows, “A walk?” 

“Y-yeah, I heard it was supposed to be super pretty out with all the snow and everything.” He explained, “If you don’t want to it’s fine.” he added quickly afterwards.

You shrugged, “Why not? Sounds fun. I haven’t been out in a while.”

You felt a swell of joy watching his face blossom into a wide smile, his face seemed rosy with happiness. You momentarily forgot that he was your enemy, that he was on your opposing side. At that moment he was just Regulus. Adorable, smiling, happy Regulus. 

“Great.” He spoke but you hardly heard him over the sudden admiration which took root in your stomach. 

You giggled feeling light on your feet, “You’re so cute Reggy.” you cooed before disappearing into your common room.

Regulus almost dropped your books, his cheeks gleaming red. 

It was beautiful out. You had never been one for cold weather but the soft blanket of snow which coated the castle and its ground made you reconsider. The sun was casting small shadows around you, it’s gleam turning the snow into rainbow glitter. You marveled at your surroundings, feet shuffling through the fluffy snow as you walked beside Regulus. 

“It’s gorgeous.” You mumbled eyes flirting around the vast desert of white. 

Regulus hummed in agreement, his gaze dancing between you and his feet.

You set out towards the lake, a few third years attempting to skate atop it, “This was a really good idea Reg.” you said bumping his shoulder with your own. 

“Thanks.” He responded sheepishly, “How are your classes going?”

“I’m so bad at Transfiguration it's a miracle I'm passing.” You groaned, “How about you?”

He shrugged, “FIne, a bit more work than last year but it's not too much.” 

You sighed, “You are way too smart for your own good, I think you took all of your brother’s brain cells.”

Regulus laughed, breath coming out in puffs in the cool air. 

“I swear he is an idiot. I mean he slept with Pearl and then I had to deal with it. Can you believe that? Pearl. The kindest person alive.” You complained, lips pulling into a pout.

“What is your relationship with Sirius anyway?” the dark-haired boy asked suddenly.

You tilted your head slightly, “What do you mean?” 

He looked away from you, “After everything he did you’re still friends with him, I just don’t get it.” 

You felt your lips twitch downwards, “I’ve known him forever. I can’t just throw him out.” 

“I could. I was his brother and I could.” Regulus spoke bitterly.

You felt your chest clench, “Don’t say that. He’s still your brother.” 

He sighed, “You need to look at the future. After school, Sirius isn’t going to be part of your life anymore. I think you need to accept that.”

You stopped. A cold wind blew your hair from your face, the atmosphere was stiff. “Don’t tell me who will and won’t be in my life.” You stated plainly, “I will decide that.”

Regulus had turned back to look at you, his larger form guarding you from the wind which had suddenly picked up. “You’re right.” He said, “But it's something you need to think about.” 

No matter how much you wished he was wrong, he knew he wasn’t. Your life was split in two, the straight path your parents had paved for you suddenly forked away. You were standing just before them, unsure which way you should walk. You needed to make a decision, you couldn’t linger too long and risk losing both options. 

You straighten your shoulder, “I know.”

Regulus nodded and you both began to walk leaving the strange tension behind. 

“Hows quidditch? You guys still practicing in the weather?” you spoke, the switch of conversation fast.

“We’re still practicing, I like it though.” He uttered, “It’s really fun.”

You hummed, “Well that’s good.”

Regulus paused for a moment, “I know you’re not big on quidditch but I was actually wondering if you would go to my match on Sunday.” 

Your thoughts flashed to James that morning, “I don’t know, I mean-”

“You don’t have to.” He cut you off, “I just thought it would be nice to have you there.”

The gentle smile on his lips as he spoke of you broke the small walls you had built, “I’ll go.”

His grin widened, “Really?”

“From what I’ve heard you're pretty good,” You smirked, “You better win.” Just as you finished your sentence something cold and wet hit the back of your head, you shrieked as the snow melted down your back turning swiftly to see Sirius standing a few dozen meters away. It was clear he was cackling, his form doubled over in laughter. 

“You bitch!” You hollered running towards him, hands scooping up some of the snow as you neared him. His laughter was cut off as you nailed him in the chin, snow spraying over his face. His eyes went wide and you giggled reaching for more snow. Before you could act he was lunging at you, body colliding with you as you hit the powder with a thump. Snow splayed around you, some landing on your face and beginning to melt. You attempted to move only to realize Sirius had pinned you to the ground. 

“I win.” He grinned down at you, his hair speckled with white. 

You frowned, “You cheated.”

“You’re just a sore loser,” he argued standing up and offering you a hand which you took.

You shook your head, “Shut up cheater.” 

Your mind wandered back to the younger black brother quickly. You turned to find that he had disappeared, the only evidence of his presence the footprints he had left behind. For some reason the lonely prints made your heart squeeze uncomfortably in your chest.

