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yallthemwitches · 2 months ago

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Ch. 18 The Dinner Part One

“So—family.” “Family,” she repeated. “You have to go see them.” “I reckon that is the case,” she sighed, fiddling with the knot of his tie. “Do you…” James took a moment to consider his next words, “Do you need moral support? A sympathetic ear? An obnoxious but fit date?” Lily laughed, and James grin widened. “Ah, there she is.” He placed a kiss on her nose which she crinkled playfully. “So what is it, Evans? I’m a very versatile bloke as you know. I’m happy to be of assistance.”

First of all, Thank you SO much to everyone who voted Catch the Wind to the FINALS for best long Canon fic for the Jily Awards 2024. I am beyond grateful. Secondly, thanks for waiting on this one, I hope to be quicker on the next chapter as Christmas holidays rolls around---but I think this one is my longest chapter yet, so it wasn't for nothing!

Read on AO3 or under the cut!

Even before they got out of bed, before their small cocoon was disturbed by the peeking sunlight and the creaky jostles of their bodies uniting before facing the day, James could tell Lily was unwell.

“Alright, alright—I have practice to get to so let's make this quick shall we?”

James stood in front of the group of prefects with shirt sleeves rolled up, hair pulled in every direction from when, just an hour earlier, Lily had done just that—both too late to their own meeting to do anything about it.

He tried not to let his eyes linger on her, but it was difficult. Ever since she had rolled away from him and out of his bed curtains, a heavy cloud had hung over her. The other prefects clocked it too, the twitter of whispers going around the group as eyes darted between the two heads with conspiratorial looks.

“It’s come to our attention that the dungeons have been getting left unchecked most nights–now I know we all agreed to let everyone work in their own territory, but if things aren’t going to be done properly we are going to have to make some changes.”

He directed his voice to Sophia Parkinson and Alecto Carrow, the two standing Slytherin prefects.

“So what is it, you two? Am I going to have to deal with this issue further or are you both capable of doing your job?”

The two exchanged glances, Alecto’s eyes flicking over to where Lily sat in the corner, face lowered to her notes.

“Sorry Potter. Wouldn’t want to upset you and the missus.”

Sophia cackled. “Yeah, wouldn’t want you to have some sort of outburst– that would just be embarrassing.”

For fuck’s sake.

In another life, he would have hexed them without hesitation—but now he just saw their antics for what it was: an instigation. Heaving a sigh, he opened his mouth to respond, but from the corner of his eye a flash of red moved with a jerk. Lily had stood up, hands balled at her side.

“If you two have something to say, then say it.”

James’ jaw tightened. There it was again: that thing, that aura that had followed her all morning. She was poised like a rubberband, stretched to its moment of crisis.

Alecto let a lecherous eye drift over her body before cracking the smallest of grins.

“Nothing to say Evans. Just curious if you plan to show any of your head talent to the rest of us any time soon, or if you’re just going to waste it all on Potter’s undeserving prick—”

She moved quickly, taking three deep strides until her wand pointed just inches away from Alecto’s forehead. He eyed the tip warily, but the other prefects jumped back, clearing away for the fight.

“Lily, let it go.”

But James’ voice fell on deaf ears, Lily’s pointed wand shaking slightly with rage.

“What did you say to me?” She spat out, eyes sinking into slits.

Alecto and Sophia pulled their wands too, a glimmer of doubt edging on both of their smiles.

“Now that we are on the topic,” sneered Alecto, “Us Slytherins are a bit concerned. You see we’ve gathered that Potter here probably is keen on sharing you with his traitor of a best mate…we were just hoping even a mudblood like you would have the sense to let Black fuck you in the ass—wouldn’t want to muddle up that perfect bloodline you see—”

Wingardium Leviosa.

There was a flash, then a scream. Alecto shot up into the rafters, hitting the ceiling with a thunk. Sofia followed after, hitting her head against a wood beam and hanging unconscious in midair. Both of their wands clattered back to the ground and Lily moved to pick them up with an air of indifference.

