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bringbackthebastard · 3 years ago

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Bring Back the Bastard Daily Prompts

Hello, folks! I'm posting these two weeks before we begin our fest, on September 1st, to give folks some inspiration on what to write each day as we celebrate Severus Snape's pettiest, most dastardly moments. I specifically picked out moments Snaters always harp on, that Snapedom personally enjoys--from any moment with Trevor to bitching at Lupin at Sirius, to the moments that Lily turns away and Dumbledore's face flashes with disgust--sure, he's a bastard, but he's our bastard, and that's what we like about him. You don't want him? Good. We'll keep him. Here are 30 scene prompts for 30 days--it's a long list, pulled chronologically from all seven books, but I found that it reminded me of everything I love about this character. The moments where he's called deranged, the moments where he slips into all-caps, the ugliest moments of the soul. Hope yall enjoy. Excited to kick off the fest starting September 1st, and absolutely excited to see what Snapedom will do. Let's Bring Back the Bastard! The prompts are below the readmore.

Day 1: The Scar Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacheer with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes--and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead. "Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head. "What is it?" asked Percy. "N-nothing." The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look--a felling that he didn't like Harry at all. "Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy. "Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to--everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Day 2: Bad Impressions Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name. "Ah, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new--celebrity."

Day 3: Potions Class "Potter!" said Snape suddenly "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand shot into the air. "I don't know, sir," said Harry. Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut--fame clearly isn't everything."

Day 4: A Horrible Sight Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages. "Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?" Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but-- "POTTER!" Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped. "I just wondered if I could have my book back." "GET OUT! OUT!"

Day 5: Maybe He's Ill "Hang on..." Harry muttered to Ron. "There's an empty chair at the staff table...Where's Snape?" Professor Severus Snape was Harry's least favorite teacher. Harry also happened to be Snape's least favorite student. Cruel, sarcastic, and disliked by everybody except the students from his own House (Slytherin), Snape taught Potions. "Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully. "Maybe he's left," said Harry, "because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again!" "Or he might have been sacked!" said Ron enthusiastically. "I mean, everyone hates him--" "Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train."

Day 6: Slytherin Takes the Field "But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "But I booked it!" "Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'"

Day 7: No Quidditch For You! "I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful," he said. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest." "Really, Severus," said Professor McGonagall sharply, "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong." Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze made Harry feel as though he were being X-rayed. "Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said firmly. Snape looked furious.

Day 8: Expelliarmus! "Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry--you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!" "Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" Ron muttered in Harry's ear. Snape's upper lip was curling. Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at *him* like that he'd have been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them. "As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our fist spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course." "I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth. "One--two--three--" Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet. He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Day 9: Only Bite Him A Little Bit, Please "Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it..."

Day 10: Poisoning Trevor The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron. "Everyone gather 'round," said Snape, his black eyes glittering, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned." The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked excited. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor's throat. There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small op, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm. The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown. "Five points from Gryffindor," said Snape, which wiped smiles from every face. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."

Day 11: Insufferable Know-It-All Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air. "Anyone?" Snape said, ignoring Hermione. His twisted smile was back. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between--" "We told you," said Parvati suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on--" "Silence!" snarled Snape. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are..." "Please, sir," said Hermione, whose hand was still in the air, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf--" "That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," said Snape coolly. "Fire more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Day 12: Your Saintly Father "I would hate for you to run away with a false idea of your father, Potter," he said, a terrible grin twisting his face. "Have you been imagining some act of glorious heroism? Then let me correct you--your saintly father and his friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would have resulted in my death if your father hadn't gotten cold feet at the last moment. There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his own skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts." Snape's uneven, yellowish teeth were bared.

Day 13: Don't Talk About What You Don't Understand "KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shot out of the end o his wand, which was still pointed at Black's face. Hermione fell silent. "Vengeance is very sweet," Snape breathed at Black. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you..." "The joke's on you again, Severus," Black snarled. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle" --he jerked his head at Ron-- "I'll come quietly...." "Up to the castle?" said Snape silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black...pleased enough to give you a little Kiss, I daresay...."

Day 14: A Great Disappointment "He must have Disapparated, Severus. We should have let somebody in the room with him. When this gets out--" "HE DIDN'T DISAPPARATE!" Snape roared, now very close at hand. "YOU CAN'T APPARATE *OR* DISAPPARATE INSIDE THIS CASTLE! THIS--HAS--SOMETHING--TO--DO--WITH--POTTER!" "Severus--be reasonable--Harry has been locked up--" BAM. The door of the hospital wing burst open. Fudge, Snape, and Dumbledore came striding into the ward. Dumbledore alone looked calm. Indeed, he looked as though he was quite enjoying himself. Fudge appeared angry. But Snape was beside himself. "OUT WITH IT, POTTER!" he bellowed. "WHAT DID YOU DO?" "Professor Snape!" shrieked Madam Pomfrey. "Control yourself!" "See here, Snape, be reasonable," said Fudge. "This door's been locked, we just saw--" "THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!" Snape howled, pointing at Harry and Hermione. His face was twisted; spit was flying from his mouth. "Calm down, man!" Fudge barked. "You're talking nonsense!" "YOU DON'T KNOW POTTER!" shrieked Snape. "HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT--" "That will do, Severus," said Dumbledore quietly. "Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the war ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?" "Of course not!" said Madam Pomfrey, bristling. "I would have heard them!" "Well, there you have it, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "Unless you are suggesting that Harry and Hermione are able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling them further." Snape stood there, seething, staring from Fudge, who looked thoroughly shocked at his behavior, to Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling behind his glasses. Snape whirled about, robes swishing behind him, and stormed out of the ward. "Fellow seems quite unbalanced," said Fudge, staring after him. "I'd watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore." "Oh, he's not unbalanced," said Dumbledore quietly. "He's just suffered a severe disappointment."

Day 15: Haven't You Heard? "Blimey, haven' yeh heard?" said Hagrid, his smile fading a little. He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody in sight. "Er--Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin'....Thought everyone'd know by now...Professor Lupin's a werewolf, see. An' he was loose on the grounds las' night...He's packin' now, o' course."

Day 16: I See No Difference "And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice. Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said, "Explain." "Potter attacked me, sir--" "We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry shouted. "--and he hit Goyle--look--" Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi. "Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly. "Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. "Look!" He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth--she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back. Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Day 17: The Dark Mark Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He struck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled. "There," said Snape harshly. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eater to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

Day 18: If You Are Ready...If You Are Prepared... "Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready...if you are prepared..." "I am," said Snape. He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely. "Then good luck," said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius.

Day 19: Obviously "Now...how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard. "Fourteen years," Snape replied. His expression was unfathomable. His eyes on Snape, Harry added a few drops to his potion; it hissed menacingly and turned from turquoise to orange. "You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umbridge asked Snape. "Yes," said Snape quietly. "But you were unsuccessful?" Snape's lip curled. "Obviously." Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. "And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?" "Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry. "Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge. "I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily. "Oh I shall," said Professor Umbridge with a sweet smile. "I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed. "Oh yes," said Professor Umbridge. "Yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers'--er--backgrounds...." She turned away, walked over to Pansy Parkinson, and began questioning her about the lessons. Snape looked around at Harry and their eyes met for a second. Harry hastily dropped his gaze to his potion, which was now congealing foully and giving off a strong smell of burned rubber. "No marks again, then, Potter," said Snape maliciously, emptying Harry's cauldron with a wave of his wand. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"

Day 20: Very Like His Father "How touching," Snape sneered. "But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?" Yes, I have," said Sirius proudly. "Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him," Snape said sleekly. Sirius pushed his chair roughly aside and strode around the table toward Snape, pulling out his wand as he went; Snape whipped out his own. They were squaring up to each other, Sirius looking livid, Snape calculating, his eyes darting from Sirius' wand-tip to his face. "Sirius!" said Harry loudly, but Sirius appeared not to hear him. "I've warned you, Snivellus," said Sirius, his face barely a foot from Snape's, "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better." "Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" whispered Snape. "Or are you afraid he might not take the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother's house for six months very seriously?" "Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?" "Speaking of dogs," said Snape softly, "did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognized you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform...gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn't it?" Sirius raised his wand. "NO!" Harry yelled, vaulting over the table and trying to get in between them, "Sirius, don't--" "Are you calling me a coward?" roared Sirius, trying to push Harry out of the way, but Harry would not budge. "Why, yes, I suppose I am," said Snape.

Day 21: Wormtail's Whine "We...we are alone, aren't we?" Narcissa asked quietly. "Yes, of course. Well, Wormtail's here, but we're not counting vermin, are we?" He pointed his wand at the wall of books behind him and with a bang, a hidden door flew open, revealing a narrow staircase upon which a small man stood frozen. "As you have clearly realized, Wormtail, we have guests," said Snape lazily. The man crept, hunchbacked, down the last few steps and moved into the room. He had small, watery eyes, a pointed nose, and wore an unpleasant simper. His left hand was caressing his right, which looked as though it was encased in a bright silver glove. "Narcissa!" he said, in a squeaky voice. "And Bellatrix! How charming--" "Wormtail will get us drinks, if you'd like them," said Snape. "And then he will return to his bedroom." Wormtail winced as though Snape had thrown something at him. "I am not your servant!" he squeaked, avoiding Snape's eyes. "Really? I was under the impression that the Dark Lord placed you here to assist me." "To assist, yes--but not to make you drinks and--clean your house!" "I had no idea, Wormtail, that you were craving more dangerous assignments," said Snape silkily. "This can be easily arranged: I shall speak to the Dark Lord--" "I can speak to him if I want to!" "Of course you can," said Snape, sneering. "But in the meantime, bring us drinks. Some of the elf-made wine will do."

Day 22: A Loving Caress Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view. "The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible." Harry stared at Snape. It was surely one thing to respect the Dark Arts as a dangerous enemy, another to speak of them, as Snape was doing, with a loving caress in his voice? "Your defenses," said Snape, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures" --he indicated a few of them as he swept past-- "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" --he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony-- "feel the Dementor's Kiss" --a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall-- "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" --a bloody mass upon the ground.

Day 23: Better People "What does it matter?" said Malfoy. "Defense Against the Dark Arts--it's all just a joke, isn't it, an act? Like an of us need protecting against the Dark Arts--" "It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!" said Snape. "Where do you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle--" "They're not the only ones, I've got other people on my side, better people!" "Then why not confide in me, and I can--" "I know what you're up to! You want to steal my glory!" There was another pause, then Snape said coldly, "You are speaking like a child. I quite understand that your father's capture and imprisonment has upset you, but--"

Day 24: Revulsion and Hatred Etched on His Face "Severus..." The sound frightened Harry beyond anything he had experienced all evening. For the first time, Dumbledore was pleading. Snape said nothing, but walked forward and pushed Malfoy roughly out of the way. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word. Even the werewolf seemed cowed. Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face. "Severus...please..." Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore. "Avada Kedavra!"

Day 25: Don't Call Me Coward Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought, Levi-- "No, Potter!" screamed Snape. There was a loud BANG and Harry was soaring backward, hitting the ground hard again, and this time his wand flew out of his hand. He could hear Hagrid yelling and Fang howling as Snape closed in and looked down on him where he lay, wandless and defenseless as Dumbledore had been. Snape's pale face, illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been before he had cursed Dumbledore. "You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them--I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, woudl you? I don't think so...no!" Harry had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet away into the darkness and out of sight. "Kill me then," panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. "Kill me like you killed him, you coward--" "DON'T--" screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly deranged, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them-- "CALL ME COWARD!"

Day 26: The Guest Voldemort raised Lucius Malfoy's wand, pointed it directly at the slowing revolving figure suspended over the table, and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds. "Do you recognize our guest, Severus?" asked Voldemort. Snape raised his eyes to the upside-down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as thought they had been given permission to show curiosity. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified voice, "Severus! Help me!" "Ah, yes," said Snape as the prisoner turned slowly away again.

Day 27: I Regret It "All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here," said Voldemort, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "wondering, wondering why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner...and I think I have the answer." Snape did not speak. "Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen." "My Lord--" "The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine." "My Lord!" Snape protested, raising his wand. "It cannot be any other way," said Voldemort. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last." And Voldemort swiped the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to Snape, who for a split second seemed to think he had been reprieved: But then Voldemort's intention became clear. The snake's cage was rolling through the air, and before Snape could do anything more than yell, it had encased him, head and shoulders, and Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue. "Kill." There was a terrible scream. Harry saw Snape's face losing the little color it had left; it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake's fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor. "I regret it," said Voldemort coldly.

Day 28: You Hurt Her! "Tuney!" said Lily, surprise and welcome in her voice, but Snape had jumped to his feet. "Who's spying now?" he shouted. "What d'you want?" Petunia was breathless, alarmed at being caught. Harry could see her struggling for something hurtful to say. "What is that you're wearing, anyway?" she said, pointing at Snape's chest. "Your mum's blouse?" There was a *crack*. A branch over Petunia's head had fallen. Lily screamed: The branch caught Petunia on the shoulder, and she staggered backward and burst into tears. "Tuney!" But Petunia was running away. Lily rounded on Snape. "Did you make it happen?" "No." He looked both defiant and scared. "You did!" She was backing away from him. "You *did*! You hurt her!" "No--no I didn't!" But the lie did not convince Lily: After one last burning look, she ran from the little thicket, off after her sister, and Snape looked miserable and confused....

Day 29: Save Your Breath "I'm sorry." "I'm not interested." "I'm sorry!" "Save your breath." It was nighttime. Lily, who was wearing a dressing gown, stood with her arms folded in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. "I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here." "I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just--" "Slipped out?" There was no pity in Lily's voice. "It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends--you see, you don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?" He opened his mouth, but closed it without speaking. "I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine." "No--listen, I didn't mean--" "--to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I any different?" He struggled on the verge of speech, but with a contemptuous look she turned and climbed back through the portrait hole....

Day 30: Anything "If she means so much to you," said Dumbledore, "surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for the mother, in exchange for the son?" "I have--I have asked him--" "You disgust me," said Dumbledore, and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to drink a little. "You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?" Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore. "Hide them all, then," he croaked. "Keep her--them--safe. Please." "And what will you give me in return, Severus?" "In--in return?" Snape gaped at Dumbledore, and Harry expected him to protest, but after a long moment he said, "Anything."

#severus snape #snape fest #bring back the bastard fest 2021 #bring back the bastard fest #bring back the bastard #bring back the bastard prompts #harry potter fandom fest #hp fandom #snapedom #pro-snape #snapelove #prompts #daily prompts #snape prompts

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yannowhatigiveup · 4 years ago

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My One And Only - Chapter 10

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I might post this one shot I’m writing later. I really need to work on my angst but I just can’t bring myself to write it. I just love fluffity fluff Because... it’s fluff, my heart go melt. Also we’re starting to get into the longer chapters now, yAY

"So?" Alya asked. "Can you tell me?"

Marinette nodded. "So um, his name is D-Damian"

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Marinette excused herself to go to the bathroom while Alya said she would wait for her by the school's entrance. Marinette already told her about her encounter with Damian and her crush on him too which Alya found to be sweet. Then she noticed Nino and Adrien enter.

"Hey Adrien is it ok if I steal Nino for a few minutes?" She asked.

"Sure go ahead" Adrien answered, amused.

"Thanks" she said while grabbing Nino's arm and dragging him away. "I did it" she whispered to him.

"Did what?"

"I found out who Mari's crush is! But I ain't telling"

"Whaaaat why not?" Nino pouted teasingly.

"I'll tell you when they get together" she kissed him on the cheek "You can go back to Adrien now. See ya!" She went back to the locker room where Marinette was waiting.

"Hey do you wanna join us later?" Marinette asked. "We're just gonna go for a walk around Paris"

"If you want me to" Alya replied with a smug face. 'But I don't want to invade the bubble you two will be in'

~~~

Damian was in his hotel room using a make shift punching bag when the sky became dark. He took down his homemade punching bag and took a look outside. The sky wasn't really the clear but it wasn't that dark either. The clouds became jet-black and shot large bolts of electric lightning. Damian took a step back as he notice a figure floating in the sky, shooting lightning bolts from her parasol. He decided to go into the roof of the hotel to get a better look. He remained in the shadows while watching the girl wreaking havoc. 'Is this what Angel meant?'. He was dumbfounded by how powerful this villain was but then he remembered magic was involved, magic was always powerful. Then the villain floated towards the hotel.

"Where is Chloe Bourgeois!?" The villain shouted, mainly to herself. Then Damian noticed a glowing butterfly mask appear on the akumatized villain. "Yes, Hawkmoth?"

'Hawkmoth...' Damian spat the name in his mouth. He disliked this man, such cowardice for targeting younger ones like he did.

"Don't worry Hawkmoth, they'll be here. I'm too big of a threat to ignore" the girl praised herself and as if it were a word of command, A boy in a black cat suit appeared. 'That must be Chat Noir'

"Back again huh Ice Queen?" The cat-themed superhero teased.

"My name is not Ice Queen! It's Stormy Weather!" She shouted back.

"For an ice queen, you really need to cool down" he fired back. Then the girl used her parasol to conjure a massive gust of wind but Chat Noir dodged it. Then Damian watched as a spotted yo-yo wrapped around Chat Noir and dragged him away. Damian then could've sworn he heard the sound of a flute but he didn't think anything of it when Chat Noir returned, this time with a spotted hero and a fox themed hero. 'Ladybug and...Rena Rouge I suppose'.

Stormy Weather then took a fighting stance only to have her eyes covered with a towel by a figure behind. 'That's....Ladybug but how-' Damian inwardly sighed. 'Magic I suppose'. He watched as the fake Ladybug disappeared while the real Ladybug grabbed the girl's parasol and smash it in half, intrigued to see a purple butterfly, fly out of the umbrella. Damian watched as Ladybug had snatched the butterfly into her yo-yo and then proceeded to 'de-evilise' it, as what Marinette said. He kept observing them. He watched in awe as Ladybug took the spotted towel used the cover Stormy Weather's eyes and threw it in the sky, many magical butterflies emerging and fixing everything that was damaged. From the sky to the nearby buildings. After they defeated the villain, they fist bumped and then Chat Noir took the now normal girl back to where she came from. Then Ladybug took Rena Rouge and they travelled in the opposite direction.

Now thinking it was safe to come out, Damian approached from the dark and went back to his hotel room via stairs. As he locked the door to his hotel room he realised something he had not noticed before, they all had a different specialized weapon. "How could I not have noticed that before?" He muttered to himself. He played through his memories. 'Ladybug has a Yo-yo, The cat had a retractable staff and Rena had...a flute was it?'. He decided to write some of this down in Arabic that way no one would know what it said even if they were to find the note. He dedicated the rest of his time researching the heroes.

~~~

"Alya" Marinette whined. "It's not a date"

"Even if it wasn't, I still gotta make sure you look good" Alya styled her best friends's hair into a bun with a few strands loose on either side of her face. The outfit she chose for Marinette was an ivory turtleneck sweater dress with brown knee-high boots, all MDC originals of course. The thing is, Alya still didn't know that Marinette was MDC. She hadn't told her yet so convincing her best friend that all these clothes were 'thank you gifts' was difficult to say the least. When Marinette looked at herself in the mirror she let out a tiny audible gasp. She looked great if she said so herself. "What did I tell you? You're best friend knows what looks good on you" Alya said proudly while patting herself on the back.

"Yeah, you did great" Marinette giggled. "Now come on let's go!" She grabbed her best friend's arm and dragged her to where they agreed to meet Damian.

Alya wasn't sure what she was expecting but it definitely wasn't what she saw. In the distance she saw a tall, muscular and handsome man. She wasn't attracted to him, in fact, the neutral scowl on his face was enough to send fear up her spine. Alya wasn't sure if this man was safe to be around, or if it was even Damian for that matter but the bright sparkle in Marinette's eye when spotting him confirmed that this was indeed Damian. Alya watched astounded as the once threatening scowl on his face turned into a naturally soft smile the moment his eyes spotted her best friend. 'This guy is totally in love with Mari. And I'm here for it'

When Damian noticed Marinette with a girl, 'Césaire probably', he smiled and walked up to them. "Hello Angel, nice to see you" he said in French. He turned to the other girl "Damian , nice to meet you" he said again in French while holding his hand out for a handshake.

"Alya, Alya Césaire" Marinette's best friend said while returning the handshake.

Marinette's eyes were bright when Alya and Damian had introduced themselves "So now that we're here, what should we do?"

"Didn't you say that you needed fabric for your designs?" Alya asked.

"Yeah b-"

"In that case we should go shop for the fabric needed" Damian replied.

"That's nice of you guys but we don't have too-"

"Come one I know a few shops!" Alya grabbed Marinette's hand and dragged her to the fabric shops in the area with great reviews without allowing her to protest. Damian tagged right behind, smiling at the two best friend's interaction. Alya then took the time to whisper into her best friend's ear. "He called you Angel" she said with smirk on her face.

"I-it's just a nickname" Marinette stuttered as she felt her face become hot. Alya playfully rolled her eyes while leading the bluenette to one of the best fabric shops in Paris with Damian in tow.

In the end they bought Marinette three different rolls of fabric. Damian was the one who paid, though it took a long time arguing before Marinette finally backed down. She was the one who wanted to pay but Damian kept insisting he should pay. He had also offered to carry all the rolls of fabric, not that he needed to ask because he carried them anyway, ignoring Alya and Marinette's protests. Soon they arrived at her parents' bakery and they met a surprised Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain, they were mostly surprised at the boy who could carry three rolls of fabric single-handedly and look as if he could carry more. They watched, amused, as their daughter and this boy argued back and forth. Marinette saying that she could carry the rolls of fabric to her room by herself and the boy saying that he could carry it by himself. The argument didn't even last a minute before they came to a conclusion; Marinette would take one of the rolls while the boy would bring the other two. When they both left to go to Marinette's room, Alya answered a question that was in both the parents' head.

"His name is Damian" Alya said. "Marinette says he's an exchange student from the US"

"The US?" Tom said confused. "I thought he could've been from Bordeaux, there wasn't a hint of an accent'

"He must have been studying French for a long time" Sabine said, quite impressed.

Alya nodded. "Marinette's known him for a while, I just met him today and he's very smart"

Then both Marinette and Damian came downstairs. "Maman, Papa I'm going with Alya to make sure she gets hom-"

"I can go by myself it's fine" Alya interrupted. 'You and Damian need some time alone!' She inwardly smirked.

"Then I'll make sure Damian goes home" Marinette said without hesitation. They both said their goodbyes and walked out, leaving Alya and Marinette's parents.