Midnight came in minutes. It seemed like each time you blinked an hour had past and the sun had disappeared before you could even reminisce about its glow. The stars were hidden by deep grey clouds that night. Snow had begun to fall heavily as you made your way towards the room of requirement. The windows were iced delicately by jack frost as slopes of white hid in their sills. You held your robes close to your chest heart-thumping recklessly within. The empty corridors were cold as if you had walked through a ghost. 

You climbed the stairs of the dungeon and beyond, the portraits murmuring and snoring around you. You felt yourself wishing for someone at your side. You missed Regulus’ comforting presence, his footprints still causing a small ache within you. 

The seventh floor was just as dead as the rest of the castle, its silence deafening in your ears as snowflakes pelted the windows around you. You paced slowly, your heartbeat growing louder and louder with each echoing step. You continued to think of the secret meeting room, James’s advice ringing in your ears. 

The stone began to move in an instant, a door appearing before you. It handle a rusted gold. You reached forward sucking in a breath and pushing the old oak open, its hinges creaked and you were bathed in a warm light. A dozen sets of eyes locked on you.

“Ah y/n, you’re here.” 

You nodded stiffly, eyes flirting from your professor back to the faces of your peers. There was not a single green robe among them, red overpowering everything else. You gulped at the looks of disgust you received, lips turned into grimaces, and eyes narrowed or blown wide in surprise.

You searched desperately for Sirius, but his grey eyes were not among the crowd. Neither was the soft hazel of Remus. Even James’ deep brown was missing. You felt your hands begin to shake, stuffing them into your pocket before anyone could notice. 

A blonde in red was the first to speak, standing from her chair she advanced towards you, fire in her gaze, “What the hell are you doing here you fucking death eater?” 

You felt like you lost oxygen, you were there to help, didn’t she know that? Suddenly there was an arm around your shoulder. 

You glanced up to see Sirius, his eyes narrowed at the girl in front of you. Remus fell to your other side, arms crossed lazily. James stood just behind you, a soft pat on your back telling you. Peter stood to Remus’ right.

“She’s here at great personal risk, not that it's any of your business Mckinnon,” Sirius spoke, his voice strong and unwavering as he stared down the glaring girl. 

“She’s a purist.” The blonde hissed, “She’s a murder. She can’t be here.”

You stiffened, “I’m not a purist.” you spoke, relieved your voice wasn’t shaking, “And I sure as hell never killed anyone.” 

Suddenly a Ravenclaw lept from her seat. She shouldered past Marleen and lunged at you, “Lair!” she shrieked. 

You stumbled as she collided with you, hitting James and toppling over. The girl reached for your hair and tugged on it as her other hand scratched at your face. A nail digging into your skin as yells broke out around you. Sirius tackled the girl holding her to the ground as Dumbledore swiftly stepped between you.

“Your parents killed my brother you bitch! They are filthy murderers just like you!” her voice ringing loud in your ears you felt blood drip into your left eye, the world spinning in red as you tried to recall what had just happened. 

“Murdering whore, fucking cunt!” 

“Shut up!” Sirius hollard, his hand slamming roughly over her mouth and muffeling the cusses she threw at you. 

You sat up attempting to wipe the blood from your face. You could see James beside you on the floor, his attempt to catch you only gaining him an awkward fall. Remus bent down to your level,

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice seemed far away like he was deep underwater.

Your hand went to cradle the back of your head and you winced, “My head hurts,” you mumbled.

Remus cringed, “You might have a minor concussion. You hit your head pretty hard.”

You could hear more yelling, you felt your senses slowly coming back to you like someone had wiped the fog from your vision. 

“Y/n/n, can you follow my finger?” Remus asked and you nodded. His finger lined in front of your head, you followed it back and forth before the brunette was satisfied. 

“I think I’ve got blood on my face.” You mumbled, each time you swiped your hand across your forehead it came back red. 

“You definitely do, that girl scratched the hell out of you.” Remus leaned forward, his hand coming on contact with the fresh cut and you hissed. 

You heard voices behind you 

“We can’t trust her!” 

“She’s giving up more than you could imagine to be here! To help us!”

“Except she’s not!” 

“She’s lying! She is going to ruin us!”

Your head ached with each word the blood wasn't stopping, more and more dripping from the long cut in your forehead. You scrubbed at your eyes everything was going wrong. You were going to be thrown out, you were going to have your choice made for you. Again. The small amount of control you had gained in your life would be ripped from you. You pushed Remus away from you getting to your feet, stars blinking in your vision as the blood rushed to your head. 

Suddenly you couldn’t breathe, the air stolen from your lungs, you gapped helplessly grasping at your stomach. You glanced up in time to see the boy who had punched you. His second stroke landed on your cheek before you could raise your hands and you hit the ground with a loud thud. 

“That’s for my mother you bitch.” He spat.

Your body collided with the floor in slow motion and Sirius’s vision went red. The Yellow robed boy standing over you with a triumphant smile making his blood run cold. He was across the room in record time, his fist connecting with the side of the boy’s face with a yell. Teeth and blood sprayed from his mouth and he fell to the floor. Sirius was on top of him in an instant landing four more punches on the unconscious student.

