#Violet seems cool don’t get me wrong but I don’t fully like the idea of mech dragon thing especially since Rotom has been a main point-

[littlestarbigsky]

finally finished my stats work for the week (ily chatgpt) soooo fic time :))

listen i reallllly love the idea of at least some of the greasers having good parents sooo two-bit and his sister get a good mom ;) also! i realize two-bit’s sister doesn’t canonically have a name but i saw someone call her molly like.. once.. so i’ve just been running with that lol

i wrote half of this when i wanted to write angst and then finished it when i was in a better mood so that’s what that’s about lol

anyways here’s the matthews family helping darry when pony gets sick :)

it was almost midnight when the sound of someone pounding on the front door jerked two-bit awake from where he had been dozing off watching cartoons. he shifted on the couch to look out the window, fully expecting to see steve or johnny needing a place to crash, hell, he wouldn’t have been shocked if a cop was standing outside the door because some socs had blamed some vandalism on him, wouldn’t be the first time. the last thing he was expecting to see was…

darry?

truth be told, it had been a while since he’d really seen darry. he saw pony at school most days, and he would swing by the dx to visit soda when he could, but since their parents died, darry had been busting his ass at all hours of the day to make ends meet, which didn’t leave much time for him to hang around with the rest of their crew.

you’d think darry was trying to break down their door with how hard he was pounding it. two-bit lazily pushed himself off the couch and hurried over to the door.

darry looked a real mess when two-bit opened the door, violet shadows stamped beneath his eyes, his hair sticking out in all directions, and he was in need of a shave and a shower.

“darry, what-”

“i’m sorry, i know i got no business comin’ here this time of night, but i-” he broke off, his breath coming in short, panicked, gasps.

“hey, you don’t gotta apologize,” two-bit grabbed his arm and ushered him into the house, out of the cool, early-spring, air. “what’s the matter? what’s got ya all worked up?”

“i need-” darry cut himself off and immediately started pacing the living room floor. “your mom… is she here? i need to talk to her…”

it was a mark of how badly darry was scaring two-bit that he didn’t crack a joke, just asked again, “darry, what’s going on?”

“it’s pony… he- he’s got a fever. i thought maybe he just needed a day to rest and get better but soda told me he’s been getting worse all day…” darry had to take a moment to gasp in another breath before continuing. “i- i don’t know what medicine to give him… he was real hot when i left, he always gets so bad when he’s sick… none of us have gotten sick since-”

“i know,” darry didn’t finish, but two-bit didn’t need him to, he knew he was about to say that none of them had gotten sick since their parents had died. he felt a lump swelling in his throat as he watched darry pace and panic across the living room floor.

“hey, dar,” he started gently. “how about you have a seat. i think mama’s still awake, i’ll go get her.”

darry nodded, squeezing his eyes shut, but he didn’t sit down, he just stood still where he was.

when two-bit came back with his mother a few minutes later, it was like watching a superhero go to work. he leaned against the doorframe that led to the hallway with the bedrooms, watching his mother envelop darry in her arms and gently guide him over to the couch. she coached him through a few deep breaths to calm him down a bit before starting to ask him what was wrong with ponyboy, how long he had been sick, what he’d been eating, if he’d been sleeping much. darry answered all of her questions quickly and succinctly, rattling off symptoms with painstaking ease.

a door creaked open behind two-bit, and he turned around to see his 12 year-old kid sister standing in her doorway. molly’s pajama shirt and shorts didn’t match, her hair was all messy from sleep, and her gray eyes seemed huge in the dim light shining in from the living room. he didn’t know what made him do it, maybe he was realizing how glad he was that he didn’t have to worry over molly like this, but without a word, he pulled her into his side.

“haven’t seen darry in forever,” molly said sleepily, her words almost slurring together.

“me neither, kiddo,” he answered, running a hand up and down molly’s arm. “he’s got a lot more to worry about now.”

“what’s he doin here then? shouldn’t he be at home sleeping?”

he had to laugh at the innocence of the question, of course darry should have been at home sleeping, he shouldn’t have to be staying up all night with a sick ponyboy, his parents should be doing that. he should be in college. he should be bringing home stories about parties and inviting his family to his football games, not losing sleep over what medicine he should be giving his little brother.

“ponyboy’s not feeling so hot,” two-bit finally answered. “darry just isn’t used to doing it all by himself.”

“so he’s askin mama?”

“yeah, she’s pretty good at gettin us better when we’re feeling lousy, right?”

“i guess so,” molly shrugged, taking a step forward, going into the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of water.

two-bit tuned back into what his mother was saying to darry.

“it doesn’t sound like anything too serious, probably just the flu. with any luck, he may already be through the worst of it,” she was saying to him, one of her hands rubbing his shoulder comfortingly.

“okay…” darry’s voice was thick with unshed tears, the tension between him and the dam breaking almost palpable. “what- what should i give him to help?”

“maybe some aspirin for the pain-”

“no,” darry practically shouted, so fast he knew he had sounded rude. “sorry, i caught pony takin’ too many aspirins last week, i don’t wanna be givin him that stuff…”

“that’s okay, honey,” she answered, ever patient. “how about some tylenol? that will help with the fever and won’t have aspirin in it. for his stomach, pepto bismol is probably best. and if he starts getting those bodyaches again, the tylenol should help but ibuprofen works, too, it’s an anti-inflammatory. do you guys have all that?”

“i-” darry looked at her with an expression that was so helpless and exhausted and scared. he had no idea if that had any of that stuff, let alone which did what and how much he should be giving his brother. the thought alone was so overwhelming. he felt his eyes glass over just thinking of having to wake pony up to persuade him to take the cocktail of medicine.

she reached up and ran a hand through his hair and over his cheek, “it’s okay, sweetheart, you can borrow what we’ve got. use as much as you need, you can give it back when pony’s feeling better.”

darry took a second before he opened his mouth to stutter out, “h-how much…”

“i’ll write it all down for you,” she answered, patting him on the knee as she stood up and headed towards the bathroxcom. darry’s head fell into his hands, breathing deeply and clearly doing everything he could to keep it together.

he only looked up when molly came over from the kitchen and nudged his shoulder, “shouldn’t you be in bed, little lady?”

molly just shrugged, sitting down on the floor in front of the couch, “kinda hard when you’re bangin’ on the door so loud.”

darry chuckled wetly, “sorry about that, kiddo, i’ll just break in through two-bit’s window next time.”

molly’s eyes widened, “don’t do that! he’ll scream like a little girl!”

darry laughed again. two-bit leaned his head against the threshold and crossed his arms across his chest, watching his sister break down darry’s carefully structured walls without even trying.

“i brought you this,” she held up something in a white wrapper. “it’s a popsicle, mama always tells us that there’s no trouble out there that a popsicle can’t help. might not fix it, but it sure can’t hurt.”

“thanks, molly, but i don’t think it’s a good idea,” darry sighed. “pony’s stomach is bothering him, i don’t wanna make it worse.”

“it’s not for ponyboy, it’s for you,” she crinkled the paper and held it closer to him to grab. “it’s strawberryyyyyy.”

darry let out a laugh, a true laugh, and took the popsicle from molly. two-bit pushed himself off the doorframe and grabbed two more popsicles from the freezer before handing one to molly and sitting down next to her on the floor.

their mother came back from the bathroom with the medicine in a bag for darry, stopping dead when she saw molly with him.

“what do you think you’re doing, little miss?” she asked, and molly whipped around. “it’s almost midnight what are you doing with a popsicle?”

molly pressed her red stained lips together and pointed at two-bit, “he gave it to me.”

two-bit pointed at molly, “she gave one to darry.”

their mother’s eyes jumped up to darry on the couch, his half finished popsicle still in his mouth. he shrugged and pulled it out of his mouth, pushing himself off the couch, “is that the medicine?”

“yep, this should be everything,” she smiled, her attention fully back on darry. “i wrote down all of the dosages and what should help with what, but if you need anything else, i wrote down our phone number.”

darry grinned sheepishly, “i know your phone number…”

“well then, you should have no trouble letting us know if things get worse,” she handed him the medicine and grabbed his face, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “because you are too damn young to have to do all this by yourself. pride has no place where help is being offered, darry.”

darry leaned into the touch. god, when was the last time someone had given the poor kid a hug?

“let us know when the kid’s doing better, steve and i will bring over some snacks,” two-bit said, standing up from the floor, ruffling molly’s hair as he got up.

darry nodded wordlessly and took the bag of medicine. he walked over to the door, looking like he was about to leave before he turned around and looked right at molly, who was leaning up against two-bit’s legs.

“you were right, kid.”

molly tilted her head, but darry only smiled and held up what was left of his popsicle.

“might not fix it, but it sure can’t hurt.”

[buggy-os]

OUGH POKÉMON SCARLET AND VIOLET HAVE A HOLD ON MY HEARTTTT. YOU TELLIN ME GEM POKÉMON? IN MY SILLY LIL OPEN WORLD RPG WITH A SUSPICIOUS AMOUNT OF UNOVAN POKÉMON SHOWN IN THE TRAILER AFTER WHAT RECENTLY HAPPENED? (I think a bunch of unovan, I recognize quiet a few) EKWIJOREUEKWK

[bokettochild]

Request: Fairy Hyrule, Minish Four and Bunny Legend cuddlefic? Mostly because I love the idea of hugging a bunny ten times your size. THINK OF THE (literal) FLUFF AND SOFTNESS

So... I got a bit caught up in the WHY of them all being Small, and... this happened.

It all got deleted halfway through and I had to rewrite it from memory, but it turned out okay (although I don't like the flow as much this time through), bt it's... a bit long. This baby was ten pages, and it took forever to get to the cuddling bit- sorry about that.

Anyways, Anon, here is your (long overdue) Tiny fic (it ain't tiny).

The others are laughing and it’s making him mad. Usually, he’s just smack them over the head (a much good as it would do, curse his weak arms) but usually he can reach that high.

Right now, he can’t.

Because right now, he’s a freaking rabbit

He’s a little pink rabbit sitting in the middle of a circle of heroes who are all laughing at him, and more than anything he wants to hop his freaking furry tail over to Warrior’s horrid choice of footwear and bite the shit out of the captain’s ankles; he deserves it (the rancher does to).

“How did this happen?” Hyrule wheezes out, and even though he wants to be, Legend finds that he can’t be mad at the healer, not when the kid’s face is flushed with laughter, his smile bright and carefree, golden gaze watery under the force of his bell-like laughter as it pricks at Legend’s sensitive ears.

“I don’t know!” Twilight wheezes from where he’s leaning against Time, hearty chuckles exploring from him unabashedly as he looks down at Legend. “We were scouting around the camp and when I turned around,” He gestures weakly to the veteran, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Rabbit!”

Legend scowls. He doesn’t even know what happened. One minute he was walking and the next he was tumbling head over paws on the pathway. He’d refused to let Twilight carry him back to camp (if only to try and maintain whatever dignity he had left) and had waited hopefully for Twilight to retrieve the Master Sword for him, only for Warriors to stumble upon him with the darkest expression he’s ever seen on the captain’s face.

Warriors’ expression at seeing a rabbit might very well haunt Legend’s dreams for ages to come, and had prompted a squeak of fear from him that had sent Sky darting up from his seat. “Legend!” The Chosen Hero had shouted, concern in his sky-blue eyes as he had skidded to his knees at Legend’s side, cautious hands scooping him up and inspecting him for injuries in the brief moment where he was too shocked to protest. Of course, he wouldn’t stand it for long, and after pawing at Sky’s fingers with angry huffs and squeaks that he was going to hope the others would forget about, he had been released back onto the ground.

Which landed them where they were now, surrounded by cackling heroes as they stared down at the fluffy pink ball of fur that was their salty veteran.

“Wow vet, I’d’ve never guessed, a rabbit?” Warriors wheezes, eyes full of mirth. “No wonder we don’t get along!”

He rolls his eyes and growls as best as he can as a rabbit (not like he can growl anyway, but he tries none-the-less). “Just hand over the Master Sword so we can get this shit over with.” He squeaks, ignoring how his growls sound more like honks and chitters than anything threatening.

Sky looks at him oddly, as do several of the others, none of them (save Twi and Sky) apparently expecting him to be able to speak in this form, but the Chosen Hero obliges regardless, reaching back for the Master Sword and carefully settling it within Legend’s reach.

The cool cross-guard is comfortable under his paws, even if it is too big, and he sighs in relief as the power of the blade flows over him. In a moment, his form will disappear into the light and reappear, whole and Hylian, and fully capable of kicking some rancher ass.

Just a moment....

A second more...

He blinks his eyes open, violet flitting across the blade in mounting concern as he takes in the fluffy pink paws that are where his hands should be. Why isn’t it working? Why is he still a helpless rabbit?

“That’s weird.” Twilight and Sky both murmur, exchanging a worried glance as the Skyloftian retrieves the blade. He lunges after it though, not giving Sky a chance to inspect the blade and instead startling him with the weight of a rabbit in his lap as pink paws reach up to grasp the sword hilt again.

“Fi, explain.”

The sword spirit’s voice rings clear and cool in his head as Sky lowers the blade further, better into his reach. He hardly processes the motion, so focused on the words, which is perhaps why he doesn't question the stabilizing hand that lowers onto his back.

“Young Master,” Fi chimes softly in his mind. “The forces which have transformed you are not dark in nature. There is a 76% chance that they are in fact, of nature themselves. As such, my blade is unable to undo the curse. You will likely have to wait until this curse runs its course.”

“How long.” He grates out, nose shivering in irritation as his ears flick back, brushing gently against the Skyloftian's fingers and making Sky gasp softly.

“Processing....There is a 49% percent chance that this curse will fade and return you to your Hylian form in approximately three days' time, and there is a 27% percent chance that it will take a week for said change to occur. Additionally, there is a 15% percent chance that the curse will not fade, and a 9% chance that this curse will make you explode.”

A strangled screech escapes him and he doesn’t even realize his paws have released the sacred blade until they are grasping at his ears, tugging with all of the pent-up emotion inside of his body as he processes the words. Never mind the exploding bit, he might not turn back? There’s only a fifty-fifty chance that he’ll turn back in the next few days?

Sky’s long fingers drag through his fur gently, rubbing soothing circles over his back. “What did she say?”

“Three days!” He tugs his ears again. “Three days of being utterly useless and helpless, and it’s not even certain that I’ll turn back! I could be stuck like this forever! I could explode!”

“Exploding doesn’t seem likely-” Twilight attempts to calm him, but it only makes him tug his ears harder.

“Fi said it might happen!” He shouts back, high pitched and squeaky, and hating every second of it. He buries his face in the fabric beneath him, his rabbit heart pounding with panic and cold dread washing over him as the words continue to spew from his mouth. “And if Fi said it could happen than it might! And we were about to go into battle too! What’ll happen if someone gets hurt? I can’t help anyone and there's absolutely nothing that stupid bunny could do and-”

Someone’s scratching his ears.

Long fingers rubbing just right between them and Legend is helpless to tell them to stop because he’s too busy melting into a puddle in Sky’s lap at the sensation. All thoughts flee as he lets Sky’s hands drive away all worries. Should he be worried that he’s rendered speechless and vulnerable by something so simple? Probably, but Sky seems to know just how to place his hands and Legend can only hum in appreciation at the feeling, a squeaky purr escaping him as he leans into the sensation as Sky hums something soft and soothing under his breath. The vibrations carry down his fingers and tingle down Legend’s spine, calming him further.

“Cute.” Twilight's voice breaks him from his thoughts, and he’s pulling back from Sky’s hands and glaring up at the rancher with all the fury he can fit in his now tiny body.

“He’s not wrong, Kit.” Time chuckles soft and low, and Legend whips his head around to stare at the man.

“Oh no, you are not giving me a nickname!”

“Yeah Time,” Sky’s voice is low and mirthful as he speaks, hand once more settling on Legend’s back as he lifts an arm to block the vet from launching himself at their leader. “He’s my descendant, if anyone should be giving him a nickname it’s me.”

“How about Nibbles?” The sailor grins, leering into Legend’s space with enough mischief in his gaze to kill a Lynel. “I mean, the vet is always chewing us out.”

He forgets for a moment that his growls sound more like chirps in this form, baring his teeth at the sailor as he attempts to frighten him off. It doesn’t work, rabbits aren’t made to scare off bigger animals “So help me sailor I-”

Large hands scoop him off the ground and suddenly he’s being cradled in Sky’s arms. Like a baby. The indignity! “Calm down, Bun, he’s just kidding.” Sky’s crystal eyes glimmer with genuine concern as he looks down at Legend. “And we’ll find a way to change you back, I promise. The goddesses wouldn’t have let you change like this if it was for the worse. You’ll see,” Sky bops his nose with a smile entirely too pure. “It’ll be fine.”

Legend would like to argue that point, the goddesses have never shown any particular interest in what’s best for him before, and most of them seem to find humor in ruining his life time and again (except the Golden Trio, they’re alright he guesses, especially Din), but Sky looks so certain and Legend’s honestly too tired to start a big fight about Hylia again. (Heaven knows the last time he made Sky mad he nearly shat himself at how terrifyingly defensive Sky could get about those he loved). It doesn’t matter anyway, he supposes, as Sky’s already standing and making is way back to their main camp, gait just smooth enough not to jostle his reluctant passenger as Legend slumps in place.

He might as well let this happen, at least until he can figure out how to fix it.

It’s official.

Legend hates being a bunny.

They’ve settled down for dinner and as if to mock him and all that he loves, Wild has been struck with the inspiration to make his absolutely heavenly radish stew. The one that Legend would literally sell some of his rings for because it is that good.

And he can’t eat it.

He tried, and that attempt resulted in both himself and Sky covered in broth, the thick liquid clinging to his fur now as he sits on the ground with some raw fruits and vegetables instead. He doesn’t know that he’ll ever be able to eat it again without being forced to remember nearly drowning in the stuff.

He feels like a baby and he hates it.

He’s soaked himself and his ancestor and food and Warriors still isn’t done tittering about it.

He really hates being a bunny.

The others have nearly stepped on him numerous times, simply because they aren’t used to having to watch underfoot, so every time someone walks over to Wild to get seconds (why did the Champion sit next to him and Sky in the first place?) he has to back-peddle onto his haunches to avoid being crushed under heavy boots and even heavier feet.

Add to that that Wild and Wind both subconsciously reach out to pet his bedraggled fur every few minutes and he’s absolutely fed up with this shit!

At least the Champion was willing to lend him something to dry his fur off with, and even if he hates it, the spare brush Warriors has on hand does a decent job of detangling his fluffy hide. If he melts a little in Twilight’s lap as the rancher goes over him with the brush than no one says anything (although both Sky and Time have infuriating matching smiles on their faces).

But then it’s bedtime and Time is sorting through his things to try and make sure that no one person will have to carry all his stuff, and he’s reminded once again how utterly useless he is in this form. It only makes things worse that he knows that the others will be burdened with his bags, and considering his top speed at the moment can only be held for short sprints, he’s pretty sure the Old Man is going to have someone carry him too.

The very idea makes him puff out his fur in irritation.

At the very least though, he doesn’t have to worry much about how he’s going to handle the cold nights, Sky’s already taken his beloved sailcloth and bundled it into a little nest, and the minute Twilight is done with his fur the Chosen Hero is scooping him up and laying him in it (absently, he wonders if Sky might have a stronger paternal instinct than Time and if his own small form is triggering that). The fabric is warm though, and it’s nice. If Sky curls up around him in the middle of the night though, well, he supposes there’s not really much he can do about that.

Sky does curl around him and he’s trapped.

The Skyloftian may look soft and cuddly, but he’s got an iron grip when he’s asleep, and it’s only by the pure squishability of his current form that he’s able to escape (Sky will be disappointed when he wakes up, he knows, but even so, Legend doesn’t intend on staying a rabbit, not for a whole week, especially when there’s monsters out there.

Perhaps the thought of said monsters should dissuade him, but it doesn’t. He knows now what triggered this change, and he’s determined to hunt it down and trick it into changing him back, he just needs to escape his babysitters for a hot tic in order to do so.

It’s a lucky thing that Four and Warriors are both so drowsy that the feather light step of a rabbit doesn’t catch their attention as the two sit on watch, and Legend’s able to creep over to his bag (positioned with Twilight’s things) and dig through it until he finds what he needs.

You can’t go making deals with the fae unless you have something of value, or those tricksters will rob you blind and steal your first born. Not that Legend ever intends on having kids, but on the off chance that he ever did he’d rather they didn’t have a shitty life because he made an error in dealing with a forest sprite.

Come to think of it, how powerful are the forest people of this time?

Warriors looks seconds away from walking up to Sky’s sleeping form and throwing Legend as far as he can into the distance, and it’s making Four nervous.

Rationally, they know that Warriors wouldn’t consciously do such a thing, but they also know how much Warriors hates rabbits in general, and that the captain’s initial instinct at seeing them is to toss them away from himself as far as possible (never mind how rare a real rabbit is, Warriors’ time is apparently full of them and Warriors hates them). They’ve heard the story, how the captain was made to hunt rabbits down across his world and return them to their homes, the fact that he did so by throwing them is a bit concerning considering the delicate bone structure of the animals, but it’s not Wars’ fault that he doesn’t know that.

All the same, Four would feel a bit more secure if they knew that Wars wouldn’t be doing such a thing.  (Rationally, they know he won’t, but rationality is only so much of the equation).

“I’m gonna check on the vet.” They murmur softly to their companion. Somethings not right and they hope it’s just Warriors’ previous retellings of his own rabbit-escapades eating at them and not something else. “Sky’s got a grip like a vice when he sleeps and I don’t want him getting crushed.”

Never mind that being small sucks when it’s this cold out. Four desperately hopes that it won’t rain tonight (although the air tastes right for it).

“Rabbits are tough little things,” The captain chuckles. “I’m sure he’s okay.”

Vio wrenches control from the others, gaze flat as he stares out at Wars. “You do know most rabbits can’t survive being thrown, right? They’re not like cats, if they land wrong their done for.”

The captain pales slightly but doesn’t say anything, and they take that as their cue to stand and make their way over to where Sky and the vet had bedded down for the night. Sure enough, Sky is curled up around the sailcloth nest he made for Legend like a child curled around their favorite stuffed animal (or Red with any of the rest of them), but at the very least it doesn’t look as if Legend would have been smashed, just caged. They wince, the vet doesn’t sleep well on a good night, but waking up to being trapped? That is...not good. There’s a reason they never force him to join everyone else when Red takes over and calls for a cuddle pile; everyone knows that the most Legend will stand is letting Hyrule hold his hand while he sleeps, and even then, the vet will still pull away when he finally does fall asleep.

Sky shifts (he’s a heavy sleeper, but all the same he moves a lot), arms wrapping tighter around the bundle in his arms. Tight enough that the sailcloth gives way. Sky’s face screws up in his sleep, wrapping even tighter around the bundle as if seeking out some form of resistance.

Four panics. Bunnies are delicate creatures and Sky is strong, did he just crush Legend?

Only, looking closer, Vio points out that there isn’t even a hint of pink amidst the fabric, and when Four dares reach out to test the bundle himself, they find that there is nothing within its folds.

“Four?” Warriors’ voice is tinged with concern as Four stand back up from his crouch, brows pinched together as he scans over the camp. “Is something wrong?”

“Legend’s missing.”

The captain’s brows shoot up, but thankfully he doesn’t bother with questioning them, instead hoisting himself to his feet and making his way around the camp, an ever-growing frown marring his features as he looks around. “Did he choose to sleep with Hyrule instead?” It’s a soft murmur, likely only spoken aloud because Wars is too tired to stop it before it reaches his mouth, but Four’s eyes flick over to where the Traveler sleeps regardless.

“I don’t think so.”

“Look,” Warriors groans softly, not loud enough to wake the others, stopping at Twilight’s bedroll and motioning to the bags stacked near the rancher's pillow. “His bag is open.”

“You don’t think he climbed inside of it, do you? We’d never find him!”

The captain gives him a look, blinking once before shaking his head. “No! But he was clearly trying to get at something.” Royal blue eyes turn to stare out at the forest. “What are the chances he went back out there, alone?”

Four hesitates, fingers drumming on his thigh as the colors swarm in his mind. “I don’t know, but I should probably check.”

“We need to watch camp.” The older hero frowns.

“You watch camp, I’ll go out there.”

“You can’t go alone, Four, it’s not safe.” Wars reminds him, concern glinting in his gaze as he turns back to the smithy.

“Fine.” Blue’s the only reason they roll their eyes, they swear. “I’ll take Hyrule. If the vet’s fallen down a hole or something then we can take care of it immediately.”

A smile breaks out across Warriors’ face, even if it is slightly strained. “Funny how that’s even a risk now.”

“Don’t I know it.” Besides, at least Hyrule seems to have a second sense for these sorts of things. Like Sky and Twilight, he has a knack for tracking down the others, especially if he needs to find Time for whatever reason. Four’s seen it themselves, it’s uncanny, but incredibly useful, so they’ve never really questioned it (Vio has, Vio has questioned it enough to give them a head-ache).

It’s the work of a minute to shake the traveler awake, as he’s one of the lightest sleepers of them all, and it takes even less time for them to be off, the simple words “Legend’s gone” being enough to send the traveler springing up and following closely after Four, one hand on his sword as the two of them make their way back into the depths of the forest.

Legend should know better than to try and make a deal with the fae.

Hyrule can recognize the look of a fairy about to claim her prize in an instant, and it appears Legend is about as clueless as a bunny can be about the loophole that he must have left open in whatever twisted deal the two have concocted. Anger burns in his blood as a whisper-hisses through his teeth, a few words all it takes before he’s zipping between the two of them, wings beating furiously as all six of his eyes stare into those of the other with nothing short of pure fury.

“Mine!” He hisses, darting forwards in a fake charge at the other, wings whirring angrily as his eyes stare at them “Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine!” His voice contorts and buzzes, his aura flickering brighter and sharper as he zooms down to hover over Legend’s ears. “MINE.”

“What is your claim?”  The other chimes smugly. “What promise or service marks him as yours? Where is the Mark that makes a mortal the charge of a fae, hmm? Show it to me and I will release him to your care.” Glistening teeth glimmer as multiple eyes glisten with malice, jealousy over a potential catch making the fairy’s gaze spark dangerously. “Else ways, leave us be, our deal is near set and you have no business to interrupt it.”

“His true form,” He hisses. “There is my Mark on his hand. The Triangle, my symbol.” He hisses through bared teeth, every eye slitted and glimmering with fury. He can’t lie, not even if he tried, but he’s fae and they’re more skilled than anyone at finding tricks to get around things. The triforce is his symbol, something he’s recognizable by in his world, but it’s not only on his hand, the others bear the same mark and even if it isn’t Fae in origin, it's from the Scared Realm and none can deny that it sets them apart. Anyways, the Fae know mortals by their markings, this should be enough of a claim to make her renounce her dealings with Legend.

No fae dares mess with the Charge of another.

“What is your proof? Can you show me?” She taunts.

“My power isn’t that strong.” He hisses. “You do it and then you’ll see!”

“And give him what he asks without receiving my due? Oh no little Half-Blood.” She glares at him. “Give me Good Reason or leave alone.”

“He is goddess born.” He hisses out finally, grasping at straws. Mother only taught him so much of Fae law, but surely there’s something against touching those blessed by the heavens, right? “Hylia’s child descended. To touch him or any other of Mine is to plead wrath from the Scared Realm.” A sly smile slides over pointed teeth. “Would you wish that on Yours?”

She pales. “Mark your own in all forms, Halfling. This would not happen if you did.” It’s all she cares to say though, zipping away without another word.

“Do I want to know what I just avoided?” Legend’s voice croaks up at him, faint and pitchy all the same as he looks up to the fairy above him.