"He's good husband material" Sabine said the moment her daughter and the boy left. Both Alya and Tom chuckled while nodding. Then when Alya turned to leave, Sabine and Tom went back to decorating some cupcakes.

~~~

Adrien kept looking through all the fan-mail he got, it was a lot but he wanted to read each and every one of them so that his fans knew he cared. But there was still something at the back of his mind, something nagging him. It was about when Plagg went to talk with Tikki about what he described as 'Kwami Business'. Adrien knew it was private conversations between kwamis but he could help but be curious as when Plagg had asked for permission to go, he was much more serious than he probably has been his entire life. "Plagg"

"Yeah Adrien?" The kwami replied, biting his aged Camembert.

"The day you went to talk with Tikki, what did you have to talk about?" Adrien watched as Plagg stiffened. Surprisingly, he put his cheese aside. 'Uh oh, this must be serious'

Plagg sighed, "It about the side effects of the miraculous"

"Side effects?" Now he was getting worried.

"The side effects only a true miraculous holder could get" Plagg mumbled hesitantly.

———

Taglist: @little-bluestar, @miracleofadisaster, @frieddonutsweets, @jjmjjktth, @genderfluidmoma, @starlitdreaming, @icerosecrystal, @lolieg

#daminette #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #maribat #damianette #maridami #mlb x dc #ml x dc

127 notes · View notes

justasparkwritings · 4 years ago

Text

Troll In Love: Part 1

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Exes to Lovers, Non-Idol AU

Rating: PG-17

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: What happens when your work nemesis and your ultimate troll team up to flip your world upside down?

Note: This piece is for the #thebtswritersclub fic exchange! Look out for Part 2 later this week.

This fic is dedicated to, written for the incomparable @xjoonchildx, who I have been lucky enough to be paired with. A major fan, this was an intimidating endeavor, and I’m kind of in love with what I’ve created for her. And if she hates it .... it’s trash okay? jk... kind of.

Banner by me.

Monday: Pitch Meeting

“Everyone has an inherent archnemesis,” Claire began her presentation, eyes peering across the conference room, attempting to make thoughtful eye contact with her peers.

Finally, a staff writer, this pitch marked her first foray into feature writing. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried, in her three years at the company as a freelance writer, it wasn’t that she didn’t draft proposals, complete preliminary research, no, she absolutely did. But there was always someone in front of her, someone who always came around the corner, nicking first place with seconds to spare. Claire hated you from the moment you arrived, bright eyed and excited, a recent college graduate gunning for a position at the magazine. While it took her years to pitch a cover story feature, years to move from an assistant to full-time staff writer, you had done so in a handful of years.

Today, Claire decided, that would change. She had prepped and planned for weeks, laid in wait for Marissa to give her the go ahead to pitch her idea to the team. Adjusting her Dior, she shifted from heel to heel before speaking again.

“We all have that one person who no matter what we post, they find a way to demean it, turn it negative, make it about something completely unrelated. Whether that’s politics, or religion, or sex, there is that one troll we can’t help but root against. My proposal is to use a few members of staff to find their internet trolls, to engage with them over a period of time, and if they’re willing, interview them, both separately and together. I want to discover what it is that makes them keep commenting, why they always seem to gravitate towards certain posts, who their audience is and how it relates to our greater understandings of our enemies.” Claire sighed, the heavy lifting of her presentation just beginning.

“I like it, who do you want to use?” Marissa asked.

“Someone from each of our most high-profile teams, or the people in our office that have the largest social media followings. For a few that overlaps,”

“Who are those people?”

“Y/N, Jaxson, Hoseok, Emma and Bridgette,” Claire explained. “They have an average Instagram following of ten thousand, and on Twitter it’s twelve thousand.”

“What do you post that gets you so many followers?” Gillian questioned.

“My ass,” Jaxson laughed. “But really, it’s Drag Race content,”

“Good, you have a list. I need written permission from each of you to interview you and your top internet harassers.”

“I’d like to request that my name be off the list,” You asked, hand still raised.

Hoseok asked, knowing the answer deep in his bones. “Why?”

“I just, I don’t think it’d be a –

“Nonsense, you have a large following, I’m sure there’s someone who pisses you off regularly,” Marissa interrupted.

“Yes, there is! What’s his name? Jimin?” Claire pretended to scan her page, her cursory glance perfunctory instead of practical.

You heard the gasp leave Hoseok’s mouth before you registered what was happening.

“Fuck you!” You snapped. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate, but the sentiment remains.”

“It was, but it also sealed your fate.” Marissa stood. “Start assembling your team and listen to Claire, I’m sure she has a list of things she needs from you.”

“I do!” Claire chimed.

“Great, get me the contracts from legal and get it to each of the people you’ve listed before 5PM today, I want signed consent before you leave this building.”

“What if I don’t want to?” You asked, your final plea.

“You owe her for the debacle with your last interview,” Marissa reminded you.

“It’s not my fault they were drunk both times! I got the article done and out. It was one of our biggest issues in the last year and was followed up by two other feature pieces by me that beat that record,” You countered, your success an unnecessary brag in a room full of people who feared and admired your work.

“I don’t care, Y/N, handle it,” Marissa sauntered out, her assistants following close behind.

Slouching in your chair, your eyes landed on Claire, glaring daggers into her perfectly straight midnight bob. She was everything you hated, a brown noser, a narcissist, a career driven monster who had been biting at your heels since you arrived. She was jealous, blinded by some lofty goal that she’d be an editor or editor in chief before 28, a feat rare in fashion, unless you were Elaine Welterwroth or Margaret Zhang, of course. They had become editors and editors in chief by ages 29 and 27 respectively. Though Zhang had begun her career blogging at 16, a fact that only infuriated Claire who was too busy popping pimples and trying to lose her virginity to her junior varsity boyfriend.

Claire could spend days listing everything she hated about you. She hated your easy interactions with coworkers, the ability to have the entire room stop and listen when you spoke, the craft of your written work and relationships maintained with subjects years after interviewing them. She hated how you left work with Hoseok on your arm or went to drinks with the assistants and interns. How you achieved so many bylines, becoming an editor in your own right without so much as breaking a sweat, while she was scraping the barrel to be noticed. You seemingly had everything Claire wanted, and Claire was sick of it.

Monday: Your Office

“Thank you, for your participation,” Claire said, sitting across from you in your office.

“You aren’t welcome, I’m actually rather unimpressed with your ability to ambush not only me but the other people you’ve trapped into doing your article,” You crossed your legs, adjusting the waist band of your trousers and continued to scowl at her. Claire had only heard of your less than cheerful personality, though it remained largely rumored, she had never had it confirmed or dared to see it in person.

“How, charming,” She rolled her eyes.

“Look, you don’t want to be talking to me, I don’t want to be talking to you. Just tell me what you want so I can send you on your way.”

Claire watched as you reached across your desk to grab your black and white planner, flipping open to the weeks page and holding your pen at the ready. The inside, covered in stickers and hand lettered phrases, fit the persona Claire so desperately wanted to mimic.

“I need you to read and sign this,” Claire slid the agreement across your glass desk. “Then, I need you to identify the username of your troll, and I need to borrow an intern from your team.”

“You can’t have one,”

“Marissa said I could have whatever I needed, and I need an intern to comb through your tweets.”

“I can save you the trouble, I rarely tweet, when I do, it’s addressing the same ass hat,” You explained.

“Well, I need their handle,”

“Fine,”

“And the intern,” Claire was firm.

You rolled your eyes, before pressing the intercom. “Hey Alexis, can you send Erin to me?”

“Sure thing,” Alexis replied.

“Thank you,”

Claire rolled her eyes.

“Jealous?” You questioned.

“Read the contract, sign it and send it back to me along with answering the Form that’s in your inbox,” Claire directed.

“Great,”

“I’ll be back on Friday to go over your tweets and exchanges before we decide on a tactic to reach out to them and ask them to come in for an interview,” Claire explained. It didn’t annoy you that she was prepared, but it did piss you off a little to know how much she had thought this through. Maybe you should give her a chance, professionally, not socially, Claire would remain a bottom feeder.

“Who says they’re in the city?” You questioned.

“If not, we’ll Zoom with them, okay?”

“Excuse me, you wanted to see me?” Erin peered through the door; wavy bangs parted slightly to expose her forehead and freckled cheeks.

“Yes, your projects are on hold. Claire here needs your help with her feature article, and as my intern, you are to report to her for the remainder of the project,” You explained.

Erin’s eyes widened, never had she been reassigned to a special project, let alone with Claire who was notorious for running interns and assistants into the ground. “Who will take over my work?”

“Can you make a list of where you’re at and send it to me? I will meet with the team tomorrow to talk about where we need to fill in the gaps,”

“Okay,”

“Claire, this is Erin, if you are a bitch to her, I will ensure you don’t ever write a feature piece or move past copy editor here or anywhere,”

“I don’t know where you get off thinking you can speak to me like –

“I am your superior, and you will respect my intern or face the consequences,”

“Fine,” Claire turned and left, leaving Erin wondering what on earth she had been roped into.

Tuesday: Happy Hour

“You gave the real handle?” Hoseok asked over drinks after work, a little happy hour to celebrate leaving the office before 7PM.

“What was I going to do? She could easily look at my Twitter and Instagram and find out, why lie?”

“What happened to preservation?” Hoseok mocked.

“Either I give in and get Claire off my back, or I get called to Marissa’s and have consequences, like I’m a fucking child.”

Hoseok eyed you suspiciously. “Did you give her his name?”

“You saw in that meeting, she already knows. I blame you,”

“Me?”

“Yes you, always talking about dance classes with Jimin, the good old days of photographing him and styling him in college. He abandoned me to go to school with you, and you’ve taken it all in stride.” You explained. It wasn’t a new story, a new plea, a new exploration of your tempestuous non-relationship with Jimin. It was sad, really, listening to you express the hurt you’ve never let go of.

“He didn’t abandon you to come to school with me,” Hoseok laughed.

“Potato, Tomato,”

“You should talk-

“Nope, you made your once monthly ‘you should talk to Jimin’ comment a week ago over margheritas, you don’t get another for ten more days,” You scolded.

“Fine, fine.”

“I don’t even know where he is,” You muttered, pink liquid of your Paloma slipping down your throat.

“That’s a lie,”

“Can you stop calling me out and let me hate him?” You hadn’t meant to snap, but the constant chatter revolving around Jimin was too much to handle, it was too much in two days, too much in the years since you last saw him. Park Jimin was, and has remained, too much.

“Fine,” Hoseok resigned. “Have you looked at your tweets lately?”

“No, I refuse to go back and read whatever horrors I wrote in 2019,”

“You should,” He suggested.

“I guarantee Claire will force me to read them. Probably aloud at some last-minute staff meeting she puts together on Friday to fucking fillet me,” You rolled your eyes again, the last dregs of grapefruit clumping together as they slid down the side of your glass.

“Maybe if you weren’t so,” He starts.

“Bitchy?”

“Your words, then she would like you,”

“She’s hated me since I got there, I’ve tried being nice. I’ve tried being cordial. Claire and I will never mix,” You explained.

“He’s gone blonde you know,” Hoseok’s eyes have flittered past you, glancing down the street at the setting sun, glad he brought his latest Gucci jacket to keep him warm in the early spring evening.

“Didn’t you hit your moratorium on how long you can talk about Jimin in a conversation?”

“You said his name!” Hoseok argued.

“He isn’t Trump, Hoseok. I can say his name, sometimes.”

Hoseok let the moment simmer, cooling gently before turning it up to a raucous boil. “I’m having a kick back next Wednesday, will you come?”

“If he’s not there,” You answered.

“I can’t promise that,”

“Then I can’t promise either,” Chewing the ice from your glass, you let your mind wander to the possibilities of what might happen should you show up to Hoseok’s party and are greeted by Jimin. Blonde Jimin. Jimin with the sparkling eyes and winning smile. Jimin who harasses you on the internet weekly, Jimin who you haven’t spoken to since you were 22, Jimin whom you hated with every fiber of your being.

Worst case scenario, you couldn’t avoid him and would be forced to speak words to him. Best case, you time it perfectly and he’s either just left or hasn’t arrived and you can doll out pleasantries before Irish-goodbying and never having to confront him.

“Y/N, please, you haven’t seen my new place yet and it’s finally furnished,” Hoseok pleaded.

“I’ll think about it,” You resigned.

“Great!”

“I fucking hate you and our friendship,” You scoffed, signaling the waiter to bring you the check. You should’ve ordered food, being buzzed and talking about Jimin was never a good idea.

“I know you do.” Hoseok winked before picking up the tab for you both.

“At least tell me you haven’t invited Seokjin,” You asked, slipping your coat over your shoulders.

“Well-

“You’re fucking with me, right?” You questioned. “You fucking invited both of my exes to a, I’m sorry, kick back? Hoseok, no.”

“I love you, and I’m sorry, Seokjin helped me find some great pieces for the place, and you know he’s friends with Namjoon and Jungkook,” He tried to explain.

“That doesn’t mean I want to stare at them over my tenth flute of champagne and my plate which will be piled high with cheese and crackers and pieces of salami.”

“You and Seokjin are fine though, you ended-

“Don’t say amicably,” You cut him off.

“Well, close to it. Please,” He begged. Begging never looked good on Hoseok.

Staring into his dark irises, a shade mimicking your own, you couldn’t hold the anger brewing. Being around Seokjin was always a better alternative than Jimin. Though the pity he often felt towards you, at your angered state which has never really subsided, was embarrassing. “I’ll think about it.”

“I love you,” Hoseok pulled you into a hug.

“Yeah, yeah, then why do you keep doing this to me?”

“Because I love you,”

“Tell Taehyung to call me,” You said, waving to him before stepping into the waiting Lyft you’d called at the bar.

“I will, can’t make any promises,” Hoseok winked before turning towards the subway, where he’d pull out his head phones and scan through the photos he’d taken throughout the day, waiting to get home to Taehyung to analyze, edit and critique them.

Thursday: Claire’s Makeshift Office

“Are you ready?” Claire asked, sifting through the papers on her desk.

“You had me come to your office, after you scheduled a meeting to ask if I’m ready? Yes Claire, I’m fucking ready,” You snapped.

“Erin,” Claire gestured towards your intern who tried to hold her eye roll.

“So, I combed through your tweets, sifting through your interactions with Mochimin, which is a very creative username,” Erin began.

“Yeah, his name and nickname combined,” You rolled your eyes.

“And we read through them all, well mostly me… and I have to ask, are you sure these are your tweets?” Erin questioned.

“Yes, and what should be his responses,” You answered reaching forward to grab the printed copies waiting for you. You scanned over the interactions, the subtweets, the blatant tags, the retweets and comments not just by Jimin, but a few of your friends too.

“Why have you been telling us he’s the troll?” Erin asked.

Her question caught you off guard, eyes wide, shock echoing in your bones.

“What the fuck? What do you mean? Look at how he fucking responded!”

“Y/N, you’re the troll!” Erin laughed. “It’s you, not him,”

“I am not! This is a fucking joke! It’s not April Fools yet, way to put the cart before the horse!” Your voice radiated throughout the small conference room.

Claire, not having an office of her own, had requested it to conduct most of her teams work. It was your least favorite of the conference rooms, colder both in décor and temperature than the others, it was situated on the corner leading to the kitchen. Glass on two walls, it was the definition of exposed. Everyone could see your outburst. Everyone could watch you fall to pieces. You guessed Claire had planned it this way, to demonstrate how focused her team was, how dedicated to the project they were, to show everyone her value as a staff writer instead of a freelancer. You also assumed she did this to ensure that whatever break down you were beginning to have, would have at least ten witnesses, ten people to side with her that your behavior was irresponsible and reckless.

“Oh please, get over yourself,” Claire chuckled. The light in her eyes proved your assumptions, she was enjoying this. “Do you see how you interact with him?”

“What do you mean how I interact with him? He started this!” You lowered your volume, side glances from colleagues passing by alerting you to the unprofessional decibels you’d began reaching.

“In almost every interaction, you bait him, hook line and sinker. It’s you, Y/N,” Erin explained.

“No!”

“Yes, this poor man, just living his life while you’re purposefully harassing him!” Claire feigned shock, eyes widening, mouth slightly open. It was taking everything in you not to resort to physical violence.

“I would never,” You glowered.

“You have! For years, it’s always you,” Erin said again.

“I, no, that’s impossible. He started it!”

“Admitting is the first step,” Claire’s placid smile was demanding to be smacked off.

“Fuck you! This is ridiculous!”

“July 10, 2020: Thinking of one man in particular, hoping the bleach in his locks burns in the summer heat.Followed by his comment: thinking of one woman in particular, hoping she knows I wear a hat and use purple shampoo.” Erin read.

“I, I, no!”

“October 13: Nothing makes me happier than not being invited to a birthday bash with all my friends. He responded: All you have to do is ask. On your birthday, he tweeted: Happy B-Day to the girl who … oh never mind she hates me. You responded: nobody asked for your half-hearted bullshit, next time I hope you choke on it.”

“He started it!”

“Why are you so awful to him?” Erin wanted to know.

“I am not, he began harassing me first,” You tried to argue.

“Does Hoseok know?” Claire chided.

“Know what?”

“About your vendetta,”

“It’s not a vendetta!”

“Then explain why you tweet or subtweet him at least twice a week, and then when he responds, tweet him again! You don’t even tag him, just vaguely mention discernable parts of his personality or appearance,” Erin explained.

“I do not! How do you know what he looks like?” You tried to counter.

“His profile picture, and a certain friend of yours doesn’t mind sharing-

“You asked Jungkook? Or was it Taehyung? Or I’m sorry, both?” Your eyes were wide, breathing labored, anger boiling to inhumane levels.

“Well, if we asked Hoseok you would’ve kno-

“You called or texted or DM’ed Jungkook and Taehyung, and asked about Jimin?”

“Yes,” Erin bowed her head, guilt written into the freckles her blush tried so desperately to hide.

“I cannot believe you, Erin,” You spat.

“I’m sorry Claire wanted me to,”

You turned your gaze to Claire, who had begun to cower in her seat.

“You did the one thing, the absolute one thing that you knew, you fucking knew, would set me off. You did this on purpose, you fucking bottom feeder, you fucking dillweed you crossed the fucking line, Claire,” You spat. Your volume had lowered into a low growl, far more deadly and intimidating than any yelling you had done.

“We have the proof, Y/N, you can’t deny it, you attack Jimin regularly,” Claire unskillfully attempted to move the conversation away from Jungkook and Taehyung. Like you would balk at her intrusion.

“You don’t get to violate my personal life, to violate the lives of the people I care deeply about, to expose sources and put them in danger should this article go south, poking and prodding into the lives of people who are dealing with their own bullshit to push your own fucking agenda, Claire,” You were seething, Te Fiti in Moana, Mrs. Weasley against Bellatrix, Kim Kardashian against the ocean searching for her diamond. Your wrath knows no bounds, and Claire had finally crossed the line into territory she could never come back from.

“It’s for the job, nothing personal.” Claire shrugged. You could see it in her eyes, she wanted blood and was elated to be getting it.

“This is entirely personal.”

“Well, you can ask Jimin about it when we interview him,” She smiled, lips upturning revealing her veneers, red lipstick perfectly matte and shaped against her thin flesh.

“No, absolutely not,” You shook your head.

“Yes, that’s part of the deal you agreed to,”

“I take it back. I revoke my consent!”

“It’s non-negotiable,” Marissa said. She had sauntered in during your berating, watching as you tried and failed to continue believing that you weren’t the troll. “You have agreed to this, and you will sit through the interview and cordially answer Claire’s questions.”

“Marissa, this is crossing a line,” You stated.

“You have to be held accountable,” Claire said.

“Fuck you, Claire. Believe it or not, there are somethings that are beyond your understanding and a few that are not appropriate for work,” You continued to scold her.

“Y/N, why are you being so hostile?” Claire was mocking you, with Marissa by her side, she was invincible.

“You picked me on purpose. What have you been working with Hoseok? Is this some larger plan to get me to talk to Jimin? I don’t want to talk with Jimin or talk to Jimin, isn’t it bad enough he’s being brought into my work? Oh and let’s not forget you using Erin and Hoseok to gain access to Jungkook and Taehyung, who are beyond off limits.” You listed each of her offenses, careful to leave out indiscretions that occurred before this project of hers began.

“You agreed to-

“No, I was forced to do this by you, Marissa,” You began.

It wasn’t hard to glower at Marissa, one of the most decorated editors in chief, beloved by Condé Nast, best friend of Anna Wintour… Everyone aspired to be her, but in the last year, through your promotion and growing turbulence within the magazine, her leadership had begun to falter. Her steady hand, guiding each staff writer and editor towards success and elevating everyone’s work, was crumbling at an alarming pace. Yet, no one knew why or if anything was being done to rectify the damage her wake was leaving.

“I was coerced into this under some pretense that I owe Claire something for a so called fuck up that resulted in the biggest boon in our magazines readership in the last year, which was followed up by not one but two feature bylines and my promotion. I have done more than enough at this company, in this industry, to sit here and be forced to engage with a man who destroyed my world. I will not speak with him, or to him or listen to him. I will not, and if you force me, I will get legal involved. Should this bullshit continue, you can expect my letter of resignation next week.”

Standing and shoving your chair in, you turned on the heels of your Oxfords and marched straight to your office. Closing your laptop and shoving your planner into your tote, you grabbed your phone.

“Where are you going?” Hoseok asked. He moved in time with you, following down the many corridors of your office and towards the elevators.

As you stepped in, you pressed lobby and waited for the doors to be closed before turning to him.

“Did you tell Erin she could contact Jungkook and Taehyung?” You asked.

“She did what?” Hoseok yelled, soundwaves bounding off the metal and plastic of the elevator, reverberating in your ears.

“Did you?”

“No, I can’t believe she, are you serious?” Hoseok couldn’t lie, a fundamental flaw in his design made it impossible for him to tell the smallest fib.

“Did you work with Erin and Claire to get me involved in this feature? To get me to talk to Jimin?” You didn’t mince your words or pad your language to make him feel less attacked. You needed the answer, and you needed it now.

“No, I didn’t know Claire was doing this until she pitched it. You think I would-

“Hoseok, they called Jungkook and Taehyung. They want Jimin to come in to be interviewed, they won’t stop until I-

“Until you what?”

“Marissa has always supported me, championed me. But Claire has her number, she has her locked and loaded, aiming for me and I don’t know why,” You confided.

“She has been slipping lately,” He agreed. “There’s only one way to stop this,”

Together you stepped out of the elevator, moving past the turnstiles to the revolving door.

“Am I crazy?” You asked, the insecurity beginning to overtake your bravery.

“No, something weird is going on,”

You clarified, “No, I mean, am I crazy for… for doing this to Jimin?”

“I don’t know if you’re crazy, but you’ve definitely not been your best self,” Hoseok answered.

“He makes me so-

“You still love him,” Hoseok interrupted.

“I-

“Go talk to him,” Hoseok encouraged. “Call me after, we can get drinks and wallow or pick out an outfit for your hot date.”

“What if he-

“Just, talk to him, okay?” Hoseok requested.

“Okay,”

“I’ll check in with Jungkookie and Taehyungie,” He assured.

“Thank you,”

“I’ll also scope out open positions, we can’t stay here,”

“I love you, Hobi,” You confided, a statement that flowed so easily past your lips, you didn’t have to think or parse through the emotions that went along with it. You’ve always loved him, always will.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Hoseok draped his arm around your shoulders before placing a kiss to your forehead, a gentle embrace, a squeeze of confidence, a gesture of love. He moved swiftly from you back into the building, and as you watched him walk away, you took a deep breath.

Taking your phone out of your pocket, you dialed a number you had tried to forget.

“To what do I owe this unexpected delight of a call?” He asked. His voice was the same, chipper and cunning in the same breath.