James lept into action snatching the dark-haired boy by the waist and tackling him off the other boy. Sirius fought him yelling incoherent sentences as he tried to shove the quidditch star away from him.

“Pads! Calm down!” 

“He fucking hit her! He hit her twice, get the fuck off me, I’m going to make him pay.” Just as he finished his sentence his eyes got droopy, his head falling limp as the struggle stopped. 

Lily stood next to him, her wand pointed at the sleeping boy. 

James looked around, the daze of what had happened settling in uncomfortably. Three bodies lay on the floor, each leaking blood onto the carpet of the large room. The students turned to Dumbledore whose eyes were uncharacteristically wide. 

“I think it's time I explain some things.” He muttered. 

You stood motionlessly in front of the painting. Its colors seemed dulled and greyed. Your father stood behind the chair where your mother was seated, both wearing blank stares. You sat beside your mother, face chubby with baby fat, hair cut at your shoulders. Your hands were bandaged in white. The living room reeked of something you couldn’t quite place. The smell making you gag on the air around you. You could feel yourself slipping into some strange obscurity of the world. The scent suddenly became clear. Copper invaded your nose as you choked on blood. Crimson bled from the painting dripping down the expensive wallpaper and pooling on the hardwood floor. You hoped it wouldn’t reach the rug as you rushed to clean the mess before your mother saw. The blood didn’t stop as you scrambled to soak it up with your clothes, the white gown you wore stained with the liquid. Suddenly your hands feel through nothing and you were plunged into a pool of warm red. 

You woke suddenly. Eyes popping open to stare at the white ceiling above you. The room was dark, your eyes slowly adapting to the lack of lighting. You sat up slowly, an ache in your stomach making you hiss. You glanced around you, eyes landing on a mop of black of hair which rested on your bed. Sirius was seated in a chair beside your bed, his head resting on his arms which were folded in front of him. You felt a smile twitch on your lips as he snored softly. 

Your cheek felt numb and puffed, you raised your hand to it and yelped as a sharp pain shot through you.

Sirius bolted upright, “Are you okay?” He asked his voice gravelly with sleep. 

“I’m fine Siri.” You mumbled eyes landing on the white bandages which wrapped his knuckles. You sighed taking his hands into your own, thumb running over the stark white. “What did you do?” 

Sirius wouldn’t meet your eyes, “He punched you. Twice.” 

“How many times did you punch him?” you huffed.

The room stayed silent, you looked up at Sirius to see his eyes locked on your intertwined hands. He hesitated for a moment more. 

“Five times. James pulled me off him.”

“I’ll thank him tomorrow.” You murmured, “I’m tired.” 

“Me too.” 

You began to move, Sirius watched as you pushed yourself to one side of the small hospital bed, “You’re not sleeping in that chair idiot. The last thing I need is you bitching about your back.” 

Sirius smiled, slipping off his shoes and crawling next to you. He could feel your thigh brushing against his as you shifted to face him. His eyes widened when he saw the gloss of your eyes. 

“Why couldn’t it just be easy?’ You whimpered, “I just wanted something to work out for once. I can’t even do the right thing without getting punched.”  

Sirius didn’t know what to say, his words caught in his throat as you looked up at him, a tear melting down your cheek. Sirius let the words he wanted to speak die and instead wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. 

God how he wishes things were easy. 

Taglist:

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[cheshiresense]

For the headcanon thing if I'm not too late. Headcanons for FemIchigo/Kisuke ship?

Lol you didn’t give me an AU? Guess I could throw them in the canon verse but the events wouldn’t be much dif imo. But let’s see how this goes.

Edit: Welp. This got long.

1. Ichigo keeps her hair long because of her mom. Masaki had long hair, and even if it’s not the exact same colour, Ichigo grows her own hair out in her honour, as a reminder of the one time she failed to protect her precious people and just because she’s never met anyone with hair as pretty as her mom’s.

The first time she gets into a serious fight with Shinigami, that dick Renji uses it against her. He grabs her hair, and taunts her with it, and in the end, she kicks his ass, but then his dick boss shows up and just about kills her. When she wakes up at the Shouten, she’s half-naked, wrapped in bandages, and her hair’s been sliced ragged, left in uneven strands around her shoulders where before it had reached her waist. Urahara is nice enough to cut and style it for her. He tells her he only knows how to cut it one way because a good friend of his used to wear her hair short. It’s cute enough, and at the end of the day, Ichigo would much rather keep her life than her hair, but she also locks herself in the bathroom later that night and has a good cry about it. It’s stupid, it’s just hair, it’ll grow back, but it still feels a little like losing her mother all over again. She gives herself twenty minutes, and then she gets her shit together because she has to go save Rukia, and Urahara promised to make her strong enough so she needs to get some sleep more than anything else right now. When she gets back to her room though, the rest of the Shouten is still silent but there’s a tray of tea by her futon, still hot, and too sweet to have been made by Tessai. Ichigo doesn’t even like tea, but it’s a surprisingly kind, amusingly awkward gesture from a man who knows too much and tells her too little. She drinks it all, making a face at the taste but appreciating the warmth that spreads all the way to her fingertips, and when she lies back down and closes her eyes, sleep comes easier this time.