“I don’t know. But never, and I mean NEVER, make deals with fae again. Not even me! You can’t break promises or be too careful, you never know what they’ll do.” Two of his eyes glance over his shoulder to ensure that the other Fae is gone for good.

“I was trying to be careful.” Legend huffs, his breath sending Hyrule higher over his head for a moment before the fairy regains his balance. “They’re clever little-” He cuts off, violet eyes narrowing and bunny nose shivering as he looks up at Hyrule again. “You’re a fairy.”

His aura dims slightly, wings drooping ever so slightly as he looks down at his mentor. “Yes.”

Legend stares, violet piercing and sharp. Hyrule has never noticed the hint of gold that bands his irises, nor the flecks of blue that glisten under the effects of a fairy’s glow, and it only makes the Veteran’s stare all the more intense.

“Huh.” The bunny huffs softly. “That’s pretty neat, ‘Rulie.” There's no anger, no accusation in his tone, and when Hyrule brings his gaze up to meet that of his mentor again, all he sees is fondness and intrigue. “Is this new? An item? Were you- no,” Legend’s ears prick forwards, his interest obvious as he leans forward. (Hyrule wonders if the vet realizes that he's smelling him.) “You speak like They do. This isn’t new.”

It’s not a question.

“I’m, uh, half fairy.”

Legend nods slowly. “And you didn’t think to tell anyone?” At the dimming of Hyrule’s glow the vet pulls away, eyes flashing with panic for a moment. “I don’t mean that as a bad thing, ‘Rule, just-” He cocks his head long ears flopping to one side sloppily. “It’s not something I’d think you’d want to hide. Seems pretty useful to me.”

And by useful, Hyrule knows Legend means cool.

“I told Four.” He nods to the Hylian standing over them. The smithy’s eyes flicker various colors, his lips pulling aside into a slight smile as he crouches to be closer to their height.

“Now I’m taller than both of you.” Four chuckles softly, crimson tinged gaze sweeping over the two of them.

“Don’t get smart.” Legend huffs. “This is a curse, not my true form, you’d be tiny too if you were cursed into an animal form. Probably smaller than me!”

There’s a knowing look in the smithy’s gaze, but he holds his silence, smile still present as he carefully looks over the both of them. “Well, if neither of you were harmed in that little exchange, we should get back to camp. Wars will be in a huff if we don’t back with you soon.”

Legend huffs his own huff, but doesn’t object, gathering up the glimmering item he had brought as a toll (Hyrule thinks it might be a precious stone of some sort) and slowly hopping after the Smithy as he turns back towards camp.

They’d have made it to camp rather quickly too, if the sky hadn’t chosen that moment to weep out it’s sorrow with the world and the evils within. Great sheets of rain, the likes of which they usually only expect from the Champion’s Hyrule, flood down over them, and Hyrule thanks all things Holy that Legend is there to break his fall as the water soaks his wings and sends him careening towards the earth. Four yelps in surprise, hands fumbling for his hood as he tried to fend off some of the wet (it does little good, they’ll be soaked in seconds in this downpour.

“In here!” Legend squeaks, the rabbit hero already darting into the nearest hollow he can see that isn’t clearly inhabited. It’s a tight squeeze, and Hyrule nearly knocks his head on the bark of the opening, but Legend gets the both of them under, and despite the mushrooms that seem to fill the space with a soft light, it’s a comfortable fit for the two of them. The ground beneath is laid with moss, purposefully it would seem, and Hyrule lets himself side down into it with an appreciative hum.

“What about Four?” He murmurs softly, looking out of the crevice through which they entered. It’s still pouring buckets, and unlike them, the smithy has no dry place to hide (heavens knows the camp will be soaked. He feels terrible for the others).

“What about me?”

Violet and gold turn upwards as twin gasps escape the two. Four, in all of his minish glory, waves back at them from where he’s perched on top of one of the mushrooms. “Minish portal.” He smiles cheerily (but Hyrule can Taste the nervousness rolling off of him).

“Wait, both of you get small?” Legend’s ears stand up straight, brushing the roof of their shelter. “Smaller?” He corrects himself.

Four rolls his eyes. “It was get soaked or get small. I don’t fancy catching a cold, so I chose small.” He wrinkles his nose (it will never stop being cute), hopping down from the mushroom and free falling into the dampened fur of his rabbit-companion. “Now shut up and let me warm up, you’re bigger than I am and since you left me out there to soak I think I can get away with using you to warm up.”

Hyrule’s laughter rings soft and sweet through the hollow, Legend’s vaguely offended expression only adding fuel to the fire as he flits closer. “The vet doesn’t really mind cuddles, do you Ledge? Besides,” He lets his wings fall still, embracing the warmth of Legend’s soft fur as he lands in it lightly. “We just saved his ass.”

Legend turns his head to stare at the two of them, but even in rabbit form his lips twitch with amusement as he shoves him nose into Four’s personal space, making the minish-hero tumble down into the moss with a faint yelp. “You’re soaking.”

The smith grins back, plunging right back into the warm pink fur. “That wasn’t a refusal.”

“One time.” Legend huffs, ears flicking briefly. “One time only, smithy. Enjoy it while you can.”

“Trust me,” Four sighs, plonking down against the vet and leaning into the plush fur around him. “I will.”

It takes mere seconds before Four has drifted off, and Hyrule is reminded that the smith was keeping watch for most of the night before they had gone out looking for Legend. Guilt, sickly-sweet, yet bitter, taints his tongue as Legend stares down at the tiny form curled against him. Hyrule sighs. “I guess he was more tired than I thought.”

Legend only huffs, ears flicking back and nose shivering as he noses the smithy’s sleeping from. Four’s dropped off like a stone, completely dead to the world as Legend curls around him (not dissimilar to how Sky had curled around him earlier that night), easing the gentle shivers of the smith, who noses deeper into Legend’s pelt. Tiny paws coming up to catch hold of pink fur as Four curls up, feather-like tail brushing against the top of his tiny nose, moved only by tiny snores that make Legend’s ears twitch and Hyrule giggle softly.

“The rains still pouring down.” Legend hums, gruff as he can be in his current state, but Hyrule knows it’s all an act. “You might as well get some sleep too, ‘Rulie.”.

And while any other time Hyrule may have argued, Legend lifts his head to offer the space next to Four, and if Legend is offering cuddles, especially with his silky soft fur as a barrier against the cold, Hyrule knows he can’t resist it.

Four’s paw catches hold of him the instant he settles next to the smithy, and before he knows it the two of them are both bundled up in each other while Legend curls himself around them, breath soft and soothing as his heart pit-patters away inside of him.

That’s how they wake the next morning.

Wolfie’s nose shoved against the crack in the bark is what pulls them back from the land of dreams, and the soft snuffling bark followed by Time’s voice is what gets them up on their feet. It’s an awkward thing, emerging into the light again to find five heroes and a wolf staring down at them in a mixture of confusion and concern, but nobody seems to be able to bring themselves to scold when Four sneezes.

“We got caught in the storm.” Legend huffs when he sees the soft expression on Time’s face.

Wolfie huffs, and, much to the surprise of the currently shrunken heroes, they can hear the laugh in it. “Of course you did.”

Hyrule’s mouth drops open, all six eyes bugging out in shock as he turns to Four. The fairy’s whisper is high and shocked, but too sharp a noise for Hylian ears, although Legend, Wolfie and Four can all hear him quite clearly. “Wolfie is Twilight!”

[prfctethereal]

just another horror movie. | james potter

pairing: james potter x reader

chapter: prologue

warnings: NSFW smut, oral (female and male receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, talks of a killer, general horror themes

word count: 2.9k

summary: its been a week since you’ve last seen your boyfriend as there is a murderer out and about you spend the night together, not knowing that they aren’t safe themselves. 

The power had long gone out, yet you couldn’t sleep, as the wind bashed against the side of your house. Home alone - your parents had gone away for the weekend - and the storm outside gave you the spooks. A faint candlelit light warmed the living room, silhouettes dancing across the walls, as you sat curled up on the couch, trying to get the noises out of your head.

A book lay open on your lap, a random page open, but your eyes couldn’t focus on the words. You were nervous - storms always made you like that - but there was nothing you could do. All you hoped was that the storm would blow over in the morning. All you hoped was that you would peacefully fall asleep and morning would come quickly.

A scratching at the door knocked you out of your trance. Your head flicked up, eyes glossing over the front door, as you listened out. You tried glancing out the window to see who it could be, but the outside was too foggy. You could barely make out the flickering street lamps.

Cautiously, you moved towards the front door, your book folded back neatly in your hand. Maybe you could use it as a battering ram if there was an attacker at the door.

In your left hand, you picked up a candle, shining it towards the door handle. Taking a deep breath in, you flung the door open. Well, you slowly opened it, but the howling wind opened the door further.

“Jesus sweetheart, you gon’ let me stay in this rain all evening, huh?”

It was only James Potter.

Giggling, you tugged on his shirt collar, pulling him into your house, dropping your book on the way. His shirt had been soaked by the rain, no doubt that he must’ve walked all the way here from his own house. His usually beat fluffy hair was sticking against his forehead, crystal droplets clinging against his face. He looked devilishly handsome from the weather.

Staring up at his hazel eyes, you bit your lip seductively, waiting for him to make a move. For a moment, it seemed like he was just going to stay there, peering down at you through his water clogged eyelashes. Eventually, a half smirk tugged on his cheeks, a gentle rouge returning to his skin as he warmed up against the candle.

You couldn’t handle the suspense much longer. You leaned upwards, pressing your lips against his hungrily. You drank him in momentarily, getting intoxicated on his flavour - something sweet and something bitter at once - until you pulled away, needing oxygen.

“That’s a lovely welcome wagon.” James said cheekily, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, his wet fingers brushing against your cheek bones. “I was starting to think you had forgotten me.”

“It’s only been a week.” You hummed, leaning your forehead against his, happy to be in his presence once again. “You know my parents don’t want me going out at the moment. They’re still so tense about the so-called killer roaming around.”

James pressed his lips to your cheek, calming your nervousness down with his touch. “I know darling. I wish they wouldn’t take it out on me though.” His soft voice vibrated against your skin. You hummed along to what he was saying.

“It’s not your fault.” You muttered. “I have you now.” You started kissing from his lips to his jawline. Your plush cushions left tiny marks on James’ skin as you nipped lightly. Listening to his light moans only spurred you on, tugging him from the entrance way to back into the living room.

Pushing him onto the couch, you straddled his lap, continuing your venture on his neck. Sucking and nibbling at the skin underneath James’ ear, your desire to see your marks on him grew. Pulling back, you admired the flush on his neck, the other warm scarlet hue already fading to a gentle violet. Underneath your heat, you could feel James’ growing bulge against you, making you groan with arousal.

You couldn’t help your excitement. Clawing at his chest, you tugged on his shirt some more, signalling that you wanted it off. In a frantic scramble of limbs, you both worked together to undo the buttons on James’ damp button-up. Pushing it off his shoulders and revealing his toned torso, you pressed your lips against his chest, smothering open mouth kisses across his pectorals, eliciting whimpers from the bespectacled man before you.

James bucked his hips against you, signalling that he was getting desperate. In an attempt to sooth his desires, you pulled yourself downwards onto your knees, looking up at him. “May I?” You asked for consent, resting your hand against his thighs, the pads of your fingers tracing delicate circles against the material of his jeans.

“Please.” James gulped, already breathing heavily. With a smirk, you hoisted yourself upwards again, hands fidgeting with the zipper on his jeans, undoing the top button. When the jeans would allow you, you pulled them down, revealing James’ girth, straining against his boxers. The sight alone made you grow wetter in your underwear.

With another nod of consent from James, you pulled down his boxers, his thick member slapping against his stomach, red and angry from the tensing beforehand. Lethargically, you stroked the palm of your hand against his skin, spreading the leaking precum from his tip all over his length, making it smoother to handle.

Quickening your pace, you looked up at the fine young man before you, whose eyes were squeezed right from the pleasure. Except, you wanted him to look at you. It had been over a week since you had last been intimate and you wanted the attention on yourself. You were the one pleasuring James, not the inside of his eyelids.

“Look at me,” you whispered against his cock, “I’m the one making you a whimpering mess.” In an attempt to please you, James looked down at you, fixing his eyes to the way you pressed gentle kisses to the underside of his cock, your lips rubbing across his sensitive veins.

“S-so good.” James whimpered, as you took the beginning of his length into your mouth, suckling on the head. “Please… I need more. Please give me more. I’ll be so good to you, please, just give me all of your mouth. I beg of you, give me more.”

Satisfied with James’ begging, you started downwards on his cock again, trying to fit as much as possible in your mouth. As you were entirely caught up in the way James was falling apart beneath you, you didn’t notice the scratching at your window, until the wind had entirely slammed against it, rain pelting the pane of glass. The swinging window had opened itself up from the ferociousness of the storm, a cool draft interrupting your intimate moment.

A chill ran up the back of your spine, and it wasn’t from arousal. You took yourself off of James’ cock, giggling as to disperse the tension. His thigh muscles were flexed and tense, sweating beading from his palms. Sitting up slightly, you placed your hand against his, a feeble attempt to calm his racing mind.

“It was just the wind, love.” You murmured, sitting back on your heels, making your way to the open window. The hissing rain coated you in a thin layer of ice cold water, as you poked your head outside, checking the yard to see if anyone was there. Exactly like you thought, no one was there, except for a stray rodent in the grass. Satisfied, you closed the window, double checking the lock to make sure it was locked tight.

Spinning around again, you noticed James’ attention wasn’t on you once again. A frown appeared on your lips as you followed James’ gaze outwards into the kitchen. “Babe..” He whimpered again.

“What’s wrong?”

“The lights.” James paused, turning his head back towards you once again. “They were flickering.”

“Impossible.” You scoffed, strutting back towards James, placing your hands on his shoulders lovingly. “The power went out hours ago.”

You could tell James was still nervous, and rightly so. For the past few weeks, it seemed like a serial killer had invited themself into the neighbourhood, slaughtering mischievous teenagers whenever they could. Luckily, it hasn’t affected your friend group much, but it has still rocked you and your community. Your parents even refused to send you back to school.

They were hesitant to even go out his weekend, but you convinced them it was a good idea, as to leave you alone from their constant pestering.

“Would you like to go upstairs to my bedroom, love?” That peaked James’ interest, who immediately started flashing puppy dog eyes, as if that would convince you further. Grinning sweetly, you took his hand in yours, pulling his pants up momentarily, as you grabbed a candle.

Hand in hand, you walked up your creaky stairs together, with you leading the way with your candle. When you reached the landing, you invited James into your bedroom, closing the door behind you to set the mood even more.

Gently placing the candle on your bedside table, you laid yourself against your plush comforter, spreading your clothed legs to tease James slightly. It was just then when James realised that you were fully clothed when he had already lost his shirt and some of his pants. Greedily, he lunged forward, nimble fingers working at the hem of your shirt.

“Please can I take this off?” James asked sweetly, meeting your eyes with his. Humming in affirmation, James ripped the top through the middle, receiving a chuckle from you. He plunged his face into your protruding breasts, inhaling the scent on your skin. His hands worked subconsciously against your arms, pushing the remains of your shirt off of your body. When the last of that flimsy material was off of you, you swung your hands behind you, unhooking your bra, revealing your perky tits fully to your boyfriend, who looked like he had just won the lottery.

“Go ahead darling.” You affirmed to the boy, who immediately latched his mouth onto your nipple, humming in delight at your taste. At that moment, you felt like heaven. The soft noises of James sucking against you brought you peace in this stressful time.

You felt James move across to your other tit as your eyes glossed over to your open curtains. In a flash, you saw a darting figure, something solid and dark standing within your tree. When you looked back, it was gone.

Must’ve been a trick of the light.

You were getting too worked up again. To move the thoughts out of your head, you gently reached underneath James’ chin, tilting his face upwards, stroking his cheek with your hand. You reattached your lips to his, pushing the anxious thoughts away, only focusing on the person giving you pleasure in the moment.

“May I?” James nosed at your jaw, taking in deep breaths, yet you were unsure of what exactly he wanted. Smirking, you cocked your head to the side, pouting ever so slightly.

“What do you want darling?” You teased, letting your finger wander across James’ skin. “If you want something, you have to ask.”

James was slowly turning into a whimpering mess as he continued nosing at your neck, placing gentle kisses to your sensitive skin when he felt like it, something you let him do lightly, as he was still a little spooked from the window situation.

Then, you felt James’ hands travel south, trying to connect to whatever skin was available. You understood in that moment what he wanted, grinning cheekily and tugging his face down. With your approval, James looked delighted, flipping your skirt upwards and pulling down your panties. Mesmerised by how your arousal had already soaked through the material, his jaw fell open slightly.

James dove in, kissing and nibbling at your quivering cunt. He licked a fast stripe up the entire length of your pussy, finishing at your throbbing clit. It was screaming to be touched from James’ accidental teasing. When he eventually attached his lips to your clit and sucked, you arched your back off of the bed in pleasure, blissful to finally be getting what you wanted.

His playful tongue teased your entrance, dipping in momentarily before completely pulling out. You hadn’t realised how much you needed him until now, but you let him have your fun. He was your good boy after all.

James continued his venture of your cunt, feasting upon it like a starving man. You tried to keep your eyes on him - to admire the sight and to not be a hypocrite - but your eyes wandered towards the window. You had the full view of the tree once again. You still couldn’t get that figure out of your head, as much as you would like to with the adoring man between your legs.

A crash rang out from downstairs.

In an instant, James shot up from between you, looking at your bedroom door that was pulled shut. You could’ve sworn that you had even heard James growl slightly. Reaching towards him, you carded your fingers in his hair, scratching at his scalp in an aid to sooth him.

“Shh- shh- shh, it will just be my cat darling, don’t fret.” You tilted his head back towards you, pulling him upwards so he was hovering over your naked body. You stretched upwards, connecting your lips with his, tasting yourself on his tongue. You moaned into his mouth, the feeling of his cock pressing against his lower stomach getting to you.

“I need you in me. Please, I want you.” You begged, showing a little submissive behaviour to redirect James’ attention. It worked. His eyes were fixed on you once again, his tongue darting out from his mouth to lick his lips.

“Okay love, just lie back.” James hummed to himself as he lined up his member with your entrance. Looking back at you for consent once again, which you granted with a nod, he entered your tight cunt, a moan escaping his lips.

It felt like ecstasy to be connected once again so intimately. You had forgotten how obsessed you were with the way he slotted into you. Bottoming out, he started thrusting with more effort, pushing himself along so you would fall apart. James’ favourite thing ever was the look you made when you came.

Trailing your fingers downwards, you played with your own clit, feeling your back arch from the bed. It was all too good. James was thrusting into you like it was your first time, and it almost made you forget about the storm outside.

Almost.

It seemed like your eyes were transfixed on your window. The rain was now peltering down ever harder, as if that was possible. As your own orgasm grew, it felt like the storm did too. Sweat was dripping down your face, but it felt like icy rain against your hot, flushed skin.

The lack of control was driving you mad. In a last attempt to clear your anxiety, you pushed James onto his back, his cock slipping out of you momentarily, until you straddled him once again.

Riding him made you feel better. James was back to moaning beneath you and you were calming down. The only sound that you were focused on was the sound of your skin slapping against each other and James’ heavy groans echoing off the walls.

“May I cum?” You had almost forgotten about James for a second. His eyes were screwed shut and it seemed like he had been asking for permission for a while, something that your senses must’ve skipped over. In a way to reassure your boyfriend, you ran your fingers over his chest, focusing attention on his tight nipples.

“Of course, such a good boy for me.” And with that, James came with a shout. You could feel the hot ribbons of his cum filling you up, as James toyed with your clit, desperate to make you cum against his cock before he softened. It didn’t take long as only seconds after James came, you came with him, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave, knocking over all of your senses.

When you came to, you noticed a scared look back on James’ face. Confused, you peered over to where he was looking, and heard it too. Banging against your bedroom door, someone was in your house and someone was trying to get into your room.

You screamed. It was the only thing you could do. Finding a rogue sweater off the ground, you struggled to push it over your head as James scrambled to pull his pants up. When you both felt like you were dressed enough, you rushed over to your bedroom window, opening it desperately.

A splatter of rain water hit your face, cooling you from your previous exhibitions. There was a tree right next to your window, which you reached out to, curling your fingers onto the branch. Looking back, you saw the door begin to open and panic settled in you.

You jumped. You jumped from a second story, landing not so ideally on your ankle. You hissed in pain and James followed suit, only he managed to land in a skilled way.

“Come on, hurry.” James pestered you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and hoisting you up. You began running away from your house together, your sprained ankle slowing you down more than you would’ve liked.

When you looked back, all you could see was a hollow figure standing on the footpath, watching you.

*** a/n: i wrote something again hell yeah

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Let Me Get Close To You

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “wrong number” square. I sat down to write this a couple of days ago & just couldn’t stop - I hope you guys enjoy the cute little verse I created (that I’ll more than likely revisit soon!!). Here’s my bingo card  - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!!  Word Count: 7K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Summary: 

Stuck with the worst professor for Nuclear Science, Peter tries to vent his frustrations to Ned - only to send a desperate text message to Tony Stark, instead. When an immediate spark and so many things in common make it easy for Peter to fall further for the elegant genius, what’s the worst that could really happen? 

Or: the one where Peter texts the wrong number & romance ensues.

Read on AO3 here. 

---- 

Fuming from a frustrating Nuclear Science class, Peter maturely stomped his way out of the engineering building. They were only two weeks into the semester and the old man already had Peter on edge. His major revolved around the class and his ability to get the most out of the information. The dinosaur that stood at the front of the lecture hall every day hadn’t had an original thought since the 90s and refused to see when others did. Much like every old white man, Dr. Milner’s ideas were the be all end all of a science that changed by the millisecond.

Still pretty new to campus after a late sophomore year transfer, Peter didn’t have many people to turn to that weren’t his nerdy and standoffish teammates on the Academic Decathlon team – most of those guys lived in a world a couple steps from the norm, happily keeping to themselves. Though Peter existed there eighty percent of the time, his need to be social and fill a space in the real world made it impossible to commit to that sort of isolation fully. Straddling the line made it difficult to exist on either side – Peter’s favorite pieces of himself were what kept people away, no matter the lifestyle.

With his mind so heavy with all sorts of negativity, Peter suddenly found himself homesick; he spent so much of his life trying to escape the streets of New York – so far from home now, Peter missed them desperately. Thinking about his tangible connection to his favorite urban wasteland, Peter pulled his phone out and hastily typed in Ned’s new number.

Peter Parker [1:23PM]: Hi, I hate it here. Peter Parker [1:24PM]: Dr. Milner is out to get free thinkers. I may not survive the next fourteen weeks.

Peter already felt a little better after typing the words – the mere ability to get one of his many worries off his chest did wonders. Until his phone pinged with a new text message notification, of course.

Nimble fingers pulled the phone from his pocket, his eyes carelessly looking over the screen as it unlocked. Expecting to see Ned’s name there, Peter almost threw the phone to the ground when Siri’s suggestion registered.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:26PM]: Hi stranger! I think this was meant for someone else, but I too think Dr. Milner is out to squash any new idea that doesn’t fit the mold. In his forty-year career, he hasn’t changed a bit.

Another text message was below it, but Peter forced himself to stop reading – his heart felt like it might beat out of his chest already, too much excitement at once couldn’t be good. Out of all the numbers he could’ve accidentally typed, Tony Stark, New York’s genius and resident beauty, Peter’s secret (though not so much) crush, ended up on the other side of the line. The unbelievability of the idea made Peter consider a well thought out prank. Then again, how did any of his fellow classmates know Tony Stark’s personal number?

Sucking in a deep breath, Peter made himself look at the second text message waiting unread.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:27PM]: I’m not sure how you got this number, but I sincerely hope you make it out alive. If you’re in Milner’s class, you’re on the Nuclear track, which means you must be smart. Trust me, the world needs your future contributions, whatever they might be.

Peter gripped the phone a little harder after reading through the second message over and over again. He let his eyes take in each of the words, wondering, if it really was Tony Stark, how anyone ever survived talking to him. In so few sentences, Peter already felt discombobulated, both more confident and turned around than just seconds before. Aside from his infatuation with the man, Peter understood Tony Stark’s contributions to the technology community and the world at large more than most.

It took him a few minutes to convince himself to text back – every time he tried to type something, his fingers froze just centimeters above the screen. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask to make sure he wasn’t getting catfished. Instead, Peter took the direct route, his courage obviously all or nothing in the face of something as big as an accidental interaction with Tony Stark.

Peter Parker [1:35PM]: Holy crap – excuse me for the bluntness, but is this really Tony Stark? Siri doesn’t often get things wrong, especially since I souped her up. But I’m sure you can understand the apprehension. Peter Parker [1:37PM]: Would you be up for answering a few questions just to make sure?

The tip of his finger tapped against the screen impatiently after he hit the send button, his nerves and the not-so-subtle excitement were barely contained under the surface of his skin. He couldn’t remember a time where feeling alive was so prominent.

A smile slipped across his lips when, a moment later, three consecutive texts vibrated Peter’s phone in succession.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:40PM]: You souped up Siri? Steve Jobs is probably turning over in his grave right now. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:41PM]: I think I’m the one that should be asking the questions, don’t you think? How did you even get this number, Peter Parker? It’s a private line. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:42PM]: I am, though – Tony Stark, I mean.

Peter Parker [1:45PM]: Reconfiguring tech is kind of my thing. I used to dumpster dive in high school – you’d be surprised by the cool pieces of technology people put in their trash. Peter Parker [1:46PM]: Oh, bringing out the big guns – I’m happy to see Siri without my latest addition works for others, too. Peter Parker [1:47PM]: It was an accident, sending those first texts to you. My friend in New York just started a new job that came with a paid phone. I still haven’t saved the number. You are one off from him. Peter Parker [1:48PM]: Alright, Tony Stark. Tell me what campus I’m on.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:53PM]: I’m not surprised by anything human beings do, especially in New York City. Throwing out a perfectly good iPod is certainly not the weirdest thing I’ve heard of. Did you make anything interesting in your trash conversion adventures? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:54PM]: You talk a big game, Mr. Parker. Can you walk the walk, too? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:55PM]: He must be on my payroll, then. The bank of numbers my employees have come from my personal network. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:57PM]: That’s an easy one. You’re at MIT – Milner was there when I was a student. The only thing that’s probably different between then and now is the amount of hair the old bag has.

Peter Parker [2:01PM]: You’re not wrong, Mr. Stark. I made things that helped me be self-sufficient. I grew up really poor and couldn’t afford the things everyone else had – so I figured out how all the tech worked and made my own. I’ve been using a ten-year-old iPhone for ages. Peter Parker [2:03PM]: You bet. Are you challenging me? Peter Parker [2:04PM]: He is, actually. He started in an entry level position two weeks ago. Peter Parker [2:06PM]: It’s gross, isn’t it? I’m glad we’ve moved past projectors in the classroom – the hair on his hand would make for a distracting shadow. Peter Parker [2:07PM]: Okay, okay. I think I’m convinced. One more test, though – send me a picture.

Maybe – Tony Stark [2:14PM]: Oh boy, none of that Mr. Stark shit. As far as you’re concerned, I’m Tony. Only Tony. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:15PM]: You made your own. That’s – impressive. I’m impressed and more than a little curious. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:17PM]: Challenging you, no. Enticing you, yes. I’m visiting Cambridge to do a guest lecture series next week. Come see what Stark Industries is up to – I’d love to hear what you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:18PM]: It was as bad as you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:20PM]: Okay, Peter Parker. [IMAGE ATTACHED]

A gasp of shock left Peter’s mouth when he opened the last text to find a smirking Tony Stark looking right at him. To prove the time and date, Tony held up the New York Times, his free hand pointing to the headline Peter read on his phone earlier that morning. After the shock of actually talking to Tony Stark wore off, Peter let himself take in the picture and all of its details.