The silence was deafening. The prefects juggled a gaze between Lily and the two Slytherins suspended against the roof, all looking more shocked and terrified than the next. James felt their eyes turn on him next, demanding the same question he had been asking himself since the altercation began: are you going to do anything?

“Anyone care to give me detention?” Lily spat, pocketing the two wands. She turned to James, her eyes still harboring anger. “You can let them down when you want but I’m keeping their wands.”

James brow furrowed, unable to find the words that could quell whatever anger was stirred in her. She turned back to the crowd, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Lily, are you—” But she clipped off his sentence.

“Ravenclaw’s patrol the dungeons from now on. Your new schedule will be posted later this evening. You’re dismissed.”

She walked through the crowd and out the door, not turning to give anyone a second glance.

* * * * *

Marlene told him that she didn’t show up in her potions lesson, then again in charms. By lunch, James stared at the empty bench beside him. The cold, vacant space taunting him like a spectre.

“What are you talking about, mate? I would have paid good money to see that.” Sirius bit into a scone and some of the crumbs fell into his hair. “What did good ole’ Carrow even say to her to get such a performance?”

James hesitated. “Er—I don’t remember verbatim, but something about me sharing her with you…some choice sex acts that won’t muddle the pureblood line….”

“Christ,” Sirius snorted, borrowing a muggle swear. “At least they could come up with something more original.”

James looked down at his untouched plate of food. He wanted to get the map from Peter and see where Lily had run off to, but something about that felt like a breach of privacy. He had spent most of practice running through the past few weeks, trying to find the source of her sudden anger, but things had been good—at least with all things considered. Snape was still a swot, but that was to be expected, and now that she was aware of all of his secrets, he was feeling closer to her more than ever. So how was it, that she could wake up, have a bleary-eyed, morning shag with him, then fall into some sort of stupor of contempt?

“I wish she would just talk to me. I’m her boyfriend,” he mumbled, not directing the words to anyone in particular.

“Well I think she’s got a lot going on. Can’t say I would be in the best mood if I had to go see my shite family either.”

James' eyes shot up and Sirius froze as if being caught in headlights.

“What do you mean?”

Sirius looked side to side, frowning slightly. “What do you mean, what do I mean?”

“You said she had to see her family.”

“Yeah, because she does. Next week I think—why am I getting the feeling that you didn’t know about this…”

James stood up at such a speed that he practically took out his goblet of pumpkin juice. Fuck it—I’m getting the map.

Bounding out the door he could hear Sirius yell after him, “You and your girlfriend should really work on communication! It’s the cornerstone to all relationships!”

* * * * *

In all, she was surprised how long it took for him to come looking for her.

“You know, I don’t really love finding out what’s bothering my girlfriend from my best mate.”

She didn’t turn, continuing to chop up pieces of fennel to the beat of the music that wafted from the corner turntable.

“I was going to tell you—I just forgot.”

She could hear James scoff then walk over to the player, scratching the record to a halt.

“Forgot…Evans, when have you ever forgotten anything remotely important.”

“So I’m Evans again?”

He walked beside her and placed his hand to stall her cutting.

“Lily. C’mon. Tell me what’s eating at you—why didn’t you tell me about having to see your family? Is that why you pulled that stunt today at the prefects meeting?”

She pulled her hand out from under his, face twisting into a frown. “A stunt? Last time I checked, defending myself from being sexually harassed could hardly be labeled as a stunt.”

James sighed, rubbing his temples. How long had it been since he had seen her like this—stubborn, confrontational, unable to see when someone was trying to be on her side…it felt like being back in fifth year again.

“You know that’s not what I meant. I just—the Lily Evans I know and love usually has a little more restraint than that.”

“Well maybe I’m tired,” she whispered, voice thick. “Everyone else seems to have forgotten their restraint, so why am I always the one expected to have it.”

James stared at her for a moment, eyes going soft. Slowly, he reached his arms out to her, long fingers extended in invitation.

“Lily, can you just—come here.”

It seemed so childish, like the baser need of a wounded animal, but she immediately fell into him—the irresistible vortex of James Potter always finding a way to have the upperhand.