2. Kisuke’s the one who carries her back to the Shouten after she defeats Aizen and subsequently collapses in the aftermath. He thinks it would’ve been easier if she’d been born a boy. She’s tall for her age and gender, but she feels more fragile like this, her shoulders narrower than her usual larger-than-life personality would suggest, her frame less sturdy. Even her bones feel more delicate. Then again, she’s still only sixteen and she’s already lost half her soul in a war she should never have had to fight in the first place, and a good chunk of that blame can be laid squarely at Kisuke’s feet, so maybe boy or girl, it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. She’s light enough that Kisuke can carry her without difficulty, but her weight still feels like shackles around his wrists, tied to an anchor at the bottom of the ocean, like the worst of his sins given life, and Kisuke hadn’t ever thought that would be something he’d have trouble bearing until now. But the least he can do is carry her home, so that’s what he does. He takes her back to the Shouten and cleans her up and heals her– it’s a routine he’s uncomfortably familiar with these days. He doesn’t know if she’s ever consciously realized it, but he’s seen her naked enough times to feel like a pervert. He was Onmitsukidou, and he’s seen Yoruichi change in front of him enough times that the female body doesn’t make him blink, but Ichigo’s young - old enough to have developed curves, young enough that his hands shouldn’t be anywhere near her (figuratively or literally) - but there’s nobody else to do it, Yoruichi is always inconveniently away, so Kisuke keeps his eyes and hands well within professional range, runs a bath for her that takes care of most of the dirt and sweat and blood so he only has to make sure she doesn’t drown, and then whisks her off back to bed where he can bandage up what his Kidou can’t heal before settling down to monitor her reiatsu levels.

She remains in a coma for a month. Kisuke is the one who takes care of her, from fresh bedding to sponge baths to IV-fed fluids, even trimming her hair when it starts looking too shaggy (she’s growing it out again, so he doesn’t cut more than what he has to). By the time she opens her eyes, Kisuke’s just relieved she wakes at all, and it doesn’t seem like she’s (physically) much worse for wear so at least his caretaking skills aren’t terrible. All the discomfort in the world can be tolerated if it means Ichigo remains as healthy as she can possibly be.

3. Ichigo doesn’t see or hear from Urahara or any other Shinigami for the next seventeen months, and she tries not to let it get to her. She still sees her human friends at school, even if she’s no longer welcome in a large part of their daily lives, and Shinigami probably don’t think a year and a half is all that long. Besides, at the end of the day, she knew most of her Shinigami acquaintances for a handful of months tops; that’s hardly grounds for eternal friendship. She’s hurt by their absence, but she keeps herself busy with school, with homework, with the part-time job she finds just to fill the hours in-between. She gets good at ignoring the fact that she knows where her friends go after school, knows where her sisters go, and that she can no longer follow them. Urahara doesn’t wear a gigai after all, and it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to. He probably has better things to do too now that the war is over and Ichigo has done her duty.

So it’s been seventeen months of mind-numbing (soul-wrenching) monotony, and then she gains a stalker. She would never have chased that thief down if she had known Ginjou Kuugou was so… greasy. She doesn’t just mean his hair either; everything about him oozes an oily sort of charm that sets off every alarm bell her mom drilled into her head about Stranger Danger, Female Edition, and it becomes clear very quickly that Ginjou is exactly the sort of man who just won’t take no for an answer. He follows her around, flirts like he thinks she finds him attractive, keeps inviting her out for a meal, even tracks her down at work, and Ichigo’s just about had it with him after he “bumps” into her while she’s walking home from doing the grocery-shopping, because she may not be a Shinigami anymore but she sure as hell still knows how to defend herself and kick a creep in the balls when he dares to sling a too-proprietary arm around her waist, as if he has any right.

As it turns out though, she doesn’t have to. Ginjou gets about half a second to touch her, still blathering on about having something interesting to show her if she lets him treat her to some ramen, and then he’s being ripped away from her, abruptly enough to tear a shout from him, and Ichigo spins around just in time to see Urahara twist Ginjou’s arm behind him at a painful-looking angle before slamming him face-first into a nearby wall.

Ichigo doesn’t think she’s ever seen Urahara so… openly violent before. She can’t stop staring for a long moment, because that casual, effortless strength is… not something Ichigo would mind seeing again. If nothing else, it’s clearly effective (and pointedly ignores the voice that says she isn’t staring because it’s effective). The look on his face though is positively serene, if you don’t count the ominous shadow that his hat is somehow casting over his eyes.