Tony’s desk was largely visible in the shot – pens and stacks of paper littered the surface, a few rogue pieces of tech ready to be fiddled with acted as paper weights and grungy aesthetic. The man himself was breath taking – his glasses were a deep violet, offset beautifully by the crisp white shirt and black waistcoat covering Tony’s upper body. A light purple tie was loosely knotted at his throat, as if he fiddled with it while working just to keep his hands busy.

Without much thought, Peter saved the photo and added Tony to his contacts before replying – there was no reason not to trust the man, the spark in his shiny hazel eyes seemed to genuine and real to even question.

Peter Parker [2:25PM]: Only Tony, got it. Peter Parker [2:26PM]: Curiosity is good – keeps you fresh and on your toes. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: Oh, I see. You want a chance to impress me. I like that. Not sure what my opinion is going to do for you, but I’ll be happy to share it. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: Gross. Peter Parker [2:30PM]: I’m – you’re… Wow. You really are Tony Stark.

Tony Stark [2:37PM]: I think you’ll have no problems keeping me on my toes, Peter. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: I have a feeling your opinion is one that I’ll be very interested in. You’ve been nothing but blunt this entire conversation, I know I’m getting the real deal stuff. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: I am. I really am Tony Stark. Tony Stark [2:41PM]: It’s your turn, Peter Parker. What face belongs to that beautiful brain of yours?

Forcing himself to breath, Peter looked around the room for the best spot to return the favor. The bed was a hard no, he didn’t want to send the wrong vibe to a person who could easily have whomever they wanted. His desk was small, but meticulously organized – his study materials open and ready for a night of reviewing the only thing obscuring the surface. It was obvious Tony appreciated his brain, it seemed pertinent to take advantage.

After a few attempts, Peter found the perfect angle to catch the light in his eyes, making them shine brightly in the camera. He thanked the clothing gods that he chose a well fitted three-button Henley in his haste to get out the door that morning. The feeling of satisfaction was new, but not unwelcome – he wanted to send Tony the photo; for once, he knew it would impress.

Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Keeping implies longevity. Are you planning on sticking around? Peter Parker [2:56PM]: My brain to mouth filter runs at less than 10% at all times. It has brought me more trouble than shutting up ever would. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: You’re gorgeous. Violet is a nice color on you. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: What do you think? [IMAGE ATTACHED]

Tony Stark [ 2:37PM]: Yes. I think that’s the answer to that question. You’ve presented a puzzle I want to solve. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: Shutting up never got anyone anywhere. The noise we create is what shapes us. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: Thank you – I have a lot of it in my wardrobe. Tony Stark [2:44PM]: & you called me gorgeous; Peter Parker, you’re a stunner.

Peter Parker [2:51PM]: You’re a scientist, you do that for a living. What makes me so different? Peter Parker [2:52PM]: That’s a refreshing opinion. I like the way you think, Only Tony. Peter Parker [2:54PM]: That honestly doesn’t surprise me. Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Do you tell the person who made you blush that you’re blushing? I don’t remember that standard operating procedure.

Tony Stark [3:01PM]: My intrigue is of a personal nature only – the puzzle you pose is of a different sort. Usually, I think and think and think until I solve whatever the problem is. With you, I want to gather all the clues and take it apart piece by piece. Tony Stark [3:02PM]: That’s a little heavy for only knowing each other a couple of hours, but when you know, you know. Tony Stark [3:03PM]: Not usually, but I have a feeling you’re an exception to a lot of things, Peter Parker.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Peter continued to exchange flirty text messages back and forth with Tony – the mood stayed open and easy as the time passed. The older man helped Peter get through Nuclear Dynamics and three hours of decathlon practice. For all the brains Tony had, Peter was surprised to find humor and a bit of insecurity, too. Tony let himself go on tangents and make dad jokes that were a step away from being obscene.

That trend continued for the rest of the week and well into the weekend. By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, Peter knew Tony’s schedule, half the newest late-night discoveries, and the way Mr. Sweet Tooth took his sugary coffee. Though a line of attraction and want existed, Peter was happy to know Tony as a person without the ability to act on the obvious tension between them. And while he appreciated the wholistic way they were coming to know each other, Peter couldn’t wait to see Tony throughout the week, either.

The older man seemed to share his sentiment – the shrill notification of a text message received pulled Peter out of his thoughts.

Tony Stark [7:30PM]: Hey, Pete! I present at 5:30 tomorrow afternoon. Want to grab something to eat afterwards? Tony Stark [7:31PM]: I’m impatient to get back to Hogan’s and thought you might appreciate his culinary prowess.

Peter Parker [7:35PM]: Tony – this is the fourth time you’ve reminded me about your presentation. I’ll be there. For dinner, too. Peter Parker [7:36PM]: Culinary prowess; if it merits that title, I’m sure it’ll be worth it.

Tony Stark [7:42PM]: I know – I just get some performance anxiety. It helps to remind myself that you’re going to be there. Tony Stark [7:43PM]: It is. Hap is an old friend of mine. He left MIT to go make his restaurant dreams happen and has been stupidly happy ever since.

Peter Parker [7:47PM]: I get it – I’ll gladly be your security blanket, Tony. Peter Parker [7:48PM]: Something tells me there’s more to that story, but I’m sure you’ll tell me one day. I’m excited to try it. Should I look up the menu beforehand, or let it be a surprise?

Tony Stark [7:55PM]: I like the sound of that. I’ve pictured having you in my arms often. Tony Stark [7:57PM]: There’s always more to the story, Pete. Let it be a surprise! In fact, I’ll order for you to make sure you get the whole newbie experience.

Peter Parker [8:05PM]: I’ll boldly say you can have me in your arms as often as you like. Peter Parker [8:06PM]: The newbie experience – there hasn’t been a time in my life where that’s been a good thing. Peter Parker [8:07PM]: Yet. Surprisingly – I trust you.

The next day went by quickly – Peter took a quiz in Nuclear Science and dug into his other two classes to keep his mind focused on anything other than Tony’s imminent presence. His last class was a core history class, so he gladly tucked into the reading the professor let them loose to do. The chime of his alarm broke through Peter’s fog a couple pages from the end of his assignment. Though he liked to be ahead, Peter gladly took the extra few minutes to get himself together before heading to MIT’s presentation hall.

Decked out in his finest pair of black jeans, a blue denim short-sleeve button down, and solid black high-top Converse on his feet, Peter walked the few minutes it took to get back onto campus from his small apartment. Unsurprisingly, a line was formed out the door of students hoping to get into the presentation last minute. Tony told him earlier in the week that they waited to advertise his appearance until the a few hours before to stop the masses from flocking. To Peter, the time restriction seemed to only make it worse.

In Tony’s excitement to have Peter there, the older man set aside a ticket for him – instead of joining the line like he might’ve without Tony’s insistence, Peter walked straight into the cool auditorium, snagging a seat at the end of a row located dead center in the auditorium. The vantage point was perfect – Peter wouldn’t have any trouble catching Tony’s eye as he spoke. Grinning at his access to such a simple pleasure, Peter relaxed back into the seat, passing the time until Tony took the stage by watching the crowd flood in around him.

It wasn’t long before the lights were dimming and a sweaty, high ranking alumnus gave Tony Stark a mediocre welcome onto the stage. The crowd broke out into a cheer that more than made up for the old man’s subpar words. Tony timed his entrance perfectly; he walked out as the energy rose, the shift in the crowd’s tension working to enhance everyone’s excitement. Peter found himself glued to the man, who until that moment, existed entirely on the other side of the phone – he didn’t want to miss a single second of full-body absorption.

A black suit coat sat snuggly on Tony’s shoulders, a singular button keeping the sides closed. His dark hair was elegantly styled, the bed-head look enhancing the easy-going style Peter knew Tony strived for. The facial hair Peter came to truly appreciate over the last few days of texting drew attention to his sharp cheekbones. Tony seemed genuinely happy to be there if the beaming smile on his face said anything at all. With a few claps and the corniest joke, the older man got the crowd under control, proceeding onto his speech with an effortless transition.

As expected, Peter found himself interested from the very beginning. Tony’s new work on energy and its uses amongst transportation and city overhaul was ingenious – when things got up and running, New York’s power grid would run completely on sustainable energy. So many thoughts flashed across the front of Peter’s mind – he wondered if Tony would let him take a look at the blueprints. He might not have much to contribute, yet Peter understood the opportunity for learning and development when it presented itself.

By the end of Tony’s presentation, Peter was overjoyed to know that he wouldn’t need to feign interest in the topics Tony brought to the table. For a while, Stark Industries went through a slump of working on weapons and junky tech Peter found in the trash more often than he ever wanted to admit. It felt good to be excited about something new coming from the company – Tony Stark was the smartest person in his field, anything less than almost perfect just didn’t do the man and his ideas justice.

After fielding a lot more questions than Peter expected, Tony headed off the stage with a roar of applause – the genius wasn’t a household name for nothing. Smiling at the thought, Peter pulled his phone out; he got to see behind the curtain more than others – he felt a sudden surge of gratefulness at the fact. Every person around him would do anything for the privilege; taking that for granted just wouldn’t do.

Peter Parker [6:45PM]: You’re an incredible public speaker, Tony. Peter Parker [6:46PM]: Thanks for making me come!

Tony Stark [6:49PM]: How inappropriate of me is it to say that this isn’t the only time I plan to make you come?

Peter Parker [6:55PM]: Very, but it’s appreciated, nonetheless. I’ll meet you over by the Engineering building whenever you’re done trying to outrun your fans.

Tony Stark [7:00PM]: You’re fucking hilarious. I’ll meet you there in five.

True to his word, Tony snuck up behind Peter a few minutes later – soft palms that gave way to well-earned callouses pressed against Peter’s cheeks as Tony covered his eyes. The mere fact that Tony was there at all was surprise enough; the touches and softly whispered “Hello, Pete,” in his ear felt like more than enough to cause a coronary.

Shaking his head to clear it, Peter turned in Tony’s arms, a huge grin playing across his lips. With the way they were standing now, Peter’s chest was pressed delightfully against Tony’s – he felt each and every one of Tony’s inhales of oxygen and exhales of carbon dioxide that brought Peter’s attention to the firm muscles pressing and pulling the man’s abdomen. His breath caught when Tony palmed his cheek, their mouths mere inches apart. Despite not actually knowing each other, Peter felt comfortable in Tony’s embrace.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter finally replied after allowing his breath to mingle with Tony’s. As they stood there pressed together, neither could decipher where one started and the other began. The thought made his grin grow a little wider, the courage inside of him pulsing a little more boldly with life. “You were amazing up there.”

Tony remained perfectly still; his limbs seemingly frozen in a clench to keep Peter close to him. His grip was firm, both the hand on Peter’s hip and his late day stubbled cheek. Like the man himself, Tony’s touch left something behind that kept Peter on the hook, always seeking more. He half expected for Tony to lean in and slot their lips together – his deepest desires and tangible wants were starting to collide in such close proximity.

Instead, Peter’s smile was returned with quirked cheeks and bright hazel eyes. “You weren’t too bored?” Tony asked, his voice soft in the small space between them. His thumb swiped constantly across Peter’s cheek, the obvious need to move apparent, even in such an intimate situation.

Chuckling lightly, Peter shook his head. “So far from bored. My thesis research is all about sustainable energy – you had me interested from the very beginning,” Peter replied almost immediately, not caring that his excitement clearly shone through in the pitch of his voice. The way he was leaning into Tony’s touch, Peter didn’t have much of a chance to disguise his truth, anyway.

“You’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for – I can tell already.” Tony’s words were mumbled almost as if the older man was embarrassed to say them – to hand out such a compliment to someone other than himself. And yet – Tony’s hesitation made the statement mean so much more; the rarity of such kind words (despite being spoken so softly) did nothing but make Peter want to melt into Tony even further.

Before things could get too mushy or physical, Peter took a large step out of Tony’s arms – begrudgingly, the need for space was prominent if they ever wanted the night to continue. Never mind the fact that paparazzi were constantly hounding and following Tony wherever the man went. Though he was deemed an appropriate companion at the time, Peter was more than sure the public would not agree.

With that thought in mind, Peter shot Tony a shy smile – “I’m pretty famished. Want to show me what Hogan’s is all about?”

They spent the ten-minute walk talking about the presentation – Tony grilled Peter about a few of the technical parts, while Peter drooled a little bit over the projected uses of Tony’s new energy storage and production. Like two nerdy peas in a pod, neither could help themselves – geeking out and talking about something they were both interested in made the rest of the world melt away. Peter might’ve kept on his tangent if it weren’t for a tall, thickly built man clearing his throat.

Looking up at the noise, Peter realized they’d walked a few blocks already and were standing in the lobby of a well-maintained hole in the wall that radiated the most delicious smells. Grease and cheese and freshly dropped French fries hit his senses all at once – there was no doubt that whatever they were about to consume would be more than delicious.

Peter was seconds away from wiping drool from his chin when Tony broke out into action. He took the couple of steps between their current position and the hostess stand to wrap who could only be Happy in a firm, breathtaking hug. “Happy, my man. It’s so good to see you,” Tony exclaimed as he stepped away, an adorable look in his eyes. “I’ve been talking this place up to Peter here, thought I’d cash in on your good will.”

Suddenly, all eyes were on Peter – Tony looked at him like something he couldn’t wait to deconstruct, while Happy tilted his head curiously, as if the one glance would tell him all he needed to know about Peter Parker. Unwillingly to stand there like an animal on display, Peter broke through the weird with a soft laugh and a light wave.

“Nice to meet you, Happy. Tony’s been selling me on your food for days now. I can’t wait to try it,” Peter said, his shoulders rolling back to help him stand a little taller. Though he had nothing to prove to the total stranger in front of him, Peter couldn’t help but want to make a good impression – Happy obviously meant something to Tony; their comradery and easy affection said that without much effort.

There was a moment where all three guys seemed to look between each other – Peter watched with bated breath as Tony and Happy carried on a silent conversation with just a few blinks and forehead crinkles. By the time Peter understood what was happening, Happy stepped a little closer to him, his big hand reaching out for what could only be a handshake. Without hesitating, Peter took it – for whatever reason, the handshake felt monumental; like with the one touch, he beat the level boss and gained access to the next one.

“Good to meet you, too. Tony’s good about that sort of advertisement – we probably wouldn’t have made it without his ugly mug around at the beginning,” Happy replied. “You guys know what you want? I’ll get it on the grill personally.”

At that point, Tony stepped back into the spotlight and grabbed the reins – he ordered everything at rapid fire speed, like the menu existed as a hard copy in Tony’s mind. Considering the warmth of the older man’s welcome and Happy’s cryptic words, Peter didn’t doubt that Tony was a regular – more than likely a founding customer, even.

It took no time at all for their food to come out to the small table in the corner Tony led him to. The tray was piled with an abundance of food – cheese steaks, fries, burgers, even a couple of desserts littered the table as Tony unpacked their haul. Peter’s eyes were wide, his mouth watering with a want that only Zap’s Bodega could illicit before. “This – it all looks amazing,” Peter babbled, his stomach both hungry and overwhelmed by everything in front of him.

“Just wait until you taste it. Happy used to crank out these cheesesteaks on the little hot plate we had in our dorm room. They were excellent, but the addition of the flattop has made them unbeatable.”

Unable to decide what smelled the best, Peter grabbed whatever was nearest to him. His fingers wrapped around the greasy paper of the aforementioned cheesesteak, his mouth watering even more. “So, you and Happy were roommates at MIT?” Peter asked around a large bite, the food in his mouth muffling some of the words. It really was good – worth looking like a pig in front of the most beautiful man alive.

“Hap and I go way back. His father worked security at Stark Industries – he was on my dad’s personal protection team for most of my life. When Happy’s mom died and the need for babysitting became a thing, Happy started to spend the evenings with me after school. In a lot of ways, he’s the only family I’ve ever had. When he first opened up this place, I was young and just looking for some investment that would piss my dad off. I knew Happy had talent, but neither of us thought this place would blow up the way it did.” Tony looked up then, a vulnerability in his eyes. “We’ve been in business together ever since.”

Smiling encouragingly, Peter nodded in Tony’s direction – their closeness, Tony’s unwavering advertisement and protectiveness, even some of the food names he could see on the menu; it all made sense. After taking another bite of the cheesesteak, Peter chewed slowly before responding. “There’s always more to the story, right?” he questioned cheekily. “It sounds like your gamble worked out for you – I didn’t look at the menu, but I did Google Hogan’s; there’s ten locations within a 300-mile radius.”

A snort had Peter looking up, his eyebrows quirked. “I should’ve known,” Tony said through a laugh. “Your generation is all about instant gratification.”

Their eyes locked then, Tony’s words and their meaning sitting in the space between them. Peter forced himself not to blink – he wanted to memorize the rich hazel color that barely ringed a growing pupil. Hunger and want and something unrecognizable existed in Tony’s glance; when it was all over and Tony moved on, Peter desperately wanted to remember the genuine rawness he drew out of one of the world’s greatest minds.

“Or just impatience,” Peter countered. He drew his eyes away, needing to break the glance to stop himself from propelling himself across the table and tackle Tony to the ground. Though it looked as if Happy kept the place spick and span, Peter didn’t want to think about Tony’s expensive suit on any other floor aside from his own.

They attempted to pull the small talk back to something a little tamer, but the road of the rest of the evening had already been paved. It became harder to focus on anything other than the thick press of Tony’s thigh against his own under the table. As the minutes passed, Peter noticed Tony staring, and after a while, the older man just never stopped. Every time he looked up, Peter caught hazel eyes taking him in – undressing him button by button with the sheer want in his eyes. A red blush took up permanent residence on Peter’s cheeks and neck, the color following him out of the restaurant and out onto the street where Tony took his hand without hesitation.

Before his mom passed away, Peter remembered a softly mumbled conversation laying across both his parents early, early in the morning. His dad’s big fingers were wrapped so neatly around his mother’s, the embrace tight, despite the hour. Peter reached out to touch the unbreakable seam, his eyes wide with wonder. “They fit,” Peter whispered softly, his finger running reverently over their joint fingers.

His mother pulled him close then, her lips finding that special place on his cheek. “One day, Petey, you’ll find that perfect person whose hands will fit yours just the way your father’s fit mine.”

A warmth settled in Peter’s chest as he slid his hand into Tony’s, their fingers interlacing perfectly with ease. The immaculate fit of Tony’s hand pressing against his own made him snuggle in further – whatever happened between them after this, Peter would forever know how easily he and Tony Stark fit together.

Giving Tony’s fingers a squeeze at the thought, Peter looked up, breaking the silence – “Do you want to see my apartment? I’m sure it’s not nearly as fancy as the hotel you’re staying at, but I’ve got Netflix and a really comfortable couch.”

Tony took a few long strides to answer, his face a little pensive. “I’d love to see your apartment, Pete,” Tony replied easily. They came to a stop at the crosswalk – Tony used his momentum to pull Peter close to his chest while they waited out the light. “I don’t care about fancy. You’ll be there.”

While Peter had lots of things to reply, his words were cut off by slightly chapped lips eagerly pressing against his own. It took Peter a second to recognize what in the glorious hell was happening – when the reality of the situation finally registered, Peter surged forward, tilting his head to not only return the kiss, but deepen it.

Both of Peter’s hands found their way around Tony’s neck to keep him close – he felt like he might pass out from the sheer goodness of Tony surrounding him without the grounding touch. He was far from a virgin, but none of his previous encounters knocked him off his feet in such a way that made Peter feel like a fumbling newbie.

Sipping from each other’s mouths, Peter was surprised by a strange and unrecognizable voice coming from behind them – “the light’s changed, fellas.”

It took an obscene amount of effort to pull away – though the stranger’s words made his face burn with embarrassment, Peter was reluctant to step out of Tony’s embrace and the tantalizing press of warm lips against his own. Regardless of his trepidation, Peter reluctantly moved back.

He made sure to slip his hand into Tony’s before they set off again.

“I’m just another couple of blocks away,” Peter reassured, a hungry smirk on his face. Tony returned the look, their stride all of the sudden lengthening. Their walk turned from a leisurely stroll to a brisk half-run. If it weren’t for the want raging through Peter’s veins, he might’ve found the change hilarious. In all of their time together, Tony never expressed impatience – he always seemed calm, cool, and collected. Yet, in the face of heat and need and the promise of bare skin, Tony let that mask drop.

Happy to know a new something about Tony, Peter reveled in the pent-up silence that carried them back to his apartment. Snagging a ground floor unit close to the entrance, they luckily didn’t have to wait for an elevator or awkwardly pretend that they weren’t about to push the other against the wall and start ravaging whatever pieces of skin they could find. Instead, Peter impatiently pulled Tony behind him as they walked between building 1 and 2 with eager steps.

After some fumbling and a set of dropped keys, Peter finally got his door open and Tony through it. Without missing a beat, Tony pushed him back against the newly closed front door, their lips harshly joining. Groaning at the contact and suddenness of it all, Peter pulled Tony in – any space left between them was unacceptable now that they were in a private space where wandering eyes and clicking cameras couldn’t see. Their obvious passion was too much for the public eye; Peter so desperately wanted to keep Tony to himself – devouring him in a safe space was only the first step.

As Tony traced his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, Peter fumbled his hands down the older man’s chest until he could pull the crisp button-down from well-tailored pants. The second he was able, Peter shoved his hands under the soft fabric, his palms greedily pressing into Tony’s hairy chest. A groan left his mouth – the chest hair under his fingers was soft and teasing. Peter was caught between the urge to tug at the strands and lay his head gently against them just to feel the texture against his skin.

Tony made the decision for him – large hands were suddenly on Peter’s waist, his feet coming up off the ground with little effort. Unable to keep his hands where they were, Peter broke the kiss with a groan and shifted until he could wrap his legs around Tony’s hips. Peter panted for breath while his lips were still free as Tony navigated through the room blindly. Another soft moan left Peter’s lips when his back hit the pliable leather of his couch.

Where just moments before they were standing chest to chest, Peter now had the full weight of Tony against him. The older man fit seamlessly between his splayed thighs, their hips lining up in a way that made Peter’s cock pulse against the confines of his tight jeans. With a bit of shifting, their groins were matched – Tony’s thick cock felt sinful against Peter’s. If his impending orgasm was already upon him, Peter wondered what it’d be like when their clothes hit the floor and he really got to taste what Tony had to offer.

Like he was reading his mind, Tony made quick work of the buttons on Peter’s shirt. Calloused hands dragged up and down Peter’s bare chest as he pushed the navy fabric to the side – his skin was practically hairless, the only exception being a small trail of it leading down to the v of his jeans. Tony let his fingers play through that small amount of hair, his fingers teasing as they got closer to the one spot that Peter wanted him to be the most.

Deciding to take his mind off of the heat in his belly and the closeness of his orgasm, Peter returned the favor. His hands were shaky as he passed button after button through their holes. With a gasp, Peter spread the sides of Tony’s shirt to get the maximum impact of the older man’s torso. He liked what he felt before, but the view was something else – Tony’s chest was chiseled and cut, his pecs and abs straining with effort. Peter noticed throbbing veins and a few scars in his perusal; the evidence of Tony’s life and the way he lived it made Peter pull the man a little closer. Tony Stark drove him absolutely mad – every new thing he learned contributed to the insanity even more.

Before he could get lost in the thought, Tony’s lips were skating along his cheek, only to stop and caress the outer shell of Peter’s ear. “You feel amazing, Pete,” Tony babbled, his tongue peeking out to join in on the fun. “I want to taste you, feel your cock pulse against my tongue. You’re so fucking hard and I can’t fucking wait. Is that okay?”

Peter pulled back then, a soft grin pulling at his lips. In all of his sexual encounters, Peter couldn’t recall someone caring about him so thoroughly, let alone stopping to ask how he felt. Both hands came up to grip Tony’s cheeks until the older man was looking right at him. Through the haze of arousal, Peter recognized that warm spark in Tony’s eye – it was the look in that first picture that kept Peter coming back for more.

“It’s perfect, Tony. I’ll take anything you want to give me,” Peter said breathlessly. He leaned up for a kiss to drive the words home.

Tony looked genuinely happy when Peter pulled away – his cheeks were flushed with obvious arousal, his lips quirked in a saucy smile. Without saying anything, Tony nodded his head and travelled slowly down the length of Peter’s body. Nimble fingers made quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans before Peter could think or even draw his next breath.

Sturdy hands didn’t hesitate to pull at the waistband of Peter’s boxers – his flushed cock was already leaking as it came to rest casually against the firm abs of Peter’s chest. Tony’s calloused fingers immediately wrapped around the length, giving a tight squeeze to the base. The sheer feeling of his crush’s hands on him was almost enough for Peter to jump straight over the edge. Catching Tony’s eyes and biting down on his bottom lip was his only saving grace – the knowing look in beautiful hazel eyes pulled a chuckle from Peter’s chest, the noise distraction enough.

“Okay?” Tony asked again, the words were spoken with his mouth hovering just inches from the pulsing flesh of Peter’s cock. He could feel Tony’s breath against his sensitive skin, everything about the situation making it hard to articulate or think or exist as anything other than a melted puddle of goo against broken-in leather.

Peter took a couple of deep breaths before nodding vigorously. He felt a red flush travel even further down his neck and torso, arousal and embarrassment mixing together to create the ultimate aphrodisiac. He finally found his voice, muttering a choked off “yes” before the motor function of speaking left him once more.

After a heartbeat and then another where neither man moved, Tony gripped the sharp bones of Peter’s hips, pushing his lower body down against the cushions. They shared another look as Tony lowered his head, his pink tongue poking out to lick lightly against the leaky head of Peter’s cock. Hazel eyes stayed on him – Tony continued to lap along his sensitive skin, all while killing Peter slowly with the heat and want reflecting back. By the time Tony had all of Peter in his mouth, Peter was seconds away from being undone.

It’d been so long, and he’d wanted Tony since he understood what attraction was. Being pinned down by the person he desired longer than some of his friendships did nothing but magnify everything that was happening. His skin felt like it was on fire under Tony’s touch – the suction around his cock felt like it was coming from all angles, everywhere, all at once. Unable to stop himself, Peter moaned, panted, and shamelessly shouted Tony’s name as the blissful seconds passed.

The telling zip of a zipper being pushed down, and Tony’s hasty shift told Peter that Tony was similarly affected. He picked up his head to watch Tony suck his cock down while his right hand moved at the same pace – while he took Peter’s cock into his throat, Tony was stroking his own erection with sure strokes. As if the heat around him wasn’t enough, the beautiful visual of Tony taking his own pleasure pushed him those last couple of steps over the edge.

Bubbling heat in his belly boiled over. Peter frantically reached down to grip Tony’s shoulder, his mouth wordlessly shaping around warning words. “I’m – I’m… fuck, Tony. I’m going to cum,” Peter finally managed to gasp out. There was just enough time for Tony to pull away, to let Peter’s pleasure splatter on the blood warm skin of Peter’s stomach. Yet, Tony held fast, instead – he redoubled his efforts, his lips tightening and throat relaxing in invitation.

Unable to stop himself, Peter let go – his hips thrust up into Tony’s enticing heat, the man’s name dripping from his lips as pulse after pulse of cum left his body. Tony moaned around him, swallowing easily without pulling his mouth away or stopping his ministrations. The suction continued until Peter was reaching down halfheartedly to push at Tony’s soft curls.