“I need to speak with you, ASAP,” You told him.

“Okay, I’m working from home today, come over whenever,” He invited you without hesitation.

“You still live at the same place?”

“No, moved up. I’ll send you the address,”

“You know who this is?” You asked, uncertainty back in your bones.

“What, Y/N, you thought I deleted your number?” Jimin laughed, one of only a few sounds that shot right to your knees, making any posture unstable in the docile sounds of his joy.

“I, I don’t know, I guess. Look I’m going to hail a cab, I’ll be there in 20,”

“I look forward to it, just tell the doorman you’re here for me and he’ll let you up,” Jimin said.

“Okay, see you soon, I guess,”

“I can’t wait,” Jimin was smiling, you couldn’t see it, but the lilt in his voice was all the assurance you needed. Bracing yourself for the impact of him, of his voice, of his laugh, of the way he looked at you, you hailed one of the last remaining cabs in the city and prayed for courage.

Next: Troll in Luv Pt. 2

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theweasleysredhair · 5 years ago

Text

One For The Road [S.B.]

Character: Sirius Black

Word Count: 2029

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Post-Azkaban Sirius is a jealous guy... especially when it comes to his girl and Snivellous.

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: I hope the requester enjoys! (requests still open, feel free to send some my way!) also yes I only named this fic ‘one for the road’ bc of the arctic monkeys song

+ + + + +

“Do you have to go back to Hogwarts this year?” Sirius groaned as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his head on your shoulder as you tried to wash the remaining pots.

“I reckon so, being a teacher and all,” you laughed, placing a pan on the drying rack. He nuzzled his face into your neck, his long hair tickling as he placed a soft kiss there.

“I’m going to miss you.”

You’d been waiting for this. Sirius hadn’t really made any comments about you having to leave, even though he and you were aware that you’d be away most of the school year, just like Harry would be. You had begun to worry about him being alone in Grimmauld Place again, especially after being around people constantly over the summer holidays.

You dried your hands on the tea towel and spun around in his arms to face him, “I’m going to miss you too. But you know you can write, and I’ll write too, and Christmas will be here before you know it. It’s only four months away.”

Sirius pushed his lips against yours for a moment, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer to him. You responded immediately, kissing back and wrapping your arms around his neck. “That’s four months too long, love,” he mumbled against your lips as he pulled away a couple inches.

“It’ll fly by, I promise. Remus said he’d stay with you in the meantime so you’re not here alone. I hate thinking about you here, especially with that bloody painting... I just want to take you with me.”

“I’ll happily jump into one of your suitcases love, just say the word and I’ll do it.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you grinned as you turned back to washing. You were just placing the last pot on the drying rack as people started arriving at the house. You placed the tea towel on the counter and slowly pulled away from Sirius’ arms - much to his dismay - to greet Remus, who was followed closely by Tonks.

“Wotcher, Y/n!” Tonks greeted as she pulled a chair out at the dining table. “Hi Tonks!”

“How are you doing, Y/n? Ready for work?” Remus asked, taking his own seat at the dining table. “I’m not doing bad, I’m half packed for the next term, still got a few bits I need to sort out but I’ll get there. You’d think I’d be a dab hand at this by now but I still end up forgetting something every year,” you said with an airy laugh and a shrug, leaning against the counter.

The sound of Walburga Black screaming in the hallway made all of you look over, Sirius sighing dramatically as he left the room to go shut her up - although not before giving your bum a cheeky squeeze, causing you to swat at him with the damp tea towel and making him chuckle.

He returned a few minutes later with Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad Eye, Arthur Weasley and Bill Weasley, who were followed closely by Severus Snape - an old school mate and colleague of yours - and finally Dumbledore.

You greeted them all with a smile, taking a couple of steps over towards Snape, who you chatted with for a small while about the year to come at Hogwarts. At some point, Sirius had sidled up to you and threw an arm around your waist not-at-all subtly, making you roll your eyes playfully at him. You turned to Arthur instead.

“No Molly today?” You asked him. He shook his head, “No no, not today, she’s with the rest of the kids, getting ready for Hogwarts. Thought it best she keep an eye on them all.” You nodded understandingly.

The rest of the meeting went off without much drama, besides the glares you saw Sirius shooting over at Snape, but that was to be expected by now, what with the whole hatred thing they had going on. You didn’t really understand it, even back when you were all at Hogwarts yourselves. And whilst you didn’t agree with the way he treated Lily the last time they spoke, you’d never personally had a bad experience with the man, and actually got on well at Hogwarts - or as best you could, anyway.

When everyone had finally left a couple of hours later, you decided to continue packing for Hogwarts, knowing it would be worse to try and rush the morning of your travels.

As you placed some of your final items into your last trunk, you turned to Sirius, who was stood in the doorway of his - or rather, your shared - bedroom, leaning against the frame with his arms folded across his chest.

“You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet, what’s up love?” You asked, raising an eyebrow worriedly. “Nothing,” he replied, not quite meeting your eyes.

You smiled to yourself and walked the short distance over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and making him automatically rest his on your hips. “Is this about Severus? Because you know I’ve told you to ignore the things he says,” you said brushing your nose against his. “Snivellous,” Sirius spat his name out, “Can say what he wants about me. What I don’t like is when he’s so close to you.”

“Ohh, you’re jealous!” “I’m not jealous.” “You’re so jealous! Oh Godric, I never even realised. Oh love, you know I adore and love you and no one else, you don’t have to worry about him. He’s just someone I have to work with. No one could hold a candle to you,” you said, closing the small gap between you and pressing your lips to Sirius’. He kissed back easily, spinning you round so you were pinned between him and his bedroom wall. “You promise?” He mumbled against your lips. “I solemnly swear it,” you teased with a laugh, finally making him crack a smile, “I’ll be back before you know it, don’t you worry.”

***

It had been nearly two weeks since you’d arrived back at Hogwarts. The students were starting to settle back in, as were the staff, and honestly you loved being there, loved your job. Sure, it was disheartening sometimes when you couldn’t see Sirius but the smiles on your students faces made up for some of it.

You’d just owled a reply to the first of Sirius’ letters for the school year, wanting to update him on your first couple of weeks back. You were also worried about him, knowing he hated being stuck in Grimmauld Place, especially when he was alone. You’d also happened to mention Snape’s idea of starting a duelling club, and how excited you were to be a part of it, loving the idea of teaching the students more magic. What could be better?

A couple of days later, you were sat in your classroom, a pile of students’ essays sat in front of you as you marked them. This was the part of teaching you didn’t like as much, but it was nice to know that nearly every student you taught had handed something in, and most were to a high standard. Not a huge surprise, considering many of your students adored your lessons, but the response was still nice to see.

You were lost in your work, when suddenly there was a knock at the door that made you look up, “Oh Professor L/n?”

Although you couldn’t help the smile that was fighting to show on your face, you exclaimed, “What are you doing here?! You could be seen - are you mad?”

The dark haired man stepped inside and closed the door behind him, “Of course I’m mad, I spent 12 years locked away. But anyway, I just came to visit my lovely girlfriend at her amazing job.”

You moved around your desk to give him a hug, “You must be careful, I can’t have anyone seeing you - did Dumbledore agree to this?”

Feeling Sirius chuckle under your embrace, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly.

“Of course not. I never asked permission. I just missed you.”

“I missed you too! It’s only been two weeks as well,” you said with a grin as you pulled away slightly to look up at him, however still staying in his arms.

“A very long two weeks. I don’t think I’m going to make it until Christmas without seeing you, I just felt I had to come and see you, I missed your pretty face.”

You looked at his ‘innocent’ face and squinted your eyes, before scoffing with amusement, “Bullshit... you were jealous weren’t you? Of Severus? Because I mentioned him in that letter?” “Of that greaseball? No way,” he shook his head but you could tell he was blatantly lying.

“You do realise I love you and only you right?”

“I know, I know. You always say and show it and I’m so lucky to have you. I just... I’m so scared you’ll realise you deserve better,” he sighed, looking down as he gently squeezed your hips, “I mean... you deserve someone who can take you out on dates and show you off to the world! I can’t do that, I’m just an old fugitive.”

“I don’t care about all that, I don’t want someone else, I want you. I deserve you and you deserve me. I love you, Sirius, and I wouldn’t change you for the world. You’re a fugitive because the ministry were incompetent - as always - with handling the entire case, but regardless, I don’t care. No one, not Severus, not anyone could take me away from you. I waited for you because I knew you’d escape and I knew you’d come back to me because we love each other. I always have, from way back when you were a bloody heartthrob and girls chased you. You used to tell me that none of them mattered because they weren’t me. Now it’s my turn to tell you that no other guy matters because they’re not you. I love you so bloody much.”

You pushed your lips to his, kissing him passionately and with as much love as you could pour into it. He kissed back, lifting you up onto your desk and nudging the papers out of the way as he stood between your legs, one hand squeezing your thigh as the other cupped your cheek. He tilted your head to deepen the kiss, licking across your bottom lip as you parted them to allow him access into your mouth. “I love you,” he mumbled between kisses. “I love you too.”

You didn’t know how long you were there, all you knew was that you were thankful no one had tried to walk in on you both - although you weren’t sure you would have noticed if they had. You ran a hand through his hair and pecked his lips again, “As much as I want to keep you here, you probably need to go before you get caught!”

“What if I don’t care?”

“I do care, I want you to spend Christmas with me, so please make sure you get home safe,” you said.

“Fine, fine, I’ll see you again at Christmas, counting down the days!” He stepped backwards, before quickly kissing your swollen lips again and then reluctantly beginning left the room.

“See you then, my love,” you called after him, receiving a loving smile in return. You just about caught a glimpse of him turning into his dog form before you took a deep breath, going to sit back down at your desk to continue marking the papers.

You’d just written down an “O” on one of them when a head popped round the door of your classroom. You looked up, expecting a fellow teacher or perhaps a student, instead being met with the cheeky grin of your Sirius Black.

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he beat you to it, his grin turning easily into a smirk as he said, “I don’t suppose I could have one more kiss for the road?”

And well... when he looked like that, who were you to deny him?

#sirius #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius imagine #sirius imagines #sirius black imagine #sirius black imagines #post azkaban sirius #post azkaban sirius x reader #post azkaban sirius black x reader #post azkaban sirius imagine #post azkaban sirius black imagine #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders imagine #marauders imagines #harry potter #all queue have to do is follow the spiders

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writer-room · 4 years ago

Text

Siblings: Chapter One

AO3

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Summary: The Bats reflect on how their thoughts about siblings have changed over the years. Some opinions stayed, others didn't.

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

Dick always wondered what it’d be like to have a little brother or sister.

He recalled asking his parents why he didn’t have one. Not accusatory, just curious.

His mother had smiled and said that they had their hands full plenty with Dick, and he was all they needed. His father, while still kind, said that they didn’t really have the time or resources in the circus at the moment to add another child to the family.

Dick was disappointed, but he understood the reasons.

Even still, he’d find himself staring at the kids that watched the acts with awe. Older kids lighty taunted their younger siblings, ruffling their hair and pretending they were too good for it all, and that they were doing their siblings a favor by being there. Kids who nudged their brother or sister to distract and steal the snacks from concession stands, later whispering words that’d make the other gape or giggle. Young children holding their sibling who was of toddler age or younger, pointing towards parts of the acts, their glee growing upon seeing the excitement of their sibling.

Dick hadn’t been lonely growing up in Haly’s Circus, he had his parents and the other people who worked there, from the handlers to the clowns to the tricksters.

And yet, he still found himself watching the kids who’d come in with one, or even two or three, brothers and sisters, taunting and laughing and sharing their wonder.

A sibling would’ve been nice, he thinks mournfully. It might’ve even been fun.

Ah, well. At least he had the circus.

“Hey, hey Dick. Dick. Dick, lookit.”

“If I turn around and I see you about to push Damian off the roof, I’m breaking your helmet.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Dick sighed, turning back from where he was keeping an eye on the streets below. Jason, who’d only been a few feet away, immediately took this moment to seize Tim, who had been too busy looking through his binoculars to care about whatever the two had been doing, and proceed to chuck him off the roof.

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan as Tim’s undignified shriek was cut off by him catching himself on a fire escape below, scrambling to get a good hold on so he didn’t fall the rest of the way.

“What?” Jason huffed. “You said not to push Damian, and I didn’t push Damian.”

“Of course,” Dick replied sarcastically. “My mistake, I’ll be sure to rephrase it as don’t push anyone off the roof.”

“Now that’s just unreasonable,” Jason huffed, hand on his hip as Steph and Cass snickered from the nearby chimney they were perched on. “I can think of plenty of people who deserve to be pushed off roofs. Like Scarow, for example. Bastard made me break my good hand last month and I still need to shoot a bullet in his back for that one.”

“Then don’t push your family off roofs, is that enough for you?” Dick sighed, standing up and peering over the edge of the roof. “You alright down there, Tim?”

“Names,” Damian finally chastised, not once having glanced over to the others from where he was on the corner of the roof, farthest as he could get from them.

“Oh, sure, now you worry.” Tim grumbled from the fire escape, finally pulling himself to his feet and brushing himself off. “Dick, please tell me I have permission to stab out Jason’s eye.”

“You do not.”

“He’d be fine!” Tim complained, snagging a hand on the stairs and instead pulling himself up along the outside of the fire escape instead of walking up the steps like a normal human being. “Harper could probably make him a new functional one in two days if she's in a good mood.”

“I’m not making him a new eye in two days. Maybe two weeks.” Harper informed from the other side of the roof, also ignoring the others as she tinkered with some gadget.

“Get anywhere near me and I’ll cough on you,” Jason threatened, also peering down off the roof. “You have basically no immune system, you’d die in a week. A long, painful death. Poetic cinema, really.”

“If you say it's poetic because you were beaten with a crowbar for two hours, I’m dropkicking you.” Steph warned, eyes narrowed.

“You’re so mean to me,” Jason gasped, placing a hand on his chest as he turned. “What did I ever do to deserve this? I’m nice to you!”

“No, you’re not.” Chorused Dick, Tim, Damian, Steph, and an extra voice through their earpieces.

“Wow, thanks, Babs.” Jason grumbled. “Showing up just to bully me, typical.”

“Names,” Damian warned a second time.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Babs crackled through their earpieces. “You’re not the only one I bully.”

“Everyone please stop harassing Jay,” Dick pleaded, though it came out more as an exhausted sigh.

“Names,” Damian growled a third time, losing his patience.

“I know it's fun,” Dick continued, ignoring him. “But this is supposed to be a scouting mission, and I’d rather he didn’t start taking out petty revenge during patrol.”

“I have no idea why he’s so surprised we get bored when scouting,” Steph mumbled quietly, to which Cass simply shrugged.

“You have no faith in me,” Jason snorted, and Dick could tell he was rolling his eyes under his helmet.

“I have plenty of faith in you,” Dick soothed. “I also, however, know how you are.”

“Don’t worry,” Steph raised a hand. “I already lost faith in you when you tried to kill Tim.”

“Which time?”

“Steph, don’t taunt him. Do it back at the Manor.” Dick lightly scolded.

“How many times do I have to repeat this?” Damian snapped, whirling from his post to glare at the others. “We do not use names on patrol!”

“Doesn’t Jon call you D on patrol?” Harper raised a brow, glancing towards him.

“That is different! He does not use my actual name!”

“Hypocrite,” Jason coughed under his breath.

Tim finally swung back onto the roof, skillfully rolling and dodging when Jason attempted to immediately kick him off again. Tim rolled close to the chimney, quickly pulling out his bo staff and crouching, glaring at Jason. It was reminiscent of two cats in a standoff, arched backs but neither of them making the first strike yet.

“Do not fight,” Cass said calmly.

“Thank you, C--” Dick hesitated, glancing at Damian for a brief moment. “--Orphan.”

“Fight in Cave,” Cass continued cheerfully. “We have sparring mats for reasons.”

“And I take that back.”

“You wanna hang with the cool kids?” Steph asked, leaning off the chimney to offer her hand.

“Yes. Have I mentioned you’re my favorite person?” Tim grinned, putting his staff away as he took the offered hand and was pulled onto the chimney beside Steph and Cass.

“You could stand to say it more often,” Steph teased.

“Cheaters,” Jason grumbled, relenting that fighting both Steph and Cass to get Tim was a losing battle.

The three were rather squished on the chimney, but none of them seemed to mind. Harper only rolled her eyes and went back to tinkering.

“We really need to bring D--Signal on one of these things.” Dick muttered, shaking his head.

“Because he’s sensible, or because you want him to suffer like the rest of us?” Tim raised a brow.

“Because he deserves the same family bonding time.” Dick said simply.

“Duke and Cullen are next to me listening in on this,” Barbara said through the communicators. “I am here to inform you that Duke is both touched and terrified.”

“The bumblebee was awake and didn’t even bother to join us?” Harper snorted. “Rude.”

“Cullen agrees with you.”

“He better,”

“I’m taking a ten hour nap after this,” Dick complained, sitting back on the edge of the roof, legs dangling in the open air as he leaned back dramatically on his hands. “I deserve it. Self-care and all that.”

“That is the length of a normal amount of sleep.” Damian raised a brow.

“Not in this family, it’s not.”

“Preach!” Tim pumped a fist.

“You don’t count, Tim.” Dick chastised, leaning his head back to look at Tim upside down. “Everyone here remembers to sleep at the latest once every two days. You don’t sleep for five.”

“I’m being harassed,”

“You’re being bullied into a proper sleep schedule.”

Damian suddenly whacked Dick over the head, startling him with a yelp as Jason hid a snicker. Harper and Cass looked over for a moment before continuing with whatever they had previously been doing.

“Names!” Damian hissed. “Do you all want your identities revealed?”

“Literally nobody is here,” Harper pointed out.

“If Gotham hasn’t found out our identities by now, they never will.” Steph snorted.

“Especially finger-stripes over here.” Tim added, a smug expression on his face.

“A nine-year-old finds out your identity one time and you never hear the end of it.” Dick muttered under his breath before sitting up and proceeding to snatch Damian, who had been previously stalking towards the others, by wrapping an arm around his chest and tugging him closer as the boy squawked.

“You were using a Flying Grayson move, dude.” Tim deadpanned. “You gotta pay the price for being flashy for no other reason than because you can.”

“That’s his entire personality.”

“Why do you all hate me?” Dick whined, holding a squirming Damian close as he gave the boy a noogie. “What did I do to gain such torment?”

“You want the list?” Harper looked up, finally putting away whatever she was tinkering with.

“We alphabetized,” Cass added.

“Wrote on the front and back,” Steph nodded sagely.

“I’m adding three more to the list when we get back,” Damian growled, looking ready to bite Dick if he didn’t stop soon.

“You better be joking about that list,” Dick warned, releasing Damian for his own safety. “Because if I ever find a list of reasons to be mean to me, I will not show mercy.”

“Do you mean you’re gonna attack us physically or emotionally?” Jason inquired.

“Emotionally,”

“You sick bastard.” Steph whispered in horror. “I can’t believe you would use your powers for evil.”

“Does it make it any better if I tell you the list, if it does exist, would probably only exist so that when we notice someone looks like they’re gonna do something stupid, we use the list to remind them of something you did so they take it out on you and not, say, turn all of Gotham into a gang war zone.” Harper said slowly.

“I hate you,” Steph glared. “You mess up one time--”

“You died, Steph!” Tim exclaimed, before getting a batarang chucked at his head that Damian somehow snuck into his utility belt.

“She didn’t even die,” Jason snorted, crossing his arms. “Both of you two had lame fake-out deaths.”

“Why am I the one who’s become the punching bag?” Dick complained, holding Damian back again when he tried to grab the batarang Tim had dodged and threw it again.

“Because you’re actually good at feelings and everyone else is emotionally constipated.” Harper deadpanned.

“And the Ric incident.” Damian added right after, giving up in his thrashing. A shutter passed over the Bats at the mention of the name.

“Aw,” Dick’s face softened, ignoring the Ric comment. “You guys care about my advice?”

“Congrats,” Barbara chuckled slightly. “You’re the therapist brother.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Jason groaned, flopping backwards on the roof. “Now he’s going to be mushy and clingy all week.”

“Lord knows you idiots need it,” Harper huffed as Dick practically glowed.

“I’m sicing him on you later.”

“Jokes on you, he hasn’t found my apartment yet.”

“Yes I have,” Dick raised a hand, turning towards her. “Well, Robin found it, but I still know it.”

Harper stared at him for a few moments, momentarily turning her head to Damian for a moment before going back to Dick, and then turning to Jason.

“You’re a monster,” She whispered, a look of true horror on her face.

“I know,” Jason cackled gleefully.

“None of you are leaving the Manor when we get back.” Dick said matter-of-factly, pointing a finger to his siblings. “We’re gonna bond, and you’re going to like it.”

“We’re already bonding right now!” Damian protested.

“You’ll have to kill me first.” Steph hissed, shying behind Cass.

“Bold of you to assume you can keep me confined to the Manor.” Tim huffed in offence. “Orphan, I’ll stash you in one of my safe houses if you promise to be my bodyguard.”

“Deal,”

“You guys are so dramatic--”

“Hey, guys? Crazed pyromaniac with flamethrowers to the north.”

The group immediately dropped whatever they had been doing, heads snapping up towards the direction Barbara had tiredly informed them of the attack.

It was only a few moments before the sight of flames peaked over one of the buildings, dying out almost immediately. Shouts and rumbles were steadily growing in volume, especially the cackling of Firefly, likely revving up whatever weapon he’d acquired this time.

“Fantastic, can’t even keep watch with you morons.” Damian growled.

“Oh you are not the only one trying to work here!” Tim snapped. “Orphan, for example, is doing a wonderful--where’d she go?”

He and Steph looked around rapidly, their sister suddenly missing from the chimney. How they hadn’t noticed she’d left their crowded space was a mystery that’d likely never be solved.

“Over there,” Jason said boredly, upholstering a gun and pointing across the rooftops.

The outline of Cass’s body could be seen sprinting across the roofs towards where the fire had been spotted, leaping with reckless abandon.

“Life lesson for the rest of you,” Harper hummed, getting to her feet. “Be like Cass.”

“Stop using real names!” Damian barked.

“Last one there is on cleanup duty!” Steph hollered, shoving Tim and taking off in the same movement.

“Asshole!” Tim yelled as Jason, Harper and Damian all bolted after her without a moment's hesitation.

Dick laughed, just getting to his feet as Tim stumbled up and after the others, swearing obscenities.

He quickly ran after his siblings, though he strayed a little further back, nobody paid attention to who showed up last anyway, his eyes darting from each of his siblings. Someone had to make sure they didn’t face-plant off a roof.

They shouted over each other as they descended down to take out Firefly. The guy had really picked a bad night to start causing trouble. It’d be over in no-time.

Even still, Dick paused on the roofs, scanning the streets below as the others ran to and fro, yelling over each other as Barbara switched between the coms to talk to them. It was a chaotic mess and Dick found himself grinning at it all.

His siblings were a hot mess, and it was amazing.

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nitewrighter · 4 years ago