Pressing into his chest, she felt his arms close up behind her like the fall of an enormous wave. He was warm and she pushed herself deeper, trying to gather up all the energy that he had to be so composed despite it all and take it for herself.

“You need to tell me these things. I can’t just guess,” he breathed into her hair, pressing small kisses into the top of her head. “I love you. You are…the most important thing to me.”

“More than Quidditch,” she hummed against his chest.

“More than Quidditch.”

“More than Sirius?”

James let out a laugh and the vibration felt good against her. “More than Sirius—though don’t tell him, he will be devastated.”

He pulled her over to a seat and placed her on his lap, hand caressing the side of her thigh while the other stayed warm against her cheek.

“So—family.”

“Family,” she repeated.

“You have to go see them.”

“I reckon that is the case,” she sighed, fiddling with the knot of his tie.

“Do you…” James took a moment to consider his next words, “Do you need moral support? A sympathetic ear? An obnoxious but fit date?”

Lily laughed, and James grin widened.

“Ah, there she is.” He placed a kiss on her nose which she crinkled playfully. “So what is it, Evans? I’m a very versatile bloke as you know. I’m happy to be of assistance.”

She looked at him for a while. Where did this boy come from? She thought back to just a year ago, to the obnoxious boy who was crass and egotistical. If she put the boy from then next to the one she sat with now, would she even see the same person? Years of her life were spent lamenting his actions to anyone who would listen, agreeing with Severus when he would spit his name like it was a plague on the world. How did the world flip on its head so quickly and without her noticing? And how cruel to know that the person she was fighting for so long was exactly what she needed to feel like a real person: seen and understood and loved.

“All of those things, if you can manage,” she murmured. She let her head fall to the side and he quickly pressed his lips to the exposed skin, feathering kisses up to her ear.

“Whatever you want, Evans,” he whispered onto her lips, “I’m yours.”

* * * * *

“Should I call them mum and dad? My in-laws?”

“Definitely not.” Remus didn’t look up from his book, reclining on his bed while Peter laid on his stomach at his feet, flipping through the newest copy of Seductive Sorcery.

“I should at least bring them a gift—what do muggles like?” James twisted his torso in front of the mirror with a frown, trying to judge if Remus' muggle jumper was too plain for such an occasion.

“I thought the point of you going was to be supportive—not to meet her parents,” Peter yawned, flipping the page with a bored flick.

“I second that Wormtail—really Prongs, don’t go and make this about yourself. Petunia is bad enough as it is—”

James turned quick on his heel, facing the boys. “Wait. Moony—have you met them already?”

Peter’s head jerked from James to Remus with anticipation. Remus sighed and marked the page of his book, sitting up on the bed.

“Yeah—been to her house a few times. Thought you knew that.”

From the floor, Sirius made a loud groan and covered his face with his forearms. “Fucking hell. And I thought you were smart Moony—at least smart enough to keep your trap shut when information doesn’t serve things.”

James put a silencing hand out to Sirius, eyeing Remus with an unreadable expression.

“C’mon mate. You can’t possibly be jealous. I have to hear you two shagging every day, I don’t think you have anything to worry about—I just brought it up because Lily’s family, namely her sister, can be…difficult,” Remus finished, sounding blunt.

“Correction—we have to hear you shagging every day,” Sirius quipped from the ground, rolling onto his side to prop himself onto his arm.

James swallowed the twinge of jealousy that was indeed rising out of his stomach and let his shoulders drop. He didn’t have time to comb through all the harbored jealousy from a time when Lily was closer to Remus than she was to him. He was right—he was her boyfriend now, and he was the one now staring down an evening in which the cards all seemed to be stacked against him.

“It’s fine, forget it,” he said quickly, passing his hand through his hair, effectively mussing up any attempt to fix it earlier. “I just don’t want to muck it up. Lily seems really anxious about tonight and I really can’t be the reason it goes south.”

“Bad luck, then,” Sirius hummed. “If there’s one thing you do impeccably, it’s muck things up.”

He stepped down into the common room to find Lily waiting for him by the fireside. A smattering of students had been eyeing her with interest and as she turned to face him, he almost doubled over.