While he caught his breath, Tony crawled up Peter’s body, a self-satisfied smirk on his red cheeks. Peter grinned at him, happiness and satiation rolling off of him in waves. Without thought, Peter pulled Tony tightly to him, their lips finding each other like opposite poles of magnets drawn together by the sheer force of nature. Tony shared Peter’s taste with him, his talented tongue thrusting into Peter’s mouth with a shared groan between them. It was all so hot; Peter felt his spent cock already starting to come back to life.

With that thought in mind, Peter started to reach down to help Tony finish achieving his own pleasure; yet his hand was batted away with affectionate finesse. Peter shifted until he could meet the honey hazels he was already addicted to, a question in his eye.

“There’s no need,” Tony mumbled, his face tucking into the skin of Peter’s neck. “You’re so sexy, I couldn’t help but touch myself. The way you look in the throes of pleasure – it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“Holy shit.”

Tony chuckled at the awe in Peter’s voice. “My sentiment exactly.”

For a while, they stayed stretched out on Peter’ couch, exchanging kisses and greedy touches on all the bare skin either could reach. Without so much adrenaline coursing through his system, Peter felt himself melting even further into the comfy cushions below him. After a jaw breaking yawn, Peter reached up to cup Tony’s cheek, pulling the man’s attention towards him.

“Want to stay over?” Peter asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Though they were spent and wrapped up in each other, Peter wasn’t sure where Tony stood. There was a big difference between the type of intimacy physical touch and sleeping next to another human being required. The last few days, Peter fell asleep with Tony’s messages open on the bed next to him – actually sleeping side by side, in person, that was a whole new step for them.

Tilting his head to the side, Tony shot Peter a tender smile before nodding and leaning down to press their lips together.

“Yeah, Pete – I want to stay.”

[mariamermaid]

Crush

Modern! Harry Potter x fem!Granger!Reader

Summary: Y/N Granger, the absolute Queen amongst the students, with many admirers and even Harry himself, finds himself falling for his best friends sister.

Words: 2.7k

A/N: Requested anonymous: “heyaaa, can you make harry potter x fem reader in which the reader is hermonie's elder sister and very popular in the school and harry has massive crush on her? like the song crush by tessa violet?” I also decided to write this in a more modern style! I feel like all my Harry Potter imagines end at a party?? But who cares.

 Your laughter echoed through the hall before any of them could even see you. Harry immediately felt his heart speeding up, while Hermione next to him, only let out a sigh. You turned the corner and Harry, Hermione and Ron finally made eye contact with you. You had joked with Cedric Diggory and Harry felt an even deeper sting in his chest. Quickly, you waved your goodbye at the Hufflepuff boy before joining your sister and her friends.

“Mione, you look like seven days of rain were just announced!”

Hermione only rolled her eyes, no one really fully understood how the two of you were related. Ever since beginning your education a year prior to Hermione´s, you had been crowned one of the most popular students. Unlike her, who especially struggled with making friends in her first weeks, you were at ease with social contacts. Another difference was your approach at studying, you simply didn´t enjoy spending hours and hours at the library and yet, you weren´t bad at any subjects. You weren´t class best, but at the top five. Outgoing, adventurous, funny and charming; it was no wonder why everyone seemed to like you.

Usually, your popularity wasn´t a problem for your younger sister, but lately Hermione realized a changed she wasn´t very fond of.

Harry.

Within the past weeks, he had been daydreaming a lot and barely focused on anything anymore. And unlike Ron, who was probably last to find out if he wasn´t explicitly told, Hermione quickly realized why that was.

 I can't focus on what needs to get done

I'm on notice hoping that you don't run,

 “Haha, very funny Y/N!” You nudged her side grinning. “So, what are you guys up to anyways? Trouble I reckon?” Ron and Harry smiled as you chatted with them.

“Hermione makes us study for the upcoming potions exam”, Ron explained, which annoyed Hermione even more and you laughed lightly. “Ron, you should start listening to her, pretty sure she´s the only reason you haven´t failed.” You turned to the boy with the glasses.

“What about you Harry? Sentenced to study as well?”

Harry opened his mouth, but before any words left his lips, Hermione pulled him closer.

“Yes, his talent won´t let him pass all the exams!”

You gave the two boys a pitiful pout, but then switched back to your smirk.

“Anyways, I´ll have a date at Hogsmead to try on the upcoming summer collection!”

You think I'm tepid but I'm misdiagnosed

'Cause I'm a stalker, I seen all of your posts,

 Two hours later, Harry got a notification on his phone; Y/N uploaded a picture on Wizagram! Hermione, who was currently too focused on Ron, didn´t see how Harry sneakily took his phone and hid it beneath the desk. You stood smiling widely in the shop Feathers and Fabrics, wearing a dress from the newest collection. Even though you had posted the picture only minutes ago, the likes were already rolling in and the comments didn´t hold back as well.

Harry read your caption; Guys, this is only a small sneak peek, just wait there will be more!

 And I'm just tryna play it cool now

But that's not what I wanna do now

And I'm not tryna be with you now, you now

 A lot of the comments were from female students. “You look so stunning!”

But then again, a few of your male followers couldn´t hold back. “Gee Y/n, is it hot in here, or is you?”

Harry felt heat rushing up to his head, but tried to play it cool, so his friends wouldn´t notice. Quickly he hit like and put the phone away, trying to focus back on studying. But the words in front of him were beginning to blur and tumble. You weren´t dating anyone currently, but everybody knew you had enough options. Fred and George even made bets on it, secretly hoping one of them could win you for themselves. Each time the topic was discussed, Harry felt the pit in his stomach, digging deeper and deeper. He was the chosen one, but would you ever choose him?

Hermione noticed her friend beginning to trail off, but it wasn´t the right time to address it yet.

The weekend approached, the old game of Gryffindor against Slytherin was in everybody’s mouth. Harry was just getting dressed for the game, then his eyes fell back on his phone. He unlocked it and found himself back on Wizagram, you had posted a boomerang in your story with the Weasley twins. Both of them wore their Quidditch uniform and leaned forward to kiss your cheek. You wore a hat with the Gryffindor colors and a light dress in red, while grinning widely into the camera. “Rooting for my fave team!”

Both Fred and George as well the Gryffindor Quidditch Account, who was proudly run by Oliver Wood, were tagged in the story. Harry quickly scrolled past, realizing that each of the tagged Accounts had reposted your story. It was stupid to think you wouldn´t root for him, but he wasn´t tagged, was he?

It’s a stupid crush, Harry reminded himself, but even later when he stepped onto the field with the team, his eyes only searched for you in the crowd.

But you found his glance as well, offering him a reassuring smile. It´s all he needed, those very few seconds of your attention and the game started.

The game was at tie, but the rooting and shouts from the fans kept going either way. Harry tried to play cool as he searched the arena, secretly searching for you. As he found you again, you hadn´t even moved from your seat, he noticed your eyes guiding him. Just above the tower of the Hufflepuffs, the golden snitch hovered. He didn´t have time to rethink and his muscles moved on their own as he leaned forward to start rushing. Draco tried his best to follow, but he was at the other end, and Harry easily caught the snitch and held it up proudly.

“And Harry Potter proves again, Gryffindor is unbeatable this season!” The speakers echoed and the crowd went even more crazy than before. All Harry could think about however, was he had to thank you. But the moment he landed back on his feet, he was carried off to the Gryffindor room, where the party immediately started.

It felt like eternity, until he finally found you in the overfilled place. But there you stood, smiling innocently at him, like you had been waiting all along for him to approach.

“I think I owe you a thank you.”

 You make it difficult to not overthink

And when I'm with you I turn all shades of pink,

I wanna touch you but don't wanna be weird

It's such a rush, I'm thinking wish you were here,

 Harry had to lean forward in order for you to hear him, feeling as your hair brushed against his skin. You winked at him. “Yeah, you do, but we´ll keep it between us.”

He wanted to lean further, his hand twitched as he tried not to reach out and touch the bare skin of your arms. Even your smell felt divine to him. Before he could speak up again, Niall Atkinson, he was a year older than you, wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Y/n, let´s dance!” He offered loudly as he pulled you closer. In the same second, Ron, Fred and George swept Harry into their circle to begin dancing as well, even though it was more an uncontrolled jumping. Harry could only catch your apologizing glance, before the space closed and the two of you were pulled into different directions.

 And I'm just tryna play it cool now

But that's not what I wanna do now

And I'm not tryna be with you now, you now

 He truly wanted to celebrate the success with his team, but his attraction craved more of your presence. But what was he supposed to say? Sorry, I have to run after the girl, that everybody anyway wants and is also my best friends’ older sister, but my biggest crush?

No, he couldn’t.

So, he tried to overplay it, danced and jumped around with Ron, but the shine in his eyes was gone. Hermione sat on the stairs, glancing back and forth between you and Harry. She knew both of you well enough, to tell that neither of you were fully happy at the moment. An inaudible sigh escaped her mouth, what was once jealousy, turned into sadness. Yes, her best friend had the biggest crush on her sister, but what no one knew, was your crush. You had never told Hermione, or anyone for that matter, but the reason why you never accepted a date offer, was because the wrong people asked you out. Hermione didn´t fear losing Harry as a friend anymore, she much more feared that the two of you never even got a chance to be happy together, and instead ended unhappily alone. She had to do something.

Then, an idea formed in her brilliant mind.

You starred on your phone; Harry had sent you a dm on Wizagram. He had never texted you, your history simply persisted in you tagging him, when you posted stories. Usually, you hung around Hermione at the three broomsticks and more so often, you tagged the trio in your account.

I wanted to talk to you, can we meet outside at the corner to the girl’s bathroom?

Your heart skipped a beat, quickly you looked up to check, if anyone had noticed your blush, no one had. You couldn´t make out Harry either, but you quickly excused yourself from Niall. Whatever was happening, you found it quite exhilarating. You answered with a quick yes and Hermione hastily logged out of Harry´s account. Harry was a brilliant wizard with many talents, but writing down his password in his herbology book wasn´t the smartest move.

Hermione grinned, her plans always worked out.

 But I could be your crush, like, throw you for a rush, like

Hopin' you'd text me so I could tell you

I been thinking 'bout your touch like

 “Harry!” The brown-haired boy looked up to find his friend approaching him, Hermione smiled brightly. Almost too brightly, but Harry wasn´t focused enough to realize that something was up.

“Have you seen Y/n?”

Harry quickly shook his head and Hermione, good actress as she was, put on a thinking mien.

“I haven´t seen her as well, just wanted to make sure she´s okay, she´s been so quiet lately.”

“Quiet? I didn´t notice”, Harry explained and Hermione could literally watch how his thoughts began running around you. “I´m sure it´s nothing, but I think I´m going to check her room.”

“I can check outside!” Harry quickly announced, she had to suppress a laughter, he was easily tricked. But instead, Hermione nodded agreeing and while she only took the first few steps up, Harry hurried outside, not wasting any time. Only seconds before, you had left the room as well. Everything was coming together.

 Touch, touch, touch, touch, touch

I could be your crush, crush, crush, crush, crush

I got a fascination with your presentation

Makin' me feel like you're on my island

You're my permanent vacation

Touch, touch, touch, touch, touch

 You stood outside, hiding behind a corner and almost disappearing in a nook, but Harry immediately recognized your figure. You looked up from the phone in your hands and felt as a smile crawled upon your lips. Harry felt his heart fastening and he approached with swift feet.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked with worries in his voice, your brows furrowed. Something felt off, but you pushed that feeling to the side. It was probably just your nervousness. “Yeah, I´m good, are you enjoying your party?”

Harry shrugged, his eyes traveling to the floor. “It´s always a bit of the same, isn´t it?”

You nodded agreeing and a short, awkward silence formed. “What was it, you wanted to talk to me about?”

Harry looked up, now confusion in his expression as well. He wondered, if you had noticed his change of behavior towards you. But he never mentioned it out loud, or did?

But you watched his reaction closely, something clearly was up and while Harry was still trying to piece everything together, you took out your phone again. Holding up the screen, which enlightened the dark hallway, you showed him the text.

“Y/n, I´m so sorry, I don´t know how… I didn´t send that text…” Harry stumbled over the words and regret rolled over him. It wasn´t his fault, and yet he felt responsible for pulling you away from the party. You on the other hand felt shame rising and your cheeks heated with fire. His text had seemed too surprising from the beginning on, you should´ve known better. You felt stupid and wanted to crawl into a deep, dark hole and never come out again. Stupid crush!

Letting out a loud sigh, you sat down on the bench of the nook, putting your hands to cover your face.

“Did you just say stupid crush?”

Oh, if it was heat in your cheeks before, then hell just got unleashed. Where is that hole of shame, when you needed it the most?

Harry carefully sat down next to you, with your hands still up, you only felt the slight air breeze. “I shouldn´t be saying this, you´re Hermione´s sister, but I like you.” He paused shortly.

“A lot. More than I ever should.”

Swiftly, you glanced through your fingers at him. “You do?”

Barely a whisper as you opened your mouth, but enough to watch as Harry nodded. Slowly you took down your hands, now starring at him with a blank expression.

“Why did you never say anything?”

Harry couldn´t help but huff. “Y/n, have you seen yourself? You´re school queen, nobody hates you, not even Draco Malfoy! You´re always on top of the grades and basically the entire Quidditch team has a crush on you. On the side, you´re head girl and you´re modeling for Feathers and Fabrics. And to all that, you don´t even realize, how undeniably stunning you look and how your kind words inspire me every day?”

 I could be your crush, crush, crush, crush, crush

Sorry

And yeah, it's true that I'm a little bit intense, right

But can you blame me when you keep me on the fence, like?

And I've been waitin', hopin' that you'd wanna text like

Text like

It's what I was born to do

And yeah, it's true that I'm a little bit intense, right

 As he spoke, you jumped off your seat, feeling a wave of way too many feelings rave inside of you. “Harry Potter!”

Finally, he looked up as well and just to find you gaping at him. “Why by Merlin´s beard, would I care about the Quidditch team? Do you think I don´t know about the bets going on, on who´s going to be my boyfriend? The only reason because I don´t have a boyfriend yet, is because the only boy I´m interested in, was too shy to ask me out! And imagine, he´s brave enough to fight Voldemort instead!”

It was Harry´s turn to search for that hole of shame and he couldn´t help, but facepalm himself. There was no way that the situation could’ve been more awkward and playing cool wasn´t an option either. You listened to your heartbeat slowing down and your chest lifted heavily after your outburst.

“If I had known about your crush…” You trailed off, your words now barely a whisper anymore.

 And I'm just tryna play it cool now

But that's not what I wanna do now

And I'm not tryna be with you now, you now

 Finally, Harry lifted himself off the bench as well, walking towards you. “I didn´t send that text, but maybe I can ask you out in real life?”

A shy smile was on his lips, it suited him so well in the dim light.

“I´d like that very much.”

Carefully, you leaned forward, feeling his warm breath on your skin. “But let´s not tell anyone just yet, we have to find a way to get back to my sister.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrow, but quickly realized as well, who had hacked his account.

“Sounds like a good plan.”

Grinning, you finally felt his warm lips brushing against yours. It had taken a couple of misleadings, but your crush had found its way in the end.

 But I could be your crush, like, throw you for a rush, like

Hopin' you'd text me so I could tell you

I been thinkin' 'bout your touch like

[fantasy2739]

Time to discuss magic in toa. This isn’t too spoilery but I’ve still tagged it as just in case.

So each wizard (or witch) has a different colour for their magic, which is great in fights and stuff but also I think give us a little insight into their character. Obvs this is head canon but I like a bit of colour theory and stuff so why not:

The Arcane Order-

The arcane order look like they represent primal forces. So Skrael is ice and a bit of wind (think Boreas), Bellroc is fire and Nari is nature.

Skrael Ice Blue: ice is symbolic of coldness, being aloof, mixed with the blue it can give off a childish nature (shown by him chuckling at Steve). It’s also associated with intensity and narcissism which I think is very fitting for Skrael. He’s a very intense ice mage.

Bellroc lava/flame red: fire is associated with hot bloodedness, a temper which Bellroc seems to have more of compared to the others. Red is the colour of danger, war and determination. Bellroc is the more upfront attacker. The engager and it shows in their magic.

Nari Forest Green: Forests are associated with nature but also spirtualism. Nari is quite unusual and as said in the show can feel all spirits. It reminds me a little of the swamp episode in atla. The colour is also associated with balance, which was something Nari wanted. She may feel that the decimation of humans creates an imbalance in terms of her spirituality. One association of forest green that I find interesting is persistence. And looking back over wizards. Nari is persistent in the persuit of her goals and her ideals. She keeps running from the order because she thinks they’re wrong.

The ‘good’ guys-

I get to be a bit more in depth with these guys since we’ve had them and explored them longer.

Claire violet: our new sorcerer in training. I quite like Claire. She’s been thematically purple for a while and it suits her quite a bit. Purples are famously associated with nobility (due to being an expensive dye to make), and in a sense Claire is nobility by the loosest terms. Her mother is a councilwoman, very important in Arcadia and would be a modern equivalent to nobility. She’s also powerful. Douxie and Morgana both consider Claire powerful in terms of magic but her inner strength is just as good. She leaves her home to go with Jim, perseveres when her brother goes missing and keeps fighting for the side of good. Violet is associated with ambition as well. Ambition in tv has become sort of a bad thing but Claire is ambitious, she does well in school, sets goals for herself and follows through to accomplish them. Brother in the Darklands? Okay I’m going to save him.

Morgana golden yellow: ah Morgana, our sort of redeemed sorceress. Credit where credit is due she really did just want peace. Ironically yellows are associated with happy emotions such as joy. Which would make sense if we’re thinking about the Morgana with Gwen. A joy for just the two of them. Gold obviously is associated with wealth and excess. She’s royalty, sister of the king. Of course she’s wealthy. But gold is also extravagance. And although Morgana doesn’t seem the type to attend vanity fairs and parties she does like her flashy magic. Conjuring in large numbers, appearing in flashes of light. Angor Rot. She indulges in her magic. An often overlooked association with gold is intellect. Morgana is extremely intelligent. She thinks things through, her plans last years. She managed to accomplish her goals through careful planning and had the intelligence to see where Arthur’s war was going.

Merlin lime green: Merlin is a character I feel conflicted about. He did care about people but those he cared about seemed to suffer terrible fates, not to mention how verbally abusive he is to Douxie. Similar to Nari, lime green is for nature and balance. Merlin does seem to have a respect for living things but it can be overridden by balance. Merlin works for the greater good and only the greater good. With the exception of choosing to save Douxie. Lime green is also associated with confidence which is Merlin. He’s confident in his plans and ideas. He doesn’t think he can get things wrong. Wizards don’t make mistakes indeed. Ironically greens are also associated with stability. Which in a sense yes he provided stability. Douxie got a home, Camelot is implied to be kept safe by his magic protecting the denzins, Arthur got a powerful sword to keep peace. Plus all the merlin is one of the most famous wizards ever. He’s someone people know they can go to to fix things. Even if he only wants to work for the greater good.

Douxie sky blue: my sweet summer child, too pure for this world. I love Douxie’s magic. The way he uses it is cool. Douxie gets creative with the way he uses spells and tools. Which strikes me as a very fun but also free way to use magic (traits associated with the sky). And Douxie seems to value freedom a fair bit. Like when he let the lady of the lake go just because it wasn’t right or when he tells Claire that her magic is her own. His blue is in many ways opposing to Skrael’s. The traits are truth, reliability and wisdom. Douxie is for the most part a pretty honest guy. He’s pulled some scams but he doesn’t withhold the truth about Jim, or blame others for the messes he makes. He’s very reliable, despite Merlin acting like he’s a bane on his life. Douxie encourages people, acts as support and does what he needs to. Wisdom is a little harder to pin on Douxie. I mean for 900 years old he’s intelligent but he doesn’t seem to have that sage wisdom I normal think about when someone says wise. But he is. He’s used all of his past experience and understanding to guide him. He does think things through to the point where he’s fully aware taking on two full powered wizards is going to kill him.

[cynergy-laughter]

Obey Me! One Master to Rule Them All! Headcanon #14 (Unprovoked)

Content Warning: Fake Bl**d, Graphic images, scary pranks.

So since it’s getting closer and closer to Halloween, I thought it would be fun to see the brother’s reactions if MC was a makeup artist, but not just any make up artist, an expert Halloween makeup artist, creating scary faces, zombie looks, fake blisters and gory effects. And a bit of a prankster~! So here is our Mischevious!MC Makeup effects artist~!

Lucifer: He knows you were into make up, you came to class with a full face done before. But when it got closer to Halloween, he found out what your specialty make up was... you walked into Lucifer’s room, holding your right eye, and said there was something wrong with your eye. Lucifer, being the good Devildom host he is, offered to look at it, and see if you should go to a doctor. Good thing no one else was around, cause when you removed your hand, you revealed you had a plucked out and hanging eyeball! Lucifer would never ever admit he was scared, but his “Oh my God!!” was so loud, he almost fell onto his bed. You couldn’t even hold it in and started wheeze laughing immediately. Lucifer was confused and still in shock, but then realized when he see you take the eye off and revealed your real eye under the latex. Lucifer had half a mind to end you right there, cause how dare you surprise him like that. Although he was impressed that you had that much talent, it looked so real. But don’t ever do that again.

Mammon: He was just minding his own business, counting his bills he had made from selling his brothers possession when he heard a slow knocking at the door. He walked over and opened the door, and slightly jumped when he saw you wearing a zombie mask. He tried to play it cool and yanked the mask up and off your head, only to reveal the same exact details of the mask, except with more realistic blisters and graying decaying flesh, and you growl loudly and lunge at Mammon, whom screamed and fell backward, frantically crab walking backwards fast. You tried walking toward him but then started laughing as you saw Mammon crawling on his back. Mammon growled and started to walk out the room with a blushing face, and a tear around the corner of his eye. You stopped him and hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry...” was said on repeat as he held him close while he tried to get away from you, but then held you back. From then on, you don’t do scare pranks on Mammon, cause you felt so bad. But later, Mammon said he wanted to do a scare prank with you on the others.

Leviathan: You were spying on Levi, watching him play a game from a far. You saw he was playing Hellcraft, the Devildom equivalent of Minecraft, and noticed that games’ creeper was a lot more scarier than the human’s version... you decided to play a prank. You went into the bathroom and began doing your make up, dark violet, black, red pixelated colors, and they blended in pretty well without really blending thanks your make up color mixing skills. And then you put black contacts in your eyes to complete the look. You make it back to his room, and started sneaking up towards him at his computer. You reach out your hand to tease his neck, making the noise you heard creeper’s make. Levi was slightly annoyed at the neck tease, swatting at his neck a bit, but wouldn’t budge at first. But then after you did it a third time, he turned around in his chair with a, “MC, can you please leave my neck al-AAAAAHHHH!” He screamed and jumped back so far his chair fell backward, as you hissed harshly. He legit thought it was the cursed version of the game, where if you cheated, or trolled, an enemy from the game ambushes you from behind. Needless to say you were laughing, and apologizing, Levi was blushing mad and frightened, but he later he was impressed that you even got the red streams coming from the Hellcraft Creeper’s eyes right.

Satan: Satan is not easy to scare, by any means. In fact if you were to scare him, you’d probably be in more danger. Satan seemed like the kind of person who would punch a haunted house actor. He’s intelligent enough to know a prank, especially when he can recognize a Mammon prank. I mean, Satan is the King of pranks. But you realize in order to prank Satan, it would have to take some real skill. And it most especially wouldn’t be easy, because it was Halloween, he knew it was Halloween, everyone knew it was Halloween. You decided to not prank him, but instead show him your make up skills. You knocked on his door and walked in backward, with Satan more confused than ever before. “Just promise you won’t freak out, this is just make up...” You revealed your face, showing that you looked like part of your brain and skull showing in your forehead, as well as some bone showing on your neck. The sound that Satan made was a mix between an exclamation, a scream, and “oh wow” followed by, “how did you do that?” He says this opens up a whole new avenue of prank ideas, and that you truly are an artist.

Asmodeus: You had borrowed a bit of Asmo’s make up to set up this prank. It was a contour palette, and you had set action on your face. Later, you start knocking on the door frantically, hiding your face with a scarf. Asmo opens the door and you walk in fast, “Something went horribly wrong!” You said as you paced around the room, and Asmo asked what was wrong... You claimed, “I think I had a severe allergic reaction to your contour palette I borrowed.” Poor Asmo thought it was something as bad as a rash. Asmo told to show it, and that it couldn’t be that bad... as soon as you revealed the face that looked like it was burned through by acid, Asmo screamed. The cheeks where the contour and shading would looked like they were burned through with acid, and bubbling near where it stopped. The shriek you heard could wake up every banshee. He started apologizing constantly, until you revealed it was a prank. Asmo was half relieved, and half angry about the fact it was a prank. Of course, your make up was just amazing, so realistic... but don’t ever do that again.

Beelzebub: You pranked Beel after pranking Belphie, for which he offered to help. Belphie texted Beel that he had a surprise for him, that it was a special dish that he and you, naming you specifically, made for him. Sweet baby Beel has no idea what was coming. There was a covered dish on the kitchen island, which was covered by a red table cloth, and Belphie offered him the first bite, that MC had put their whole being into this lunch. Beel, absolutely loving your cooking, takes a fork and a knife and lifted the cover off, revealing your golden brown bald head, with grill marks on your cheeks, bubbling blisters on your chin and forehead, and an eyeball popped out and garnished with a toothpick. Beel shrieked and looked at Belphie in horror. “Belphie, what did you do?!” He shouted. “I know, you’re right, I should have left them on the grill a little longer.” Beel looked ready to either breakdown or scream again, but then his stomach growled. “... I... I dont want you to get into trouble, maybe I should get rid of the evidence...” that’s when you stood up from the fake island and reassured him it was a prank, Beel screamed again when you got up, and fell onto his back, meanwhile Belphie fell on his back laughing at what Beel said, and then at his reaction to MC getting up in panic. You decide to never prank Beel again, especially since he couldn’t even face you for the rest of the month, which is when you showered him with full size candy bars begging for forgiveness. Belphie as usual put the blame fully on you.

Belphegor: You had taken a nap with Belphie, and for the first time, you woken up before him and went to go to the bathroom... to do your make up! You decided to do a bit of impersonation makeup with a touch of freaky. You made your face look like Lucifer’s face, but then you added a red snake eye contact into your right eye and a snaggletooth fang to your mouth. You got back into bed with your face, and fell back asleep, with the covers over your head, and cuddling Belphie. You woke up to screaming and being pushed out of the bed by a frightened Belphie. You were surprised, but eventually started laughing as you got up and smiled at Belphie, revealing your red eye and fang, and Belphie threw your pillow at you, blushing and crossing his arms. “That was not funny!” “It was a little funny...” “No it wasn’t!”

[maldito-arbol]

Let’s talk about the GP zodiacs (Part 2)

HOLSY HSIT I LOVE THE GP KIDS SO MUCH AND THEIR SIGNS ARE SO INTERESTING

Thank u to puff-poff for shooting me with an ask about the gp kids, I think our brains just assimilated

One more note: I should’ve mentioned this in my last post but compatibility between signs doesn’t only apply to romantic relationships, it applies to any kind of relationship like friendships, family relations, etc. It’s just that when it comes to more platonic relationships, wholly incompatible signs are more likely to be able to work something out together. As an example, I’m a Gemini, and I’m about 300% certain I could never ever in my life date a Pisces, but I do have a few Pisces friends that I get along well enough with.