“I do believe Kurosaki-san has asked you to stop harassing her,” the shopkeeper says in tones so airily cheerful only an idiot would buy the act. Ginjou doesn’t reply anyway. He can’t. Urahara’s yanked his arm up high enough to let him simultaneously choke the life out of the guy, his hand about as movable as stone as it pins Ginjou’s wrist to the back of his neck and his neck to the brick wall.

“Hey,” Ichigo says, and then stops, because on one hand, this guy probably doesn’t deserve to be straight-up murdered, but also if anyone in Ichigo’s life can kill a human and make the corpse disappear, it would be Urahara.

But Urahara glances at her, then shrugs a little and releases Ginjou, only to knock him over the head with his cane, hard enough to send him crumpling to the ground in an unconscious heap. There’s a moment of silence after that, and then Ichigo remembers to be irritated because she’s no one’s damsel in distress. “I could’ve handled him, you know.”

It comes out sharper than even she intends, but the sight of him reminds her of how long she hasn’t seen him or any of her other Shinigami friends, and it’s hard to remain mature about it when one of them is suddenly right in front of her again. Urahara, because he’s Urahara, just rakes a too-discerning eye over her like he can see right through her annoyance to the root of it. His expression tightens with something Ichigo can’t name, but all he does is incline his head in acknowledgement even as he smiles in a way that makes her want to punch him. “Of course, Kurosaki-san, but what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t interfere?”

Ichigo gives him the flat unimpressed look that deserves, Urahara’s smile twitches into something more genuinely amused, and for a second, it almost feels as if no time at all has passed since the last time they’d shared an actual conversation. Then Ginjou groans, Ichigo bristles irritably, and Urahara’s smile fades.

“Kurosaki-san,” He calls out before Ichigo can do more than turn away. “There are some things you need to know. But perhaps we can take this off the streets first? Come back to my Shouten; I will explain everything there.”

Ichigo turns back, scowling suspiciously at the blond, then down at greasy stalker. Great. She should’ve known; of course it would be Shinigami business that actually dragged Urahara out of his shop and into his first interaction with Ichigo after seventeen months of radio silence. But… if Urahara is willing to explain just what greasy stalker wanted to drag her into, Ichigo would be an idiot to turn him down.

“Fine,” She grumbles. “I’m using your fridge though. I’ve got ice-cream in here and it’s gonna melt before I get home at this rate.”

Urahara beams at her and hefts greasy stalker over his shoulder before ushering her to the Shouten. True to his word, he tells her about the Fullbringers who’ve invaded Karakura, and he tells her that the Shinigami have been monitoring the situation, and then he tells her he has a way to return her powers and soul-spirits to her. He shows her the sword, engraved with a bunch of intricate symbols she can’t even begin to decipher, and it thrums with so much power even she can feel it. She has a sudden epiphany that it must’ve taken even a genius like Urahara quite a while to make something like this, because she’d asked around, before she’d lost the ability to see Shinigami, and she knows for a fact that fixing her soul should’ve been impossible. The realization that Urahara must’ve been working on this for the past seventeen months goes a long way to soothing any fair or unfair feelings she had towards him, even if she also thinks he could’ve just told her. But she thinks that, and then she thinks that Urahara probably didn’t because he hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up for nothing. It’s stupid, but so is the way he eases the sword through her chest as gently as possible, as if it makes a difference at all when that first jolt of foreign reiatsu to her system still hurts like a bitch. She thinks she can forgive stupidity though if it’s coming from him. Not that she’ll ever tell him that.

In the aftermath, the Fullbringers disappear one by one, and nobody says anything but an increasingly manically cheerful Urahara gets a lot of wary side-eyes from the Shinigami trooping through Karakura over the next couple of weeks. It’s Rukia (Rukia who never so much as passed on a how-are-you, and Ichigo doesn’t blame her, but she’s never going to forget it either) who tells her later about Urahara kneeling in front of all the Gotei’s captains and lieutenants and begging them to help, who bowed his head through the Captain-Commander’s orders to keep the sword back until a powerless Ichigo has drawn out all the Fullbringers, only to immediately disobey as soon as he got the reiatsu he needed from them.

Ichigo asks, of course, just once, why. True to form, Urahara doesn’t give her a straight answer, he shrugs and lies instead, “Well it isn’t as if there’s anything else they can do to little old me in exile, is there?” But for just a moment, he also looks directly at Ichigo, his gaze steady and calm and unyielding, like there was never anything else he could’ve done, like choosing Ichigo over the Gotei was a decision made as easily as he breathed.

Much, much later, looking back, Ichigo thinks maybe that was the moment she first fell just a little bit in love.