She looked good. Too good. Better than she looked at Slughorn’s party and that was already a record breaking level of fit. Now, she was radiant, her dress showing off every irresistible curve of her body and her hair falling in waves to frame her face.

It was bloody torture.

“Well well well,” Lily whistled as he walked to her, unable to help himself as he snaked an arm around her back and pulled her into him, “Someone has been shopping in Remus’ closet.”

“And someone didn’t mention that they were going to pick the most shaggable outfit they owned to go to their sister’s bloody engagement party.”

Lily stepped back and James felt his pants become tighter watching the curve of her breast peek out of the cut of her dress as she bent forward.

“You think it’s too much? Marlene also said it was a bit sexy and I tried to tone it down but–”

“Hold on, Evans. If this,” he gestured to her whole body, eyes sweeping over her hungrily, “is the toned down version, what on Merlin’s green earth was the regular one.”

“You think I should change?”

“No, I think we should go upstairs and kick out the lads so I can show you how much I like it.”

“Yeah?”

Lily pulled him in this time, arching her back a little to press their chests together. One of her hands found its way between them and she made a quick pass over his pants which were beginning to tent.

“Maybe if you’re good.”

She stepped away, walking over to a corner desk where a small honey pot sat idly and conjured her cloak to resemble a muggle coat.

James took a long breath, hoping that none of the students surrounding him were close enough to see the absolute struggle he was going through to keep his composure. It wasn’t helping they hadn’t been seeing much of each other the past day because of quidditch practice and class—now he was about to meet her family…randy as hell.

“You ready,” she called, holding her hand out to him while the other hovered over the pot. A look of uncertainty passed across her face, the anxiety of the evening slipping onto her features for a flash before being tamped down again somewhere deep within her.

“As much as I can be.”

He took her hand, and the room spun.

* * * * * *

Ok, so maybe she had done it on purpose.

Though it wasn’t for the fact that she knew it would drive James absolutely mad (though, the feeling of being wanted while otherwise being in a hostile environment did have its appeal), nor was it to out-dress her sister—what she was really looking for was agency.

She had truly meant what she said to James after the prefects meeting—she was tired. The Slytherins, her sister, the war—the days were starting to feel like a never ending parade in which her identity was stolen from her. The dress, as inappropriate as it was for the evening they were about to have, was her way of taking up some much needed space– at least that’s what second wave feminism told her.

They landed in a small wooded area just breaching what looked like a muggle neighborhood. Lily took a woozy step and then felt another rush from a new form of spinning, this time not from magic but from the grasp of her boyfriend who had gotten his bearings quick enough to pin her to a nearby tree.

“Lily,” he pleaded, eyes round and glassy. “If you want me to behave myself tonight, you are going to have to shore up some of your irresistibility—I’m dying here.”

She could feel he wasn’t lying. Something hard and warm pressing against her abdomen as his body slotted between her legs. Up until this point she had just considered teasing him a little to keep him on edge until they could rush home at the end of the night, but now that they were so close, It was a tempting thought—shagging in the woods until the proper amount of time had passed and then returning back to school…it would be so easy to do…”

“Ok, yeah sure.”

Calling his bluff, she pressed against him, mouth already open and letting her tongue lavish at the part of his collarbone which peaked out of his shirt. Taken off guard, his response was sluggish, hands moving tentatively to her bum and giving it a hard squeeze.

“Fuck it,” she whispered against his pulse point, nipping there until James let out a soft groan. “Take me here—now and as long as you like. Fuck my family, you’re my family now.”

It left her mouth before she could think of the consequences. To James’ credit, he didn’t acknowledge it—perhaps understanding that this was not the time or place to unpack such grand thoughts. She was thankful because she wouldn’t know what to say otherwise— the thought really hadn’t occurred to her before, but now that the idea of actually becoming his family was let into the world, it sat between them like a glowing entity.

James’ hand moved to the back of her neck, holding it softly while his mouth found hers, kissing her as deeply as he could muster.

“Fuck—Lily. Ah, fuck.” James groaned against her lips.

“As much as it’s against everything I stand for to say this—I didn’t beg Remus for muggle clothes to not get use out of them.”