Okay same drill—sign, element, infodump, GO

Violet

Birthdate: June 12th

Sign: Gemini

Element: Air

Overview: SQUEALS GUYS ITS VIOLET MY BELOVED. WE’RE BOTH GEMINIS THEREFORE WE ARE THE SAME PERSON. I’m kidding but no, Violet being a Gemini makes her 100x easier to project onto. So I mentioned before that Air signs are the least in tune with their emotions, are the thinkers before they act, are horribly indecisive, and these very much apply to Geminis as well. However, the most iconic trait of a Gemini is the ability to switch personalities at the drop of a hat whenever it services the group of people they’re in—what most people call the ‘two-faced’ part of Geminis. Hey, I promise you that being two-faced is actually a pretty cool and useful asset when in the hands of a decent human being. It means we get along well with a lot of different people, and if we don’t, we can act like we do as if it’s nothing. This asset, however, can turn into a curse of sorts in that a lot of us have...NO IDEA what our actual personality is. We reshape and remold ourselves and copy traits from other signs to fit in so much that we lose sight of who we are as an individual, and therefore we have a very hard time figuring out what we truly want. This is where the indecisiveness comes into play—ask a Gemini what they want for lunch and you’ll get a “what? Huh? Oh, you pick. I’m fine with whatever.” I know Geminis best because I am one, pls forgive me for rambling so much more about them than the other signssss.

Okay so first of all, let’s talk about Violet adapting to other characters to ‘fit in’. It’s not as obvious because Violet DOES seem to have one very fixed personality, but Violet prefers to speak through actions rather than words, so I would call her following Emma to help the children at GP a Gemini move. She could’ve simply dragged her to Lucas—she’s probably strong enough to do so, but instead she decided to go along with her. This isn’t to say there’s no pushback of course, as Air signs Geminis aren’t idiots, so they’ll often try to reason with others (particularly fire signs cough cough) to try to bring logic and critical thinking into the conversation. However, when that fails, they can still be counted on to support their friends even if they disagree. This is why Geminis and Leos are soulmates you heard it here, the stars said Violemma is the way. BUT ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW VIOLET’S THE ONE ADAM LISTENS TO DURING THE LEUVIS BATTLE. YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT BEING ABLE TO GET ALONG WITH A LOT OF PEOPLE, THERE YOU GO.

Anyway it’s also very much worth noting that while Violet can seem very harsh at times (bc Geminis will put you in your PLACE), bringing her logical kind of advice into conversations can be a very helpful comforter.

On another note this scene is so gay?

Compatibility and ships: hellooooooo Air sign Violet you are compatible with other Air signs (Aquarius, Libra, and Gemini) as well as Fire signs (Leo, Sagittarius, and Aries). Usually you’ll see Aquarius and Sagittarius as the most compatible with Geminis but I disagree with that because I have never met a Sagittarius I like so I’m still pointing fervently at Leos and the fact that Emma is a Leo. Listen. Violemma is the way. I am determined to convert all of you to Violemma if it’s the last thing I do. Geminis simply cannot help themselves around Leos they fall like a fucking anvil for that bright, golden-hearted dumbass energy. If there’s any Leos in the tpn fandom let me know I might just propose to you.

Oliver

Birthdate: October 25th

Sign: Scorpio

Element: Water

Overview: the first time I looked up Oliver’s birthday I went “Scorpio???? REALLY????” but then this is another case where the more I think about it, it does indeed make sense. If Leos are the natural leaders of the Fire signs, then Scorpios are the natural leaders of the Water signs. Where Cancers and Pisces will often lose themselves to their emotions, Scorpios have a very strong handle on them. I mentioned before that Water signs are at the highest emotional level, but Scorpios are a bit of an interesting case because you oftentimes won’t even notice that they’re very emotional people. They try to act like Air signs in that way, but their true colors are always there, waiting to be coaxed out.

For Oliver, you can clearly tell that his emotional bond with his friends and especially with Lucas is very high—but even so, he doesn’t let his emotions cloud his judgment or his ability to adapt to the situation at hand. Where earth signs are very fixed and difficult to move, water signs are always moving and changing to find solutions best suited for new circumstances. The best example I can give is the part where the music plays early, and despite internally panicking about it, Oliver is the one who naturally steps up to calm everyone down.

Scorpios are great at handling others’ emotions as well as their own, which makes them marvelously empathetic leaders. We stan.

Compatibility and ships: as a Water sign, Oliver is compatible with other Water signs (Cancer, Pisces, and Scorpio) as well as Earth signs (Taurus, Virgo, and Capricorn) so speaking broadly that makes him compatible with Pepe (a Pisces) and Zack (a Cancer) but narrowing it down, Scorpios are usually best with Tauruses and Cancers. Idk if I’m the only one who ships Oliver with Pepe but I know there’s a few people who ship him with Zack—so congrats to you guys, you won the stars’ approval.

Lucas

Birthdate: November 28th

Sign: Sagittarius

Element: Fire

Overview: yall,,,, when I found out Lucas was a Saggy Titty I legitimately guffawed out loud. Lucas and Sagittarius is so funny.... because it’s so wrong. Saggy Titties are the definition of chaos, they’re brazen, impulsive, and constantly changing. Like think of a frat boy in a house full of beer and pool tables and hot girls and you get Sagittarius. This is why I have never met a Sagittarius I like—because they have frat boy energy, and even non-male Sagittariuses require wayyy too much energy for me to handle. I guess the only time Lucas really does act like a Sagittarius is in his childhood with Yuugo, and the way he’s a lot bolder and outgoing versus the quieter older Lucas we have now.

It is important to note that Lucas has been through a lot of trauma and lost a lot of comrades which could very well change the a person’s entire outlook and turn their personality 180 degrees—that could be a large factor, although on the flip side, Yuugo still fits his Capricorn sign even after going through what he’s been through. Different events affect different people differently. Lucas was most likely knocked entirely off his Sagittarius high-horse very quickly when he arrived in Goldy Pond. But if I had no prior knowledge of who he was beforehand, I very well might’ve pegged him a Leo like Emma or even another subtle Aries like Norman. So yes, he does indeed have fire energy, it’s just generally very lackluster and farrrr away from Sagittarius’ level.

Compatibility and ships: okay so I know the only Lucas ship with any weight to it in this fandom is Yuucas, and here’s the thing,,, A Sagittarius and Capricorn combo is the most horrifying fucking couple imaginable and I’m stan so hard. Realistically speaking, your Capricorns would try to put a leash on their Sagittariuses because man. I forgot to mention how childish Sagittariuses can be (though the frat boy comparison should’ve been a clue), and holy shit that poor Capricorn is gonna get ripped to shreds by their Sagittarius. Imagine like a super pompous cowboy trying to ride a furious bull that’s trying to buck him off like there’s no tomorrow. Capricorns are people who want complete control over themselves and their partners, while Sagittariuses,, Saggy Titties just want to see the world burn. Put them together and you could probably cause the End Times Apocalypse. But you know what? Good for them. I think Yuugo and Lucas love each other enough that the toxicity that comes with typical pairups with these two signs is about nonexistent between them. But I fully believe they could still destroy an entire planet and that’s valid of them to do so. Anyway moving on!

you wanna talk about another Sagittarius that makes absolutely no sense?

Paula

Birthdate: December 9th

Sign: Sagittarius

Element: Fire

Overview: My authors I am begging you, stop putting character birthdays in the Sagittarius zone you clearly don’t know what a Sagittarius is.

Since I refuse to acknowledge Paula as a Sagittarius, let’s talk about what sign she actually acts like because I said so. Paula’s a Virgo. Fight me Shirai. (Also im sus that shirai is virgophobic because where the fuck are my virgos. There’s like zero major characters that are virgos, and the characters that ARE don’t even act like virgos. I’m coming for your small intestine Shirai) so as earth signs, virgos are generally pretty resourceful and of course level-headed. They’re kinda shy and reserved, but they’re also very hard workers you can count on when you need to get a job done. Nary will you find a Virgo that procrastinates or attempts to weasel their way out of a mission they’ve been given. The unmovable earth in virgos shows through in how committed they are, and we can see all these traits in Paula. Though she’s a quieter member of the GP resistance, you can tell just how much of an asset she is to them. She doesn’t run, doesn’t lose her cool, and she’s good at pointing out important details.

Pls let me decide your characters’ birthdays for you Shirai I promise I am good at it.

Compatibility and ships: I guess, astrologically speaking, as a Sagittarius, Paula does fit pretty well with Sonya because she’s a Gemini. I actually know next to nothing about Paula ships but I do know she’s lesbian and her and Sonya are cute but I also ship her with Barbara because reasons don’t ask questions I WILL bite you anyway they’re compatible too because barb’s also a Gemini.

Lot of Geminis, don’t you think? Yes I do. Let’s talk about them.

Sonya and Sandy

Birthdates: June 3rd and May 22nd respectively

Signs: Gemini

Element: Air

Overview: these two are what I call the gemini twins bECAUSE THEYRE ALWAYS HANGING OUT AND ITS SO TRUE GEMINIS LOVE EACH OTHER BUT ALSO ITS SO WEIRD THAT WE GET ALONG. imagine like two of those one way mirrors facing each other where it just goes on and on and on for infinite mirror and that’s what two Geminis hanging out is like. Look, they’re literally thinking the same thing and it’s so great

Anyway there isn’t a whole lot of Sandy and Sonya content to go off of in the first place, but them being Geminis seems reasonable to me—at the very least they are indeed meant to get along well and they’re so in sync I could cry. Plus they’re pretty intuitive and able to think right on the spot as they’re facing Nous and Nouma (at least at first) My man Shirai also.. really likes Geminis for some reason because they keep popping up. So instead of one Spider-Man meme it looks more like this,

Compatibility and ships: not gonna dwell too long on this section because from previous ones you may already recall they’re compatible with each other and I guess with Paula as well as I must begrudgingly accept the fact that shes canonically a Sagittarius.

Pepe

Birthdate: February 19th

Sign: Pisces

Element: Water

Overview: so I mentioned before that water signs are at about the highest emotion level, which makes Pisces a very sensitive group like Cancers. But Pisces in general are known for being the kindest and most accepting people as well, which means they’re able to make a lot of friends very easily. They’re basically that one person you sat next to in class who started a conversation with you just to be nice. Now again, there’s not a whole lot of Pepe content to go off of, but we can tell he’s kind and loving to his friends and the other kids in GP. One thing I can mention is that Pisces usually are the one of the nosiest of the signs, and they get very bothered by lies and secrets (this is true for a lot of water signs, but Pisces are the worst in my experience) so we got this single piece that may have a little bit of the Pisces in Pepe showing:

Compatibility and ships: So as a Pisces, Pepe is only compatible with Oliver and Zack considering they’re also water signs. Everyone else is Fire and Air, funnily enough, but the Pepe ships with those two are super cute I think so it’s ok.

Zack

Birthdate: July 7th

Sign: Cancer

Element: Water

Overview: so do I think Zack fits his sign? Yes, in a way I do. I already went into Cancers when I explained Don, so quick recap: Cancers are some of the most sensitive and empathetic, so their loyalty to their loved ones is pretty close to on-par with an Aries. And while Zack isn’t as outwardly emotional as someone like Don, the Cancer in him shows up well in that he’s constantly taking extremely difficult missions he doesn’t want his friends to risk, and he shrugs off any injury to himself.

This might just be a me thing but almost every Cancer I’ve met has a habit of doing That. I am so concerned for their safety. I guess though, if I hadn’t known his sign beforehand, I 100% would’ve pegged him an Aries.

Compatibility and ships: I already went over this with Pepe, but Zack is compatible with Pepe and Oliver. Y’all ok listen to me. OT3. Make it happen. Between them they have every sign in the element of water. They’d be unstoppable.

Gillian

Birthdate: September 30th

Sign: Libra

Element: Air

Overview: here’s a fun one. So as I previously stated, air signs are usually out of tune with their emotions, but where that causes Aquariuses and Geminis to repress or hide them, Libras,,,, just dump them everywhere. Listen I know Libras are supposed to be the sign of the balance scales and they have a thing about the world being perfectly balanced which makes them more prone to revenge bUT ALSO. MY first and foremost takeaway from Libras is that they all suffer from Rich Bitch syndrome, in which they obsess over material items and every Libra has a thing about cute girly stuff change my mind. HOWEVER, they’re often very chaotic as well, the kinda Sagittarius of the Air signs. So like a super cute and seemingly fun girl who will probably murder you in your sleep.



I’m sorry I can’t take it I’ve been laughing at this for the past fifteen minutes it’s too funny. Anyway, Gillian’s Rich Bitch Syndrome appears through her fashion statement. Her PINS. omg. Gillian your Libra is showing.

Compatibility and ships: as a Libra Gillian is compatible with other Air signs (Aquarius, Gemini, Libra) as well as Fire signs (Aries, Sagittarius, Leo) but she’s most compatible with Aries and Sagittarius so—— Paula yes, but also Nigel because he’s an Aries! Speaking of Nigel,

Nigel

Birthdate: March 27th

Sign: Aries

Element: Fire

Overview: Aries Nigel doesn’t come as a surprise, let’s be real here. I delved into Aries before with Norman, so just as a recap: Aries are so intensely loyal to the ones they love and would do absolutely anything for them even at the cost of their lives, and this can make them prone to outbursts of anger and/or impulsivity. Here’s your one image of Aries Nigel, I don’t even have to explain:

Compatibility and ships: so I already said this but Nigel is at his most compatible with Gillian. Are there other Nigel ships?? Pls let me know I’m very curious.

Aw, it’s over now :(

I loved talking about the GP kids they fill the void in my heart. Now to move onto talking about the demons because the silliest idiot requested it and I am beyond ecstatic to spout pure headcanon bullshit. If you’re feelin excited then feel free to keep sending characters my way I will be happy to ramble about their canon zodiac or my headcanon for their zodiac

Edit: i forgot to link part 1 to anyone who wants it and doesn’t want to stalk my profile to find it

[corvus--rex]

Another one that's not truly abandoned, working title Code Violet. Post s.8 Omegaverse, Klance slowburn. Omega Lance has been put on medical leave by the Garrison after the war because of his PTSD, which really just translates to secondary sexism as he's the only Omega among the Paladins. But then Keith goes missing on a Blades mission and Shiro calls the team back together.

~*~*~

He could deal with torture. At least, that’s what Keith told himself, having never been through it personally. But he did know how to deal with pain. A result of too many fights and questionable decisions in his life. But the sensation that overwhelmed his senses wasn’t pain. Or maybe it was. He didn’t know precisely. All he knew at that moment was that he could actively feel every last one of his nerves. He could feel the normal everyday functioning of his body mixed with a racing heartbeat and hyperventilating lungs. And yet he felt oddly detached from it. It felt as though his Alpha was protecting his mind like a mother wolf with her threatened pup. It was a very strange sensation. It felt like it went on forever. He felt something in his body shift. Something new and wholly unfamiliar. And then the pain actually hit. It crept in slowly, radiating from his core until the blooming white-hot flames licked their way through all of his nerve endings. He might have screamed, but he could never be sure. And when the searing pain left, it didn’t go quickly. It smoldered like the embers of a bonfire, burning low in that deceptive way that made it unclear as to whether or not the charred remains were still alight. But Keith could feel it, the low, steady flame that curled its way through his fingertips and all the way to his toes. Neither mind nor body relaxed until the cool touch of unconsciousness wrapped him in its embrace. He was blissfully unaware of being lifted, carried, and finally left in a dark cell while his captors waited for him to wake.

~~*~~ 5 Movements (7 Weeks) Later ~~*~~

Lance was startled awake by his comm screaming for his attention on his nightstand. No one he knew would call at half past five in the morning. All the official evaluations he’d undergone concluded that yes, he had PTSD just like the rest of Team Voltron and everyone else who’d fought in the war, but that with his weekly therapy sessions, he was handling it well enough for active duty. He had the unpleasant suspicion that it had something to do with him being the only Omega on Team Voltron. It didn’t seem to matter, however, as he was kept on medical leave.

When he was woken at the barest hint of dawn’s asscrack, squinting at his comm’s screen, he was shocked to see Shiro on the other end of the call. He fumbled for the button, accidentally dropping the device on himself. He figured he must have hit it somewhere in his sleep and adrenalin-fueled struggle when Shiro’s sleep-deprived face popped up in the holographic projection.

“Shiro? What? What is it? What’s going on?” Lance asked, voice low and rough, his mind not yet fully engaged.

“How soon can you get to the Garrison?” Shiro answered, sounding more awake than he looked.

“Um, probably about an hour. Why? What’s happening?”

The face of the Atlas’ captain darkened. “Keith’s gone missing. He was supposed to check in one movement ago, no one’s heard from him and they can’t trace his comm. It’s the second one he’s missed. Acxa and Kolivan are here requesting a team from the Coalition.”

Lance was awake. He knew Keith was away on another mission, he’d heard it directly from the man himself. He knew Keith would be out of reach for a while. He knew he wouldn’t know if Keith was ok until the mission was over. But he also knew that Keith was expected to keep to the check-in schedule, sending a scrambled message to a secure communications outpost that would then be sent on to Acxa, who was leading the Blades for the duration of the mission. It was almost overly complicated, but the mission was one that required careful stealth. It was the only thing Keith had been allowed to say about it before disappearing for what was supposed to be an extended 3 phoeb mission.

Acxa made sure to keep Team Voltron informed when it came to the check-in schedule, letting them know that Keith was ok. He had made the first three check-ins, even if the team was kept in the dark as to the messages’ contents. Acxa knew that there was a possibility that he could miss a check-in, but as long as his comm was active and could still be traced, she would know that the mission was still going. If he missed more than one check-in, it would raise alarms. Shiro said that he’d missed one a movement ago, which meant that he should have checked in again and hadn’t. If Shiro was calling to say that Keith had missed the check-in, and not that the mission was confirmed to have gone wrong, well, Lance didn’t quite know what it meant, but it wasn’t going to stop him from finding out.

“I’ll be right there,” he said, fully awake and already half-dressed.

Shiro nodded and cut the call.

Forty-five minutes later, Lance was walking into the conference room. He was surprised to see that he was the first one there save for Shiro. Lance was the only one of the team who wasn’t either assigned to the Atlas or stationed at the Garrison. Given his leave status, he’d decided to stay home with his family. The Garrison knew where to find him if they wanted to.

Taking a seat in the middle of the table, Lance leaned forward, resting his arms on the metal surface. “Who else is coming to this?” he asked.

“Adam, Pidge, and Hunk, Acxa is bringing Kolivan, and against my wishes, the MFEs will be here as well. They don’t have the security clearance our team has. They were involved on the front lines, but they’re not us. And they know even less about the Blades. But Iverson ordered it, so they’re coming.”

“Kinda surprised I still have the clearance,” he muttered, even though he knew Shiro would hear him anyway.

“And you know that if I had any real say, you’d be on the Atlas with us. You’re an outstanding pilot, the best at small team tactics I’ve ever seen, and I know no one can iron sight a target like you can. We wouldn’t have made it through several of our missions with Voltron if it hadn’t been for you. I don’t know if you realize it, but we never would have won the war without you.”

Lance looked up at that. Shiro was watching him, the Alpha’s expression one of pride and affection. “How’s that? We did it as a team. I wasn’t any more or less important than anyone else.”

Shiro shook his head. “Not at the end. You’re right about that. It was a team effort. I meant before that. Back when we rescued Slav. We only had one chance at getting him out, and we almost didn’t. If you hadn’t made that shot, we never would have succeeded that day, and – as much as I hate to admit it – Slav’s input and genius went a very long way in helping us win. Without you, none of it would have happened.”

Shock and realization flashed across the Omega’s face. “I – I never thought about it like that. I just did what I had to. We needed him, and I just did it. I never put it together like that.” He stumbled through his words, understanding the weight of what he’d done hitting him. He started at Shiro’s hand on his shoulder.

“I hadn’t either until recently. But that wasn’t a conversation to be had over a call. And I want you to know from me that I have been fighting Administration over your forced medical leave. It isn’t Iverson who’s sidelining you, it’s the heads of the Medical Division. They’re the only ones who can overrule him. Your evaluations confirm what we already know – that you're fit for active duty. The shrinks know it, we know it, even Iverson knows it. I don’t know why the med admins won’t clear you, but I have an idea, and their thought process is wrong. Being an Omega has nothing to do with your capability as a Garrison officer. We will get this sorted out.”

Lance stood up in a rush, nearly knocking the chair over, and crushed his pack Alpha in a tight hug. “Thanks, Shiro,” he mumbled into the Alpha’s shoulder.

“Anytime. I mean it. You’re more than just your service record. You are still, and always will be, part of the pack. Part of our pack. You do know that, right?”

Lance huffed a laugh into Shiro’s shoulder. “That’s about the only part I haven’t questioned. I – I miss him, Shiro. I just want to get him back safe.”

Shiro pulled back, holding onto Lance’s shoulders. “We will. We’re not giving up, not even if I have to go after him myself.”

The door gave a soft hiss as it slid open and closed. Lance and Shiro snapped to see who was there.

“We interrupt something?” Pidge asked, Hunk standing beside her.

“Lance! You made it! Oh, man, I am so happy to see you!” Hunk practically yelled, rushing in to wrap his old friend in a crushing hug.

“Yeah, I made it. I'm happy to see you too, Hunk,” Lance said far more softly and returning the enthusiastic hug.

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19*

[yarrowleef]

Daffodil, Laurel, Lily, Sunflower, Violet, and Wisteria? Also Begonia but I'd like to know your favorites of the old covers and the newer/reprint covers. And the Russian Warrior Cat covers too! Some of their art is quite pretty.

laurel, violet and sunflower answered previously

Daffodil: When did you first start reading the series?

Start of third grade when I was 8 years old, which I believe was 2007!!  .......so like literally most of my life I have given to these cursed cat books. I remember The Sight was the most recent release. It was the first real book series I ever read, and I think I went through the first 2 series within a couple months.

Prior to that I just read stand-alone books and I only read because I wanted to win “accelerated reader” points....i couldn’t do sports, so reading was the only thing I could win at AND I DID WIN. but warriors was the first thing I read that I was actually like...into. and realized I could read for reasons OTHER then winning the most points.

Lily: If your five favorite characters were foods, what would they be?

asdfghgfdxs I honestly have no idea how to answer this question, in part because I don’t think I even have 5 favorite characters. I suppose Firestar is doritos out of obligation. What else can he be?? I mean ok flaming hot cheetos maybe seems more fitting on the surface because ~flame-y~ but lets be honest, Firestar is a bit too bland a character to be spicy. He is one of my favorites for nostalgia sake, I mean it’s Firestar, how can I not be fond of him?

I also have a soft spot for Scourge just because of the sheer ridiculous audacity of him. I wish he’d come back as an evil ghost. Anyway, when I was about 9 and going through my brief (incredibly unfortunate) twilight phase (I was just jumping on the popularity bandwagon tbh) I went to Hot Topic right before one of the movie premieres and they had this...edible bag of blood? it wasn’t actual blood obviously, but I remember it was advertised as being really high in iron to mimic blood, but it was really this sickly sweet mystery juice packaged inside of a fake hospital blood bag. I of course bought it because I went through my edgy phase early, and for some reason thought it would look cool to pretend I was drinking blood. It was the most disgusting liquid i have ever consumed but hey it did also have the unpleasant metallic tang of blood because I guess they were going for authenticity over edibility, so it’s not like I didn’t get what I paid for (or rather what my mom paid for, because i was 9)

Anyway, Scourge is that. He’s awful fake blood juice from the Hot Topic in the mall.

 That's all I got.

Wisteria: Are you looking forward to the Warriors movie?

YES ABSOLUTLEY!!

don't get me wrong, I fully expect it to be terrible. Embarrassing even. I expect they will try to change it for a wider audience appeal, and of course it will end up bad, BUT IT WILL BE SO FUNNY!! I have this inescapable morbid curiosity about it, like I really want to see what they try to do. Like watching a train crash. I can't help it.

Warriors is a silly series. I have a feeling this is why a movie hasn't been made yet, even I would have no idea who to market it for. Yes it's violent and touches on very dark topics, but the fact that its about cute little cats with very dumb names coupled with those dark topics in a way makes it look even MORE silly. I don’t think Warriors will ever have wide appeal outside of its fanbase, the concept looks too ridiculous if you’re not someone already into animal xenofiction like this, but a movie is inevitably going to try to have wider appeal anyway because that's what movie studios feel they need to do. They will either water it down, or worse, try to go a more family friendly comedy route since that’s how general audiences are used to seeing animated talking animals and they think that's the only “”safe”” way to market an animal movie, which will 100% ruin it either way. The second one is more likely, I mean why else do you think they hired the guys who wrote kung fu panda, and the recent alvin and the chipmunks and Spongebob movies to make the script?? [no shade to kung-fu panda, it’s good in it’s own way, but it is not the same vibe as warrior cats at all]. For me, this is simultaneously the absolute best and the absolute worse scenario, because like, it’s horrible, its an insult to everything I love about the warriors world, i have surreal nightmares about it, but it’s so horrible it f*cking hilarious ya know? how can you not be a little curious to watch that train crash (and the outraged reaction posts that will inevitably follow)????

A warriors movie will be bad, I can't see any way that it won't be bad, and honestly? I think that's ok. I don't need a good movie, I simply need a good laugh, and then I'll go back to watching fan animations which will always be more interesting anyway because they don't feel the need to have ~mass appeal~

Listen, we don't actually need a good official adaptation. In some ways, a good adaptation might be bad for the fandom. The fandom is cool because of how wildly different and creative it is, the series is so bare bones with no consistent official art that people can go nuts with it. I worry on the off chance we get a really good adaptation, it might take over the books. People might be less likely to draw/create with their own wild bonkers interpretations of canon in favor of sticking closer to what the official adaptation presented us with, and idk if I want that. I also def don't want to deal with searching "warrior cats" for the rest of my life to only bring up gifs/discussions of the movie/tv show, rendering material and fan creations for the books almost impossible to find. This is something i've suffered with when other books i like get popular adaptations, where as series with bad adaptations (like percy jackson) I have less trouble finding content about the books. 

Begonia: Which book cover is your favorite?

So of the old covers I admit i have a soft spot for the darkest hour, it was my favorite as a kid and I know I tried to redraw it several times. Warrior covers have a tendency to blend together, there’s only so many ways to draw mysterious cats fighting, but I think this cover is one of the most memorable for me, if only for the center art (shout out to the old Fire and Ice cover though, I also really like the center art on that. I wish the box had kept being used for more than just a single cat face in the later series)

but now that i’ve gone and looked, I really really like the full cover art for Tallstar’s Revenge, the colors just look super nice and match his eyes and everything. Tallstar having a fun and more unique looking design gives it extra points. Maybe I just like warm tones idk. And shout out to Wayne for also imagining the moor as a golden-brown field even though it’s probably supposed to be green.

out of the new covers, I like the vibe of Dark River, it just looks spooky and mysterious......and I think this artists cats look better from the side, they are always a little crooked from the front (honorable mention to Place of No Stars cover, I really like the colors and the ominous vibe, it definitely had an impact when I first saw that cover, I just don’t love the look of the cats faces blown up close from the front. The more I look at it the more off it becomes, but the colors are cool)

and I definitely agree the Russian warrior cats art has a very charming look to it, I like seeing it whenever it comes across my dash, but unfortunately I’m having trouble finding a catalogue of it to look at so I can’t pick a favorite

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter three: take this longing

“your body like a searchlight, my poverty revealed. i would like to try your charity until you cry, ‘now you must try my greed’. and everything depends upon how near you sleep to me.” -“take this longing”, leonard cohen

The sun had dipped behind the Los Angeles skyline and in turn, the entire area was bathed in a blanket of bluish violet darkness. It was moments like that there in the northeastern side of the city that Sam realized she had missed it all. She peered out the windshield at the winding dim lit freeway before them: all the jacaranda and oleander trees tucked behind the brick walls that lined the road around them. Somewhere near there was the old neighborhood in Alhambra where her parents used to live at before she was born.