4. Somewhere between the Quincy War and Yoruichi and Tessai moving back to Soul Society and the kids deciding they want to experience high school and normal life at the Kurosaki household, Kisuke wakes up one morning to Ichigo cooking breakfast in his kitchen and realizes he’s sharing a house with a twenty-year-old college student whose Gargantas make for the easiest commute to and from school in the history of public transportation. He stands in the doorway for a long minute, just watching her go through the motions that have become routine at the Shouten for… months now. Ever since he survived the war by the skin of his teeth and ended up half-blind because Benihime is only a quick, crude fix when Kisuke doesn’t know the exact makeup of whatever he’s restructuring. He’d had to study that, and then get some hands-on practice, before finally re-restructuring his eyes one more time. Ichigo had been a big help. Kisuke had had difficulties reading, along with dizzy spells and crippling headaches, so even though she didn’t understand everything, she also spent long hours with him, reading out loud and taking down notes for him, cooking for him and keeping his house clean and even manning the shopfront for him when Tessai was busy with the Kidou Corps. And then, once he was better… well, apparently she’d just never moved back out, and Kisuke had liked the company (has always liked her company) that he’d obliviously taken her presence here for granted.

She turns around now, probably sensing him. Her hair’s almost as long as it used to be back when they’d first met, but she’s tied it up into a messy bun. She’s still in pajama pants and one of his shirts because she likes the larger size and she keeps stealing them and Kisuke doesn’t mind, he has more than enough.

Maybe he should’ve minded.

“Hey,” Ichigo greets around a stifled yawn. “Food’s almost done. Could you set the table?”

Kisuke makes an agreeable noise and starts pulling down tableware from the cupboards. The coffee’s also done so he pours a mug, and then prepares the tea with the water that’s just finished boiling. Five minutes later, they’re seated around the table, Ichigo grumbling memorized literature quotes into her coffee because she has finals next week, and Kisuke just… watches her. They’ve thrown the porch doors open because it’s summer and the morning breeze is nice. Ichigo has her back to it, and the sunrise that frames her head like a halo gilds her bright hair gold. When she finally sets her coffee down, she looks up and catches his eye, and even as her eyebrows go up in an unspoken question, the smile that blooms across her face at the same time is as much a reflex as it is genuine, like the mere sight of him is something to be happy about, and Kisuke is helpless to do anything but smile back.

Shit, he thinks, far too late. I’m definitely going to hell.

5. “I’m definitely going to hell,” he moans into the table. Yoruichi, because she is first and foremost a terrible best friend, is too busy laughing at him to console him. At least she came prepared with the sake when he called her in a panic once Ichigo had left for class.

“Took you long enough,” Yoruichi chortles, like this isn’t a Big Problem. “Tessai thought for sure you’d realize she’s practically your wife-” Kisuke winces. “-when she went off to college and still went back to the Shouten every night. But I’ve known you longer so I figured it would take you a while before it clicked.”

“We are roommates,” He hisses vehemently, downing another cup of alcohol before pouring himself some more. “I’ve never- Yoruichi-san, I would never- I wouldn’t-”

“Well that was obvious too,” Yoruichi snorts, but her gold eyes are suddenly a lot less amused a lot more focused, acute and unblinking on his face. “But you know, if she’s old enough to kill for you, then she’s old enough to fuck.”

Kisuke freezes, and then straightens, and he has never looked at Yoruichi the way he does now, but there’s ice in his veins and a knot of flash-fire rage and black-fanged guilt clawing up his gut, and he couldn’t stop the crass words if he wanted to, “She was old enough to kill for me at fifteen; was she old enough to fuck then too?”

Yoruichi doesn’t even flinch, just pins him with a burning look sharp enough to cut. “Well you didn’t wanna fuck her then, did you? But she’s an adult now, and she can make her own choices, and I know you suck at human-ing so I’m gonna go ahead and give you a piece of advice in advance and hopefully save everyone a lot of needless drama - in general, people don’t like it when you make decisions for them because you think you know better. So before you panic even more and start pushing her away ‘for her own good’ but really actually because you freaked out about having feelings, maybe, just maybe, ask her what she wants.” She grins like a tiger that has its prey cornered. “Ichigo’s not stupid. Even I don’t know if she knows about your gigantic crush yet, she’s surprisingly closed off about personal issues, but let me just remind you, Kisuke - she didn’t sit at my bedside, or Shinji’s, or even Rukia’s, after the war, and you know full we were all laid out for days, if not from injuries then exhaustion.” She leans forward and snags the front of his Shihakushou to give him a hard shake. “Are you listening to me, Kisuke? She cares about you, and you care about her, and I have not seen you this happy in a very, very long time.” She glares at him, daring him to argue. “Even if nothing comes from this, even if you just stay friends, don’t you dare fuck this up for yourself. You’ve got a good thing here. She’s good for you, and she makes you happy. And it’s not a crime to be happy, Kisuke.”

She lets him go. Kisuke doesn’t move for a long minute, and this time, Yoruichi waits him out. “…What if I’m not good for her though?”