Note

Does Hanzo ever find out what Genji went through/what he was like during Blackwatch? If so, how does he react?

I think he does eventually, like... Genji lets him know that he was in a very difficult physical and emotional place with Blackwatch, and Hanzo’s able to pick up from Mercy that “Okay no, I don’t think you understand, it was really bad”--but she’s also fairly light on the details mostly for Genji’s sake like “Hey, I’m not going to tell you any more than Genji was comfortable with telling you.” And Zenyatta hangs back for the same reasons, and also he wasn’t there so he doesn’t want to distort the details from what Genji’s told him. So the one person Hanzo can actually get the full story from... is McCree.

Also this fic references the first meeting fic so yeah!

----

“Well?” Hanzo had one elbow resting on the bar. Music was faintly playing but it blended in with the humming murmur of the other patrons. Snowflakes were buffeting the glass of the windowpanes just outside and both of them had shrugged off their heavier coats. The bar itself had a homey, lived-in quality to it. Not dirty, but with a definite age to it that seemed to lend a further brightness to the bodies gliding through it and chatting. The icy Andean wind had heightened the redness of Hanzo’s nose and cheeks well before any alcohol had. It contrasted against the cold discernment of his dark brown eyes.

“I’m gonna answer your question with a question--” McCree started.

“Which isn’t an answer--”

McCree leaned back in his bar seat, folding his arms across himself. He almost looked sagely. “Are you asking this because you genuinely think it will help you get a gauge on your shit and move forward, or are you freaking out because things are going more okay than you think you deserve and feel a need to kick yourself square in the Rocky Mountain oysters?”

“Rocky Mountain--?”

“It’s this fried--I’m talking about--” McCree sighed and sipped his whiskey, “I’m saying you’re doing... you’re doing really well, Hanzo. You’re touching base with the team, reachin’ out, you seem to be sleeping and eating better, hell, you’re clutch on missions, but now you’re asking about this, and it worries me.”

“Why should it worry you?” Hanzo’s eyes narrowed.

“Because--y’know... I care about you. You’re a part of this team and I care about you... in a..” McCree cleared his throat, “Team-y way. And... you were stuck in a dark lonely place and I ain’t itchin’ to give you the means to go back there. ”

“But you can understand that the fact that I don’t have the full story distresses me more, can you not?” said Hanzo, “As well as the fact that knowing the more the truth of it is obscured with me, the worse I can assume the situation was.”

McCree scratched at his beard, frowning. “Yeah... yeah I can understand it--but I can also understand Mercy and Zen not spillin’ the beans on Genji’s account.”

“Mm...” Hanzo glanced off and sipped his own drink.

McCree twisted his glass slowly, “Then again, sometimes I think Reyes brought me on the team to begin with because I have a pretty high success rate with the whole, ‘Beg forgiveness before asking permission’ rate.”

Ana called you a charmer, the words almost slipped out of Hanzo but he wasn’t sure how they would land, so he held them in. Instead, Hanzo only mildly gestured at the bartender to refill McCree’s glass.

“Don’t think you’re getting it just because you’re gettin’ me drunk. It ain’t exactly a pretty story,” said McCree.

“I’m prepared,” said Hanzo.

McCree studied him a few moments longer, one hand still wrapped around his glass and one corner of his mouth pulled up with indecision before he closed his eyes and exhaled. “All right,” he said, “If only to keep you from kicking your own ass over what you don’t know.”

“I want you to start at the beginning,” said Hanzo, his stare steady.

“Well t’be fair, Blackwatch was casin’ Hanamura for months, even before your old man passed--er---my condolences--”

Hanzo snorted a little. “It’s... fine,” he said a bit awkwardly. He was more disarmed than really upset at the idea that McCree may have been far better versed in the activities of the Shimada Clan than he had really anticipated.

“Gérard, that is, our UN Attaché, had this whole thing about ‘pulling everything out to the light,’---And the fella was good at it. Could sniff out paper trails and track down dirty money like no other. The initial plan was to get Genji on possession charges and drag the whole clan out behind him. Your old man’s passin’--again, condolences--threw the whole schedule off though. And then we received additional intel that the Shimada dragons might be more.... uh... what’s the word for ‘unusual’ but it’s like... more business-y unusual?”

Hanzo shrugged.

“Un... Im... Uhhh.... Anomalous! That’s the word! Might be more anomalous than we thought and ‘warranting further investigation’ or whatever,” McCree seemed to be easing into the story now, plucking up details from debriefings, “SEP and all its affiliates had been more or less shut down post-Crisis, but there were still worries about human experimentation... strange abilities, and the like. And the dragon stories had been floating around your family for decades, but only when things got destabilized did we consider they might be more than stories. Then we got word that the wheels had been set in motion that the clan would kill Genji before we could get our hands on him--Arrest mission became extraction mission, and extraction mission became rescue mission. The time frame was so sudden we had to bring the Doc along because we thought she would be our best chance at saving him--She wasn’t in Blackwatch, you understand. Wasn’t too keen on undermining the Japanese government either. But... it turns out bringing her along was the right choice.”

Hanzo seemed to be maintaining a veneer of calm, but there was an unmistakeable new undercurrent of tension in his movements and expression as he sipped his own drink.

“You know what he looked like when you left him,” said McCree, “Do you really want me to go into the details there?”

“Yes,” said Hanzo.

McCree huffed and took another gulp of whiskey. The burn of alcohol rasped the first few words of his next sentence. “So it was me, Reyes, the Doc, and a handful of Blackwatch extraction medics touching down in Hanamura that night. Apparently the Shimada clan’s forces were decentralized from the castle. We infiltrated the castle grounds. Found a handful of your security already dead. Took out one more... left his body with the others. Didn’t have time to run a full investigation, or lock anything down. Finding Genji was the top priority. And we found him. Three limbs gone. Puddle of his own blood. Looked midway between... someone had dropped him in a garbage disposal but at the same time... not right--just... gone. The limbs were gone. The wounds were too clean but still bleedin’ out.”

Hanzo’s knuckles curled in, white and shaking as he took a steadying breath. “Consumed,” Hanzo said quietly, “The dragon consumed them.”

“I can stop--” McCree started.

“Finish what you start, Cowboy,” Hanzo’s voice was steady.

McCree swallowed. “I’d seen some fucked up shit under Reyes, but this... yeah, it was new. I kind of froze up, not quite scared, but just trying to make sense of it. But then I snapped out of it as the Doc rushed to him first. I had a vantage point in case other castle security showed up. Reyes was at the opening to that big-ass balcony so he could flag down our evac. So uh, what you need to understand here is that we uh... we actually had very little solid intel as to what the Shimada dragons were capable of.”

“...but I had left the scene well before this,” said Hanzo, trying to puzzle out the timeline of his own fleeing the castle grounds.

“Yeah it... wasn’t your dragon we saw,” said McCree, “See, the Doc, she had to do this... staff... defibrillation thing? I didn’t get a good look at it but Genji, he uh...started thrashin’ and this light sprang out of him. Bright green. Never seen anything like it. He was screaming. Next thing I know he’s grabbing Mercy’s neck.”

Hanzo flinched with some alertness. “What?”

“I mean--first instinct, I’m saying to Reyes, ‘Boss, I got a shot’--like, I know the mission was asset acquisition, but light show or not I wasn’t about to let him kill Angela, but then she hollers out ‘Don’t shoot him!’ And I’m stuck there looking to Reyes like, ‘You’re gonna override that, right?’ And... and Reyes was so calm... I--I could see him doing the math. Breaking people down to resources... breaking their deaths down to trade-offs...”

“You... thought you had to shoot Genji--” Hanzo’s brow was crinkling.

“If Reyes gave me the word,” McCree shrugged, then itched at the brim of his hat, “I never thought someone would hesitate on saving the doc like he was doing right there, though. But.... then she said something to Genji. Never asked what it was, but it seemed to calm him down before he passed out.”

“And you’re saying he grabbed her neck when they first met,” Hanzo’s eyes were narrowed, “But they’re...”

“Well, he was only half-conscious and in this full-on survival mode and she had just... jammed a huge amount of biotic-whatever into his chest. He didn’t know if she was helping or trying to... y’know it was like those times you nearly punched me in the face when I was trying to wake you up from those night terrors.”

“I’m sorry for that,” said Hanzo.

“Psh. If I had a nickel for every time someone took a swing at me out of some kind of traumatic reflex...” he smiled to try and make this seem more lighthearted than it actually was, but Hanzo seemed to still be processing everything, so McCree cleared his throat. “Word of advice, though, don’t make any ‘I guess you’re into that’ jokes with the doc,” he said with a nervous laugh, “No it uh... it took them both a while. I mean, there was this thing there, definitely, but yeah, they were both neck-deep in a whole bunch of shit for a while before they really acknowledged anything.”

“Did Genji take a swing at you?” asked Hanzo.

“Not outside of a Blackwatch sparring ring,” said McCree, “But Jesus, he was scary on the training floor. Still is, sometimes.” McCree paused for a few seconds. “He was obsessed with killing you, y’know. Taking down the whole clan and killing you. Every mission where he got a sniff of you, every mission he thought you might be there and you weren’t, he’d come back snarling.”

Hanzo blinked a few times and glanced down. He knew it made sense, given the idea of justice their family had ingrained in them, but there was still an odd sting to the idea. But I’m his brother, he thought, but then he thought, But that didn’t stop me.

McCree seemed to take Hanzo’s silence as permission to go on. “ I’d try to distract him... try to get his head out of his ass sometimes, but a lot of the time... you see any living thing in a state like that, all you can do is give it space. Genji did give us a decent amount of intel on the Shimada clan’s bigger operations... but when it came to actually getting in there... he was always the first one on the ground. As you can imagine, it was personal for him. There were a handful of bullshit ‘stakeouts’ in Japan where Genji would ditch me... I knew Reyes wasn’t telling me the whole story, then again, it wasn’t my job to know the whole story.” McCree sipped his drink. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t know what he was doing, though.”

“...killing heads of the clan,” Hanzo said quietly.

“Can’t exactly confirm or deny that but... yeah,” said McCree. A prickle of alarm seemed to go through him. “Look, I don’t want to kick off any more brother-killing fuckery--”

“You’re not, Jesse,” Hanzo’s voice was subdued, “I was the right hand of the clan... and the destruction wrought by Genji was, if anything, a product of my own actions.”

“Also his actions--He was fucking nightmare--I mean I liked him, but he was a fucking nightmare, sometimes. Lashed out--like... you didn’t really think of him as giving a shit about you with all that seething over the Shimada clan--- but then he’d know how to say something that hurts, and he knows exactly how it hurts, and you wouldn’t know if he learned how to hurt that bad from your family or just because he was hurtin’ that bad and---” McCree seemed to catch the alarmed look in Hanzo’s eyes, then took a steadying breath before sipping his drink again, “Look... this stuff... it’s all in the past. And he is a lot better now. And he is one of my best friends. Kind of wild how someone who hurt you that deeply can be a best friend like that, but... that’s kind of how life works. Kind of how this shit works when you don’t know if you’re coming back from that next mission. We’re all fucked up here. It’s about learning to take the fucked up parts of yourself and trying to make it into something that helps the people that mean something to you. ”

“The people that mean something to me...” Hanzo repeated quietly. He remembered McCree’s words from his second night on the watchpoint. ‘We’re all just background noise to you. You’re just here so you can stop kicking your own ass after Genji.’ Then he remembered Genji’s words. ‘Well... you’ve been traveling the world for a decade... has there... been anyone? Anyone special? Anyone you loved?’

“...I feel like I’ve let that part of me atrophy,” Hanzo said quietly. Answering Genji’s question, not McCree’s words.

“Atrophy?” McCree repeated.

“When you don’t use a muscle for a long time and... it ceases to be able to functi--”

“I know what ‘Atrophy’ means--” McCree wasn’t making eye contact, “You let... caring about other people... atrophy,” he parsed, trying to trace out Hanzo’s thought process.

“Mm,” Hanzo took a sip of his own drink, “So while I was wandering in grief, Genji was consumed by pain and rage.”

“Which... he’s told you,” said McCree.

“Well, yes, but he didn’t go into details,” said Hanzo, “I know, this might be difficult or painful to talk about, but I really do appreciate getting a more complete picture of what happened to him after my actions.”

McCree tilted his own glass back and forth on the bar counter, letting the whiskey rock around the interior.“I know, but...don’t heap all this on yourself. Reyes always said he wanted the cockroach motherfuckers, and he was more than happy to let Genji snap and swear and lash out and burn the house down because that suited Blackwatch’s agenda better than, I dunno, therapy? Only when we got benched after the Venice incident did he yank in Genji’s leash, because hey, it turned out having a PTSD cyborg tearin’ around the base cussin’ people out wasn’t a good look for Blackwatch.”

Hanzo huffed a little. There was an odd comfort in that. But then he paused, running over the course of McCree’s words in his mind. “...you keep bringing up Reyes,” Hanzo said, fixing his eyes on McCree.

“Sorry--I--I know this should be about Genji,” said McCree.

“No it... it gives some perspective,” said Hanzo, “You trusted Reyes, didn’t you?”

McCree’s mouth tightened for a few seconds before he drew in a short breath through his nostrils. “Yeah... yeah, I did. He just... I mean I’d keep telling myself I was my own person, that I did things with my own style, but so did he. So like... whether it’s ‘your own style’ from fuckin’ Santa Fe or Los Angeles... is there really that much of a difference? If you still picture yourself in their boots, give or take a decade or so?”

“Hm,” Hanzo was thoughtful at this, “I imagined myself in my father’s position so long that when everything came apart and I found myself wandering the world, dodging the clan’s assassins I felt... like a stranger.”

“Kind of liked being a stranger,” said McCree with slight shrug, “Stranger’s from nowhere. Got nothing to prove.... guess it probably hits different if you got a whole... magical crime lord prince destiny thing, huh?”

“The dragon is not magical,” said Hanzo flatly, but a smile was tugging at his lips.

“Debatable,” said McCree, “First of all: It’s a dragon.”

Hanzo snorted and a quiet pause passed between them. Not uncomfortable, but definitely tired, letting McCree’s words and all the pain and memory that came with them drift and dissipate into the warm air of the bar.

“...I could tell you more if you want,” said McCree, after a few beats. “I do have funnier stories... wasn’t all... ‘he was fucked up.’ And--Genji did seem to be getting better-ish towards the end there, once they put him on Tracer’s strike team... but by then Overwatch itself was coming apart.” He snorted. “I guess that’s kind of a running theme with this stuff.”

“I appreciate the offer,” said Hanzo with a slight chuckle. He paused. “Tracer’s strike team?”

“Well, she and Winston probably got more stories there than I do,” said McCree, “And maybe the doc, if it’s in good faith.” He sipped his drink. “You’re welcome to run off to try and ask them about it.”

“I think... this is enough for now,” said Hanzo. After a few beats he said, “You’re not... all background noise to me.”

“What?” said McCree.

“That... you said that on the second night,” said Hanzo, “It’s... it’s not that I don’t value life, or other people--I’m just... it’s been a very long time since I’ve worked with other people, since I’ve talked to other people on a regular basis like this, since I’ve stayed in one place this long, and...” he trailed off, then took a sip of his own drink with some resolve, “I’m afraid,” he said, letting those words sit in the air for a few seconds, “I’m afraid of lending my abilities to another organization that’s used people to hurt other people and then tossed them aside. When your only connection to other people for most of your life was this twisted blood loyalty...” Hanzo trailed off.

“I’m scared of makin’ the same mistakes too, for what it’s worth,” said McCree, “I don’t think fear like that ever goes away.”

“Redemption’s a bitch?” said Hanzo with a slight smile.

McCree broke into chuckles. “You should swear more often. I feel like that’ll help.”

“You’ve sworn plenty for the both of us, tonight,” said Hanzo crisply, sipping his own drink.

“Still, I’m gonna make it a mission to get a ‘fuck’ out of you,” said McCree and Hanzo choked and sputtered. “I didn’t mean it like that! You know what I mean!” McCree was laughing as Hanzo’s attention was split between choking and laughing and desperately looking around for a napkin after spitting his drink. The bartender swooped by with a napkin and the laughs boiled down into chuckles as Hanzo cleaned up a bit. There was another pause then, that same settling of understanding.

“Thank you,” Hanzo said after a few beats.

“You already thanked me--don’t know what’s worth thanking about saying ‘hey your brother was fucked up and so were we.’”

“Honesty. I appreciate honesty.”

McCree smiled and then shrugged.“Hey--y’know, for all the shit I give you,” McCree started and trailed off, “What I said that night about... all of us being background noise... I know that.. that wasn’t really fair. You really didn’t know any of us and, y’know, as far as the general public is concerned, we’re a whole bunch of mercenary weirdoes doing vigilante shit.”

“And Genji was the only person here I knew, and was really...” Hanzo sighed, “I suppose, I fixed him in my mind to be my last chance at humanity--and made myself out to be a monster to all of you in pursuing that.”

“Well... you’re doing better, I can tell you that much. And... y’know folks are warming up to you.”

“Except Angela,” said Hanzo, with a weary smile.

“She needs time on that... I wouldn’t try to force it,” said McCree, “Baby steps and all that.”

Hanzo huffed a little.

“Hey,” McCree lifted his glass, “To baby steps and runnin’ the hell away from all our old role models.”

“Indeed,” Hanzo clinked his glass against Genji’s. Both sipped their drinks and another pause passed over them. Hanzo felt McCree’s eyes on him and looked over at him.l

“Hey just so we’re clear,” McCree’s chin was in his hand, “I didn’t accidentally kick off some huge new bloody vengeance thing by telling you all this, right?”

“You did not,” said Hanzo with a wry smile.

“Oh thank god.”

#mchanzo #gency

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snowdice · 3 years ago

Text

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 66]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

It’s editing time for me because I have not edited in way too long. I am so behind on the Study Fic and this one. Oof. Also I should do some blog organization maybe.

Chapter 30

After lunch, Patton and Logan took Virgil out to the garden to walk around. They let Virgil lead them around wherever he wanted to go in the garden. A bunch more flowers had died since the last time they’d been out here, and Patton felt sad despite having never felt very sad about that sort of thing before. But, Virgil seemed to really like the flower he’d found last time, so Patton thought he was probably sad on the boy’s behalf.

Of course, Patton thought, perking up, eventually it would be spring, and Virgil could get to not only see some flowers but all of the flowers as they grew. Patton couldn’t wait to see him amongst the garden then.

Virgil took them wandering through the orchard for a while, but most of the trees had been stripped of their fruits and the leaves were beginning to fall off some. They ended up in the vegetable garden after a bit, and Virgil finally seemed to decide on a direction instead of just ambling about.

A few seconds after Patton noticed Virgil seemingly decide on a destination, Patton noticed Mr. Deknis kneeling on the ground a few feet away. Had… had Virgil been looking for him? Patton wondered. That was adorable.

Mr. Deknis looked up as they approached and smiled at them.

“Hello, Mr. Deknis,” Patton said as they came closer.

“Hello you three,” Mr. Deknis said. “Getting into trouble?”

“No,” Virgil said, shaking his head.

Mr. Deknis gave him a flash of a smile. “I know, I’m joking,” he said. “Especially since there isn’t much left in my gardens for certain princes to destroy with experiments.”

“Oh, okay,” Virgil said. He tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting the last of the acorn squash out,” Mr. Deknis replied. “It’s the last crop to get finished. Good thing too, it’s supposed to start snowing soon.”

Virgil looked down curiously at the dark green squash.

“Would you like to help me pick a couple?” Mr. Deknis asked.

“Sure,” Virgil said, sounding interested. Mr. Deknis patted the ground beside him, and Virgil knelt down to watch him.

“They’re not too difficult to harvest,” he said. “You just cut the fruit off the stem. You want to leave about a hand’s width of the stem left over which will help preserve moisture. The earlier harvests I left in the field to cure in the sun for a couple weeks, but the frost’ll ruin these, so we’ll take them inside the green house and let them sit in the sun for a bit there. We also want to keep the leaves. You’ll probably be eating those for dinner tonight since they have to be cooked up within about 24 hours after they’re picked. Patton’s mom makes a good side dish with them and she’ll be making some curry tomorrow, probably. Maybe some stew if there are some left over. Put the squash in this wheelbarrow and the leaves into this pile, okay?” Virgil nodded and Mr. Deknis handed him the extra pair of gloves and shears he carried with him in case one set broke. “These might be a bit big on you, but they should work for now.”

Mr. Deknis looked up at Patton and Logan. “Would the two of you like to help?” he asked. “I can get some more equipment.”

“I can help out if you want, but you don’t need to stop and get more equipment just for me,” Patton said.

“The same for me,” Logan said.

“Well, if you’d like to help still, you can sort the leave. Give your mother a head start.”

“Sure,” Patton said. He and Logan went to do that while Mr. Deknis and Virgil worked on cutting the squashes from the vine.

“What do you do during the winter?” Virgil asked curiously. “If this is your last crop?”

“Well, at the beginning, I mostly will be working on making sure things are stored correctly along with some of the kitchen staff. There’s some drying to do and some canning. After that’s done, I’ll spend some time organizing and planning. Then, before the spring comes, I’ll start preparing seedlings in the green house.”

“Seedlings?” he asked.

“I let seeds start to grow in the greenhouse that I replant once it gets warm enough.”

“Why don’t you just plant them where they’re going?”

“I do for some,” he said, “but giving some a head start is good for them.”

Patton watched as Virgil continued to ask questions about gardening while working on harvesting the squash. Mr. Deknis continued to answer them in a calm, soft tone that Patton didn’t think he’d ever heard from the often gruff man before.

Patton wasn’t surprised when, after finishing getting most of the squash off of the vine, Mr. Deknis asked if Virgil wanted to help him with canning some pears in a couple of days. Virgil immediately looked over at Logan and Patton as though asking permission.

“Say yes if you would like to Virgil,” Logan said.

“Yes,” Virgil said as soon as he was given permission. Mr. Deknis smiled at him softly and started loading the last of the squash into the wheelbarrow. Patton offered to run the squash leaves to the kitchen while Logan and Virgil helped Mr. Deknis take the actual squash to the green house.

He dropped the leaves off to a kitchen worker since Mama was busy and headed back out to the garden. By the time he returned, Logan was already back from the green house and sitting by one of the more decorative trees near the castle.

“He’s exploring,” Logan said, nodding at a large patch of bushes.

Patton chuckled. “I see.” He sat next to Logan. Every so often he’d hear the bushes rustle, but he couldn’t tell if it was actually Virgil or an animal.

“He’s adorable,” Patton commented, keeping an ear out.

Logan hummed.

“I’m glad we kept him.”

“He isn’t a pet, Patton.”

Patton rolled his eyes. “I know, but I’m still glad. I’m glad he’s making friends with Mr. Deknis. Once he knows how to read better, we should get him a book about gardening. He seems interested.”

Logan nodded. “Having a hobby would be good for him. Clearly he has a fascination with the garden.” He nodded to the blur of dark hair that could be seen through the bushes. It seemed Virgil had stopped his exploration and was now laying down in the bushes a few feet away.

“I’m going to go see what he’s doing,” Patton said. “I’ll be right back.”

Logan nodded and Patton got to his feet. The bushes were part of a small maze that was filled with flowers during the spring and summer months but were mostly just green and brown bushes for now. Despite the fact that Patton had been able to see him only a few feet away, it took him a while to wind through the path to where he was. When he finally turned the last corner and he came into view, Patton gasped softly.

“Ghost kitty!” he said, making sure to make his voice as quiet as possible.

Despite how soft he made his voice, two pairs of eyes shot over to him. The completely black kitten was perched on Virgil’s lap like she belonged there. Ghost Kitty hissed slightly, but Virgil reached forward to pet her head gently.

“This is Ghost Kitty?” Virgil asked. “I thought you said she was hard to pet.”

“She is,” Patton said. He lowered himself onto the ground from a few feet away from them. “How did you get her to come to you?”

Virgil glanced down at the cat and shrugged, scratching one of her ears. “She just came over to me and let me pet her.”