Chuck took the next exit to one of the side streets down below, past a small row of low palm trees off to the right. Beyond the trees stood a mural painted upon a wall of pale bricks. Sam couldn't exactly tell what the mural bore but she made out the sight of a series of bright colors there in passing.

“Did you see that?” Greg asked her.

“I did, yeah,” she said.

They rolled up to a stoplight and Sam glanced about the intersection before them. The darkening freeway to the left, the stretch of road right in front of them and all the mission style houses up that way as well, and to the right, the four lane parkway that took them into the heart of town and closer to that old neighborhood. The faintest of memories in mind and yet a memory nonetheless.

“Oh, god, the memories that are coming back right now,” she admitted.

“That's right, this is your neck of the woods, isn't it?” Chuck said as he raised his attention to the rear view mirror; even in the dim light, Sam made out the sight of the little glimmer in his eye.

“All of Elsinore and this side of L.A. in particular,” she said. “My parents lived around here when they first got married. They also lived closer to the beach, too—down by San Pedro.”

“Love San Pedro,” Tiffany declared.

“Oh, yeah, it's all cool down that way. San Pedro, Long Beach, Rancho Palos Verdes—it's all the real nice part of L.A.”

Sam thought about a walk on the beach at some point. So much she wanted to do while she was back there in California, that is if she could do it. Bill wasn't willing to let her out for any reason whatsoever.

Hell of a time getting back to New York if she so wished to do so.

In the meantime, she thought of her parents. Or at least she thought about Esmé and what she planned on doing following the divorce. The fact that her parents were splitting up left her wondering where it all went wrong when she wasn't looking. Her mother became an author and her father had his own things to deal with and yet she had no idea about either one of them.

Much like with her secret about living with Bill had to be kept away from Joey at all costs, she knew that she need not tell a soul about the divorce as well. As far as she knew, Bill had no idea about it, and he didn't need to know about it, either.

Within time, they reached the center piece of Alhambra, the vast stretch of dark grass nestled in between a series of scraggly but still fully shrouded oak trees. The grass made a little hillside near the middle of it all. And right near the sidewalk stood the dark brown wooden city sign: Sam peered out Alex's window to the stone sidewalk out there as Chuck searched for a place to park.

“We're just gonna be seeing them in a little restaurant,” he announced to them. “It’s another little baby thrash band, too, so it’s a humble restaurant rather than the sunset strip.”

“They’re not Poison or Ratt, anyway,” Alex noted in a low voice.

“Don't really wanna walk too far, though,” Chuck continued, “you know?”

“Right, right,” Tiffany said.

“Especially after all of the running we just did,” Sam pointed out. “And the fact I fell on top of Greg.”

Alex laughed out loud at that and Greg bowed his head at that.

“I saw that!” Chuck declared. “That was actually pretty funny—no offense, Greg.”

“Greggy,” Sam said in recollection of Zelda's nickname of him.

“Greggy!” Tiffany chimed in.

Chuck then swerved towards the curb and they took the spot closest to the corner, right across the street from a small bar in a brick building with a pink and blue neon sign in the window.

“We're seeing them in there?” Sam wondered aloud.

“Nah, next door,” Chuck told her as he unbuckled his seat belt. “Mr. Skolnick here isn't twenty one yet—neither are they.”

“Really?” Sam muttered but Chuck never replied as he climbed out first, followed by Tiffany, and they leaned the seats forward so she, Alex, and Greg could climb out into the impending darkness.

Chuck and Tiffany led the way to the warmly lit restaurant next door: on the far side of the room stood a doorway into a separate floor for a band to play. Behind them stood a long table with Death Angel shirts.

“Here just in time,” Greg remarked right as the lights turned low. The five of them were only a select few in a small crowd but it didn't seem to bother either of them up on stage. All five of them had that smooth Pacific Islander skin that seemed to glow with a halo under the dingy lights. All five of them were slender and svelte and their instruments seemed far too big for them.

“Band of cousins,” Chuck told Sam. “Each and every one of them.”

“I was just gonna say,” she started, “they all look related to one another. Like they're brothers.”

“All literal kids when they started out a few years back,” he continued. “About around the same time as us, but kids, though. Literally kids—you think Alex is still just a baby when you first saw him and also right now. I think Andy, the drummer, was fourteen when they dropped their first album. That was like a month after we officially changed our name to Testament.”

“Wow!”

“Hello, Alhambra!” the bassist declared into the microphone with a bit of a high pitch squeak of a voice. “We are Death Angel.” Indeed, they struck Sam as a five piece band out of a high school up there on the stage. But she knew they carried with them a bit of prowess from her secondhand experience with Mark. He then ran up to the stage with a portable microphone in one hand, and those long black dreads streamed behind his head. His slender little body was wrapped up in a big black Slayer shirt and baggy black jeans that appeared to be falling off of his hips.

To think Aurora had an encounter with him right before her wedding. The more Sam thought about it, the more she wished for Aurora to have gone with him rather than that harebrained Emile. But as far as she knew, Aurora never touched him once and she only did it to rile her up, especially after her behavior in recent months. He gave those dreads a little toss back with a flick of his head and he showed a big beaming smile out to the audience.

“This is from our brand new album—it's the kind of album you listen to in the City of Angels, too,” Mark said into the microphone head. “It's called Frolic in the Park.”

“What a name,” Sam joked, to which Greg and Alex burst out laughing at that.

“Exactly!” Chuck declared.

“Hit it—”

For a band of kids, they reminded Sam of the Cherry Suicides, just by their relentless nature, their tightness, and the high scratchy shriek that Mark sang in. They weren't nearly as akin to punk rock and they lacked that gory aspect as well, but they were definitely up there; his thick black dreads reminded her of Joey. She needed to call him at some point.

“Man, they just pull, don't they!” Sam shouted.

“They do!” Greg shouted back.

Mark lashed his tongue and threw his dread locks back so that he resembled to a sea monster up there. Andy kicked his drum so hard in order to get the crowd clapping: given it wasn't a very big room, Sam could feel the thumping right through the floor. Chuck and Greg also stomped along with them.

“Let me hear you guys!” Mark bellowed into the microphone. “I wanna hear this room come alive! Make the Philippines proud, Alhambra!”

He raised his hands up over his head as they plunged into a good long guitar solo. Sam thought of the Cherry Suicides in Boston, when they became a thrash band themselves for a few moments. The whole series of claps lasted about five minutes before they returned to the original flow of the song.

Death Angel played one more before they parted the stage, and Sam, Alex, and Greg treated them to applause.

“Hey, kids, you want a shirt?” Tiffany offered the three of them.

“Can get a whole bunch of shirts, actually, Tiff,” Chuck told her from behind them, “they’re all like a buck-fifty.”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh at Bill’s complaint about a bag of crackers. Cheese crackers that were the same price as a handful of T-shirts she could sleep in that night and the one afterwards. But at the same time, she still shook her head at the very notion. And he was about to lose what income he had left; but Marla had the right idea to pressure him into finding a better solution for himself. Sam thought back to what her mother had said about things growing treacherous and sticky when kids were involved.

Greg bowed into the men’s room in the restaurant while Chuck and Tiffany strode outside into the night. Sam turned to Alex.

“You want something to eat?” she volunteered as she tucked her small bag of shirts under her arm while she put her change away.

“Nah, I’m not very hungry believe it or not,” he said, “Chuck also told me that he and Tiffany are going next door to bar for a drink.” To which he then eyed her juggling her things only to put her wallet away. “Here, let me help you—“

He took the shirts so she could put the change inside her wallet, and then her wallet back into her purse. Once she had it back against her body, he handed the shirts back to her.

“Thank you,” she told him.

“Wanna take a walk outside?” he offered her.

“Take a walk on the wild side?” she retorted, and Alex laughed, a big hearty bout of laughter. But he led her out to the front door of the restaurant, where the night had fallen upon Los Angeles: a hazy orange glow emerged from the downtown area, such that Sam could only see the stars in the sky if she turned her attention to the north, over the mountains.

Alex led her to the corner next to the bar, and they both peeked inside: Chuck and Tiffany were in fact in there and at the bar in anticipation of their drinks.

“Did Greg say anything about being in there?” Sam asked him.

“Nah, he just said he was using the bathroom and then he’d meet us outside.” Alex took a glimpse over his shoulder right then.

“I’m not seeing him, though.” He stood there at the corner of the sidewalk and she awaited right next to him there. Once they glanced about both ways first, he took a step off of the curb and she walked side by side with him to the opposite sidewalk, right near the car. But Alex himself kept on going into the darkness: the sole light came from the glow of the city, the neon lights behind them, and the sole street lamps on the corners up ahead.

“Would you believe that before I joined Testament,” he started at one point, “I never really had been to the L.A. area?”

“Really?” She was stunned by that, to which he nodded his head, even in the darkness.

“Born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area my whole life,” he told her. “Never really felt the need to leave until I decided I wanted to be in a band. Sometimes I made visits to New York City or out to Vegas, but never the City of Angels. It was weird telling Chuck that, too, because he was born in L.A.”

They reached the street corner and he ran his fingers through his hair once more. Even in the nondescript light, Sam made out the sight of his deep eyes as they glanced off to their right. She was once again alone with Alex, and what better place than an area she called home for such a long time.

“I will say this,” he began again as he strolled along the sidewalk with her right next to him.

“What's that?”

“I'm glad that you're out this way,” he admitted: whenever he looked over at her, the ambient glow of everything made him resemble to a little porcelain doll. “Ever since we got together on New Year's over in Ithaca, I went home thinking, 'I was really wrong about Samantha.'”

“I feel bad about you overhearing at that conversation I had had with Aurora, though,” she confessed. Meanwhile, the sidewalk deviated away from the grass and gave way to pillars of pure concrete.

“Why?” he asked her as he stepped down in the barren storm drain.

“You saw a side to me that I didn't really want you to see.” She followed his lead into the storm drain, away from the concrete and almost into the street.

“Why? She was your best friend and she pretty much left you behind at this point.”

“And she made your day all about her,” she added.

“And she made my birthday all about her, right,” he echoed her.

They kept on walking around the concrete until they reached the next edge of the sidewalk. Beyond that something dark emerged from behind the pillars.

“Bit of grass here,” he pointed out.

“Grass, the trees, and the hill,” Sam added, and she turned to him. No moon out that night but there was in fact plenty of ambient light from the city near there and the very town of Alhambra; despite the dim light, however, she could make out the sight of that gradual hill side not too far from the concrete's edge.

“Remember during Kirk and Rebecca's wedding when you and Zelda rolled down that one hillside together?” he recalled.

“Oh yeah!” Sam snapped her fingers at that. “And you and Joey ran down it together with your shirts off like you were a couple of athletic boys.”

“I dunno about him but my suit was getting a little heavy at that point,” he pointed out with a shrug of his shoulders and a lopsided little grin. Through the darkness, she noticed his eyes pointed towards the other side of the grass. “Hey, there's the car.”

“Where?”

“Due north of us from here. Right over there.”

“Shall we frolic in the park?” she joked.

“At this time of night?” he pointed out.

“Yes.”

“There's no light, though, Samantha. We can't see the creatures and things that crawl about the grass beneath us.”

“Well, if we frolic about in the park, we gotta get closer at some point, though. So you can protect me from all the bad things that linger about down in the grass.”

“Well—you're technically married now,” he pointed out as they continued onward to the next corner. One more corner, and they were back at the restaurant and the bar, and of course the safety of the car.

“Yeah... but I don't have a ring, though,” Sam pointed out. “Sure, Bill made me sign some things but we don't have the things that make a marriage a marriage. Or at least so I think.”

“But you are technically married to Bill, though,” Alex insisted. “That means we can't fool around or do anything like that or anything that involves any kind of frolicking. Or at least that's what the Jew in me tells me.”

Sam giggled at that.

“Mr. Wandering Jew,” she joked.

“The Wandering Jew!” he recalled with a chuckle. “I think we gotta put a name on that at some point.”

“Who, you and me or you and Testament?”

“Testament! That could be a track for an album in the future. When I get back to my guitar, I'll throw around some licks and see what comes out of it at some point.”

“You are just—you are fascinating, Alex,” Sam remarked.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. There’s so much more to you than meets the eye, and I feel like I’ve just scratched the surface with you.”

“You really have, Samantha,” he told her, “you like barely made an etching on the surface of the little Skol-man.”

“By the way,” she began and a part of her shuddered at the phrase given she knew Bill likes to employ that onto her, “I know you're a guitarist for a heavy metal band—but are there any other genres you play?”

“Not really,” he answered with a shake of his head. “Most of my influences tend to be rock n' roll based. Most anyways. I saw Miles Davis in a concert on TV a while back, and ever since then, that's piqued my interest for the jazz world. I was raised by older parents compared to my peers. Where they grew up to things like Grateful Dead, I was exposed to like Sinatra and Dean Martin when I was growing up.”

“Who do you tend to be influenced by?”

“Well, my favorite band ever is the Beatles. I think anyone who knows what they're talking about when it comes to music they mention the Beatles at some point. They have to mention them, too, otherwise they have no credibility. The thing that got me into heavy metal was Kiss—I remember being eleven years old and literally begging my parents to take me to see Kiss. I actually cried to convince them.”

“Aw!”

“Yeah, my older brother Nate was like 'okay, Alex, if we can't get Mom and Dad to say yes, turn on the water works' and I did! So the Beatles got me into guitar, Kiss was what convinced me to go into metal—and then I found Van Halen and Eddie Van Halen, whom I think genuinely inspired me to be a lead guitarist. And then I started finding more and more guitar players like Randy Rhoads and Stevie Ray Vaughn. I also found a movie—you might find it the next time you go to a video store like near here or over in New York—that came out when I was nine years old, I think? I was nine going on ten. It's called 'American Hot Wax'—got people like Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Screamin' Jay Hawkins playing themselves!”

“'American Hot Wax',” she repeated, “I'm writing that down.”

“Please do! The last time I threw out that movie name to someone they forgot it in like three minutes and then I never saw them again.”

Sam stopped right on the sidewalk in search of that one piece of paper, the one with Chuck's and management's phone number written on one side, and a pen down inside of her purse. Alex stopped right before her with his head bowed a little bit before her. The neon from the bar across the street from there provided enough light for her to find it but she had to squint her eyes in order for her to adjust to the sight of the ink on the paper.

“Can you see?”

“Sort of.” She held the paper within the pink and blue glow of the neon and that proved to be enough for her.

“'American Hot Wax',” he repeated. “The story of Alan Freed, the disc jockey who introduced rock n' roll to the masses and even coined the term, too. It's a little obscure, though, I remember one of Nate's friends had a copy of it and I happened to watch along with them. So you might have to look around for it.”

“A little late movie night the next time I see Marla and Bel,” she said as she carefully wrote the words down.

“Do they still live in New York, by the way?” he asked her.

“Marla does—Belinda went up to Albany to work in a shop that specializes in stained glass.”

“Oh, wow, that's badass.”

“She tried to get me to take stained glass when we were in school but it went through twice.”

“Damn, that would've been awesome.”

“She showed me a few little tips and tricks on the whole world of glass. There’s just… so much I want to do. You know?”

“Absolutely,” he replied. “Absolutely.”

Alex then turned his attention to the sidewalk before them, to the car still parked there. Chuck and Tiffany were in that bar there while Greg appeared to be still in the restaurant.

“What shall we do next?” he asked her. “We kinda walked around in a big circle just now.”

Sam tucked the piece of paper and the pen both back into her purse, and she glanced up at the grass before them. They were close to the car and the sole light came from the neon across the street: he was too young to go inside there and she needn’t drink lest Bill ask her about it by the time she came back. As far as she knew no one would see them out there.

“We can lie here, though,” she suggested, and he giggled at that.

“Just lay on the grass?”

“Yeah, like star gaze. Just walking around here, I can tell that the sprinklers haven't come out yet, either. We're a ways out from the very center of L.A., so the light pollution isn't so bad out here in Alhambra.”

“Yeah, guess we sure can,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “Just don't get too close to me, though.”

“Why not?” Sam laughed.

“Because when you get too close to me,” he started with a little gyration of his head, “it warrants a kiss from you.”

“I won't kiss you,” she assured him. Alex sighed through his nose and he ran his fingers through the piece of black hair on the right side of his head. That little glimmer of gray atop the crown of his head appeared even lighter against the soft neon glow near there.

Sam tucked her new Death Angel shirt underneath her arm, and then she led him onto the soft dry grass in the midst of the trees. It wasn't in fact entirely dry: a light dew already began to fall over their heads. She guided Alex towards a spot on the grass, the driest spot as far as she could tell there. He had rolled up that single bag of T-shirts into a tight bundle and, once Sam stopped right in place, he dropped down to the ground and he set the bundle down on the grass behind him.

“Oh, I see what you're doing,” she declared as he lay down flat on the grass and his shirt lifted a little bit up his body. Even in the darkness, Sam made out the sight of that little sliver of pale skin between the bottom hem of his shirt and his jeans, about the width of her thumbnail, but a sweet little sliver of his tummy nonetheless. She bunched up the shirts in her bag as well, and she followed his suit and lay down next to him there on the grass. A couple of inches separated them from the other.

“I won't kiss you,” she assured him for the third time in a row.

He shifted his weight there on the grass and folded his hands upon his stomach, which in turn made the sliver between his shirt and his jeans a little bit bigger. He swallowed and his neck appeared much more shapely than before. She thought of drawing that shapely neck at some point. It was a fleeting thought, but that thought in fact swam right through her mind at that point. The shape of his side profile and the soft appearance of his black hair as it sprawled over his shoulders even down there on the ground.

Sam then cleared her throat and he rolled his head over the makeshift pillow for a glance over at her.

“So if you write a song called 'The Wandering Jew',” she said, “will you credit me for inspiration?”

“Of course,” he replied with a slight chuckle. “I mean it only makes sense to do just that.” He showed her a sweet little smile and then he rolled his head back to where he lay flat on the bundle of the other shirts. “The Perseids are coming up here soon. At least I think they are.”

“Perseid meteor shower?” she asked him.

“Yeah. They're right in the middle of August—at least I think they are. That's my memory of them from when I learned about them in school.”

He fetched up a big yawn and then he stretched his arms up over his head. Sam rolled her head over her makeshift pillow for a look at the side of his face: the way in which his side profile had such a fineness to it. The prominent but gentle point of his nose. The full sensual shape of his lips. The smoothness of his skin and his chin.

She never thought of Alex as being so lovely, but laying there next to her, she recognized another side to him that she hadn't seen before there. She inched closer to the side of his face, much to his surprise. He gaped at her and raised his eyebrows at her.

His little body enticed her and she wanted him, and she wanted to kiss that little pearl of gray upon his head, now a little tuft the size of her index finger. She set a hand on the side of his face and she lunged in closer to his face.

“Samantha!” he gasped. “What're you doing?”

“I want to kiss you,” she whispered into his face; she showed him her tongue.

“Don't,” Alex begged her in a soft whisper and with a shake of his head.

“I want to kiss you,” she insisted as she gazed into those deep eyes and at those sweet smooth lips, as smooth as butter.

“Samantha—Samantha, please—you're legally married and you have a boyfriend, too.”

“So?”

Alex froze right in place at that.

“So?” she repeated, and he cracked her a smile and he laughed at that. He brought a hand to his mouth in order to stifle his laughter given they lay together there outside of the bar. She lifted herself up and then rolled over him: she suspended herself over him. He was right underneath her; Sam brought her face closer to his so she could smell the soft cologne on the side of his neck.

Decadent, like a little treat for her and all for her, all for being such a bad girl.

A bad girl with a good boy.

His chest heaved from her being right above him. The tips of her dark hair dangled down towards his chest and she ran her tongue around her lips to get him going as well.

“Samantha, I—” He could hardly talk. “—I—” She pressed a finger to those lips.

“You're just—you're so sweet and intelligent and funny and refined and just—everything totally different from what I'm used to.”

Alex swallowed but he never moved a muscle.

“I want to come closer to you,” she begged him as she touched his chest. With that free hand, she unfastened the bottom lip there at the top of his shirt. “I want to come closer to you, Alex Skolnick.”

Or at least that was what she thought would happen had she inched even closer to him. Instead she fluttered her eyelashes to rid of the daydream, and she just lay there on her back next to him and every so often, she peered over at him and the soft and smooth side of his face.

“I should tell you,” she began for real that time, “you have the cutest little lips.”

He snickered at that.

“You do! They're really cute and shapely, and I like how they kind of peel back whenever you talk, too.”

“I'm a mishmash,” he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Like one of those rag dolls,” she added.

“One of those rag dolls they piece together of all the scraps they scrape up from like the bottom of the barrel.”

“Nonsense,” she insisted.

“These lips under this schnoz and with these eyes and with the little tuft on my head? Yeah, it's bottom of the barrel, Samantha.”

“You are not from the bottom of the barrel, Alex,” she persisted. “I assure you.”

“I'm like something that the world likes to keep a secret, and by the time it comes out, it's already been said and done.”

He sighed through his nose and Sam frowned at that. And then it hit her, especially with Joey and Marla not around, and neither of her parents knowing about Alex himself.

“Speaking of secrets,” she began, to which he rolled his head back over the roll of shirts on the ground. “Can you keep another one?”

“I'll lock secrets up in a vault and never let them out,” he said in a single breath, “especially after Louie told Marla about your living situation. Can't believe he did that.”

“My parents are getting divorced,” she told him straight up.

“Aw, really?” He gaped at her.

“Yeah.”

“Well, why am I sworn to secrecy about it?”

“My mom doesn't want me talking about it with anyone. But she doesn't know about you, though.”

He raised his eyebrows at that.

“Really?” he said in a low voice.

“Yeah. So—could you?”

He ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth.

“I'll put them in the proverbial vault, Samantha. Don't you worry about a thing.”

“Hey, kids!” Chuck called from across the street.

“I want you to be my secret, too,” she blurted out to him.

“Me?” He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Yes. From my parents, from Joey, from everyone. I want you to be my best kept secret.”

“Sam?” Tiffany called from across the street. “Alex?”

“I’ll explain later,” she vowed, and he nodded his head and they both clambered up to their feet. Alex fixed his black hair and Sam straightened her top.

“Oh there they are, babe,” Tiffany pointed out from the shadow under the neon lights.

“Had a little fun on the grass?” Chuck joked as they headed closer to them.

“That’s for us to know and for you to find out,” Sam retorted, and Chuck erupted into laughter. She glanced over at Alex and the shadow cast over his face.

“Gonna be hell of a time getting you back home,” he said in a low voice. “I just think about how that man treats you, too.”

“That’s an understatement. I don’t even want to go back there.”

“You wanna hang out with us!” he exclaimed with a chuckle. “Next time we’re down this way, I’ll make sure you get a spot with us in the hotel room. I’d hate for you to go back to him.”

“Aw, Alex, that’s so sweet of you,” Sam said with a smile on her face.

“There’s Mr. Christian,” Chuck declared.

“Looks like he’s got some food, too,” Alex added. Indeed, Greg returned to the car with a brown cardboard box in one hand. The two of them awaited Chuck’s unlocking the doors as well as the folding back of the seats.

“Still not hungry?” Sam asked him as she took a whiff of whatever was inside there as Greg walked past.

“That might change,” Alex confessed to her before he climbed into the back seat behind Tiffany first.

[shiroganeryo]

D.Gray-Man Tag!

I got tagged by my friend Violet to hop into this little game she made, and there are few things I love more than babbling about DGM, so let’s go! The rules are to tag three people to get the game going, so I’ll do it at the start because this will get looong. I’ll tag @14th-melody, @metzzi and @rudimentor0x0. Here’s the blank post. Sorry if you have already done it, I might’ve missed the posts ;;

⭐ What year did you first get into DGM? Hmm, actually, that’s a hard question because I didn’t get into it right away? If memory serves me right about what grade I was in high school when that happened, I was 15 - so, 2008. Pull a chair, I’ll tell you how that went. It was actually a recommendation from a friend of my best friend; we weren’t particularly close, I just knew he and I had a similar taste for anime/manga and I was looking for getting into a new series... but I wanted it to be worthwhile. So I asked my bestie if her friend wouldn’t give me a rec. He recommended me D.Gray-Man, and just like I do before watching any series, I watched the first opening to get an overall “feel” of it and I quite liked it: cool aesthetic, music was dope, characters were nice-looking. But, for some reason, I didn’t watch it and eventually forgot about it.

Then, one day on my way back home from school, I stopped by a nearby newspaper stand since here they also sell manga. They were all very cheap at that time, so I would often look for new volumes of the titles I was collecting (my allowance was enough to buy two or three!). I saw DGM’s first volume there, and went “oh! It’s that one series he had recommended me! I’ll take it and finally give it a shot.”

I fell in love.

I really liked it at first, but the point where DGM completely won my heart was during Lala’s arc. I had never cried with a manga before. 

⭐ Who’s your favorite character? This is probably very unoriginal, but it’s Allen! At the start I was very lukewarm about him, but as time went on, I felt like I could relate more and more to that kind-hearted boy and he became my role model. DGM has been with me through some of the worst of my life, and Allen’s resolve to keep going, keep walking, no matter how hard things were for him was what motivated me many times in past. It still does. Allen also taught me to be kinder and through him I realized being there for others makes me truly happy. Sadly, I also share with him the same trait of being unable to truly see how appreciated I am and all the good I bring others just for being there... But I’m working on that! He became the first character I felt like I could fully relate to, and I was surprised - but still very happy - to realize that, now that I’m an adult with more experience and maturity, I feel like I can understand him even more and better than before. Our connection didn’t wane with time, I feel so much closer to him now. He’s very special to me.

Standing at the second spot - because it’s also fair I would mention her -, is Miranda! I always say that if Allen didn’t exist, Miranda would be my number 1 since she stands so close to him hahaha After him, she’s another character I deeply relate with. My self-esteem isn’t the best out there so I’m quick to think I’m worthless or useless, just like her. Even so, she wouldn’t give up. Every time I felt like giving up because of auto depreciation, I would think “Miranda would try again, she would work harder”.

It’s like the two of them were walking me through the steps so I could move forward and keep doing my best.

⭐ Who’s your least favorite character? I’m going to say Chaozii. But, before we get to the usual “Chaozii slander” we’re used to doing in this fandom, let me elaborate. It has nothing to do with him not siding with Allen. As much as I love Allen, I know we’re able of sympathizing with his ideals because as the readers we have a plethora of information on his motives; if not for that, we would probably take the same stance as Chaozii has taken about him.

What riles me about Chaozii is that, unlike all of the characters, his mindset is either black or white, good or bad. Everyone seems to have a perfect mix of both, showing many facets just like, well, real, imperfect people. Chaozii is the only one who doesn’t have that. Being simple-minded is not a bad trait, but when that clouds your judgement, then it turns into a bad thing.

It all fell apart when he snapped at Allen when he refused to kill Tyki. That particularly bothered me a ton, even if I understand his feelings. Chaozii, who thought it was wrong and cruel to kill humans and was grieving for his lost comrades, was fine with killing a human whom he wasn’t even sure if was being forced to do things or not. Do you see the issue here? Chaozii never feels to me like he’s striving to do the right thing in order to bring justice, but instead, because he wants revenge.

I hope he does get to learn one thing or two in the future. He has potential to be a great character; but he needs a “redemption” first.