He gave her one last kiss to her mouth, then to her neck, before ripping himself away from her, clearly struggling with his own decision.

She eyed him warily, swollen lips parted and wishing to be enveloped again.

“James Potter…turning down the opportunity to break rules and shag?”

His eyes darkened, staring at her with a sort of hungry intensity.

“Who said I was turning those things down?” A mischievous smile spread on his lips, eyes twinkling under his glasses. “I fully intend to do one or both of those things before the evening ends, thanks.”

He turned on his heel and walked away, whistling a small tune while wandering towards the treeline. She watched him retreat, a part of her wishing he would be himself for once and come press her back up against the tree. He stopped just at the clearing and his head tilted upwards toward something glowing coming from one of the nearby houses. His mannerism felt almost animalike.

“Brilliant–TVs,” he said as she walked up beside him. She turned to look at his profile. His eyes were basked in wonder and the glow reflected in his glasses only added to the awe that riddled his face.

“I didn’t realize you were a fan,” she murmured, keeping her eyes on him. It was moments like this that surprised her. At this point she thought she knew everything about him, having spent enough intimate time to be convinced that there was nothing left to learn. But he was tricky in that way—he presented himself like an open book when in actuality, he contained things beyond anyone’s imagination.

“Love ‘em,” he said matter of fact, not turning away from the screen.

“I love you.” The words slipped from her mouth and it caught his attention, turning to gaze at her with as much joy as he was staring into the muggle home.

“Good, then it's settled.” His grin turned mischievous, eyes alight. “We’ll make sure to have a TV in our house after school.”

It was only fair, given what she said about him being family before, but it still made something in her chest soar.

They started on a brisk walk down a row of houses that got wider as they passed, each one taking on a more estately look than the last.

“Is this where your house is? James asked, eyes scanning the windows of each passing house to catch a glimpse of some muggle going about their daily lives.

“Er–no,” Lily mumbled. It occurred to her that James probably didn’t get a real look at where she lived when he had visited– something that was probably for the best.

“This is a…nicer part of town.”

James looked around, his brow knitted. “I guess I’ll take your word for it—can’t say I was focused on the scenery that day to be honest.” He gave her hand a playful squeeze.

“Do you think your family will like me?”

“No.”

His shoulders sagged, and she scrambled to reassure him.

“I didn’t mean it like that—my sister and her boyfriend hate me so I just imagine they will share the same feelings towards you—”

James’ jaw tightened. “Hate you? How does anyone hate you?”

Lily shrugged, “How do the Slytherins hate me? They think I’m different and that makes me a blight on society apparently.”

She could tell he wanted to say something more, but they reached the address before he could continue. Lily hadn’t known what to expect—she knew that Vernon came from at least more money than her family, but Marge’s home was nicer than she expected.

On the stoop leading up to the home there were two grand statues of bulldogs and for a second Lily tried to recall if there were any football teams that a similar mascot. The surrounding houses were still decorated for Halloween with smiling jack-o-lanterns and orange and black streamers adorning columns, but Marge’s home was noticeably vacant of any festivity. The only thing inviting was the soft glow of inside light pouring through the front window.

“Well–” Lily turned to James, taking a big sigh. “Into the belly of the beast.”

James cupped both her cheeks, stroking her jaw lightly with his thumb.

“It’s going to be fine.The second you say the word we can be right out that door and safely back in my bed–or at least against that tree from earlier.”

Lily hummed, both options sounding way better than mounting the stone steps in front of them. She pulled herself up, slanting their lips together. James deepened the kiss, the urgency of his mouth proving that his collected demeanor was just for show—he also was looking forward to the moment they could be alone again.

“Alright, c’mon.”

Mounting the front steps, Lily knocked loudly and stood back to wait. Despite lights indicating that someone was home, there was no sound of a party from within, just the distant jingle of a wind chime from nearby. She knocked again.