“Wow,” Patton said softly. He looked at the cat. “Could I pet you sweetie?” he asked, holding out a hand in her direction. She hissed again.

Virgil frowned down at her. “It’s Patton,” he said as though he expected her to understand his words and the exasperation in his tone.

He pet the cat’s head to soothe her and then reached over to grab Patton’s hand. He pulled and Patton carefully leaned a bit closer until his hand was within sniffing distance. Ghost Kitty sniffed his fingers contemplatively and then bumped her head against it. He barely restrained a squeal, knowing that probably wouldn’t be taken well.

He carefully turned his hand over so he could stroke the top of her head. He gently scratched her ear, not daring to go for under her chin yet since she didn’t know him well. “Hi,” he said softly. After a moment, she started to purr softly. Virgil reached over and scratched under her chin and she purred louder. “Oh, you’re a good girl,” Patton breathed, letting a hand trail gently down her back once and then again. Patton settled himself carefully into a seating position continuing to pet her. After a few more moments of soft petting, she hesitantly stepped her front paws onto Patton’s thigh, so she was sitting in both of their laps. Patton laughed softly. “Hi sweetie.” He glanced over at Virgil who had a wide smile on his face as he pet the cat. This. This was adorable. They continued to pet the cat for a very long time.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

“Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

“How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

“Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

“I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

“You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

“He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

“I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

“No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

“How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

“Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

“Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan��s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

“Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

“Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

“A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

“No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

“Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

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Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

“Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

“Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

“Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

“Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

“It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

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“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

“It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

Frowning, he pulled at the blanket around his shoulder so he could wrap it and his arm around the lump that was Virgil. He brushed the boy’s hand when he did so and found it was like ice.

“You’re freezing!” Logan said. “How long have you been by the window?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

Logan was already tugging at him. “You need to get back in bed,” he said.

Virgil obeyed the pulling at his arms even as he frowned. “I’ve been colder than this before,” he said.

“That actually doesn’t make me feel better,” Logan replied dryly as he shooed him towards the bed.

He took the thicker blanket that usually stayed folded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over Virgil before climbing into bed beside him.

“There,” Logan said, rubbing Virgil’s arms through the fabric of the sweater he wore to bed. He was glad he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt at least. “The runes for heating the castle should catch up within a few hours, but until then this should do. Assuming we don’t sit by the freezing window for an undetermined amount of time.”

“I don’t like the cold,” Virgil told him.

Logan sighed. “Then why did you sit by the window?”

Virgil shrugged and ducked his head a bit. Logan reached out to grab his hands to help him warm more but was surprised when one of the hands was much warmer than the other. He found his fingers were clutching a crescent shaped stone: the protection charm they’d made. Logan knew that he kept it in his pocket most of the time, but he didn’t normally see him holding it like this. It was warm to the touch, of course, indicating the safety of the room around them.

Logan looked over his face. “Are you…” he said. “Scared of the snow?”

“I don’t like the cold,” he said once again.

“You’re scared of the winter,” Logan concluded. He looked at Virgil who was far too small for his age and seemed surprised at every casual act of kindness. It was clear that his basic needs were far from being met before he came here. Logan had to wonder what winter usually meant for him. His experiences were doubtlessly very different from Logan’s own. “That makes sense,” he acknowledged, “but you don’t need to be scared of it here. The castle is always perfectly warm and safe in the winter and Mr. Deknis and Ms. Heart work hard during the other seasons to make sure we have plenty of food. There is nothing to fear here.”

He did not seem convinced.

“You don’t even have to go outside if you don’t want to,” Logan promised. “The castle is plenty big if you’d like to stay inside all winter long. It was made for the winter even without the magic devices that keep it warm. We have fireplaces and well insulated rooms even if those that ends up failing.” Logan pulled open the hand that had the protection charm just to transfer it to his other hand to warm it. “Though, while no one would force you to go outside, the snow isn’t always bad.”

“Yes it is,” Virgil said, his voice sure.

“Not all the time,” Logan insisted. “Some people love the snow.”

“They’re stupid.”

Logan laughed. “It can be fun for a while with the right equipment if you have someplace to get warm again afterwards. Royal duties slow down during the winter and Patton tends to come up with all sorts of games for both the inside and the outside to pass the time. He’s particularly proficient at snowball fights, at least against me.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Play fighting,” Logan answered. “Like pillow fights, but snow.”

“I’ll stick with the pillows,” he replied.

“And then there’s a hill to sled down on the western side of the castle, and people like to build snowmen along the path.”

“What are snowmen?” Virgil asked.

They’re temporary statues made out of packed snow,” Logan explained. “Typically, they’re made of three different sized balls of snow: the largest being the base and the smallest the ‘head’ though there are some variations. After building them one typically decorates them with different articles of clothing and objects found lying around. It’s usually sticks and rocks for the face and then things like extra hats and scarfs for decoration.” He smiled softly. “When my Pa was alive, we used to steal my Dad’s crown and fanciest robes. Sometimes Pa would steal it right off of Dad’s head and we’d run away. We’d find a secluded area of the castle yards and build the biggest snowman we could as quickly as we could before we got caught. He’d usually end up letting us keep the robes, but we’d have to give the crown back since some of the metals in it would rust when wet.”

“That sounds…” Virgil’s nose twitched. “fun if you take away the touching snow part.”

Logan laughed. “It is fun,” he said. “Even with the touching snow part. Though, I admit that some of the ability for it to be entertaining does come from the fact that we could warm up afterwards with ease. You’ll enjoy Patton’s mother’s constant offering of hot chocolate during the season even if you never go outside, I’m sure.”

“Hot chocolate?” Virgil asked intrigued. His dark eyes shone brightly in the little light coming through the window. It was clear he could guess something about the drink just by the name and enjoyed the implications.

Logan smiled fondly. “It is a hot drink,” he explained. “It’s a warm drink made out of milk and chocolate. I can get you some to try in the morning.”

Virgil nodded, eyes still wide with interest.

“For now, we should sleep though,” Logan said. “Are you warm enough? I can get more blankets.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” Logan said, reaching up and adjusting the blanket over them once more, tucking it around Virgil a little bit for good measure. “Goodnight Virgil,” he said.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly. Logan reached under the blankets to grab the hand that was still slightly chilly from the window between his own. Virgil’s eyes slipped closed after a moment as he nuzzle his face into the pillow. At some point they both drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 36

Thomas had already been well aware that winter was on the way, but he and the rest of the castle occupants had been surprised at how intensely and suddenly it had come on. Most things were ready for the winter, but not all of them had been initiated. The fireplaces that took some pressure off the castle heating runes were cleaned out and ready, but they hadn’t been started yet. The stables for different animals on the grounds had been checked over and staff assignments had been made, but most were still in far out fields. Staff that went home for the winter months had been dismissed, but there were a few stragglers that would have to be helped home before things got worse.

He’d gone out to the main stable to talk to the three workers that were the heads of different areas of animal husbandry to make sure a plan to get everything to where it needed to be soon was in place. It took a while to figure out considering that they’d expected a little more time before the first major snowfall. Thomas also asked them to make sure all of the workers’ homes were in good enough condition for the weather. Ranch hands typically had homes on castle grounds but not in the castle themselves since they needed to be close to the animals. Thomas knew at least half a dozen of those who spent most of their times out in the fields were the type to forgot to maintain their homes because they preferred camping amongst the animals in the summer months and then would be in for a bad time when snow began to fall.

There should be enough extra rooms in the castle if they needed a place to stay until repairs could be done.

Those conversations took a good couple of hours, before Thomas was satisfied. Before trudging back to the castle through the still falling snow, he made a point to stop at one specific horse stall in the main stable. The horse turned his head to see Thomas when he stopped in front of his stall and puffed out a rather disaffected snort before sticking his head over the gate so Thomas could pat his nose. “Hello, Mr. Apples,” Thomas said.

The horse seemed to conclude he’d tolerated Thomas’s petting enough and ducked his head to nudge at his torso. Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I brought you an apple. Some things never change.” He reached into his pocket to grab the red apple he’d brought the white Arabian. “At least you don’t bite me anymore.” He paused, apple slice in hand and eyed the horse’s nose suspiciously. “Do not bite me,” he said even though he hadn’t felt the animal’s teeth in a decade. It would be just like Mr. Apples to wait until his guard was down.

After a bit of scrutiny, he offered an apple slice. It was snatched out of his hand and there was a loud crunch as it was bit into.

“It’s snowing out,” he told the horse. The horse seemed to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious. “I’ll remind again that if you run out in a snowstorm, I’m not running after you, so you’d be out of luck.”

Mr. Apples snorted.

“You’re old now. You’d probably not survive long enough for people to find you. Besides, you blend in with that white fur of yours. They’d probably walk right past you a few times.”

He went back to nosing for treats as soon as he finished his first and Thomas sighed, pulling out another apple slice. “What are they not feeding you enough?” The gusto with which the horse snatched the apple slice was a very clear answer. “Well, we both know that’s not true.” Thomas fed the horse a third slice of apple when he was done with his second. “I have to get back to the castle now. Don’t be a devil horse.”

Mr. Apples threw his head a bit, splattering apple smelling foamy spittle all over Thomas’s front.

“Understood. Have a nice afternoon.”

He left Mr. Apples in his stall then, knowing he’d be well cared for no matter how ill-tempered he could be at times. He’d been a king’s horse once, after all, no matter that said king had been dead for more than a decade now.

Winters were hard.

Winters were the times when things always slowed down at the castle, where royal duties were often thin. There were a lot of memories in winter.

The trip back to the castle was not particularly long, but it was also not particularly pleasant. The snow had not been cleared away considering it was still snowing which meant his feet and legs were wet and cold by the time he made it to the nearest castle door.

He wasn’t sure if, when he entered, the castle heating runes had started to work in earnest or if he’d just been so cold that any measure of warmth was appreciated, but he was relieved to be out of the snow either way.

He decided to check up on the progress of the castle staff lighting the fireplaces. With any luck, they’d be lit already, and he could warm up even more. That in mind, he headed towards the main foyer where the largest fireplace in the castle sat to take off the chill brought in by the large front doors.

The main foyer was bustling with activity when he snuck in along the sides, giving the guards stationed around nods as he passed. The main fire in the room was burning brightly, though only one of the two smaller ones near the side exits from the room was lit. The other one was still being set up with safety mechanisms. It was good progress and assuming other areas of the castle were being set up as efficiently, he assumed they’d all be set up by nightfall.

He’d need to go check around to be sure, but for now, he walked up to the main fireplace to warm his hands.

He’d gotten into the habit when he was younger to every so often glance upwards. There had been a certain stable boy who had a propensity for climbing trees. These days, he usually found nothing when he did so, often not even consciously noticing that he’d turned his gaze momentarily skywards. Yet, today, he was startled out of his own idleness by dark brown eyes looking back at him from a small ledge in the shadows high above him.

He froze as he met the young boy’s gaze. Virgil seemed as surprised to be caught as Thomas was to have caught him.

#proofread stories #not writing

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daomaikeng · 3 years ago

Text

cue emotional post!

uhhhh henloe! making this post has me on the verge of tears so please bear with me.

if you think i’m making this post as my version of “emotional otb admin who confesses their undying love for other admins”, then you’re absolutely right.

can i start by saying, i love you all???? now that you know that fact, let’s go ahead. i have never celebrated pride before. it was joining the 1d fandom that led me to explore different identities, that confirmed that i wasn’t a cishet girl. the fandom gave me the courage to ask myself questions, and find answers to them. it gave me courage to change my name, my labels, my pronouns, as i kept on learning more about myself. it introduced me to the queer community, something i had never been exposed to before. i have to thank louis for this. becoming his fan has changed my life. when OTB released, it felt like my “oh” moment. though it took me months after that to actually come out, the song gave me the push i required. which is why, i was overjoyed when i got the opportunity to work on this project.

we had a shit-ton of setbacks, leading to tears and frustration and angry keysmashes. huge UAs that could have changed the course of the project refused to respond to us. twitter was the absolute worst. they thought we were trying to push the attention away from Project KMM, when in reality KMM had died before it even began. before we even began. many people didn’t even know there was a project for OTB. personally for me, it was the worst month of my life. my life was once again torn apart.

through all of this, though, this project was the thing that kept me alive. it gave me a reason to power through the worst of days. it gave me a reason to ignore everything else going wrong in my life and focus. it gave me a reason to not scream when my mother laughed at homophobic jokes, because i knew i had to stay alive for this project.

the friends i made in this time feel more like my family now, instead of my biological one. so this is a post for all of you.

@dyingstars-x : seven!! they came up with the original idea. i don’t know what queer louie spirit possessed you, but i’m so so so glad you decided to post this. that one post had my mind dancing in circles and bursting with ideas. they have been the best parent to all of us, looking over everything, coming up with concepts in a few hours’ time, keeping us sane. idek how to put it into words but mostly- seven’s contribution has been priceless.

@saintqueer : JORDANNNNNNNN!! while all the admins have been working super hard and being amazing, hear me out- jordan is the backbone of this project. she reached out to seven, and within just a few hours of us confirming the project, they got to work!! their twitter talents are unmatched, trust me. she’s been so good at dealing with the UA drama; i truly could never. they also made tiktoks!! i want to say so much but i can’t formulate my thoughts. but you should all hail jordan. they just make me go dshfdkjfkdjhskfndk

@rainboww-paradise : mimi! despite her busy schedule she took out so much time to brainstorm with us in the first few days. (we literally said hi to each other and started brainstorming for themes it was a Mess). she kept on making time to make amazing graphics, and share gorgeous ideas, as well as being a person you can always rely on for motivation.

@thosefookinavacados : A!! they made all the wonderful playlists you can use, as well as handling the drabble fest with me. we were both diving into it with no idea of what to do, but we figured it out together. they’ve been the most hilarious companion in this.

@herefortommo : emma!! she gave you the streaming updates every day, as well as making those uquizzes???? it was really fucking hard, i don’t know how they managed to come up with so much. they always shared tumblr asks and all the nice comments you left on our uquizzes, and it was so much fun to read them. she also figured out how to use shazam and tiktok and deezer 😭

@1dwoodchuck : nicky!! she handled twitter most of the time, and she was SO good at it. like, seriously. she found out more about the UEFA league and kept coming up with creative ideas for tweets. she kept talking to UAs and roped most of them in to help us ✨✨

@fishandfrog and @secretheartmp3 who both helped us a lot at the start, even though they were busy afterwards 💕

honourable mentions to @staff for including us, UnitedByPop for writing an article about us, promoting it so many times, and including it in their monthly round-up. they did so much for us. also!!!! i was looking forward to this- a huge huge thank you to @dailytomlinson , especially cristal @ltyear for helping us when literally no one would. they’ve boosted our posts so many times and supported us, and it means a lot. you’re now my favourite UA. mwah.

special thanks to @thetriangletattoo , flo, who was basically part of the team without being a part of the team. she was so so so supportive of us, making gorgeous art, and giving us permission to share it on that bird app! they always used their twitter account to use our hashtags and boost our tweets. we always shared those tweets in the server, and every time we confessed our undying love for her. they were even featured in the staff post, and that’s huge! she was literally the sweetest angel ever, and we love them a lot ✨ (ps they also introduced the found family trope to this project, so yes flo, now you are my family)

lastly, a huge thank you to all the content creators of this fandom, whether you made fanart or gifs or graphics or wrote a fic. this was all made for you. sharing love and kindness is what fandom is about, and i hope this month highlighted that. this fandom has become my home, and i’m so happy that i get to share it with you wonderful people. thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for taking part, giving this project your time, and making this happen. thank you to everyone else who participated, whether it was boosting tweets or streaming or simply reblogging posts. your contribution is priceless.

thank you.

love, rae

#guess who’s emotional 🎉🎊🥳#feel free to rb

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old-hyper-super-clover · 3 years ago

Text

Squeeze that bunny tail!

Part 3

Description: The RAD student council as well as the exchange students help out at a bar where, oops, the staff´s dress codes are those sweet bunny outfits that we all know and thirst for. The MCs, Violet and Clover, play a game of who can touch the most bunny tails over the evening without getting caught. Prepare for fluff, funny innuendos as well as my thirst over hot boys in bunny outfits.

Find the first parts on my masterlist.

Story continues under the cut. Enjoy the thirst!

[The amazing artwork belongs to @tokamiart, permission to post was granted, don´t repost!]

Clover and Simeon were giving out drinks at the bar.

The girl was handing over all sorts of bottles, glasses and ice cubes if needed. Simeon then put it all together with such grace and beauty that Clover often found herself gazing at him, until the brunet would turn to her with a smile and ask her to let go of whatever she had been wanting to hand him.

At one point, without any customers walking up to the bar, Clover sat down for a quick break.

"Tired?" Simeon asked, having decided to clean the counter in the meantime.

Clover chuckled at the sight. "Oh, is this going to be the classic 'I tell the bartender of my problems' scenario?"

The angel blinked in confusion. "I am afraid I don't know what you are talking about... But I'm always there to lend you an ear, if that's what you're aiming at."

"I'm fine", she laughed. "I was only joking... I must admit, though, you really suit this job. I'm sorry if I'm misjudging you, but how come an angel is looking so perfectly fit for serving drinks?"

Simeon blessed her with a chuckle. "Thank you for the compliment. As for your question... You might be surprised, but angels do know how to have some fun, too."

"Oooh" Clover grinned. "So the whole turning-water-into-wine thing wasn't just a myth?!"

At that, Simeon only put his finger close to his lips in a "shhh" sound, giving her a secretive little wink before both broke out in soft giggles.

A little while later, their attention got caught up by a situation at the tables.

Luke was cleaning dirty dishes off of an emptied table, when a demon approached him.

A little flustered, they exchanged a few words before Luke gestured towards the public toilets.

"He's doing so well" Simeon hummed, leaning on the counter as he watched his angel friend with a proud smile. "It had been very difficult for him to adjust to life in the Devildom... But I'm glad to see he is finally finding his own pace of things."

Clover's head jumped back and forth between the two celestial creatures.

"It's because he has a great friend who's watching over him" she smiled.

"Huh? Oh, no, I don't want to take any credit for that. It's all thanks to Luke's own strength that he's able to go through this so well."

Suddenly, Luke hurried over to them, a full tray of dishes in his hands.

He looked SO disgusted.

"Waaah... What's wrong with those demons...!" He let the tray slip onto the counter. "Has nobody here learned how to properly behave in a restaurant?! The tables are sticky, the food is all over the cutlery, or even worse...!"

He held up a fork.

... Or better, what was left of it. Which was only the handle. The upper spikes got bitten off almost completely.

"Who eats a fork?!?!", Luke cried out. "That's... That's... Ridiculous!"

Clover gave an awkward laugh, she got over the point of wondering long ago.

"I am pretty sure I know who would..." she mumbled.

And truly, stepping out of the kitchen, the culprit looked at the fork with a guilty expression.

"... Don't tell Lucifer" Beelzebub mumbled as he came closer. "He'll get mad if he sees that parts of the cutlery are missing..."

"... 'parts'?!" Luke repeated in disbelief. "You mean this isn't the only one?!"

"... Those were accidents..." Beel whined, holding his grumbling belly.

He let himself plonk down on a chair next to Clover, then huddled over the counter in a pout.

"Ugh... And what am I supposed to do with that now...?" Luke said.

"Hm..." Simeon thought. "Clover, Beel, could you watch the bar for a moment? Luke, let's go bring the dishes to the kitchen... And that thing into the trash."

They excused themselves after Clover gave her okay and Beel gave some kind of grumble.

The girl´s head drifted over to look at the demon...

And her heart skipped a beat.

She checked the situation.

His tail? Exposed.

His thoughts? In some far away land about food.

The others? Gone.

The perfect chance for a squeeze? Right fucking NOW.

Clover swallowed the raising anxiety in her stomach.

She had lurked around the angels in hope of squeezing one of their tails, but now that they were gone, she had missed that chance...

The more she thought about it, the more did Clover feel like hyperventilating. It was such a stupid thing to fuss over, but sadly, her habit of over-contemplating would always stress her out in unnecessary situations.

After what felt like eternity of convincing herself, she moved her arm.

Beel almost immediately turned his head.

"... You look like you want to eat me." He said.

"Wh-what?!"

His grumpy face mustered her.

"But I will eat you before you could possibly eat me, so don't even try."

Clover's already red face curled in confusion.

"I didn't want to..." she mumbled.

"Why were you staring at me, then?"

"I-I... Was thinking about how to help you with your hunger..." she lied.

"... Oh. Sorry for accusing you of something else, then."

"N-no, it's fine..."

Before Clover could talk herself into more bullshit, Simeon came back, and the holy boy was there to save her from her own misery.

"Beel" he called out. "Luke and I will soon return home for a bit. I can bring you some sandwiches, so stay strong, okay?"

"Simeon...!" Beel cheered as his euphoria made him stand up and engulf Simeon in a hug. "You're a true angel...!"

Clover felt quite shitty afterwards.

Beel hugging Simeon was an adorable sight, but she hated herself for being such a coward.

After dodging another encounter with Solomon, she had pulled back to help Belphie at the casino area, trying to get her mind off of the competition for a little...