Yoruichi clicks her tongue and reaches for her own sake again, limbs going feline-languid once more. “That’s for her to decide. She’s got a decent head on her shoulders, Kisuke; if you really were poison for her like you seem to think you are every damn turn of the moon, she would’ve dropped you a long time ago.” She pauses to take a swig, and then she kicks him under the table hard enough to make him yelp. “Now quit being a coward, drink your damn sake, and then go home and be disgustingly domestic with your roommate when she gets back. And if after all this crap you put me through, you still end up hurting her, I’m gonna tell Kuukaku, and she’ll make you wish you were just dead.”

Kisuke thinks about that for a moment, remembers some of the antics Kuukaku used to get up to with Yoruichi, and internally cringes. “Right,” he sighs. Yoruichi rolls her eyes at him, and he sighs again. Well, he supposes he should’ve known better than to get any sympathy from Yoruichi. He also mulls over what she’s said though, and… well. If nothing else, Ichigo’s choices are her own. Kisuke’s manipulated her into a war once already. He can’t - he won’t - do it to her again, for anything.

He downs the last of his alcohol and this time dares to hope.

6. They never actually sit down and lay all their cards on the table and talk about it. It’s not in either of their natures; Ichigo prefers actions, and ninety percent of Kisuke’s words have always been used to deflect and manipulate. But, for Ichigo, the Shouten becomes home. She never moves out (and yes, she knew what she was doing when she packed up most of her belongings and carted them over to the shop), and at first, it was just to help because Kisuke was so badly injured from the war, but the longer she stayed, the harder it was to think about leaving again for good. When Kisuke hadn’t said anything even after he’d fully recovered, she took it as permission to stay, and of course that didn’t do anything to make her like him less. She enjoys his company, likes reading in his labs while he fiddles with his experiments, likes surprising him with new recipes, likes being surprised when he modifies or creates yet another Kidou spell for her monstrous levels of reiatsu so that it won’t blow up when she tries it. She likes that he always tucks her into bed if she falls asleep at her desk studying, and she likes that he trusts her enough to walk around without wearing his hat all the time. She likes that between her strength and adaptability and his creativity and cunning, they’re more or less evenly matched in a spar, and the harder she pushes him, the more thrilled he gets at having to work for his victories. She likes that he comes home one day with something both new and still familiar in his eyes when he looks at her, and a month later, on her birthday, he takes her halfway across the world to a rare book convention with a focus on Shakespeare, and halfway through that, his hand swings out to tangle her fingers with his own.

They never really talk about it, but Ichigo migrates into his bedroom one night and never sleeps in her own room again. They take things slow, honestly more for Kisuke’s benefit than her own, but she doesn’t mind because mostly, she just likes having Kisuke there, with her. He still treats her like glass sometimes, like something priceless he’s afraid to smudge just by touching it. Those days, Ichigo sprawls across him with all her weight and stays there until he wraps himself more firmly around her, usually dozing off while Ichigo works on a draft of her first book.

They don’t talk about it. But they don’t have to, to know what they mean to each other.

[shimmeringclouds]

♔ | 𝐈𝐈𝐈

»»-----　♔　-----««

Chorosuke sighed deeply, pressing his forefinger and thumb against the bridge of his nose with his eyes screwed up in frustration. The knocking became more frequent and obnoxious the longer Chorosuke sat there, with you and Dayoko glancing at each other with unease.

"My apologies," he spoke through gritted teeth as he tried to keep his composure. "I'll have this issue sorted soon. Please, continue to eat." Nothing more was said as he swiftly got out is his seat and left the room, grabbing a rolled up newspaper from somewhere and rolling up his sleeve before closing the door behind him.

The silence was somewhat tense and awkward as you held your utensil up in midair. Did you really want to keep eating? A dark pit was forming in your stomach.

Clearing your throat, you looked over to Dayoko, who was chewing her food slower than before.

"Dayoko..?" You asked cautiously. She looked towards her, inclining her head. "Do you.. Do you know who's at the door?"

"D-Dayon!" Her smile was tense and shaky. She isn't too sure? Somehow, that made you feel worse. Even though you had never been to Akashika before now, you knew that the District as a whole was small. Everyone would know each other, right? That was what you had initially thought.

You decided to drop it, seeing as the girl was clearly just as uncomfortable as you were. The small voice in your head began filling you with doubt as you chewed on your food. Had you made a mistake coming here? Were they right, saying this was a dumb idea?

A loud thud from the hallway made you jump. Fear crept into your veins for a moment, only to hearing Chorosuke's annoyed tone.

"I am not giving you a meal! Not after the mess you made last time!"

"Huh? But you're rich! Just hire some maids or something to clean it up!"

The arrival of a second voice startled you. You spared a look at Dayoko, who's face and turned sour. So she did know who it was. Your curiosity was peaked.

It sounded... familiar, the voice in the hallway. Slightly more boyish than Chorosuke's, maybe a little too laid back. There was a teasing lilt that hung onto his words, although whether it was intentional or not was unclear to you.

"Choromatsu-niisan is hiding something!" A third voice called out. It was cheerful and loud, giddy and child-like, and a lot closer than the other two, sounding right outside the door. The door itself began rattling, sliding itself open. Dayoko appeared tense in her seat, glaring wearily at the doorway.