By the third knock, James had wrapped his arms around her waist, entertaining himself by nibbling lightly at her neck while they waited. In some respects it was too good to be true—maybe no one would come and they could abandon the evening, get back to his bed or that tree or –hell– right here on the stoop and take advantage of some time alone. She didn’t knock again, closing her eyes and letting the feel of James mouth take over, his hands starting to wander farther down to the hem of her dress—

“About time!”

The door swung open and the light from the inside poured around Petunia’s figure, giving her a pallid and sunken complexion. James' hands stalled at the bottom of Lily’s hemline and he leaned his chin against her shoulder, a smug grin plastering his face, more amused than sheepish from almost getting caught.

“What do you mean, we knocked three times–” Lily started in, but Petunia was already cutting her off, stepping out into the chilly evening..

“For God’s sake, Lily honestly.” Petunia scanned her whole body in such a way that resembled someone buying cattle. “This is what you’ve decided to wear to my pre-engagement.”

“I quite like it,” James piped up and both sisters froze, his voice breaking through what seemed to be a well understood dance between the two.

“You like it?” Petunia spat. Lily watched as her sister’s stare raked over James, but unlike her own sizing up, her eyes lingered on his arms and shoulders.

Interesting.

Petunia straightened slightly and stuck her nose in the air.

“Who’s this?” She didn’t remove her eyes from James’ collarbone.

“This is my boyfriend, James.”

“Boyfriend?” she spat, any lingering attraction to James smashed against a proverbial rock. “You brought your bloody boyfriend?”

Petunia’s face turned bright red under a mop of straw hair and from behind, Lily felt James give her bum a playful squeeze. Randy git.

“Look—I invited myself,” James said, straightening and taking a more appropriate stance next to Lily. “We didn’t mean anything by it— just figured the more the merrier. Nice to meet you, by the way.”

He sounded sincere and Petunia sized him up again, eyes blazing. She took a breath.

“Fine–but you don’t talk,” she pointed at James, “and you,” she turned to Lily, “don’t ruin this.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and entered the house, leaving Lily and James to watch through the open door after her.

James gave a low whistle. “Can’t say for certain, but I think you and Sirius might have a pretty close ‘worst family’ competition on your hands.”

“Maybe we should get both our families in a room and make them fight it out,” Lily jeered.

James barked out a laugh which echoed down the empty hall. Having forgotten about Lily’s outfit for the brief period of meeting her sister, his eyes dragged up her body as they took off their coats.

“Alright, I'll take it back—is it too late to walk out?” He pulled her in against the hard line of his chest, body emanating heat.

Lily giggled, “Too bad. I gave you an out earlier and you didn’t take it.”

He made a groaning noise, pressing his lips to her ear. “The next time we are alone, Evans. I swear to Merlin—”

The door at the end of the hall opened again and an older woman stepped out. Her eyes zeroed in on James, a too sweet smile slowly unfurling.

“My,” she clicked her tongue, walking towards the couple. “And I thought the only surprise was that you decided to show up, Lily—now who is this gentleman?”

Lily placed her hand in his and gave a very sharp squeeze.

“Phoebe—this is James. James—Phoebe, my stepmum.”

James blinked a few times, the cogs in his brain working overtime.

“Step…mum?” James repeated, very distant.

Phoebe forced a high pitched laugh. “Oh it’s no surprise Lily didn’t tell you about me—she loves to keep her secrets.” She reached out and pinched at Lily’s cheek who recoiled.

“You’re looking tired dear—late nights?” Her eyes darted up again to James with a discerning look. “The last boy she brought home from your little school looked very tired as well but not you–”

“We should be joining the party, yeah?” Lily cut her off, giving another squeeze to James’ hand.

With another sly glance at James, Phoebe turned and walked back to the door at the end of the hall.

“Oh and Lily dear, I meant to say. Let’s not have any…ah, flairs of dramatics this evening, shall we? Tuney is very stressed and you know how Vernon’s family are…”

“Right,” Lily responded, wooden and cold. The moment Phoebe slipped back through the door, James turned on her, eyes wide.

“Alright—which question do you want first?”

Lily blinked up at him. “Are none an option?”

“You never told me you had a stepmum,” James accused, frowning.

“You never asked.”