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

Alright. I hope you´re not bored yet, because the chaos hasn´t even properly started yet.

Also, nearing ourselves to half-time, now is a good opportunity to sum up a few events as well as the overall squish-score so far.

Violet was leading with a total of 12 points. Besides the mentioned scenarios, she had also encountered Mammon a second time, and she was lucky enough to find Luke having a life crisis over another eaten fork.

Heck, Violet even managed to squeeze Clover's tail once, and her friend hasn't noticed!

Clover, on the other side, has had a great start, but did rather poorly the later it got.

With five points, she only had another chance with Asmo, who, tbh, had been begging for someone to pay attention to his booty. (But to be clear, he did not notice the squish.)

Over time, she got desperate, but that only fueled Clover's fears of getting caught.

It nearly let her to internally quitting, if not for Violet to pull her back into the game once more...

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

Most of the crew was busy working when the clock struck midnight.

A nearby bell tower announced the change of day -- and with that, also the change of clothes.

The customers as well as the staff looked up when a certain voice echoed through the speakers.

"Good evening, my sweethearts~!" Asmodeus cheered, sitting on the bar counter and waving at the crowd. "Or should I say good night? Good morning? I hope you are having a good one, to say the least!"

He gained a small round of laughter.

"Yes, yes, a cheery mood is what we want! And now that we passed midnight... It's time for a special surprise!"

He stood up onto the counter, striking a nice pose while smirking widely.

"Those with weak minds -- and weak ovaries -- should brace themselves, cause things are about to get hot~!"

The crowd applauded and cheered. A group of thirsty (asmodeHoes) fans threw in some... naughty exclamations, but Asmo had already jumped onto the floor again, gathering the staff members around him.

Barbatos at his side, he was handing out another set of clothing. "Please get dressed quickly", the butler said.

And so they went off...

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

"VioLET."

"Cloverrrr..."

"I CAN'T go out like his."

"But... But Clover... You know what must be awaiting us outside..."

"ARGH... I'm not ready for that either..."

Clover was sitting on the floor again.

This time, their outfit consisted of a classic black playbunny suit, ears and tail still included of course, arm sleeves as well as a shirt's collar that was held together by a bow tie.

"Come onnn, I don't wanna go without you..." Violet protested.

"But HOW am I supposed to face those frickin´ snacks” Clover cried out. “I'm a fucking potato compared to them, also Violeeet, the moment I see any of them my mind will SIN and I won't ever be able to look into Simeon's eyes ever agai-"

They heard voices on the other side of the door.

"Woohooo, is that Lucifer?! Shirtless?!" They heard Asmo go. "And and, kyaaaa, Beel, those ABS!!"

The girls exchanged a glance.

Then dashed out of the womens' toilet once again.

Stumbling out of the room, however, there was no one to be spotted at all.

A little confused, the girls noticed too late how a cheeky Asmodeus had been hiding behind the door, pushing the latter shut to have a perfect view on his girls.

"Got you~!" he hummed, leading the girls to turn around.

He had a camera in his hands and seemed to be already filming.

"What a view~", he continued. "Could you do me a favour and turn around as well?"

"Asmo!!" Violet hissed, her cheeks gaining a pink blush out of angered embarrassment.

Not as much as Clover's face was heating up, though, as she prompted the demon to put his phone down.

"Not going to happen, sweetie~" he chuckled. "Devilgram will love those bashful expressions...!"

"WhAt?!" Violet covered her body immediately. "You WON'T upload this anywhere!"

"Uhmmm... That's kind of not possible, you know? This is a live broadcast."

"WHAT."

Then, another person stepped out of the males' bathroom.

"What's all the noise about?"

Lucifer's annoyed voice echoed through the corridor.

When he stepped closer, however, his attention got caught up by the girls' appearance.

"Oh~?" he purred, inspecting the girls (but Violet in particular hehe) with a pleased smirk on his lips.

"L... Lu..." Violet's voice broke off.

She just... Died. Nothing more to say about this, really.

Because only now both, Violet and Clover, realised that not everything of Asmo's bait had been a lie...

The demons were actually shirtless, their chests bare as they were wearing only arm sleeves and, in Lucifer's case, a bow tie around his neck, while Asmo's neck was decorated with a ribbon. Rather tight-fitting black trousers and the bunny accessories completed the look that had left the girls speechless.

Lucifer's smirk grew wider.

"No, that's no good... I think I will have to speak to the manager. Those outfits are way too distracting... Isn't that so, Violet?"

"H-huh?!" The girl did a little hop.

Thankfully, Asmo jumped in to her aid.

"Fufu~! Lucifer, do you mean the girls are getting distracted by us, or is it that YOU are getting distracted, hm~?"

Lucifer crossed his arms in a contemplative manner.

"Well... I admit to a pleasant view when I see one, so..." He pinned Violet down with his eyes. "I guess I will have to be extra careful from now on... Then again, I might need a more detailed view, just to be sure..."

Asmo gave an excited giggle.

"Lucifer, you beast~!"

Then Asmo turned to Violet again.

"But judging from her red cheeks, I feel Violet might think the same... Isn't that so, darling~?"

"U-uhm...", Violet stammered, trying really hard to make her brain function again. "Well I... Think there's no point in denying that... Uhm..."

She glanced over at Lucifer, but every time she did, her head got dizzy all over again.

"Go on, please" Lucifer suddenly said. "There is no need to deny what, exactly?"

And her brain got stuck in an endless loop of not being able to cope.

Lucifer seemed to have plenty of fun with that, so he kept teasing her for the time being.

-----

We do remember, however, that there was another still girl left to completely destroy.

And Asmo took it upon himself to achieve exactly that.

"Don't worry, Clover!" He said as he tackled the girl into a hug, simultaneously dragging her away from the two lovebirds. "You're just as charming, of course."

"Th-thanks..." Clover mumbled.

"Hm? You don't seem to believe me."

Clover pulled away, now only holding hands with him, giving a shrug. "You know what I think of my looks, Asmo..."

The avatar of Lust gave a sigh.

"There we go again... If you're so self-conscious… why don't we go ask for some opinions?"

"Eeh?!"

And if the god of fateful anime encounters had planned it, the remaining demon brothers happened to have finished changing as well. The door to the men´s bathroom swung open…

"Oh!" Asmo smelled his chance. "Look, there comes our audien-"

He got cut off by the weird sound Clover made.

In a single movement, she had let out a squeal that a human throat should not be able to do, had completely destroyed Asmo's pretty hand by squeezing it in excitement, while in the end she was hiding behind Asmo, only peeking over his shoulder to glance at the mass of hotness coming out of the bathroom.

"Clover…?" Asmo sounded confused.

"Too much hotness", she mumbled into his shoulder. “I can´t-“

"Huh?" Asmo sounded genuinely confused for a second.

Then a smirk curled his face.

"What?!" he spoke extra loud, extra dramatically, so everyone could hear. "What did you say, Clover?! You think they're all sooo hot?!"

"A-asmo, be quiet...!" Clover mumbled.

But he continued.

"What? You love how much skin we are showing?!" he yelled.

"Stop...!"

"Whaaat?! You'd even pay them to strip down even more?! Clover, you wild animal!"

She punched the demon in embarrassment.

The next second, a certain scumbag stood beside them.

"DiD I hEaR 'P-p-p-PAy'?!" Mammon stuttered, literal cash-symbols in his eyes.

Asmo grinned at him, covering Clover's mouth so she couldn't protest.

"Our dear Clover here wants you to strip for her~"

Clover shook her blushy head.

"That's not trrngh..." she tried to press out between Asmo's fingers.

Mammon stared at her for a moment.

"… 10.000 Grimm."

Clover had freed herself again.

"... What?"

"15.000 and I'll do pole dance too."

"MAMMON WHAT THE HECK."

The second born looked almost disappointed when Clover declined his offer.

But Asmo was already moving on with his mischiefs.

"What? Clover?? You want to do WHAT with Beel's abs?!?!"

"ASMODEUS, I'LL KILL YOU-"

"No you won't~" Asmo grinned, turning to give his brothers a view on Clover. "Guuuys, I need your help! I dare you to give this little lady a rating in this sweet costume of hers."

Most of them looked confused at first,

but, seeing one, her outfit, and two, how much she was unable to cope, a few were ready to assist in Asmo's tease.

"I'd need a full view to judge" Satan grinned.

"Yeah" Belphie agreed. "Could you turn around slowly, Clover? Maybe do some poses as well?"

Clover shot them some angry glares.

"... You could do that pose were you form ears with your hands…" Levi dared to add in a mumble.

"Hrrrgh...!" Clover was fighting her embarrassment. "All of you are awful... Beel over here is the only nice guy, honestly...!"

She glanced at him in a pout, hoping he'd defend her... Or at least say something as well...

"... So you're not going to pose for us?" Beel said in a pout.

Clover.exe stopped working.

"Fufu..." Asmo grinned. "See, my dear? Even Beel demands a show... Now come on, we're waiting~!"

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

You can probably guess that Clover wasn't going to get out of this situation anytime soon.

While this part of the group enjoyed this mess of a person, let's switch back to the other girl whose brain was doing about as poorly.

Lucifer had kept Violet by his side, making sure she wasn't going to help Clover in her dilemma… Or going elsewhere in general.

However, one certain jealous bean soon couldn't bear that Lucifer was hogging Violet all for himself.

"Oi, Lucifer, back off of Violet already!"

And Mammon pressed himself in between them. "She's one of my humans after all!"

Visible displease grew on Lucifer's face as he got cockblocked yet again.

"And what would give you the right to claim her for yourself?" The eldest grumbled.

Mammon crossed his arms.

"... Because I just said so."

Lucifer pressed out a sigh, to then simply push Mammon's body away again.

"LUCIF-", Mammon hissed. "STOOP...!"

"You are distracting us, Mammon."

"B-but... That´s not fair…” he shouted. “M-maybe I want Violet to notice me as well!!"

Lucifer stopped, while most of the surrounding people went silent.

Then Levi gave a laugh.

"Oh my god MAMMON, that was so desperate lolol, SO uncool!"

Belphie spared him a pityful laugh. "Are you really that desperate for some attention, you idiot?"

The avatar of Greed was gritting his teeth.

"Hnngh... Shut up, all of you...!"

The situation around them escalated a little, even more so as Diavolo and Barbatos joined in on the chaos, having changed clothes as well.

But Violet felt bad, especially since she wouldn´t have expected Mammon to act like this. So, in a silent second where everyone seemed busy in their personal chaos, she sneaked over to Mammon.

After -- of course, what did you expect -- quickly poking his bunny tail, Violet also gave his shoulder a tap.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Mammon looked a little surprised, responding with a huff.

"...'s a wolf..."

"Huh?"

"Lucifer's a wolf!" Mammon repeated, awfully loud and both feared that the eldest brother had heard him.

A bit more timid, Mammon continued as Violet could only look at him in confusion.

"... Ya can't just go hop around in such an alluring outfit when there're guys like Lucifer around. He could go full beast mode and, dunno, do some weird stuff to ya."

Violet suppressed the nasty thoughts approaching her brain, her heart beating drastically as she mumbled a faint "I see".

"Ya human should better stick to the great Mammon! I'd treat you nicely, y'know."

Violet raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"... 'Treat me' how, exactly?" She asked in an almost teasing manner. "What were you planning to do, Mammon?"

And it landed a critical hit.

"I-I-I-I mean tr-treat as i-in... I'd protect you from all those beasts around you!" he stammered, his cheeks a blushing mess. "Nothin´ weird, I swear!! Its just… There's plenty of those beasts! Actually, maybe you should go home. If all the customers see you like this... Argh... I have to tell Clover, too...!”

He turned his head to search for the other girl, only to realise the group was about to return to their work. "Ahh... Oh no, she´s already been caught..." Mammon pressed out.

"Mammon" Violet called out again and treated him with a smile. "I assume you´re saying this because you´re worried about us, right? Thank you for that, you´re really a good friend. We're having a shift together later, right? So, until later, okay?"

He seemed confused again, but nodded in the end.

"Ugh... Fine... Just stay safe, ´kay? Promise!"

"I promise" she laughed, then Mammon finally seemed to have calmed down.

At least he was fine enough to turn around and go bother Levi with something.

Violet was watching them in amusement, then felt a presence behind her.

"Turning your eyes off of me already?" A deep voice purred almost right into her ear.

Ah, yes, there it was again, the drastic heart rate.

"Lucifer..." Violet turned around at the mellow voice. "I just wanted to tease Mammon a little. He seemed a little down."

"Sure, suit yourself..." Lucifer mumbled casually. "But I seem to be a little down as well... To think you'd end our conversation so quickly..."

Violet exploded into a puzzled blush.

"N-no... That's not... I ... You..."

Lucifer was pinning her down with his gaze, waiting for a coherent reaction. “Then how abou we pick up where we left? I think there´s something you wanted to tell me…”

"Y-you look... A-... Amazing..." she stammered.

"Hm? Could you say that again? Your voice appears to be awfully thin."

She breathed a heavily stressed breath. So Lucifer continued.

"Pardon me? Violet, you appear to be overheating. How come? I would assume your clothing is revealing enough skin to make that impossible..."

Aaand Violet's brain shut down as well.

"Should I help you?" he hummed, stepping even closer. "In comparison to you, I seem to maintain a way cooler head than you do..."

And, being the most flustered he has ever been, Lucifer continued to tease the shit out of Violet for as long as he felt the need to...

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

The group was about to dissolve and (finally) head back to work.

The girls, however, had stayed back for a strategy meeting.

"This is bad", Clover blabbered as she was trying to calm down. "I couldn't get up to them with shirts on, how am I supposed to even TALK to any of them when they're in maximum sexy mode?! And it's not only maximum hotness, but did all of them collectively agree to unlock their secret teasing-modes, too?!"

Violet gave a blushing shrug. "... Are you complaining, though?"

"Hnngh... No... But I'm so short on points... If I don't start playing risky, I'll loose..."

Violet smirked at that.

"Yeah" she agreed. "That's a good idea. Look, Solomon's over there all alone, why don't y-"

"Nope” lover interrupted her immediately. “Not going to happen. Nope. I'd rather go up to the demon prince himself. I'd rather get killed by Barbatos TBH."

"Oh, you would get killed..." Violet shivered, thinking back of what happened in the store room earlier.

"Don't care" Clover persisted. "Like, come, demon lord, if I was to touch Solomon's tail today, you may kill me right this instant...!"

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic #obey me bunny event #i had short story as a tag too but thats one fat lie

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greenninjagal-blog · 4 years ago

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Deja Vecu

Hello, its been a while!! Please accept this release of the unpublished scene from Chapter Two of Deja Vu. Its basically 4k of Remus being gay for a stranger he keeps seeing die, and ain’t that a mood? :)

Summary: The Missing Scene in chapter 2 of Deja Vu, in which Remus agrees to help a stranger rob a casino.

Words: 4397

Read on Ao3 || Hero Worship Series || My General Writing Masterlist

At twenty-one years old, Remus finds out that robbing a casino is a lot less fun than Ocean’s Eleven led him to believe. It’s almost ridiculous the amount of security that went into protecting the chips and the cash on hand: following the path of the cash box from earlier, there’s two hired security guards framing the employee’s entrance, neither of whom like being touched nor can be persuaded to leave their posts together. There’s a card reader locking the door which despite looking like walnut wood, is actually steel with a clever paint job. And that’s just the first level.

“Predictable,” Dee says from where he had made himself comfortable on Remus’s bed with the complimentary note pad the hotel had supplied him. He had left his suit jacket on the desk to avoid the wrinkles but lounged on the foot of the bed without taking off his shoes. Remus had tossed himself down next to him, stretching out to gather all the pillows and built a throne for himself like he was eight instead of twenty-one.

Dee had watched him, back to wearing the face of the man who had approached him in the casino. Remus thinks he looks nice like that: hansom enough to please anyone who looked his way and charming enough to disarm anyone who might have seen him as out of place and forgettable enough that Remus couldn’t remember if they had gambled together previously.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Remus had pointed out. “I know what the real you looks like.”

Dee’s pen digs into the paper a little harder than necessary and Remus pretends he hadn’t noticed. The smile he receives is light and joking but it doesn’t meet his eyes at all. “I happened to like this appearance.”

Remus hums, “Lame. The scales are cool.” But he had let it drop in favor of twisting the purple casino chip between his fingers.

Dee taps his pen on the comforter in thought, his borrowed blue eyes distant as he mulled over Remus’s reports from futures that won’t happen. “What else did you notice?”

“Tessa isn’t your wife anymore, Danny.”

Dee snorts, which, by all means, should not be as graceful and elegant as he makes it seem. There’s a fluidity to the way he dips his head and scribbled on the pad of paper that makes him looks dignified. Or maybe that’s just the angle that Remus is looking at him with. A lock of his dark hair slips into his eyes and he brushes it back with two gloved fingers.

Remus falls back against the stack of pillows he had built around himself, breathing deeply and settling himself. The air smells like the lemon cleaner that the hotel staff had used to clean his room earlier when Remus had been out and about, but there’s hints of something else—something sweet and spicy with an undertone of wood.

--Dee blinks at the question, shifting so that he’s lying on his stomach, his head resting on his palm. “I wonder,” He says, with eyes so bright and blue and innocent that Remus feels like he’s stuck in them, “if you mean the Cardamom scent from my aftershave.” And Remus’s heart beats just a little faster, a little harder, a little more.—

“When I ask what else you notice,” Dee says, drawing Remus back to the present, “I meant your other senses. You’ve told me about what you’ve seen. What about sounds? The smells? You said you experience this as a first-person thing, correct?”

Remus waves a hand. “Its both. I’m there in person but I’m also having an out of body experience, too.”

Dee squints. “Doesn’t that…get confusing? How can you interpret all the stimuli at once?”

“Stimuli! What, are you a scientist in your free time?” Remus mocks, but Dee’s shoulders tense at the insinuation.

“You don’t have to tell me.” He says, “I was just curious.” He’s not, though. Remus isn’t quite sure how he knows, but Dee’s curiosity is more than just a simple question. It feels like it’s more, like he’s gathering information and sorting it away for later, like he’s making decisions based on Remus’s answers that have nothing to do with the how they are going to get into a Vault protected by a six digit code that only three people have and then get back out with more money than they can physically carry.

“Shame,” Remus says, feeling the shift in the bed as Dee’s shoulders unwind. “If you were a scientist you could dissect me for all the goodies inside! Of course, you can do that without being a scientist, too, but it’s not as fun.”

“Are you speaking from personal experience?”

Remus flips the coin in the air and catches it with the same hand. It comes up heads. “Why, does that scare you?”

Dee watches him, the pen absently twirling in the air between them. Remus can feel the weight of his gaze like a physical thing, pressing on his chest and making him self conscious of exactly how many breathes he’s been taking. The cotton comforter has a square pattern on it that he hadn’t noticed before, but he can count only three squares between the two of them. For some reason that information feels important.

“No,” Dee says after another moment passes and the air simmers. “I supposed it concerns me.”

Remus swallows the urge to laugh at his face.

“You just seem to be a useful person,” Dee continues, defensively. “I would hate to see that usefulness be squandered.”

This time Remus does laugh and it’s a bumbling bubbling burst of noise in their quiet world. His lungs shake and his heart hurts, but he laughs and something about it makes Dee’s smile softly too. The air is light, but there’s an underlying tension there, lurking in the shadows and reminding Remus that for all the dashing good looks and the semi honest expressions, the man before him is a stranger wearing a borrowed face and absolutely no one would miss him if he disappeared.

He flips the coin again, watching it roll over itself too many times to count, bounce off his hand and then flop to a stop direction between the two of them. Dee pokes it with the butt of his pen, like he was expecting it to get up and walk away.

“To answer your question,” Remus says, breathing in deeply enough to smell his cardamom aftershave and wondering why no one else in his twenty-one years of living had thought to ask him. “Seeing the future does get confusing. But it’s whatever. It never causes anything worse than a nosebleed.”

Dee hums and scribbles something down on his notepad. If Remus sat up just slightly, he would be able to see it, but he finds he likes the mystery more. Was it notes to use against him? Or was it things to think about in the future? Or was it still the colossal list of numbers they weren’t even a fraction of the way through?

--They manage to draw the guard’s attention away with a faked emergency: Remus never put stock in his own acting skills so he stumbles and falls on another patron and lets his head crack against the corner of the a craps table just far enough away that the guards are drawn the few steps over to check on both of them. Remus doesn’t bother responding to any of their prompts until Dee with the face of Tim the dealer swipes his borrowed card and lets the door behind him close. They had radios from the same place where Dee had procured the keycard from, and Remus thinks he could fall asleep listening to Dee’s breaths.

“Left, right, or center?” Dee asks.

“Left,” Remus hums, watching the casino patrons around him. A woman in her thirties just won at a baccarat table and tried to kiss the dealer. “There’s a camera at around the corner, but it roves. Your future self said to wait five seconds then go.”

Remus waves down a waitress and orders a mojito while he waits. Dee gives soft laugh at the concept and Remus tries to calm his nerves.

“You’re so uptight,” He says softly, almost to the point where Remus can’t hear him over the chattering of other people. “Relax a little, Remus. It’s just my life.”

“The Elevator code is 7-1-3-2,” Remus tells him. “And you’re going to want change your pretty little face to someone of a higher ranking on the casino hierarchy unless you want Terry Benedict to know what we’re up to.”

Remus holds his breath as the elevator dings, and then as Dee repeats the code as he types it in, and then as the doors rumble closed. He twists the glass of his drink when it comes as he listens for the subtle clues on how far Dee is inside the belly of the beast. It takes him a moment to realize that Dee is humming softly, and his lips twist into a smile without his permission.

There’s some garbled conversation on Dee’s end, pleasantries and greetings and nice things that Remus never bothered to memorize. Dee glides through the conversations with ease, deceiving and grifting like he had been born to do it. And who knows? Maybe he had been. Polite conversation gets them through another three doors, including a hall wracked the cameras and the final elevator that can only be opened with two keys and a pin code graciously provided by an aware high-level friend that followed them in and was still chatting about their Perfect Child’s first steps.

Remus sips his mojito and watches the girl at the nearest roulette table eye the betting board. She’s still going to lose so Remus finds himself more entertained by trying to extract the lime from his drink than from watching her pout yet again when the ball lands on the red 36.

“Ah yes, the vault code,” Dee’s voice says, dragging Remus back to the mission at hand. He’s casual, loose, and ready, and Remus doesn’t understand how he does it. He glances down at the piece of paper in his hand and reads off the six-digit combination that was next on their list.

“5-1-3-2-7-6,” Remus presses a hand to his earpiece, listening as closely as he can. His breath shortens with each second, crafting infinities out of each passing tick. He can hear Dee’s laugh and his he listens closer he can make out the guard that’s next to him still chattering away. Each button bings when Dee presses it in, soft and charming and not at all like a guillotine that’s cut their mission off a hundred-some times before.

“Hey man you, okay?” The person with Dee asks, less out of curiosity and more out of suspicion.

“Yes sorry my finger slipped,” Dee says quickly and punches in the next number in ascending order out of blind hope that it might be the correct one but it isn’t and Remus knows it because that’s when the person next to Dee asks him to back away and demands to know who he is and Dee’s placating answers are never enough so he tries to shift but bullets are faster than he is and Remus rips out his ear piece right before the gun goes—

“Another bust,” Dee sighs, drawing a snake on the corner of his paper. “Somehow I feel like we could win more playing on the casino floor than doing this….” He trails, off eyes distant again, thinking more about money than about the number of deaths Remus has witnessed.