The door slid away to reveal... Chorosuke? Only it wasn't Chorosuke. Was it? Your brain was hurting from the confusion.

He had the face of Chorosuke, only his pupils was larger and his smile was more of a normal curve than a 'V'. His clothing was different, too; he wore a pale yellow polo-shirt with grey slacks, and he walked barefoot, not bothering to put on any house slippers. Your gaze landed on the paper bag in his hand, slightly crumpled from where he held it, with two large holes on the front. What was that for?

His own dark eyes bore into your own for a moment, though to you it felt like a long, drawn out time. It was like he was studying you carefully, even though his eyes were glued to your face. A small chill ran up your spine. Was it cold in here?

"Osomatsu-niisan!" He suddenly called out, making you jump again. You were glad you had settled your food onto the table earlier, or else it would have been thrown onto the floor by now. "There's a girl in here!"

"It's just Dayoko! As if this guy could pull a girl— OW!" 'Osomatsu' (a peculiar name, you thought) cried out in pain after a 'thwack' was heard. It seemed that Chorosuke had put the newspaper to good use.

"No, it's someone else! A different girl." The man glanced down at your chest briefly before looking back at your face. "She's pretty!" You flushed deeply, quickly covering your chest with your arms. Dayoko places her arms around you, her angered glare doing nothing to deter the man from leaving the room.

"Oh?" Osomatsu sounded much closer now. "Has she got a nice pair of tits?" Another 'thwack' followed by a pained whine. "I'm just kidding!"

"Stop terrorising my guest, you idiots!" Chorosuke hissed.

"We haven't done anything! Jeez, chill out, will ya? So uptight all the... time.."

The other man had stepped into the room, half of his body peeking through the doorway as he paused. Your gaze was drawn to his, locking onto his familiar large brown eyes, tracing the curve of his soft-looking face and over his slicked back dark hair, a few locks falling over his forehead. He wore a white dress shirt, with the tie and upper buttons loosened greatly and his over-coat draped over his shoulder.

His own eyes were looking you over, too, albeit with less subtlety. He followed the way your hair framed your face, the curve of your shoulder down to your chest, lingering there for a moment before going back up to your [e/c] orbs.

"Woah... WOAH!" His dazed mutter was overtaken by a yelp of surprise as he stumbled into the room, looking back with a glare at Chorosuke's outstretched arm. "What was that for?!"

"You were blocking the way," Chorosuke seethed, his glare burning into the man before he rushed over to you. "[Y/N]! I am so terribly sorry for these imbeciles! Had I known they were coming, I would have made sure to keep them away!"

"Why are you acting all high and mighty all of a sudden?" Osomatsu cut in, his brow raised incredulously. "You're even worse than we are, Chorofappyski!"

Chorosuke paled, freezing in place. His eyes looked devoid of life as he refused to move. It was beginning to concern you.

"Chorosuke..?" You waves a hand in front of his face, receiving no response.

"Dayon.." Dayoko stood up with a roll of her eyes, easily dragging her brother by the arm and laying him down in his previous seat, making sure his head was resting against the pillow.

"Don't mind him. It was the only way I could get him to shut up." Osomatsu sat down with a sigh, a cat-like grin crossing his lips as he studied you once more. "So. Do I get a name for that cute face?"

Your cheeks were set ablaze again. You averted your eyes down to your lap, fingers fidgeting with your clothing. You mumbled your name timidly, picking up the way he repeated it, each syllable rolling off of his tongue like honey.

"I'm Akashika Ozo! Always at your service," he winked, leaning closer to you. You furrowed your brows slightly in confusion.

"'Ozo'...? But, didn't he say your name was 'Osomatsu?'" You pointed out, glancing to the other yellow-shirt man to see that he was busy grabbing the food from Chorosuke's bowl.

"It's just a.. nickname he's come up with," Ozo answered quickly, looking away from you. The man in question raised his head towards you, smiling widely.

"I'm Jyushimatsu!" He laughed. You didn't know why he was laughing, but it was certainly contagious, causing you to smile back at him.

"Stop telling people that that's your name!" Chorosuke rose from the dead, pointing a finger accusingly at Jyushimatsu.

"Call me Jyushimatsu! It's way better!" Came the reply.

"His real name is Ogami Toshio," Chorosuke sighed, "He's the son of the mayor in Akatsuka Village. He's quite unpredictable, so I highly suggest you stay away from him," he whispered the last part to you, only to be pushed out of the way by Ozo. He settled comfortably next to you, grabbing a bowl for himself and ignoring Chorosuke's protests.

"This food looks great! Let's just eat already!" Quickly following Jyushimatsu, Ozo piled his bowl with various morsels of food before digging in, noisily chewing away at his food.

"Hey! Where's the beer?"

"You're not invited to this dinner!" Chorosuke cried, powerless to the two 'intruders' in his house.

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