⭐ Who’s your favorite general? Tiedoll! Although I like all of them for different reasons. I really love Cross and differently from what some people think, he did care for Allen and I love their rather dysfunctional relationship. He’s a much deeper character than just a womanizer full of fishy shenanigans. He’s also really badass: former scientist, user of magic, (former) wielder of both an Innocence of his own and another person’s (Grave of Maria). I just happen to love Tiedoll a liiiittle more because I can’t take this guy! He’s just so sweet, and his doting nature makes him both funny and lovely. General Sokalo is really cool and all, but I feel like he’s just a cool guy to me. On a side note, General Klaud could step on me and kill me and I’d thank her. I hope we get to learn more about her Innocence sometime.

⭐ Who’s a character you would get along with? I would love to say it’s Allen, but he’s someone really hard to get close to. If I think about the characters I’d like to befriend because of shared traits or interests, I think I could get along well with Miranda, Krory, and Marie. The first two because they’re two softies who just happen to be really awkward, I feel like I would probably befriend them after trying to comfort them too often. And, the latter, because I’m a person who likes calm company whom I can have honest talks with.

⭐ What kind of innocence would you have? I honestly have no idea. If I had to pick one from the ones we already have, I think I would go with the Dark Boots. Being able to fly and maneuver in mid-air would be a dream come true, I feel the happiest when the wind blows against me. If I have to think of something “for me” specifically, I think I would like a long range Innocence. I particularly like firearm-like weapons like guns, so maybe a gun or dual pistols? Yeah, I think I’d really like the dual pistols.

⭐ What’s your favorite ship? Ah, to be in the DGM fandom is to be a multishipper; yet this is the part where I always get nervous at because my favorite is a rarepair. But!!! I’m building up the courage to be more open about (and less self-judgmental of) the things I like. It’s Allen x Miranda. I don’t really know when it started; from what I said before, you already know they’re both my top favorite characters and very special to me, so I naturally loved it when I saw them sharing screentime. When I realized it, I was looking at them and thinking “they would make such a cute couple together”. It just kinda happened.

To keep this short, there’s this blog I really like explaining about this pair’s dynamics. I think they have a great dynamic together and much potential. They could very easily have a wholesome relationship based in lots of patience and mutually covering the other’s weaknesses and helping them become someone better. These are the best kinds of relationships imo. I hope to share some of my headcanons for them (and even writing, hopefully!) sometime in here. I always picture Allen being older, so that gives me some free room for creativity; it doesn’t look like he has time for romantic love right now, and I don’t really feel comfortable with him being a minor for this ship, so both things go hand in hand.

Honorable mentions go to Link x Allen (again, older!Allen), Yulma and LaviLena, as I also get super happy when I see these particular shippings. 

⭐ What’s your least favorite ship? I actually have some, but it goes against my policies to publicly (consciously) say negative things about certain things if I can help it. I know I’m allowed to have opinions, but you never know who can stumble upon it and what I dislike can be something that makes someone really happy, you know? I tend to stay silent about such things when it comes to something as harmless as shippings.

So, I think I can say I’m accepting of everything as long as everyone respects each other! And, of course, if it isn’t distasteful (as in, illegal).

⭐ What branch would you want to be part of? We’ve only seen the European and Asian branches properly before but even if there aren’t many choices, this is still a hard question; I think both have lots of good things going for them. I think I would probably want to settle with the Asian Branch! I love how lively the atmosphere is and I also feel like there are way less science division shenanigans in there... Sorry, Komui. 

⭐ What’s your favorite arc? I have three! The Rewinding City arc came right after Lala’s arc - that had touched me a lot -, bringing in even more feels. It introduced Miranda and at the blink of an eye, made me care so much about her. The first activation of Time Record after she protected Allen, followed by his thanks to her hit so hard; I get really emotional talking about it. It was such a great, yet touching moment. I think everyone can relate to that; being worthy of receiving gratitude for something they did for someone.

Then, there’s Lulu Bell’s Invasion of the Black Order arc, followed by the appearance of the Level 4 Akuma. I can’t express into words how great the flow of the elements are there. The plot is focusing on multiple characters with their own background dramas happening, all at once, yet none of it feels out of place. Everyone gets their moment, everyone contributes to the big picture (saving the staff and defeating the Akumas). It all felt like one big collective effort of several parts uniting forces, no one was more or less important than the other. It was expertisely done.

And the last mention goes to the Searching for A.W’s arcs (Saying Goodbye to A.W also included). These arcs are being extremely painful but, at the same time, also extremely rewarding to go through. For the first time ever, we’re seeing Allen give in to his wants and acknowledge his feelings; he’s not honest with himself very often, and seeing him actually admit that he still wanted to go on - for himself -, that he still wanted to hold onto hope was something that I suddenly realized I had always wanted to see him do. It’s like I had been waiting for so long. Allen is growing up, and I’m loving to see the part Johnny and Kanda are playing in this. I could talk all day about how happy it makes me, to feel this much hope in the midst of such a difficult situation these arcs are covering. It captures very well the essence of D.Gray-Man imo: the bittersweetness of the hardships of life, and the good things it makes us realize we have had all along. The people we have by our side. The will to continue moving forward because we still have something we love and want to fight for.

Whew, I expected this would get long but guess I got too carried away; those were amazing questions to answer to! If you read until now, you have my most sincere gratitude and appreciation. I wish you have a lovely day! 😊

[romioneficfest]

Constellations

Title: Constellations

Prompt/Day: Day 13 - Rings

Tumblr name: 

Rating: K+, but with a brief mention of sexual interaction near the beginning

Brief summary: Hermione’s obsessed with the freckles that dot Ron’s back: she can’t help but stare every time he’s shirtless around her. But when she realizes they’re a bit like constellations, she has an idea— an idea that involves Ron laying flat on his stomach on their bedroom floor, and that involves her handling paint and paintbrushes to bring a galaxy to life on his back.

Tags: brief, nonconsequential mention of sexual interaction near the beginning (not important to the actual story)

Hermione is accustomed to seeing Ron’s bare back. That’s the ins and outs of couple life: she’s seen it in settings as intimate as in a shroud of sheets, his bare skin against hers after they’ve made love, and she’s seen it in settings as innocent as when he pulls off a sweater and his shirt rides up with it. It’s just a part of getting to know his body, but no matter how many times he’s caught glimpses of his back, she’s still transfixed by it. It’s strong, rippled with muscles (a collateral benefit of how physically demanding it is to be an Auror, no doubt), the skin soft and supple, a faded scar right under his shoulderblade from when he fell off Charlie’s broom when he was six, and an ocean of freckles splayed across every square inch of his pale white skin. It’s always the freckles that get her— she’s always trying to pick patterns in them, discern an order for them, pinpoint specific ones to single out as her favorites. It’s like they’re stars, and she’s always trying to arrange them into constellations.

That’s what gives her the idea.

“I still don’t know what we’re doing,” grumbles Ron, laying shirtless on his stomach on a frayed old towel on the wooden floor of their bedroom.

“You’ll see soon,” says Hermione, who’s straddled him to sit comfortably, making sure not to hurt him, atop the small of his back, where his butt begins. She has an assortment of paint jars next to her, standing to attention like colorful soldiers, as well as an array of paintbrushes of different thicknesses and a small plastic container filled halfway with water, sitting on a paper towel. Luna lent her the paint— she was elated when Hermione told her what she was planning.

“I don’t like this,” he keeps complaining, nestling his chin more comfortably into his folded arms, still refusing to lay down wholly. Hermione dips a thick paintbrush into a jar of deep purple, tapping it lightly against the mouth of the jar to cast off any excess. “I don’t like this one bi—”

Ron’s complaint dissolves into a pleasurable sigh as Hermione strokes the paintbrush across his back. It feels good: the coolness of fresh paint, overlaid over the soothing caress of the paintbrush’s bristles, makes for a sensation his skin can’t help but cry for. “Merlin, Hermione, that’s good,” he groans contentedly, nestling his head into his arms like a pillow, finally allowing himself to relax fully.

“When am I ever wrong?” Hermione quips back, now laying a stroke of ocean blue against the violet already on his back. Ron wants to make a witty retort, but he’s too overwhelmed by the feel of the brush against his skin, so he decides to let it slide just so she won’t stop doing whatever’s making him feel so good.

Hermione works as diligently as she does in anything: even knowing there’s nothing at stake, she’s too much of a perfectionist to allow anything to slack. The familiar crease of concentration appears between her eyebrows, and her tongue sticks out a bit from the corner of her mouth, an adorable display of how much focus she’s devoting to this. Despite having never seriously painted before (she’s never been the artist, and when she was smaller she refused to do anything she wasn’t immediately stellar at), she pays attention to every single detail as she would to the last gram of a potion’s ingredients, her hand as steady and masterful as when tracing out delicate runes on parchment paper. The paintbrushes dip in and out of the paint jars —magenta, lilac, sky-blue, navy, mauve— and leave streaks across Ron’s back in their wake, blending naturally as they mix on his skin.

“What is it you’re painting?” Ron pipes up all of a sudden, his voice slurred with a mix of sleepiness and bliss, just as Hermione begins tracing a circular outline in ochre, with a thinner brush.

“I’m taking inspiration from Astronomy,” Hermione says, pleased at how perfect her freehand circumference has turned out.

“Leave it to you, Hermione Granger, to draw a bloody star map on my back and call it art.”

“It’s not a star map,” Hermione says defensively, beginning to fill in the circle with more ochre paint. “It’s a galaxy.”

“Never got around to seeing too many of those,” mumbles Ron, his eyes closed. “But I suppose when your Transfiguration teacher takes four Stunning shots to the chest on the night of your O.W.L, there’s a good reason why you don’t end up doing the N.E.W.T.”

Hermione laughs shortly, delightfully, and Ron smiles to himself as he nestles further into his arms, a tuft of hair falling across his forehead.

She finishes filling in the planet she’s outlined, in a nice shade of ochre, and she now dips the thinner paintbrush into a milky-yellow hue of paint to begin tracing the rings around the planet— she hadn’t realized it, but she’s unwittingly painted Saturn. The rings are her favorite part: she remembers when she was eight or so, and her parents gifted her a book about space for Christmas, and she spent hours poring over it trying to understand why some planets had rings. She doesn’t remember much about it now —Astronomy took on a different character when she entered Hogwarts—, but she still feels a predilection for those planets with rings around them.

“When you said you were going to paint me,” Ron says, distracting her from her memories, “I thought you meant you were going to draw a picture of me, not use me for a canvas.”

“I’m full of surprises,” she replies, filling in the rings with the same milky yellow and a few thin lines of greyish black.

When she’s done with her galaxy, Ron’s back is filled with color: blueish hues dance and mingle as the backdrop, with Saturn standing radiantly against it. But there’s only one thing missing to make it a proper galaxy: stars.

The paint layer is thick enough to create a cohesive painting, but thin enough that she can still faintly make out Ron’s freckles. She knows this is going to be the most painstaking part of this— but it’s why she’s doing it in the first place, isn’t it?

She takes the thinnest brush she can find, dips it into the white paint, and carefully dots Ron’s back with it, placing a “star” over every freckle she can make out. Ron seems to like that, because she feels his muscles lose even more tension, but she can’t lose sight of her work: every freckle must be painted over, a star for each kiss she’s ever wanted to press to each little spot.

When she’s finally done, she looks at her work with satisfaction: it’s a proper galaxy now, speckled with stars and perched majestically on Ron’s back. She stands up, dusts off her hands, and places her hands on her hips to observe it from a different angle.

Ron stands up too, his hands awkwardly by his sides so as to not mess up the painting. “So? How’s it look? Can I look at it now?”

“Not yet,” Hermione says softly, lifting her wand from her nightstand. “It’s not quite finished.”

Wordlessly, she points the wand at his back and gives it a little tap, careful not to smudge any of the paint with it. The galaxy comes alive: Saturn revolves around its axis, the hues in the back conglomerate and dissipate like clouds, and the rings oscillate around the planet with a gravitational tilt. But best of all are the stars: they dance around Ron’s back, arrange themselves into shapes and formations, they seem to play with one another as they shoot across his skin. It’s as if Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” had come alive, but so much better: it’s a cosmic dance, a galactic performance for her eyes only, and it’s everything she’s ever imagined Ron’s freckles to be. Finally, they’ve made the leap from mere stars to the constellations she’s so often pictured.

“So?” comes Ron’s voice again, with a hint of his trademark impatience. “How’d it turn out?”

Hermione lets her gaze sweep up and down the body of the man she loves again. Every curvature of it, from the sturdiness of his thighs up to the strength of his back to the delicateness of his nape, crowned by a cascade of orange-red locks she loves to tangle her fingers in. Merlin, she loves him.

Her answer comes without a trace of hesitation: “It’s perfect.”

[hphmmatthewluther]

HPHM April Prompts 2021: Day 3: The Other House

@stupendousbookworm​ (finally figured out how to properly @ someone) ‘s third prompt of #aprilprompts2021 ! It’s another What If, this time looking at the Houses!

Prompt # 3 - In most fans' head cannons, the sorting hat may have had a difficult time placing MC in a house. The choice would be between two houses. In the end, the sorting hat places MC in their current house. If MC was sorted into the other house, how different would everything be?

“Interesting...very interesting...” Matthew Luther was trying very hard not to squirm. He wasn’t exactly used to having a hat on his head that moved on its own. He felt the old leather flutter as if it was breathing. He could feel the Sorting Hat grinning on top of his head. “You, my boy, are an interesting case.” The hat said, its voice coming from inside Matthew’s head. “You have the bravery of a Gryffindor, and the loyalty of a Hufflepuff, but your greatest attributes are your wit...and your ambition.” Matthew wasn’t sure how to react to that, and the hat seemed to pick up on this. “Yes, yes, ambition. There’s an awful lot of things you want, aren’t there?” Of course, Matthew thought, I want my brother back. I want to be happy. I want to be normal… “Normal?” the Sorting Hat repeated, “My boy, you could never be normal. Not in any of the houses. But I would say that you would be most normal if I put you in Ravenclaw, and much, much less normal if you were to go to Slytherin...”

Slytherin?! thought Matthew, trying to mask his expression in front of the school, But I’m a half-blood, they’d hang, draw and quarter me! At this, the Sorting Hat chuckled. “You don’t think a half-blood could survive in Slytherin? My boy, I’d take a look to your right if I were you.” In the corner of his eye, Matthew saw a man in his twenties dressed in all black, with greasy dark hair and a disapproving look. He could take a wild guess as to who that was. That’s Snape, he thought, but how does that… Matthew really had to try to mask his surprise now. “Ironic, isn’t it? And he had a Muggle father, just like you. Though where a Muggle gets the name ‘Snape’ from is a mystery for the ages...” Is this going somewhere? Matthew thought to himself, the word ‘hatstall’ starting to float around his head. “My original point is that you want an awful lot of things. But my question is this: would you be willing to chase these dreams of yours?”

The answer was obvious. No. I’m afraid. I don’t know where I could begin looking for my brother, and it’s not like I can get help from the teachers, and- “Which is exactly my point. While you would be a good fit in Ravenclaw, it is your wit that would be guaranteed to grow, when it is your want that has the potential to grow. If I put you in Ravenclaw, I have doubts that you would be able to find what is needed to find your brother. If you were to go to Slytherin, it would be a guarantee.” But- “Yes, it will be tough. But I think tough is exactly what you need. I do not intend to let you stagnate, my boy, as that would mean I have indeed put you in the wrong house. But I see it now. Your want outweighs your wit. The two in tandem, however, will be the key to your success. You must have faith.” Faith? Do wizards even have a God? Matthew found himself wondering. “That’s a question you can ask your housemates. They’ll be bound to know.” Matthew found himself gazing at Rowan, who was already sitting on Ravenclaw table. “Worry not. Mr Khanna is a kind-hearted soul. He will not abandon you for being in Slytherin.” I know he won’t. And I won’t abandon him. “Well, if that’s all...your journey begins. Good luck, though I doubt you’ll need it.” You clearly don’t know me that well… “On the contrary, dear boy, I know you better than you do. And so, off you go to..”

“SLYTHERIN!” There was an applause, albeit a subdued one. Matthew felt his legs move over to the table on the far right and sat himself down next to someone he vaguely recognised as ‘Lee, Barnaby’. He gazed over at Rowan, who merely smiled and shrugged. Matthew repeated the gesture. No, he wouldn’t be abandoned. And he highly doubted that he’d end up a Dark Wizard, despite what he had heard about this house. Though, he admitted to himself that he wasn’t looking forward to sleeping in a damp dungeon. He supposed he had to trust the Sorting Hat on this one. There was some more applause as ‘Murk, Ismelda’ moved over to the Slytherin table. Matthew tried not to make assumptions about people, but he had had a feeling she would end up on this table. Time passed, and the last person, Charlie Weasley, went to Gryffindor. With that over and done with, and Dumbledore’s speech finished, the feast began. The food looked wonderful, but Matthew’s stomach felt like it was folding in on itself, like it always did when he was nervous. He helped himself to some food, but couldn’t shake the feeling of dozens of pairs of eyes looking at him. Suddenly, someone tapped him on the shoulder. It was Barnaby.

“Hello!” he said cheerily. “Oh, um, hello.” Matthew responded, offering a smile. “I’m Barnaby!” he said, “You were on that stool for a long time!” “Y-Yeah, I guess I was...” Matthew pushed the hair out of his face. He wasn’t quite sure where this was going. “Oh, I’m Matthew, by the way.” “Cool!” exclaimed Barnaby, helping himself to more chips. This was decidedly not what Matthew was expecting for his first interaction with a Slytherin. Roll with it, he thought to himself, putting some Yorkshire pudding onto his plate. It was all going well until a girl with bright purple eyes leant over. “You’re Matthew Luther, aren’t you?” she asked, as if she knew the answer already. Matthew nodded, bracing himself mentally for whatever was about to come. “Your brother got expelled for looking for those Cursed Vaults, and then he went missing, didn’t he?” “I’m...more than aware of that.” Matthew said, once again unsure where the conversation was going. One of the nearby girls chuckled at his remark, causing the violet-eyed girl to scowl. “Well, just know that you’re probably as mad as he was.” she declared, “And that I, Merula Snyde, the Most Powerful Witch to ever grace Hogwarts, will find the Cursed Vaults first!”

“You’re the Most Powerful Witch at Hogwarts?” asked Barnaby, “Wow! How’d you manage that on day 1?” Merula looked a little confused, but appeared to have the same idea Matthew had: Roll with it. “What can I say, I’m just that good!” “Wow! Can I be your friend?” he asked, finishing off his chips. Merula stared at him for a moment, before silently nodding. “Great! Can I be your friend too, Matt?” he asked eagerly. “...Sure, yeah...” said Matthew, a little shaken by his enthusiasm. At that moment, the leftover food vanished, replaced by piles of dessert. Barnaby’s attention was fully on the confectionary in front of him. Merula turned back to Matthew. “If I were you, I’d give up now.” she hissed, “I’m going to find them first. You’d just bring shame to Slytherin, just like your brother did.” “Funny, I thought Slytherin had enough shame already...” Matthew muttered. He was hoping that most Slytherins would be like Barnaby, but it appeared that he was the exception. Most of them either ignored him at best or insulted him at worst, and Snape was no different. It all culminated in one of the worst two weeks Matthew had ever experienced.

He crashed onto his bed on the second Friday, totally exhausted. He felt a drop of water hit his head. Why did I listen to that stupid hat?! He didn’t really get to see Rowan all that much, and the Slytherins seemed to form an unbreakable wall between him and Barnaby. He was alone. Horribly alone. He gazed up at a nearby portrait of a man in green robes. It looked at him with the same look as the rest of the Slytherins: Disapproval. It looked like he was about to spend all his free afternoons like this, on his bed, trying not to think about the week before. He heard voices from outside his dormitory: “Hey, it’s that Ben Copper!” “Let’s get that little mudblood!” Matthew had seen Ben Copper around, and wanted to do something, but judging by how the past two weeks had gone, it felt like everything he did only made things worse. Matthew sank his head onto his pillow and waited… And waited… And-

There was a noise. Matthew couldn’t identify it. It sounded a little like a Theremin, moving up and down around the Dungeons. Wit and Want overtook him as he found himself needing to know what that noise was. He crept out of his dormitory and found a man standing in the middle of Slytherin Common Room. It was a ghost, with a bald head and chains over some resplendent robes. On closer inspection, said robes were covered in blood. Matthew knew exactly who this was. “I wondered when the right time to speak with you would be.” the Bloody Baron said, turning to face Matthew, “I did not expect it to be so soon, I must admit.” He laughed, brandishing a spectral rapier. “My, how small you are, for such great potential.” “What potential?” He asked by instinct. The Baron frowned. “You have a gift, Matthew Luther. I will not have it go to waste, whether that be by the hands of others, or your own.” he declared, gliding forward. “It has not escaped your attention, that it is not exactly...enjoyable...to be a Slytherin as of late.” Matthew found himself laughing. “You can say that again! We sleep in a Dungeon, everyone’s backstabbing each other, and the other houses think we’re all Dark Wizards!”

The Baron nodded. “Your complaints are...not unfounded. This house, and indeed, the Wizarding World at large, have forgotten that there was a time when sorcerers were all born of Muggles. I remember the time before we went into hiding. We thrived among Muggles, we wanted nothing less than to help them. ” “Your problem, Matthew Luther, much like the other Slytherins, is that you want so much, but have no real way of achieving it. The difference between you and them is that you have the wit to realise this. I am here to tell you the following: It matters not.” Matthew stared at the ghost, trying to digest what he had said. “So…what do I do?” “You must act, Matthew Luther, and act with conviction!” the Baron exclaimed, his chains clanking as he raised his arms. “This is what being a Slytherin is about! The man who is kind can help nobody, the man who is brave cannot fight, and the man who is wise cannot enlighten himself and others, none can do a thing without faith in themselves!”

“Then...” Matthew began, “...then, I shouldn’t have been in Slytherin! I don’t have conviction, do I? I wouldn’t trust myself to do anything!” “Then why listen to your criticisms?!” The Baron crossed his arms, causing the chains to jingle again. “Perhaps this is why you are here. To teach you to have faith. Perhaps, to teach the Slytherins this maxim too...for it is them who you will need to save your brother.” Matthew squirmed under the weight of the argument presented to him. “You’ve...you’ve got it wrong! You must have got it wrong, because the Slytherins are...well, they’re arseholes!” “Then, ask yourself this. Do you want this to change, the state Slytherin is in?” When Matthew nodded, the Baron smiled again. “Then do so, and do so with faith!” With that, there was a cold, howling wind, and that same, warbling note, as the Baron faded away into the darkness, and Matthew was once again alone. Or at least, he thought he was. Slowly, from the corner of the room, a ginger cat strolled towards him. Matthew bent down and looked at its collar. “‘Danny.’ So, your name’s Danny?” Matthew said, moving his hand to stroke the cat’s ear. There was a loud crack, and shouts of “Oi, mudblood!” from a few rooms away. Matthew scowled. I want to help Ben. I’m going to help Ben.

There were a group of students watching Ben struggle on the floor. From what Matthew could see, he had been hit by Flipendo, the Knockback Jinx, and was now on the floor. There was a group of Slytherins doing the spellcasting, Merula among them. The crowd around them was made of all the houses, yet not one of them did a thing. Seems the Baron’s theories were right. Matthew moved towards Rowan. “They just ganged up on him!” Rowan explained, keeping an eye on the action. “Yeah, I imagine they did.” Matthew observed, pushing his way to the front of the crowd. Ben’s bag was on the floor with him, and he was trying to push himself up, but kept being knocked down again by the Slytherin at the front, a boy Matthew recognised as Preston Crawford. Merula was smirking beside him, along with Ismelda. Barnaby was at the very back, looking very upset. Preston moved backwards. “Filthy mudblood. Can’t even handle a simple duel. Flip-” “Expelliarmus!” Preston’s wand flew out of his hand into the crowd. Matthew stepped forward between him and Ben.

“You know, it’s funny. I don’t think you know what the word ‘duel’ means.” Matthew remarked, looking at the horde of Slytherins behind Preston. He quickly turned back to Ben “Run. Quickly, go!” he ordered. The Gryffindor got to his feet and ran. Matthew shook his head at the Slytherins. “You’ve got some nerve, half-blood!” yelled Ismelda, as the crowd began chattering excitedly. Part of Matthew wondered if he could get away with just walking away, but before he could try anything Danny the cat came up to him. Matthew sighed, and picked him up. At this, Barnaby pushed through the crowd of Slytherins. “Cat! That’s a Cat! It’s so cute!” he exclaimed, “Can I give it chinny rubs?” Matthew gave him a kind smile. “I’m sure Danny here would love that.” “His name is Danny! Amazing!” Barnaby yelled before beginning to scratch his chin. The Slytherins looked a little disappointed, and the crowd slowly dispersed. Matthew found himself laughing again. He finally understood why Barnaby was a Slytherin: he wanted to play with the cat, so he had asked to play with the cat. It was so simple, yet so extraordinary to someone like Matthew. His moment of zen was instantly interrupted, however. “Well, I hope you’re happy, Luther,” Merula snarled, “We’ll get you for this. Just you wait.”

A while later, Matthew found himself walking towards the Magical Creatures’ Reserve. As he stared at the bizarre animals that were there, he was approached by Penny Haywood, who even he knew was the most popular girl in his year. “Oh! Hello, Matthew!” she said cheerily. “I just...I heard what you did to help Ben...and I just..” “It was nothing, really.” Matthew said, but Penny shook her head. “No, no! You acted when nobody else did! Nobody else was willing to do it, but you did!” “Well, I mean, um...” Matthew stammered, “I just...I trusted myself...I knew I wanted to help...so I helped, that’s all!” “Well, it doesn’t matter, it was remarkable.” she declared. “You know...for a..” “A Slytherin?” he asked. Penny nodded. Matthew shrugged in return. “I guess I don’t have to worry about being roped in with them anymore.”

“Yeah...Listen … are you by any chance looking for the Cursed Vaults?” she asked. Matthew perked up at this. “I might be...why do you ask?” “Well...it sounds like something I’d be interested in...and after I heard what happened today, I knew that you wouldn’t be looking for it if it wasn’t...well, if it wasn’t for a noble reason!” Penny explained. “Well...I really could use all the help I could get.” Matthew confessed. “I’d be happy to have you help, Penny.” “Great! People always invite me to parties, but never on death-defying adventures!” she said. “Well, see you around, Hero of Hogwarts!” Matthew’s eyes widened at that. “Oh no, don’t tell me that’s what people are calling me now...” Later that night, Matthew was once again on his bed, this time with Danny sleeping near his legs. He still couldn’t quite believe it. He had salvaged his school life, and all it had taken was a simple Disarming spell and a cat. He wasn’t sure Salazar Slytherin would have approved, but not even he could deny he had followed the original ideals of his house to the letter. The portrait of him on the wall no longer looked at Matthew with disapproval, but with begrudging respect. And with Slytherins, Matthew thought, that was as good as you could get.

[carewyncromwell]

Ficlet: Educational Decree #23

@drinkyoursoupbitch mentioned enjoying Lawyer!Carewyn, so...I decided to write this not-so-quick not-so-little fic drabble, featuring my MC, Carewyn Cromwell, and her Surrogate BBBFF, Bill Weasley. This is set in May 1996, circa the end of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and right after Voldemort’s return has been fully revealed to the Wizarding World.