James sighed. “Ok, valid—but correction, you never told me you had an absolute nutter stepmum.”

Lily nodded in agreement, and he continued. “And was she referring to Remus or—”

“Potter, if you are getting rattled by my family’s antics now, just you wait.”

James gave her a discerning stare, trying to size up the situation, trying to not look at her bloody tits.

“So give it to me straight—how much do they know about us?”

James made a motion to his and her body as though that explained his question further.

“D’you mean magic or our relationship?”

“How about both?”

Lily gave a defeated sigh, chewing at her bottom lip. “Let’s put it this way: my sister is right, the less you say, the better.”

* * * * * *

Before he visited Lily that Summer, James had never stepped foot in a muggle home. Yes, he would visit Remus who had the occasional muggle invention lying around from his mum, but otherwise he had not put much thought into what could possibly be so different from the two worlds—homes were homes, muggles just as human as any wizard. What could be more different than just a few pieces of metal machinery and a lack of a house elf to aid with the chores?

Stepping through the door, he was overtaken with an otherworldly sensation. The room was a clash of interests: walls filled with static photos of bulldogs opposing an ornate dining table that was dressed with gaudy flower arrangements of pinks and reds. On the table were plates of food that seemed to be encased in some kind of gelatin, some of which were shaped in various molds that jiggled lightly from even the smallest change in the air. Various meats were ground and molded to look like their animals of origin, most notably a pig's head which used olives for eyes. If that wasn’t enough, a buzzing sound poured down on them from a chandelier filled with bulbous glass tubes, leaving the candle sticks adorning the spread unlit and unneeded.

James instinctively wrapped an arm around Lily’s waist, buoying her against him as the only sense of stability in his new surroundings.

The rest of the guests congregated in a small sitting area on the far side of the room. James’ eye immediately went to the modest TV set, wishing that it was on and creating a distraction. Seven sets of eyes pierced back at them.

“Ahem. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, Marge—this is my sister, Lily.”

James took stock of the group. Even if he didn’t already have the pleasure of meeting Petunia and Phoebe beforehand, he could have easily parsed who was from Vernon’s side and who wasn’t. The Dursleys all were heavier set with a distinct air of haughtiness not unlike the many pureblood wizarding families he had been forced to rub shoulders with in his lifetime. A thin, loping sort of man hovered by the drink cart, using their entrance as a distraction to pour a clear liquid far too close to the top of his glass before dropping in two olives.

“Thank you for inviting us—so sorry we are late,” Lily said. He could hear the fake sincerity in her voice, masking an anxiety he imagined was similar to his own.

“This is James—I hope you don’t mind that I brought him along.”

James ignored the distinct feeling of being up for auction and flashed his most convincing smile–the kind he reserved for dinner parties with his parent’s colleagues.

“Charmed to meet you all,” he said, but as the words left his mouth, he felt Lily’s hand stiffen against his back. Of all the faces in front of him, the only amicable one was Phoebe’s, who took the chance to rake her eyes over his body again like a piece of meat.

“Lily didn’t realize this was a closed invitation for family only,” Petunia spat, crossing her arms against her chest. “But it can’t be helped—please, let's take our seats.”

As the group moved over to the dinner table, the thin man with the drink plodded his way over to them, taking Lily’s face with a heavier hand than needed and planting a wet kiss on her cheek.

“And how’s my lovely Lily doing? You alright at your special school?”

Lily’s eyes darted around the room, lowering her voice. “It’s fine, Dad. Uhm, could we not talk about my sch–”

But Lily’s dad turned on James, eyes lingering on where his hand had not left her waist.

“And you—can’t say I knew about you. Imagine you also do the same kind of funny little things that—”

Phoebe appeared beside her husband, grabbing at his drink arm so it sloshed a bit onto the carpet. “Oh, what are we talking about in such low voices? Hopefully not scaring poor James off already—Lily will never be able to find another like him.”

She gave James a wink that made him wish he was the one with the over poured drink.

“That’s kind of you to say, but I’d be the sore loser if she ever left me,” James said with a casual ease. “Lily is the biggest catch of our school.”