It seems strange, that Remus would care so much more about that then he does, but in a way that doesn’t surprise him. Its Death with a capital ‘D’ and in Remus’s twenty-one years of experience, the only people who feared death were those who were aware of how close it was. Remus was practically best friends with Death, with the taste of the asphalt on the highway, with the feeling of a free fall, with the awkward fit of a hotel bathtub. He’s familiar with the cold silver of fear, but it doesn’t make him any less afraid.

Dee knows he keeps dying, though. Dying alone, deep inside a labyrinth of a building and Remus wonders if he should stop this while he’s ahead. He knows once that half hour mark hits in the future there’s no more Dee to be waiting for, no pay out. Just the pain of seeing a swarm of S.W.A.T. officers covertly weave between the patrons and leave with a human sized black bag. But Remus still waits and watches, holding dutiful vigil over a fruitless endeavor and letting hope build just for it to shatter with reality.

“Why does this mean so much to you?” Remus asks, somewhere between the fifteenth and the hundred fiftieth casino themed wake procession. His eyes burn a little, and he tries to tell himself it’s just the brightness of lights.

“Money is everything,” Dee marks the next two number off his list on his notebook and talks without listening to his own words. Its not fair that he sounds so convinced it’s true, when his mouth moves like he’s practiced this in the mirror. “What about you? Why do you continue to watch?”

Remus sinks back on his pillows, holding on to that faint scent of wood and spice and the feeling in his gut that comes from every time Dee listens to his advice from the future, from every time Dee listens and adheres, from every times Dee just believes.

Remus wonders how so much trust could be from this stranger who’s known him for an hour or two, and yet Roman had never been able to just accept what he said without an argument. He sounds crazy when he talks about what will happen, but Dee just nods and lets his lips twitch into a smile when handing him a roll of toilet paper.

Remus rips off another length the cheap paper and folds its in half before shoving it on his face. There’s blood in his mustache, which is frustrating and tastes just as gross as all the other times he’s had blood dripping down his chin.

“Remus,” Dee says, without looking up from his notepad.

“Yes, dearest stranger taking up half my bed?” He inhales hard.

“This is a fourth, at most.”

“Tomayto-tomahto.”

Dee shoots him a look that he can just barely make out around the clomps of flimsy paper he’s holding to his face. He looks like he’s trying not to be amused. Which is funny! Because, well, Remus can’t remember the last time someone who wasn’t related to him was in his company long enough to find him amusing.

“Why are you doing this?” Dee asks. “Other than the money, which we agreed would be a fifty-fifty split, regardless of how much we manage to walk out of here with….but somehow I don’t see money being enough for you to watch me die over and over again. Otherwise you wouldn’t have stopped me from lunging for that cash box.”

Remus is twenty-one when he shrugs and says, “It’s something to do.”

Dee huffs another dazzling laugh and for a moment Remus thinks he can see a flash of sharpened teeth in that smile, fangs like a vampire come to life, but it’s too fast for him to be sure. “Ah, I see we’re both liars tonight. Ready for the next attempt?”

Remus wonders if it’s still lying when its technically the truth. He’s doing this because its time spent with this shapeshifting sham, this enlightening enigma, this confusing con artist who lies as easily as breathing. Remus has a hard time believing anything personal he says is true, and yet he finds himself eyeing the three squared spaces on the comforter again wondering if it would be too much to make it two, one, none.

For someone who trusts Remus to see the future seven billions times as they try to figure out the vault code, who follows every direction Remus gives without hesitation, who continues to act as if Death is not something that can happen to him, he is extraordinarily hard to trust in return. Words are meaningless because he flaunts them, and Remus grew up watching Roman practice lines enough to know when someone was acting. Dee probably isn’t even his real name.

But Remus…Remus hasn’t been seen the way that Dee sees him before. Isn’t that enough for him to want to spend as long as he can with this stranger? Regardless of the danger Dee is running straight into? Regardless of the slight thrill that he gets from the prospect that they might get away with this?

-- There’s some garbled conversation on Dee’s end, pleasantries and greetings and nice things that Remus never bothered to memorize. Dee glides through the conversations with ease, deceiving and grifting like he had been born to do it. And who knows? Maybe he had been. Polite conversation gets them through another three doors, including a hall wracked the cameras and the final elevator that can only be opened with two keys and a pin code graciously provided by an aware high-level friend that followed them in and was still chatting about their Perfect Child’s first steps.

Remus sips his chocolate martini and watches the girl at the nearest roulette table eye the betting board. He knows from all the other times he’s watched that she loses, although as he peaks over at the numbers she’s never far off. It must be that excitement of the near win that keeps her there.

“Ah yes, the vault code,” Dee’s voice says, dragging Remus back to the mission at hand. He’s casual, loose, and ready, and Remus doesn’t still understand how he does it.

“5-1-3-3-4-1.”

He can hear Dee’s laugh and his he listens closer he can make out the guard that’s next to him still chattering away. Each button bings when Dee presses it in, soft and charming and not at all like the bells of victory when the code is right, holy shit. The Code was right. Dee’s breath catches in his throat, and Remus nearly drops his martini on the floor. His heart races in his chest with an emotion that he can’t quiet put a name too.

They did it.

They…won. Remus makes his way towards the doors where they were set to meet back up, and Dee continues a casual conversation with the armed guard about children as he fills both his briefcases with as much money as he can fit. By the breathless excitement in his voice, Remus can guess there’s more money in front of him than he expected to be able to get. He invites the guard over for family dinner next night because he’s an asshole and Remus finds that quality admirable.

He waves down a waitress to get a second drink, Dee’s celebratory drink, because as soon as he got past the doors they were home free-

“Hey! Hey! Stop him!” A voice yells in Dee’s ear and the shapeshifter curses.

“Remus!” He yells, “The executive is in the halls! He-!”

There’s a gunshot and a thud and Remus rips out his earpiece and screams loud enough to make all the nearest games freeze in their tracks—

“Let me guess,” Dee says, rolling over, “Another bust? The next numbers ar—”

“No,” Remus throws himself into a sitting position, and blindly grabbing for more toilet paper. The back of his throat is slick with a metallic taste and his head spins a bit when he tries to stand up. “No, Dee!”

“No?”

“Dee, we did it! That’s the code,” Remus says, pretending like his knees don’t buckle when the floor rolls under his feet. Dee is there in a moment, hands under his arms and holding him up completely. Its almost like a hug, Remus thinks distantly. He’s twenty-one and he can’t remember the last time someone hugged him even as a joke. His skin itches at the contact, blistering and burning at the warmth of someone else being so close to him. The cardamom scent is so strong, but Remus thinks he might be okay if that was the only thing he smelled for the rest of his life.

“Are you…okay?” Dee asks. “Why are you…?”

Remus uses the back of his hand to wipe away the stream of blood from his nose and inhales hard. “You died again. The executive you choose to impersonate is in the building and you run into him right before getting out with the cash.”

“Who was it? I can change into someone else.”

Remus shakes his head. “Oh no. I’ve got no clue, but if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s get someone’s attention.”

Dee grins, “You certainly got mine. What are you going to do?”

Remus slides his weight back and manages to stand on his own legs. Remus’s heart does a dance routine in his chest, moving like if it slows for even a second Dee will lunge forward and rip it from his body.

Remus tells him, “I’m going to go make a girl win at roulette so much they think she’s cheating. With a hundred thousand dollars on the line that should have their attentions, right?”

It’s not really a question. Remus knows from experience that the more games in a row that you win during a game involving so much luck, the more interest people start to take in it and you. He just needs to convince the girl to bet only where he tells her to, and then bet as much as she can.

He knows how to do it, too: simply walk up to her and offer her a free Barney if she bets on the square he tells her too. Once she wins, he tells her the next one, and maybe she puts a nickel down, or a quarter, just in case he’s wrong. When she wins again, he’ll tell her the next number, and she’ll put more on it. Then more. Then more. She doesn’t even need to believe that he can see the future. She just has to reap the rewards.

“Oh,” Dee says staring at him. “Oh.”

Remus isn’t sure what he’s looking at. He just knows that Dee’s eyes are as blue as the ocean and deeper than anything he’s ever drowned in. He’s looking at Remus again, like this is the first time he’s seeing him in this lighting, and when he smiles, his teeth are definitely sharper than before.

“I do believe,” Dee says, “we could make the best team of thieves there is out here.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?” Remus asks. “Come on. I didn’t listen to you die nine hundred times just for you to chicken out now.”

He grabs his jacket, and buttons it. With a swipe of his hands he’s hair sets back in the position before, like some type of magic act. If Dee’s the magician, Remus thinks he would be honored to be in the front row every time he performs.

“So, you’d be up to doing this again, correct?” Dee asks, with his hand on the doorknob.

“They won’t fall for the same trick twice,” Remus says, “And what makes you think that this is something I enjoy?”

“I didn’t ask if you enjoyed it. I asked if you’d do this again. Not here, but somewhere else.” Dee glances at him, side eyeing him in a way that makes the hair on the back of Remus’s neck stand on end. “You still owe me.”

“What?” Remus turns to face him, and if there’s a spark in his chest, a nudge of excitement, well who can blame him? People don’t usually want him to stay around.

Another step in the hall. “We made a deal, unless you’ve forgotten. You said that if I could figure out how you were cheating, you’d do one thing that I want you to do.”

Remus snorted and motioned between them, “What do you call this? What we’ve been doing for the past hour?”

“This?” The man gives him a shark-like smile, “You did this of your own volition!”

“I seem to recall you asking,” Remus challenges.

Dee shakes his head too innocently. “Not in this timeline.” He pulls out his pale-yellow handkerchief and offers it to him, “You still have blood on your face by the way.”

There’s something nice about the way that this man is looking at him, the way he’s still looking at him, like Remus is something more than a nuisance, more than a distraction, more than an unwanted, frustrating intrusion. It makes his knees weak and the back of his throat taste like blood again and he so desperately wants to look to the future but won’t let himself do it.

“What do you want?” Remus says, because the uncharacteristic fear in his chest is slowly turning all his organs to butterflies and he never goes back on a promise.

“Well, you did say anything I wanted right? Anything at all?”

Remus nods, rolling his finger over the snake design on the stolen poker chip. Suddenly there doesn’t seem to be enough air in the world, and he’s afraid if he inhales too deeply trying to get more, the whole reality will shatter.

Dee’s form shimmers, shivers, and dissolves into Tim the dealer as they wait for the elevator to take them back to the casino floor. It’s an entirely different person but when he looks at Remus all he can see is Dee’s expression.

“Well, Remus,” He says, “After we finish up here, I want you to come with me. Work with me a bit. Let me help you amass a bit of a fortune. Strictly professional, of course. I won’t ask about your past and you don’t ask about mine. We don’t even need to be friends! Just…”

Dee offers out a gloved hand to him. “Business partners?”

Remus is twenty-one and he thinks there might be a timeline out there where he says no, but he doesn’t even entertain that thought.

“Business Partners,” He says and shakes on it.

#Demus #sanders sides #janus sanders #remus sanders #deja vu au #robbing a casino for your mental health #Oceans eleven references because I love that movie #superpowers #Remus from before things get bad #tw: temporary death #Remus can see the future #Janus can shapeshift #Everything is GREAT :)

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allthingsfern · 3 years ago

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More info about my reason for choosing my Sony a7r3

So, @mirzans, replied to my “From my own experience switching from Nikon DSLR to Sony mirrorless,“ asking about why I did not choose a Nikon Z camera, which is a great question and something I should have explained/added to my post: context. It is important to know when I bought my a7r3 and what my choices were.

Here goes.

I bought my Sony a7r3 back in December of 2017, on the 26th, to be exact. Sony, at the time, was the mirrorless full frame leader and neither Nikon nor Canon had yet released their equivalent mirrorless cameras. After much research, I wound up deciding between the D850 or a7r3. BTW, there were a couple of Fujis I liked, but none was full frame; yes I strongly considered the Fujifilm GFX 50S, which was almost twice as much as the D850 and the a7r3 but had 50 mp (the D850: 45.7mp; a7r3: 42.4). However, from my research, it was rated as a good camera, but more for a studio setting, and did not autofocus as highly rated as either of my 2 final choices, plus the a7r3 was celebrated for its uniquely accurate, for that time, eye recognition focus. So, when I walked into Mike’s Camera, I knew it was either the D850 or the a7r3. Let me add that in 2017, Sony was making big (mostly) positive news with its a7r3. The previous 2 a7r models were promising, but had issues like overheating and horrendous battery life, but the a7r3 had improved on those issues and was then highly recommended. At about the same time that year, Nikon’s D850 was being celebrated as a great improvement of the already superb D800.

A little background about my camera ownership history may be useful here, too, so all y’all understand why I was looking at Nikon and Fuji, and not Canon or any other brand, well, except Sony.

In 2012, I bought my D50 used form a friend. It was already 5 years old at the time. I owned 2 SLRs before that, in the mid 70s and early 90s. Both were cheap, no-name cameras and my photography sucked shit through a brick, but not because of my cameras. I just never bothered to really learn photography, thinking it was just a matter of liking the way something looked and then taking a picture of it.

Oy vey.

However, I owned my baby, my D50, for 4 years. Then I bought a new Nikon D3500 w/ a used 24-200mm lens (sorry, I cannot recall which one, but it was highly recommended by Ken Rockwell and was a great lens) a lower end starter Nikon DSLR and a used Fuji X100s. I absolutely loved both cameras. Since I figured that I was going to be trading up to a more complex model and I would, in effect, have to learn a new camera system, I knew I wanted to stick with Nikon and Fuji. And yes, Canon and other makes are good to great as well, but I figured I would stick with what I knew.

Except for the Sony. But really, since I needed to learn a new system, I figured I would go to the camera store and give them a feel, then make up my mind.

Now, to a certain degree, the D850 was slightly ahead because earlier in 2017 I got to use a D800 for a photo shoot for work. It was set up for me (the studio was ready for me, all I had to do was point and shoot; it was a special project that I got permission to do the photography for and, sadly, the portraits never were used) and let me tell you, as soon as I grabbed that D800, the ergonomics, the familiar feel, were perfect. That was one sexy camera, at least to me. Still is.

However, when i walked into Mike’s and held the even heftier d850, it also felt good, familiar, but as soon as I held the a7r3, even before I raised it to my face and looked through the viewfinder, I knew it was the one for me. It felt right and was lighter, and with the advanced eye focus, my decision was made immediately. And as I mentioned in my previous post, my camera guy soon realized I knew the specs and was looking at the 2 best choices for me, so he just left me alone and only was there to provide support, if I requested any.

Now, I believe that things are meant to happen, that time and Life give us signs that we are going in the right direction. And when I bought that first a7r3, I wanted the recently released 24-105mm f/4 G Sony lens. If I recall, it had just started shipping in late November, early December, so it was hard to get. And Mike’s had just one, that was pre-ordered, but the person who ordered it did not pick it up, and since it was sitting in the store (and not paid for) for about 2 weeks and was hard to get, my camera guy decided to sell it to me.

Talk about meant to be.

And yes, for any of you who know me who are reading this, I did get all teary eyed and freaked out a bit. I was able to drop so much money on camera equipment because a friend had recently died and left me enough money to pay off half my student loans, my almost $40K in credit card debt, and buy the cameras. (I did not mention I have 2 a7r3 bodies and a lens for each one: the 24-105mm f/4 and the Zeiss 55mm f1.8 made for Sony.) To me, the whole changing lenses thing is crazy making and as a professional photographer friend of mine said (my coworker who was the staff photographer and was always willing to talk about camera gear and was very supportive), I should have a zoom and a prime, and since I could afford the 2 bodies, I should just fucking get them. No regrets.

And to add to the “meant to be” coincidences of that day I bought my first a7r3 and the 24-105mm, while I was paying for the camera and my camera guy was explaining several perks and deals and things Mike’s Camera offered, he mentioned that there was a Sony mirrorless workshop, given by a Sony expert, coming up on January 19, 2018 at the store. That was when I knew my camera purchase was the right thing to do, since that was the anniversary of my friend’s death and I already planned to visit their grave site that day, but the workshop was at night and I could do both.

And fuck, yes, again I got all teary eyed there at the counter of Mike’s Camera.

Finally, you know that friend of mine who was the staff photographer at work, the one who was so supportive and helpful? And, BTW, who actually has a degree in photography? Well, after about a year of my buying my a7r3, I showed him some photos I took handheld at 1/30 sec in very low light w/ high ISO. He was so impressed with the quality of the images, that he ordered an a7r3 and a couple lenses for work. I think he got the 24-70mm GM and the 70-200mm GM, both f/2.8 and both with stabilization, and either the 85mm or 135mm GM. He wound up using the a7r3 for events and outdoor shoots and kept the D800 for studio portraits. That D800 is such a cool camera. But then again, I have another friend who owns a Canon 5D (also a pro photographer) and it is awesome, too.

Anyway, sorry I shared so much, @mirzans. Guess you can tell I just love this shit.

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maximumjinx · 5 years ago

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Been reading a lot of salt. So here’s some I wanted to see in a fic.

_____________________________________________

~Ladybug’s Finale~

Marinette counted to 10, for the fourth time today.

“It’s a chronic thing girl, it would be best to just keep the seating this way anyways!” Alya explained as the seating was arranged so that she sat in the back row. Again.

Without her knowledge or permission.

Again.

Lila smiled sweetly, sat closely to Adrien who looked mildly uncomfortable as he shot his classmate an apologetic look. Marinette wasn’t even jealous as much as she was annoyed that the class has decided to protect and cater to Lila without resistance or question. Lila explained her hearing problem had flared up again, but this time Marinette only remained silent.

Nothing had exactly been the same since the class first turned on her. The heroine knew she had to treat Lila like a constant akuma, patiently observing for the right time to strike. It also helped to smother the hurt she felt from her best friend abandoning her at lunch, and their after school plans, and their paired project.

Marinette decided to pour herself into her job instead.

Down came the shrine to Adrien and his modeling, instead she would dedicate her spare time to finding Hawkmoth and ending his terrorizing once and for all.

The class went to the movies and held a group picnic, without any invitation or notice to the class president. Alya claimed that Lila (who was in charge of invitations) simply texted the wrong number. Lila’s curled smile told a different story. Marinette blew a breath, rolled her eyes, and assured Alya she was fine, she was able to not only catch up on her schoolwork, but complete her work for the rest of the semester.

Marinette won the two design contests she had entered a month later. None of her friends could attend the first award ceremony, as Lila had just broken up with her secret American singer boyfriend, and she needed their support. Marinette didn’t mention her second award. Or any she won afterwards.

Alya began to post Lila’s ‘encounters’ with Ladybug and stories to the Ladyblog as prime sources of information. She couldn’t figure out why Ladybug wouldn’t stop for an interview anymore.

Chat Noir rarely saw his Lady anymore, since she patrolled frequently while he was attending his extra circulars and modeling. Even after an akuma, she would give him a sad smile, a weak fist bump, and flee before she detransformed. The akumas were defeated with ease now, as Ladybug had surprised Chat with not only new moves, but new weapons as well. Marinette had been attending extra training with Master Fu and earned new powers after all.

Her cork board was covered in red string, sighting of Hawkmoth, crossed out suspects and more. Marinette was frustrated, but getting closer with each day.

“Marinette why don’t you take a break? See if Alya wants to come over or maybe hang out in the park to watch Adrien’s shoot!” Tikki suggested, trying to cover her worry with a bouncy attitude.

“Alya hasn’t texted me in months Tikki, let alone ask to hang out.” Marinette mumbled, still deep in thought as she examined her board.

Tikki faltered, but refused to give up.

“Why don’t you patrol with Chat for a change! You both haven’t really connected in a while.”

“It’s better that way. He’s flirting with me less and less and we’re both more focused on Akumas.”

“But Marinett-“

“What, Tikki?!” Marinette whipped around to face her kwami. Her eyes were glossy, angry and hurt.

“Nobody likes me! They don’t want anything to do with me! I may as well be the same as I was before Ladybug.” Marinette didn’t cry, but pulled a pained smile instead. “They don’t check up on me. They don’t care.”

The goddess of creation was at a loss for words. She looked warily for an akuma, but nothing appeared. Marinette took a deep breath, and felt the tips of her fingers go cold again. Her chest ached, but it was duller now.

“No akuma, you don’t have to worry.” Marinette half heartedly closed her investigation board, grabbing a black sweater on her way out the door. “We’re late to meet Master Fu.”

___

“You’ve unlocked the staff I see.” Fu noted, as Marinette began basic forms. “The last Ladybug to unlock that was considered very strong. And unforgiving.”

Marinette only hummed in response. She liked the staff, it reminded her of her brief moment as Lady Noire. Chat and her had so much fun that day.

“Master?” She strutted forward, bow extended. “Why don’t you train Chat like you train me?”

Master Fu was silent for a moment, Wayzz watching warily.

“That boy has enough on his plate without extra training added.”

Marinette wanted to protest that she was busy as well, but remembered her new free time.

“Besides, since I lost the Butterfly and Peacock miraculous when the Temple was destroyed, I decided it be better to only let you see where the miracle box is truly hidden.”

The staff stilled. Tikki looked at her chosen with piqued interest.

“Marinette?” The kwami tried.

“You lost the miraculouses with the temple.” Marinette parroted.

Master Fu tilted his head. “Yes.”

“Master, where did you lose the Miraculous book?”

“I lost everything that day, when the temple-“ Master Fu froze, looking at Marinette with wide eyes. She hadn’t dropped her bow yet.

“Fu, you geezer.” He chastied himself, “Marinette the book! Whoever had the book-“

Marinette dropped the bow, a loud vebrato echoinf around the room. She looked to Tikki with an unreadable expression.

“Looks like my chances with Adrien really are ruined.”

...

“Marinette wait- we still don’t know the full story!” Tikki yelled, from inside Marinette’s bag. But the blunette was already racing home, feet literally pounding the pavement.

How didn’t she see it before? She had crossed out most of the Agreste household, but if she could make is so that Ladybug and Marinette were in the same place, couldn’t they do so as well? Adrien isn’t Hawkmoth, she knew that much. Whichever side he took on Lila’s lies didn’t make him a villain, if he decided not to interfere or shake the boat, those are his own issues to work out.

Gabriel Agreste. The elusive, fashion designer. With an assistant that knows his every move in and out of a potential suit, his very own Mayura. He had the resources to go to Tibet, he had the book in his possesion, and if he himself wasn’t hawkmoth, he at least knew more about the villain than he let on.

“Tikki, spots on!” Marinette hissed, suddenly taking a sharp turn into an alley. A new fire was burning under the heroine. She would need Chat to take down Hawkmoth, she may need all the heroes. Tikki wrapped around her, without any flashes or spectacular poses.

Ladybug immediately took to the roofs. A call to Chat should be able to at least transfer to his kwami, even untransformed. She admits she hasn’t been as close to Chat lately, with everything around her she doesn’t feel like getting close. The people she believed were her close friends were quick to turn around and leave her behind. The boy she loved wasn’t what she built him up to be, this was her own fault, she knew that.