One note about Carey’s involvement with the Order -- due to her baggage with Dumbledore and her own inherent pacifism, Carewyn is not an active member of the Order of the Phoenix, at least not in the traditional sense. She does help them in her own way and on her own terms, but Carewyn hasn’t served as any kind of representative for or agent of the organization, fought in any conflicts with Death Eaters, or even attended any Order meetings in person. Most of the aid she’s provided the Order is through leaking intelligence to them through her old friends Tonks and Jae and in going out of her way to serve as legal council to Fudge so she can write and work on cases that she would know well enough to subsequently dismantle at the proper moment. Carewyn has also kept known associates of Dumbledore like the Weasleys and the Hogwarts staff at arm’s length and not spoken to them much at all, so as to not give Fudge reason to question her loyalties or look too deeply at her activities. Therefore Carewyn and Bill -- keeping an eye on the greater good -- have not shared direct correspondence for nearly a year, which has definitely been hard on both of them, as after Rowan’s death, the two have come to see each other as their respective best friend.

~~~~~

The Ministry of Magic may have been in a state of confusion thanks to the revelation of Voldemort’s return -- but no matter how chaotic things were, or how many enchanted memos flew through the air, Bill Weasley was never not going to stick out like a sore thumb.

The ponytailed Cursebreaker towered over many of the employees scrambling around him as he climbed into the lift that led to the other levels. He could feel several side-long glances his way -- no doubt interested in his violet-black leather jacket with silver spiked shoulders and the Peruvian Vipertooth fang earring in his right ear.

‘Maybe I should’ve drank some Polyjuice,’ he thought sheepishly. ‘Come disguised as someone else.’

But he brushed the thought off. As good as it would’ve been to not attract as much attention, he knew he didn’t want to waste time. The Ministry having finally come around to the idea of Voldemort’s return meant that Carewyn presumably no longer had to walk on eggshells and pretend not to know everybody -- and, well, there was a lot to plan. Bill knew Carewyn would want to know everything that had happened, and now that the truth had come out, he wanted to be the one to tell her. If nothing else, Carewyn would definitely prefer a private meeting with him than one with Dumbledore.

“Level Two,” said the cool, serene female voice of the lift as it came to a stop. “Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Auror Offices.”

The cage-like door clattered open, and the employees in the lift came streaming out, fighting with a flood of equal size trying to take their place. Before Bill could climb out himself, however, he noticed a familiar mane of bright pink hair in the crowd of people pushing their way into the lift.

“Tonks!” said Bill.

The Metamorphagus looked up, and her face broke into a huge smile at the sight of him.

“Bill!”

The two exchanged a short hug.

“What in the world are you doing here, mate?” Tonks asked incredulously. “Gonna stick out just a touch in that get-up, aren’t you?”

“I already am sticking out,” Bill laughed. “Is Carewyn in her office?”

Tonks’s face grew a bit more serious.

“No, she’s on Level Nine -- Courtroom Ten. The Wizengamot’s discussing a challenge made to Educational Decree Number 23 -- you know, the one creating the High Inquisitor post? Apparently they summoned Carey as an expert witness.”

“Because she helped Fudge with a draft of that decree,” surmised Bill.

Tonks nodded.

“Well, I’ll go on ahead and find her down there, then,” said Bill.

He sidled back into the lift, and Tonks came up to stand beside him as the cage doors closed and the lift began to move again.

“Wish I could come with you,” said Tonks softly, “but I’ve got a meeting with Remus right after work, I can’t be late.”

Bill cocked his eyebrows amusedly. “A meeting? Do you call all of your romantic rendez-vous’s that, Tonks?”

Tonks’s face darkened in a blush even as her face broke into a huge white grin.

“Oh, don’t tease! It’s for the Order,” she mumbled a bit more shyly.

Bill laughed.

The lift came to a stop.

“Level Eight,” said the cool, serene female voice. “Atrium.”

The doors clanged open, and the mob of employees flooded out. Tonks strode out of the lift too, waving to Bill over her shoulder.

“Say hi to the ‘General’ for me!” she said with a laugh.

Bill waved back, grinning at the reminder of Diego’s old nickname for Carewyn. The Dueling Champion had started calling her that after she and the others started the Circle of Khanna back in the day -- though Diego often punctuated it with modifiers like “brave General” or “kind General.”

The doors closed, and the lift began to descend again. Bill was the only one left inside now, so he could actually stretch a bit without hitting any of the dozen people fencing him in on either side.

‘Carey stayed in Fudge’s good graces this last year so she could sabotage him wherever she could -- keep him from grabbing absolute power, and help us fight You-Know-Who,’ Bill recalled. ‘So she no doubt wrote that draft of the decree with the intention of having it challenged.’

Something rubbed Bill the wrong way, though.

‘The Wizengamot summoned her as a witness, no doubt to defend it...but why would they even bother defending it? Fudge has been proven wrong about You-Know-Who. And why is Carey just an expert witness, when she could have made the challenge herself?’

“Level Nine,” said the cool, serene female voice of the lift as it came to its last stop. “Department of Mysteries.”

The cage door clattered open again, and Bill climbed out.

Level Nine was unique among the floors of the Ministry for its reflective black-tiled walls and ceilings. Bill’s leather boots clapped against the floor with every step, the sound echoing off of every surface down the hall behind him as he walked.

He turned a corner and found Courtroom Ten. Trying to be as quiet as he could, he turned the silver doorknob in the center of the door and inched it open.

“...position was created for the welfare of the students, was it not? To better regulate and enforce the standards for their educators -- the professors put in charge of their care?”

Bill identified Fudge’s blustering voice at once, though it sounded much shakier and more feeble than usual.

“...That was supposed to be its intent, yes.”

‘Carey!’

Bill sidled into the room, settling down into the half-full stands of the courtroom so he could see.

Fudge sat up near the head of the Courtroom’s box seats, spinning his lime green bowler hat in both hands in his lap. The top seat, however, which belonged to the Chief Warlock, was once again occupied by Albus Dumbledore, dressed in embroidered lavender robes and a matching pointed hat. Bill also noticed his younger brother Percy -- as Junior Undersecretary -- sitting in the Head Scribe’s Chair, in the far right corner. Percy, true to form, seemed to be purposefully avoiding Bill’s gaze.

On the floor, a young man with dark hair and a set of white-collared brown pinstripe robes who Bill recognized as ex-Ravenclaw Prefect Chester Davies sat at the prosecution’s table. And sitting in the witness chair at the center of the room, dressed in high-necked, flowing forest green robes and gold star-like earrings, was Carewyn. Her ginger red hair was shorter than Bill remembered it, only reaching her chin, but her lipstick was as ruby red as ever. She had her arms crossed over her chest and her shoulders were low, making her appear incredibly uncomfortable.

Bill frowned. He’d never seen Carewyn slouch like that before...

“And -- and there have been...concerns over the years,” Fudge pressed, though he kept glancing anxiously out the side of his eye up at Dumbledore beside him, “letters sent by parents of the students, expressing concerns about...previous staff appointments at Hogwarts, yes?”

“Objection,” said Chester Davies rather coolly. “The witness is here to testify about the legality of the measure, not to give justification for why it was written.”

“Sustained,” said Dumbledore airily.

His light blue eyes drifted down to Fudge, and although they weren’t at all sharp or reproachful, the Minister flinched all the same. Dumbledore then looked down at Carewyn, inclining his head slightly.

“Miss Cromwell...your legal counsel was that there was nothing on the books forbidding the creation of the High Inquisitor position -- is that correct?”

Despite the slight discomfort in her posture, Carewyn kept her eyes solidly on Dumbledore as she spoke.

“Yes, Professor.”

“So in your view, it would not be illegal for the Ministry to influence the way Hogwarts is run -- to circumvent the authority of the school’s own Headmaster?”

“I could find nothing on the books outlawing it,” said Carewyn solemnly. “There is no law forbidding the Ministry from regulating Hogwarts’s educational practices, staff appointments, or lesson plans. However one personally feels about Educational Decree Number 23...”

She inclined her head respectfully to Dumbledore.

“...I would conclude that it was legal.”

Fudge’s face was twitching as if he wanted to smile, but seemed too afraid to when he glanced around at Dumbledore and the rest of the Wizengamot on either side of him, whose faces were all decidedly stony.

Dumbledore’s eyes flickered from Carewyn to Chester Davies at the prosecution table and back. Then he gave Carewyn a short, respectful nod in return.

“Thank you, Miss Cromwell. Mr. Davies -- you may now cross-examine the witness.”

Chester rose to his feet, his shoulders straight back and tall. He strode around the table slowly, but with purpose, his robes billowing slightly behind him as he came up beside Carewyn, his arms folded behind his back. His eyes never rested on anyone in particular -- instead they hovered somewhere in the area of the abandoned far corner of the stands.

“Miss Cromwell,” he said, his voice very cool, “when Fudge first approached you for legal counsel, why did he want the High Inquisitor position created?”

“O-objection!” Fudge stammered. “That’s a prejudicial question!”

“Overruled,” said Dumbledore calmly. “It’s a factual question -- one I’d quite like to know the answer to. Proceed with your answer, Miss Cromwell.”

Carewyn had shifted her gaze over to Chester. Although Chester wasn’t looking at her, she kept her eyes locked on his face.

“...He said...that he wished to keep Dumbledore in check,” she said very quietly.

Both the Wizengamot members and the gallery startled to mumble amongst themselves. Bill noticed a reporter with an uneven light blond haircut and a snake tattoo on his arm in the stands scribbling notes furiously. Even Percy paused in his writing, glancing up at Fudge uneasily. Fudge’s face had flushed the shade of a fine red wine.

Chester’s eyebrows rose. Though he kept his gaze on the abandoned far corner of the stands, quiet confidence rippled off of him as he strolled leisurely to the other side of Carewyn.

“Had Albus Dumbledore been charged with any crime by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?” he asked.

“Objection!” said Fudge again. “Completely irrelevant! We’re discussing the decree, not Dumbledore!”

“Overruled,” said Dumbledore. “Miss Cromwell’s previous answer has linked both you and me to the decree, Cornelius. Proceed, Miss Cromwell.”

“No,” said Carewyn.

“Had Albus Dumbledore been under investigation for a specific crime by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?” asked Chester.

“Objection!” Fudge burst out, sounding both more frustrated and desperate. “This line of questioning is highly inflammatory -- ”

“Overruled,” Dumbledore cut him off very smoothly. “The truth can often be inflammatory. Proceed, Miss Cromwell.”

“No -- though he was placed under Ministry surveillance.”

“Objection!” whimpered Fudge. “We’ll need to cross-examine that claim -- ”

“Overruled. Our examination of the witness is through, and she’s merely stating facts of the case. Proceed, Mr. Davies.”

“And,” said Chester, his voice a bit sharper now, “was the High Inquisitor position filled again, once Dolores Umbridge -- with the passing of Educational Decree Number 28 -- replaced Dumbledore and became Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?”

“Objection!”

“Overruled.”

Carewyn inclined her head slightly, her blue eyes narrowing slightly upon Chester’s face seriously.

“No.”

Chester’s mouth had spread into a small smirk by this point. He’d stopped in front of Carewyn and faced her at last, his dark eyes gleaming with triumph.

“Interesting. So the High Inquisitor position -- which, the Minister has stated for the press was there to ‘keep order’ and ‘address the falling standards at Hogwarts school’ -- was no longer needed as soon as Albus Dumbledore left his position as Headmaster. Even though Headmistress Umbridge would go on to try to forcibly remove Professor Rubeus Hagrid from the Hogwarts grounds -- an attempt that resulted in severe injury for Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall...and even though the Inquisitorial Squad created to assist the High Inquisitor had not been disbanded and was actually given more authority after the fact...the position of High Inquisitor no longer needed to be filled. No further effort was needed to regulate Hogwarts’s educational practices. Once Dumbledore was gone, so too was the need for the position...and therefore the decree.”

Fudge’s flushed face had turned a dark purple.

“Objection!” he squeaked.

“Overruled,” Dumbledore said very quietly, but very firmly.

“Regulation is legal,” Chester plowed on, pacing slowly across the room without looking anyone in the eye, “as long as it’s consistent. There can be no singling out of individual citizens, particularly when it’s not in the pursuit of legal action. Regardless of the Minister’s distrust of him, Dumbledore had not been charged with and was not under investigation for a specific crime...so there would’ve been no probable cause for his personal activities to be regulated. Regulating educational policy, therefore, would only be legal as long as the regulation was consistent across the board -- if the High Inquisitor position both regulated Albus Dumbledore and Dolores Umbridge’s decisions as Head of Hogwarts school.”

“Object -- ”

“Overruled.”

“And so,” said Chester more fiercely, his gaze flashing up at Fudge with visible reproach, “the High Inquisitor position, and the decree that spawned it, was created for the express purpose of silencing political dissidents...namely one in particular -- Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.”

Chester then turned to Carewyn, his expression becoming much less harsh but no less severe.

“Would that be legal, in your opinion, Miss Cromwell?”

Carewyn stared Chester straight in the eye. Neither one of them blinked.

“No,” said Carewyn at last, very firmly. “The targeting of a private citizen with no legal justification would violate multiple laws, including the Third Clause of the Wizard’s Code of Civil Rights.”

Fudge’s face had lost most of its color, blanching to an ill grayish-white. The corners of Dumbledore’s mouth turned up in a very tiny, dewy smile.

Chester’s eyes narrowed slightly upon Carewyn’s face, almost softening.

“Thank you, Miss Cromwell. No further questions.”

Carewyn got to her feet. She looked like she wanted to say something to Chester, but decided against it and simply nodded, heading back up into the stands. She noticed Bill sitting in the rows, but did not move to greet him, instead taking a seat in the row behind the prosecutor’s table, away from the rest of the spectators.

Chester turned fully around to face the Wizengamot, unfolding his arms from behind his back at last.

“Members of the Wizengamot,” he said lowly, “I do not make this case with any desire to achieve political points. If nothing else...the danger we now find ourselves in makes it imperative that we set aside political squabbling. Whatever one’s opinion is of the Minister of Magic or his legislation...”

He shot a side-long glance at Fudge, as did many other members of the Court.

“...this is not the time for retaliation, but for justice. Educational Decree Number 23 was illegal both in its creation and especially in its execution -- and so it must be expunged forever from the law, and we must act to ensure that nothing like it ever is created again. This decision must be so universal that it sets a precedent -- one that, unlike the one this decree set, is one that evokes positive change. Hogwarts doesn’t need ‘regulation’ now -- it needs protection. We all need protection. So vote with your conscience. End this chapter of Ministry ineptitude and in-fighting...and start a new one, having made up for the mistakes we’ve made.”

Chester glanced at Fudge one more time, this time meeting his eyes. The Minister looked away uncomfortably. The young attorney then inclined his head respectfully to the rest of the court.

“Thank you.”

He took his seat at the prosecution table. The room was silent for a moment, before Dumbledore addressed the court.

“All those in favor of the decree being upheld?”

No one moved. Not a single member of the Wizengamot raised their hand -- not even Fudge, who kept his eyes locked on the bowler hat clutched in his trembling hands.

The reaction was so stunning that the spectators in the gallery began to whisper among themselves. The tattooed reporter in the stands scribbled some more notes furiously.

“All those in favor of overturning the decree and -- by extension -- declaring it illegal under Wizarding Law?” said Dumbledore.

A sea of hands rose into the air. Fudge did not raise his hand -- he’d clearly decided to withhold his vote -- but he for once remained completely silent, his entire posture shrinking visibly in his seat.

“Then we are decided,” declared Dumbledore, a pleased twinkle in his light blue eyes. “Educational Decree Number 23 is abolished. Court is adjourned.”

He lightly tapped the gavel twice on the table in front of him. Everyone started bustling around to leave the Courtroom, including Carewyn and Chester, who left together. Bill hurried to catch up with them, even as the crowd of spectators devolved around him.

He finally caught up with them as they climbed into the lift.

“Carewyn!”

Carewyn and Chester turned around. Their eyes both lit up in recognition.

“...Bill,” said Carewyn, visibly taken aback. She glanced at Chester out the side of her eye very quickly before asking, “What are you doing here?”

Bill came to stop next to them in the lift, a smile prickling at his features. “I heard the Wizengamot had summoned you, so I thought I’d pop down and watch the court proceedings...going up, I suppose?” he added lightly, “Allow me.”

He punched the button for Level Two.

“Glad I did too,” Bill continued casually as the gate-like doors closed. “That was quite a case!”

Carewyn leaned back against the side of the lift, crossing her arms.

“...Yes, it was. A foregone conclusion, some would say, given Fudge’s current level of popularity -- but the law isn’t supposed to be a popularity contest.”

“True,” said Chester. “Just because Fudge was cruel in how he targeted his political rivals doesn’t mean we have to be.”

Bill’s gaze slid over to Chester.

“...I didn’t know you were an attorney now, Chester. I haven’t seen you since...”

“...I left school -- I know,” finished Chester with a polite smile. “I’m rather new to it, actually. I only started practicing last month.”

“I was the one who suggested Chester take the case,” Carewyn added, also smiling slightly.

“I hope you were pleased with the result,” Chester shot back with a wry smile.

“It did turn out the way we hoped, anyway. Though I would’ve preferred if our roles had been switched.”

“We can’t all be on the winning side of things.”

The lift came to a stop.

“Level Two,” said the cool female voice again. “Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Auror Offices.”

The three climbed out.

“Oh, Carewyn, before I forget,” said Chester, “I left some paperwork for you in my office -- I thought it might be useful, for your next case.”

“Thank you,” said Carewyn, “I’ll go and fetch it.”

“I have to be heading out myself...could I steal a bottle of pop from your office, before I go?”

“Of course. I left the file I borrowed in my right desk drawer too.”

“Much obliged.”

The exchange was very quick and clipped, and yet there was something almost pointed in the glances they shared -- as if they were saying something else entirely that only they knew.

Carewyn headed off down the hall, presumably toward Chester’s office. Chester strolled down to the first door on the right, which led to Carewyn’s office, and opened it, glancing over his shoulder at Bill.

“Do you want to wait here until Carewyn comes back?” he asked politely. “It should only take a few minutes.”

“Yes, I would,” said Bill.

Bill followed Chester into the office, and the attorney closed the door behind both of them.

Carewyn’s office was unusual among the Ministry of Magic’s offices in how charming and remarkably pretty it was. It was very tiny, incredibly organized, and impeccably decorated, with mint-green painted walls and a charmed skylight that showed the image of the London street above them, including the passing feet of the Muggles presumably walking overhead. It also included several Muggle appliances, such as a waffle-maker and a tiny fridge -- Carewyn had said in her letters that she and her coworkers often worked late nights, so sometimes Talbott, Tonks, or Ben (who were Aurors and a Hitwizard respectively) would pop in for a before-dawn breakfast after one of their assignments.

Chester sat down in the wheeled office chair (another unique Muggle item) and rolled it over to the fridge behind the black desk. He opened it, pushing aside the items inside to reach the very back.

“Can I get you some orangeade, perhaps?” asked Chester casually. “Carewyn always keeps a bottle or two in stock.”

Bill smiled broadly. “Of course. You know it’s my favorite, Carey.”

Chester -- or rather, Carewyn, in disguise as Chester -- took out a bottle of orangeade, her face breaking into a broad smile and her dark eyes sparkling, as she opened the bottle and handed it to Bill.

“When did you figure it out?” she asked.

“Back in the courtroom,” said Bill. “You’ve never slouched like that when you were uncomfortable. You used to shrink a bit, when you were younger...but you always look away when you’re the least bit uncomfortable. You don’t keep eye contact like that. Then you started talking, and...”

Bill grinned.

“...even though it was Chester’s voice, I could still hear you in there.”

Carewyn grinned broadly. She rolled the chair around so she could fetch a can of Vimto Cola for herself. She opened it with a click and took a sip.

“It’ll only take a few minutes before I turn back into myself again,” she said. “The case went on a bit longer than I expected -- I had to cut my closing arguments short, if I didn’t want to quickly rush back to the prosecution bench and drink some ‘water.’”

“Yet you still won everyone over,” said Bill as he lowered the soda bottle from his lips. “Well, except for Fudge, but...none of us expected to win him over.”

Carewyn sighed. “True. I’m glad he had the decency to step aside at least. He clearly saw there was no point in wasting his vote -- it would only make him look worse politically, to be the only one standing up for his decree.”

“Do you reckon he’ll resign?”

“I’m positive. This trial broke him a bit, I think. It really gave him a good look at how much he’s destroyed his reputation forever.”

Carewyn took another sip. Bill considered her for a moment, his eyes lingering on Chester’s dark hair.

“I have to ask, though, Carey...why did you do it? Why didn’t you just challenge the decree yourself? Why replace Chester?”

Carewyn bit the inside of her cheek, her eyes drifting away as she placed her soda can down on her desk.

“The Prophet’ll be going on about Chester taking down the decree,” said Bill, sounding almost disappointed. “He’ll be getting praise for what you did.”

“And that’ll help him get more cases in the future,” Carewyn said simply. “I need more allies in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement -- good lawyers who won’t cow to people like Fudge. And if I was in the witness chair instead, I could appear as a neutral observer -- so when I invariably sided with the prosecution, I could bring the case for the Decree crashing down.”

“But you weren’t in the witness chair. Chester was.”

“Yes. I actually gave Chester a file that he could use in the case, while I sat back...but he refused. He said that I deserved to present my case in front of a jury, after how much work I did. So after a lot of coaxing, we decided I would present my case -- disguised as Chester.”

“So you did all this just to help Chester with his career?”

Carewyn’s eyes lingered on the bookshelf in the corner.

“Not entirely,” she admitted.

She clearly seemed to regret that her decision wasn’t solely based on that kind of selfless rationale. She rested her hands on her desk, interlacing the larger fingers belonging to Chester.

“Even if Fudge is no longer in power, the Ministry’s still packed to the gills with his supporters, as well as people who were willing to just scrape and grovel at his feet. It’s safer for me to interact with you all now, but I can’t afford to lose my stable position just yet -- the truth’s come out, but the Ministry isn’t any less treacherous. Dolores Umbridge hasn’t even lost her job here, even after everything she’s done as High Inquisitor. On the contrary...there are rumors circulating she might even return to being Senior Under-Secretary in the future.”

Bill was aghast. “What?”

Carewyn looked just as displeased. “I’m angry too...but there’s nothing I can do. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement can’t charge her with a crime even if the decree making her High Inquisitor has been declared illegal, since she was merely appointed to the position. She had no hand in creating it...at least none that I can prove in a court of law. She’s been put on temporary administrative leave...but that can be overturned by the Minister for Magic. Fudge probably won’t stick around long, and he probably wouldn’t bring Umbridge back for fear of damaging himself further...but I wouldn’t put it past his successor to quietly put Umbridge back in her old post, given her experience as a ‘loyal subordinate.’”

Carewyn could not disguise her clear disgust with the situation, even despite the coolness of her voice and expression.

“I hate that woman,” she said very lowly and coldly. “I hate her with every fiber of my being.”

Bill’s eyes narrowed as he nodded. “I know how you feel. After everything Harry’s told us about her, it’s clear she’s an absolutely horrid person.”

Carewyn looked up, her eyebrows knitting together. “Yes...how is Harry? I heard he was here at the Ministry, when...”

She trailed off, but Bill knew what she meant.

“He’s doing as well as to be expected, from what Ron’s said in his letters. Though I suspect the loss of Sirius is probably hitting him very hard.”

Carewyn bowed her head. “...Yes, of course. He...was his only family left, wasn’t he?”

Bill nodded. Carewyn closed her eyes sadly -- even if she had yet to meet Harry, it was clear she felt very deeply for him, in that moment.

Bill reached a hand out over the desk and took Carewyn’s hand (which of course at the moment was Chester’s), offering her a smile.

“He’s still got all of us, though,” he said reassuringly. “And well...I reckon the two of us know better than anyone how friends can become family.”

Carewyn’s expression softened noticeably. She gave Bill’s hand a tight squeeze.

“We do.”

Her eyes welled up with emotion despite the calm of her face.

“Bill...it’s so good to see you,” she said very quietly.

Her voice betrayed emotions that she never would’ve felt brave enough to show in school. Despite the levelness of her tone, it was so warm and soft -- full of sincere caring.

Bill’s eyes filled up with some tears as he squeezed her hand back.

And as Bill held her gaze, he noticed her eyes changing color -- lightening from a dark brown to a pretty blue.

“Guess it’s time,” he prompted her. “Do you need to change?”

“I suppose so,” Carewyn said dryly. “Chester doesn’t have hips like mine...I reckon I might tear his pants, if I don’t. Mind turning around a minute?”

“No problem.”

Bill turned in the chair so that his long legs were propped up on the arm, resting an arm on his knee so that he could then proceed to lean his chin on his hand and glance away. He heard Carewyn murmur, “Auravelum,” under her breath, presumably to obscure her desk from sight.

There was a lot of shuffling. After a couple of minutes, Carewyn murmured, “Evanesco,” and Bill looked up as the silvery blue curtain she’d conjured vanished.

And there she was -- dressed in flowing forest green robes just like the ones Chester had been wearing while disguised as her, and grinning broadly up at him through a ruby red smile.

Bill’s face broke into a larger grin, his brown eyes sparkling at the sight of his best friend. He got up, swept around the desk, and snatched her up in a huge hug.

The two of them were a funny sight -- a gangling, leather-dressed Cursebreaker with a fang earring and a ponytail hugging a tiny, lady-like witch with makeup and conservative dress robes -- but they clung to each other with an almost fierce kind of affection, laughing happily.

“I have so much to tell you,” murmured Bill. “I hardly know where to start...”

Carewyn’s lips spread into a smile even as her own eyes welled up with tears. “I don’t have as much to tell, I’m sure, but...I’ve missed you so much.”

“Me too,” said Bill. “Not being able to write, or visit -- having to just stay in touch through Tonks and Jae -- ”

“ -- and for a whole year,” Carewyn agreed. “I know.”

She reached up as high as she could, even going on her tiptoes, so she could hold the back of Bill’s head. Bill held the back of her head too, squeezing her tight.

“Are you really engaged now?” asked Carewyn curiously.

Bill was a bit startled. He smiled a bit sheepishly over Carewyn’s shoulder.

“Oh, ah...yeah. You heard about that?”

“No,” said Carewyn uncomfortably. “I...sort of sensed it. In your thoughts.”

Bill pulled away to look at her better, a bit affronted. “Carey!”

Carewyn looked very apologetic as her gaze drifted down to rest on Bill’s shoulder rather than his face.

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t actively using my Legilimency, it’s just...gotten so sensitive now, in this line of work. And I suppose it was one of those things you really wanted to tell me, because I kept seeing you holding a ring, and...well, you asked me to be more open with you, about things.”

Bill’s face was flushed slightly, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling wryly.

“...So I did. Kind of took some of the wind out of my sails, though.”

Carewyn shot him a cool look through her own light blush. “I’m sure you’ll get back at me for it at some point.”

“Rest assured I will,” said Bill with a grin. “Maybe at the wedding.”

Carewyn blinked in surprise. Then her eyes widened, softening visibly.

“...Are you inviting me?”

“Of course I am!” Bill laughed. “There’s no way in Hell I’m going to let you get away with not being part of it. Actually...”

Bill’s face flushed a bit and he brought a hand up to rub his neck self-consciously.

“...I was...wondering if you’d maybe...if you wanted to...if you’d sing something, for it.”

Carewyn’s eyes widened. “Sing at your wedding?”

“Something for our first dance,” mumbled Bill, smiling shyly through his darkening flush. “Would you?”

Carewyn covered her mouth with both hands, trying to hold in her emotions.

“Of course!” she breathed, her voice oddly high in her throat. Clearly she was very touched.

She quickly grabbed both of Bill’s hands in hers, her blue eyes shining.

“Of course I’ll sing for you...both of you.”

Bill’s flushed face was as bright as a sunrise as he beamed.

“You can pick the song,” he said, his smile becoming a bit more cheeky. “Even something stupid, if you want.”

Carewyn laughed behind her hand. “No way! I am not going to sing something stupid for my best friend’s wedding!”

“Aw...but ‘Agadoo’ is a real jam, isn’t it?”

“It’s complete and utter rubbish and you know it, William Weasley.”