But Chat, he was the partner Fu chose, he took things less seriously than he should, and Marinette believed it was because she had let him for too long. She liked the banter they had back and forth, liked being able to talk to someone without worrying about what they thought about Marinette. She was a spaz, she was late, she was disorganized, and she was cowardly. But that was different now, she had to grow up. So she did.

Now wasn’t the time for anymore games.

“Kid, Ladybug is trying to contact you.”

Plagg was resting on Adrien’s pillow as his chose sat at the desk, practicing his Mandarin. Plagg has been around for eons, and knew every language there is to know, even the dead ones. He had lived through them after all. The kwami was correcting Adrien on his pronounciation.

His chosen jumped up, eyes wide.

“She is?”

“Wait- don’t get too excited it might be-”, Plagg couldn’t finish, suddenly transforming Adrien in a rush. Damn it, he hated when his kittens didn’t let him speak.

Chat Noir on the other hand, was estatic.

“I should get her flowers, we haven’t had any time to hang out. She hasn’t been looking like herself lately.”

It was true, Ladybug had gotten a few upgrades on her suit, but even Chat had noticed how much black had bled into the classic polka dot design. He wasn’t too worried, he himself was covered in the color. But the black was now covering her legs to her thigh, her chest and upper back was now covered in a thin but incredibly strong black armored plate. She had a hood now too, entirely red that she kept loose for the most part, but he had seen up and around her face during nightly patrols. Lastly, she now had a belt, to hold her yoyo and what he guessed a bag full of special transformations for her kwami.

The change was gradual, new things here and there, but startling all the same.

Chat decided to skip the flowers. As much as he loved Ladybug, he knew lately she wasn’t responding to his advances. There was a part of him that wanted to be bitter and try harder, but after weeks of having Lila forcibly hanging on his arm, he could guess why Ladybug wanted the space. He was still dealing with taking the distance as a place to let them both breathe, and not as a form of rejection.

He arrived to his Lady’s location, and noticed her hood was up. He suddenly felt uneasy. The sun was only setting, so why have it up now?

“Hey there Bug-“ he wanted so badly to finish it with ‘-aboo’, but pushed it back.

She turned around to face him, and he saw a new change. Her mask had turned into a visor, the black dots still in place, and bending around her nose like glasses. It looked more efficient at protecting her eyes than the last mask. Also, her hair was loose. It was tucked into her hood, with small pieces framing her face and resting on her shoulders.

She wasn’t smiling, but looked worried.

“Ladybug?” Chat felt uneasy with the look on her face.

Ladybug steeled herself, “I think I know who Hawkmoth is and we need a plan.”

Chat looked alarmed.

“You figured it out? What are we waiting for!”

“Wait Chat,” Ladybug placed an hand on his shoulder, “we could need the other miraculous holders. And we need to look more into the suspect. I might have a way in with my civilian identity but we need to do this carefully.”

Chat faltered. His lady would never risk her personal identity, he’s mentioned before she has too many loved ones to protect. Has that somehow changed?

“Can you at least tell me who it is?”

Ladybug looked at Chat carefully, and sighed.

“The guardian and I were talking when I realized it.” Chat tried not to let her regular meetings with Fu sting, “Master Fu lost the peacock and butterfly miraculous back at the temple in tibet. He also lost several artifacts from his temple, and the book of miraculous.”

Chat could feel breath begin to come out shallow, heart racing in his chest.

“So whoever found the book, must have found the miraculous.” He finished. “Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth.”

“Or Gabriel Agreste somehow got the book from Hawkmoth.” Ladybug wasn’t sure about that theory, but she couldn’t accuse him without better proof again.

Chat Noir disagreed. He found the book with a few belongings of his mother, and a map of Tibet. His father was never the same after his mom disappeared. A thought occured to him.

His eyes widened, “Mayura-“

“Might be Gabriel’s assistant Nathalie Sancouer, yes.” Ladybug didn’t appear angry or determined to track these two down. Instead it looked like it pained her to realize the truth. Perhaps she was mimicking Chat’s own emotions.

Chat looked at his Lady. Obviously she had been going through a few things. Bad things. And if she was willing to risk her identity when unknowning there was a better candidate for undercover work beside her, Chat knew she could trust her with his identity. He always knew that.

“Ladybug, I know it’s important to keep our identites a secret, and I’m not sure how you would even try to investigate out of the suit, but you have to know something first.” Chat took a step back.

“What are you-“

“You don’t have to reveal yourself to me. I know how important your own identity is to you. But there’s an easier way to get to Agreste.” He took a deep breath. “We have to use Adrien.”

Ladybug’s face shifted to disbelief, then to anger.

“We won’t put a civilian in danger! And he didn’t handle the Snake miraculous well, we would be sending him in without any protection!” She barked.

Chat smiled humorlessly.

“I think he can handle himself.” He was risking everything. But with everything his father might have done, it was his job to make it right. “Claws in.”

He heard his partner shriek, and quickly cover her eyes.

“Chat now is not the time! What makes you think your civilian identity can get closer to Adrien or Gabriel than mine?”

“Because I live under the same roof.” Adrien thought for a moment. “And I’m not Gorilla- in case you had any doubts.”

Ladybug’s mouth dropped, hand trembling over her eyes. She didn’t want to look.

“Adrien?” She asked shakily, still unable to remove her palm. She felt long fingers carefully wrap around her own, and gently pry her hand away.

Adrien Agreste stood on a roof in pajama pants and a hoodie, hair messed up from the wind, and a sheepish smile on his face.

“Hey LB.”

—-

#miraculous ladybug #chat noir #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #fic #ml salt #alya salt #lila salt #lila rossi #hawkmoth #ladynoir #adrienette #marichat #ladrien #tikki #plagg #writing

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justice4harwin · 3 years ago

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Light’s Corruption- Chapter VIII

Summary: With few friends at the Little Palace, Alina must work to win the favour of her fellow grisha and their commander, who makes her feel light headed every time she sees him.

After training in Os Alta for two years, the king grows tired of waiting and demands the Sun Summoner joins a western post near the Fjerdan border along with the rest of The Second Army to test her abilities.

Something happens. Suddenly, Alina wants blood to run down the rivers and those who stand in her and The Darkling’s way will be blinded by her light and swallowed by his shadows.

It won’t be pretty.

Pairing: The DarklingxAlina

Rating: 18+

Do I have a playlist for this story? Yeah

Do I also have a separate bff playlist for Genya and Alina? Duh

Click here for chapter 7 in case you missed it.

Chapter 8: Alina the Baker

Grisha at the Little Palace had a day of the week off every other week, which meant that Alina could catch up on some precious sleep in the confines of her soft, warm bed filled with softer pillows. Even with the weak winter sun shining down on her, Alina could've slept all day and well into the night. In fact, it was even better, for she'd be warmer. There was no such thing as 'too much warmth' for her. The hotter, the better.

Curled up like a cat over the luxurious bed, the Sun Summoner intended to sleep all day and night.

Then there was a knock on her door.

She didn't hear it and rolled over in a most unnatural way.

The knocking got louder.

She began to stir.

"Get up, Starkov!" Genya yelled from the other side.

"Maybe if I don't make any sounds she'll leave." Alina thought, clutching her eyes tightly shut.

"You know I can go get the keys, but that'll only give me time to get angrier!"

Groaning, Alina threw herself onto the floor and made for the wretched door.

The redhead swung in with her usual grace, her kit in hand as she hummed a melody strange to Alina's ears.

Slowly, Alina followed her.

"Wash your face and come sit here." she instructed, pointing at the vanity.

After doing so, the Tailor began to work on her hair.

"Do I have somewhere to be?" Alina asked, yawning.

"No, but with the Winter Fete so close, I wanted to try some different styles for your hair and make-up, so we won't waste so much time on the actual day." she explained. "Besides, the Duke is still here, so the queen's daily naps have become longer, which only makes it harder for the Duke to talk whatever it is he wants to discuss with the king."

Alina made an odd face through the mirror; Genya smiled at her ingenuity.

"They've been fucking like ra-"

"Ah, ta-ta-ta, I get it." the Summoner closed her eyes and waved her hands, not wanting to picture any of it. "Does the king know?"

Genya snorted, joining two braids into one.

"Please, he's a dumb child."

Alina yawned again, loudly.

"Look, I don't think my hair matters too much for the Fete, so how about we take a nap?"

"Lazy."

"It's early."

"So?" a red, perfectly trimmed eyebrow rose softly. "Who would imagine the Sun Summoner herself wouldn't want to raise with the sun?"

"Technically, the sun is always out."

"I'm also using you as an excuse to get out of the Grand Palace."

"Can we do something else, then?"

"No!" she yanked Alina's hair once more and tied it. Leaning over her friend, she arranged the three mirrors which sat atop the vanity so the other woman could get a good look at it. "What do you think?"

Alina stared at her reflection. Two braids started at the top of her head and joined as one at the base of her neck.

"I like it."

Genya placed a slender finger to her lips.

"Too simple." With a flourish of her hand, Alina's hair was freed once more, falling in dark waves down her shoulders. "Turn."

When she did, her friend leaned over and took her face gently.

"I thought you were sleeping better." she mumbled as she ran her fingers underneath her eyes, ridding it of bags.

"I am, I think."

"Have you been summoning?"

"Yes, but, …"

"But?"

Genya leaned against the vanity, waiting patiently.

"I don't know." Alina said, looking down at her hands. "I know Baghra is horrible, and she still hasn't called back for me-"

"Then you go to her."

"I don't want to." Alina confessed, even though she probably should. Who else would teach her? The Darkling? He was always on and off the Little Palace grounds. "What if I mess up too bad and no-one's there to stop me?"

"So you haven't been summoning." Genya concluded.

"I have!" she fought back. "Just a little."

To prove her point, she closed her hand into a fist, opened up, and let a small orb of light fly up to Genya's face, not too close to make her uncomfortable. The Tailor watched the light with a small smile, and slowly reached out.

"I thought it might burn me."

"I think it would if I wanted to hurt you, or if I put more effort into it."

"But you love me too much."

"I tolerate you." she joked, moving the orb up and above her friend's head. "Now you look like a saint." she said, trying to turn the orb into a halo. It flickered and didn't exactly do as she commanded, only shone brighter over Genya's features.

The redhead shook her hand.

"Move. With this light, I can probably mask my age a bit more."

"Oh yeah," Alina said as she stood up, a playful smile on her face. "Because you're soooo old."

Alina didn't actually know how old Genya was, but she was sure they were about the same age.

"Tomorrow I will be a year closer to grey hair so," Genya's fingers went over her face, getting rid of imperfections Alina couldn't see. "One can never start too early."

"Tomorrow's your birthday?" Alina asked, starting to smile.

Genya didn't seem so excited. She merely shrugged.

"Yes."

"What are you planning on doing? Are you having a party? How many people will be there? Are presents mandatory? Cause I don't have permission to go to the city to get you one, and it doesn't really matter because I have no money and I don't have time enough to do something myself. What sort of ca-?

"Alina!" Genya had to raise her voice a little to get her overly excited friend to stop. "We don't celebrate birthdays here. It's just another day."

The Sun Summoner frowned.

"So, not even a cake? Or the day off?"

The Tailor huffed, amused.

"What for?"

"To celebrate." Alina was no longer bouncing on her heels.

"Trust me, the last thing anyone in these palaces would think of is to celebrate my silly birthday." she said as if it meant nothing.

Alina sat on the carpeted floor; legs crossed.

"That's depressing."

"If you say so." she remained indifferent.

She peered up at her friend and got an idea.

"Should we have some tea?"

"After I test how to work your face."

Later that night, standing outside the kitchens of the Little Palace, Alina ran her hands over her kefta and stood as straight as she could, putting on her best scowl. She hoped she had picked up a thing or two from Ana Kuya and Baghra

She entered the place like she owned it. At first, nobody took notice, too busy with their tasks. She cleared her throat.

Nothing.

She clapped her hands twice, like Genya did to call upon the attention of her miserable shrews -not that Alina considered the kitchen staff to fall into that category- and everyone in the kitchen turned to her, adopting various expressions at the sight of her.

No-one seemed to know what to do or what to say.

Trying to seem somewhat commanding, Alina cleared her throat once more.

"I need ingredients to make a cake." she stated.

One of the cooks swallowed hard before she began to speak.

"If you'd like a cake, Miss, I can make-"

"I want to do it myself, actually." she said, placing both hands behind her back and praying to all the saints she could remember -there weren't many- that they took her seriously.

Still, nobody moved.

Alina guessed that it wasn't every day that a Grisha showed up and demanded to cook something by themselves.

Not wanting the kitchen staff to feel offended, she spoke again:

"It's for a friend, you see, so I'd like to give her something I made with my own hands."

Slowly, the same woman who had spoken nodded, and then smiled tentatively.

"There's fresh eggs over there, Miss."

As it turned out, Alina did need some help after all. She knew how to make a basic cake, but as soon as she said it was a birthday cake, a middle-aged man jumped on her, offended on behalf of Genya.

"You can't just give your friend something so bland." he had said, his face red as he gestured widely at the cake, like it was a disgusting piece of work. One might have thought Alina had insulted his family. "You need to fill it with something, decorate it, give it life and flavour!"

Yes. That, she had no idea how to do.

He pushed her aside hastily.

"Saint can summon light but can't make a decent birthday cake." he muttered.

Alina's mouth hung open, offended, but she said nothing.

She hurried up the steps with a big cake held as if it were a precious new-born child when she heard him:

"Miss Starkov?"

"Holy Saints!"

She came to such a sudden halt, the cake moved precariously on its base.

"Yes, sir?" she called, tense, not daring to turn back.

"I am glad I came upon you;" The Darkling said, and she could hear him approaching.

It was so great to have him back, but why did he have to arrive at that time? Couldn't he have waited a few more minutes?

"Was there something you needed?" she asked.

"I can't believe myself, but please say 'no'"

"No, no, I just wanted to inform you that you shall start training with me tomorrow. I will see you at the entrance just before dawn."

"I thought you had no time for personal training." she was reminded of their conversation one season prior. "And that you didn't want to show favouritism."

It was probably stupid of her to say those things, to make him look like he couldn't make up his mind, but she find it hard to filter her thoughts when he was in the vicinity.

"I remember our conversation very well, Alina." he said, and she could hear his voice closer. It was so deep and smooth. Alina took a deep breath and tried to steady her heartbeat. "But some circumstances have changed, and I decided to make an exception."

Any other day, she would've melted at his feet at the way he spoke, as if it were almost a dirty, scandalous secret only meant for them.

But she had Genya's cake in her hands. It was big, and heavy, and he couldn't see it.

"That's great!" she said, and she meant it. "Thank you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to go. Moi Soverennyi." she bowed, and then clutched her eyes shut, cursing herself silently. Nothing showed more respect for one's General than showing them their behind.

"Are you hiding something, Alina?" he asked, sounding far too amused to her liking.

"Nope."

"Right. And I am the Black Heretic." he almost snorted. Alina frowned; he sounded so…normal when he did that. She wanted to hear it more often, she realized.

She craned her neck so she could get a glimpse at him. His eyes shone with mirth; the corner of his mouth was tilted up. She wanted to freeze him like that forever.

"It's nothing bad or illegal."

He chuckled, and his nose crunched up a little. Alina found it adorable, and she wanted to kiss him again, cuddle next to a fire by him, and make him laugh until his sides hurt.

"Alright, then. I shall let you be on your way." he took a step back, and Alina took a few steps forward before stopping at the end of the stairs.

"It's good to have you back."

She climbed up the stairs so quickly one might've thought a Squaller was pushing her up, and didn't give him opportunity to say anything back.

Alina moved her tea table to the centre of her room, where she placed the cake and a few flowers she had stolen from the various vases around the Little Palace to give it more life.

Smiling like an idiot, she closed her eyes and called her light just as there was a knock on the door.

Her light answered and her hand shot up, leaving a thin layer of golden dust hovering near the ceiling, giving the space a lovely ambience.

Hastily, she made sure everything was in order. The tea was hot, and there was plenty of kvas and wine for at least ten people. The kitchen staff had been more than happy to provide for her when they found out who Alina wanted to celebrate. Apparently, Genya was well liked among the otkazat'sya who worked on the Little Palace.

She hurried to open the door.

Genya waited on the other side, standing straight, an eyebrow arched up.

"You called for me? Is it urgent?"

"Yes!" The Sun Summoner answered, taking her friend's hand and dragging her across the expansive room.

She turned abruptly and placed her hands on Genya's eyes, blocking her view.

"For all the Saints, Ali, I don't have time to play around." she complained as she was dragged some more. "Just because the queen is spending another afternoon with the Duke of Balakirev doesn't mean I don't have other things to do and-"

Alina uncovered her eyes.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" she squealed, taking a step to the side and extending her arms to showcase the cake.

It was rectangular, decorated with red, blue and yellow flowers all over it. No white. Nothing about that cake was white.

The Tailor stared at it.

'Happy Birthday, Genya!' it read, in black, messy letters. While the middle-aged man from the kitchen had done most of the decorating of the cake, Alina had insisted on writing the words herself.

Still, The Tailor stared at it, mouth agape.

Slowly, Alina's smiled dropped, and looking at her friend in the eyes, she was horrified to find them wet.

A tear fell down Genya's pale face, and Alina rushed over to remove it.

"Gen?" she asked, extremely concerned. "What is it?"

But Genya couldn't say anything. Her mouth opened, then it closed, and it opened again as a small cry left its confines, the tears falling freely now, like a turbulent river.

Alina hugged her, rubbing her stiff back in circles.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." she said over and over again. "I just thought you might like it. I'm so sorry. Do you want me to throw it away?"

She felt how her friend shook her head, clinging to her with a vice like grip.

Alina was the one who wanted to cry now, seeing her closest friend in such a state made her eyes tear, and, oh damn, she was crying now as well.

They stood like that for a few moments, weeping like idiots, the hug a bit awkward since Genya seemed to hover over smaller Alina.

Slowly, the Tailor disentangled herself from the Summoner, and her friend let her go.

Genya delicately passed a finger underneath her eyes and adverted her gaze, although Alina could see the red in her eyes.

"Thank you, Ali. Truly." she said, her voice slightly hoarse.

Alina was at a loss of words.

"It's just a cake, Gen." she shrugged. "I just thought, we could celebrate together, if you wanted. We can invite anyone you want." she suggested.

Smiling just a little, Genya looked down at her hands and played with her fingers.

"No, it's just…"she took a deep breath and let it out. Alina waited patiently. "No one ever really did this for me before." she said, raising her arm towards her cake.

"A birthday cake?" Alina asked slowly, her voice tremulous and trying not to sound sad. "Well, it's not a big deal!" she tried to shake it off, waving a hand with a forced smile. "Back in Keramzin there was only one plain cake per month for all the children so-"

"No, "Genya interrupted, her voice a mere whisper that cut through Alina's heart like a sharp blade. "I mean, celebrated. No one's ever done this much." her eyes were like crystal again. "Thank you."

Alina felt uncomfortable. She really did feel sad for her friend? Had no one ever truly celebrated her birthday? She knew she had been given to the queen at a young age, but even before that, had her parents ever made something for her? Or at least said anything on the day?

Alina didn't remember much of her parents, but she did remember once a year, her father coming up to her with a small, strawberry tart. He and mamma would hug her more than usual and kiss her cheeks and play with her all day until the sun went down and her eyes dropped closed of exhaustion.

"Chasing the waters." she thought, absentmindedly.

Even before the Little Palace, had Genya never had any of that?

"I'm just, sorry I couldn't do anything grander on such short notice." Alina tried to smile. "I have a present for you" she was now grinning, although so very nervous on the inside. She walked over to her desk and took the envelope. "I didn't have time to make something so… it was very last minute. She came back to stand before her friend and extended the envelope, which Genya took with a look in her eyes that resembled disbelief and wonder. Alina's cheek reddened. "It's nothing. Really. Open it."

Genya did as she was asked, and Alina bit her bottom lip, trembling as she recalled, word by word, what she had put down on the paper with her finest ink.

"I have a friend,

with bright, red hair.

She has a loudmouth,

and a brusque, yet marvellous touch.

She and I have known each other,

for only a couple of months,

But I know that in my soul,

She's well settled for long.

Some will say she's pretty

Others will say she's pricky,

and while those all ring through,

I know the person behind those needle-like replies.

I have a friend,

with bright, red hair.

She's always there for me,

as I'll always be there for her."

It seemed as if an eternity had passed before the Tailor looked up, fresh tears in her eyes.

"Did you write this?" she asked, voice cracked. Alina nodded sheepishly, and Genya said: "This is the shittiest piece of poetry I have ever read."

The Summoner tried to not let her hurt show on her face, but a moment later she was being engulfed into another bear hug.

"I love it." Genya whispered almost fervently, clutching her tighter. "Thank you."

They spent the afternoon drinking tea, eating cake, talking and laughing. Genya had admired the piece for a long moment, as if trying to burn it into her memory, before she cut into the first two portions.

After a while, when there was no more tea and they grew tired of cutting, they sat themselves down on the carpeted floor, cake and all, and dug in directly from the base as they helped it pass through with kvas and wine.

"What do you mean?" Alina asked as they both laid on top of the soft, fur carpet of the floor, facing up, unable to move.

"Another rule of the General to keep his Grisha humble: no birthday parties." Genya answered, her speech slurred and the last part with a deeper tone, like she wanted to imitate Kirigan.

"That sucks!" Alina spat, just as drunk as her friend.

"Yeah!"

"Parties are…cool." she stated, raising her index finger as if to make a point. "There's cake,"

"Ugh." Genya's hand flew down to her stomach. "I can't move."

Alina ignored her.

"There's presents, if you're not an orphan." she giggled at her own misery. "There's more cake, and there's people."

"There's always p-people at the Tiny Palace." Genya reminded her, kicking off her boots.

Alina did the same, her hands blindly reaching up to the couch for the small pillows.

"Yeah;" one of the pillows hit Genya in the face, and the Tailor whined about it as she placed it underneath her head. "But there's no birthday cake, thanks to General Handsomest. And no birthday parties." She counted to three in her head, shot up, grabbed the blanket at the back of the couch, and let herself fall again on top of the rug.

Saints, how had she and Genya managed to eat that entire monstrosity?

She threw the blanket over her body and kicked until it covered her feet. Genya clumsily pulled at it so it'd cover her as well.

Alina frowned.

"There's people at parties."

"Yes, Alina." Genya closed her eyes.

Alina's frown deepened, some of the blurriness in her mind clearing.

"People talk at parties."

Genya opened one eye.

"Are you going to get us in trouble?"

Alina, who could barely put the dots together as she thought of how full of cake she was and how funny everything looked from where she was laying on the ground, and how handsome the General was, and how she wanted to kiss him again and slap him for leaving her like that, turned her face towards her friend.

"Only if General Handsome caught us." she said.

Genya sighed.

"Fine. But turn your head to the other side. I don't want your puke in my face."

Giggling at the disgusting image, Alina did as she was told.

Their hands found each other underneath the blanket in a soft hold.

"Happy birthday, Gen." Alina mumbled, the lack of sleep due to her preparations for the afternoon and all the alcohol catching up to her.

"Thank you, Ali."

A/N: Hope you liked it! This is probably the last sweet chapter before things gradually start to get darker *evil laugh*

Click here for chapter IX

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfic #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #shadow & bone trilogy #alina x darkling #alina x aleksander #The darklingxAlina #Genya Safin #its a birthday party my dudes and dudettes #fanfic

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