“And what school is that, exactly?” One of the portly women who James had figured was from Vernon’s side walked up to the group, casting a discerning eye at Lily’s dress.

“Er–” All the fake confidence and ease James had mustered flushed out of him. Normally he was an impeccable liar, but that was when he was in his element. It dawned on him that lying to muggles might not be in his wheelhouse…

“An alternative school—it’s in the Scottish highlands. Very exclusive,” Lily retorted. The response sounded rehearsed, like she had said it many times before this.

The portly woman gave a smile that looked more hostile than warm. “Alternative, you say? What, is it some kind of hippie, new age bunk then?”

“I guess you could say that,” Lily murmured through gritted teeth. James could feel her hand tighten again on his back.

“ A boy this handsome at a hippie school?” Phoebe retorted. “Then I was right, Lily really is very very lucky to have found you—you’re much to fit to be–”

“We should sit.” Lily broke in, pulling James in the direction of the table. He wished he could get five seconds alone with her to regroup what the bloody hell was going on. He knew that Petunia would be bad—Vernon similar—but Remus had not let on that Lily’s home life would be as colorful as it was. Now it was making more sense why she had always been so tight lipped about them.

Up until this point James had been treading water—not safely coasting on the surface, but not drowning either. With various wizarding dinner parties his parents threw and the occasional kooky relative three times removed, James figured he could stand about anything barring a full on sexual assault from the stepmum or a verbal attack towards Lily on her sister’s part. But the thing he had not planned for was Lily herself. As they sat for dinner, the deep V in her dress fanned out a bit more, letting a full glimpse of the side of her breast peek out. Just the suggestion of her soft skin and hardened nipple being right there doing something awful to the wiring in his brain. She had to have done it on purpose—taking a page out of Sirius’ book and sabotaging an already cursed evening with the express intent of chaos. Whatever the case, he could hardly focus on the food in front of him, watching the dress shift as she moved, giving and removing bits of swelled skin like a teasing act.

“So, Lily. What are your plans for after school? Your father says you will be graduating soon.”

It was the first time James had heard Vernon speak all evening. For a bloke who was attending his own engagement party, he seemed more annoyed by the event than anything else.

“Uhm, I–” But Petunia cut her off ( a common occurrence, it seemed) taking her fiancé-to-be’s hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Nothing—Unlike some of us, Lily has not always been so zealous with her future.”

It was enough for James to peel his eyes away from his girlfriend.

“What do you mean,” James stared quizzically, “Lily is the hardest working person I know. She’s absolutely brilliant.”

A hush went through the room. Under the table, a hand moved onto his thigh, giving him a loving squeeze.

Petunia’s eyes glowered back, her voice going low. “I would hardly call the things that go on at that school hard working.”

James stared incredulously, looking around the room at each person. No one said anything, eating their food in a tense silence, letting Petunia take her jabs as she saw fit.

Vernon spoke up again, dabbing some gravy from his moustache. “I agree. I don’t know what goes on at your particular school but this alternative lifestyle bunk that has been sweeping the world these days is absolutely mad—just an excuse for freeloaders to take drugs and leech off their hard working families.”

“Is that what you think I do? Leech?” Lily seethed under her breath. The heat of her hand on his thigh disappeared and she began to stand up.

“Excuse me—I need to use the toilet.”

She wandered out of the door, leaving James unguarded.

“An interesting girl, your sister,” the younger of the Dursley’s piped up, chewing her food loudly. “A shame really. She could have such a good future—”

James coughed loudly, wondering if they were dumb or just didn’t care that he was still there.

From across the table, Lily’s father rolled the bottom of his tumbler around the table idly, watching the olives spin in the liquid.

“You know James, must say you are a step up from the other boy that kept coming around–what was that bloke’s name again, Tuney? Seth? Severell?

Snape. He’s talking about Snape.

James wiped his mouth and stood up, pushing an anxious hand through his hair.

“Er, sorry. Mind if I go out for a smoke?” It was a solid lie that he was quite proud of himself for.

Petunia scrunched up her nose in disgust, but otherwise said nothing. James slipped out the door into the hall.

* * * * *

She felt bad leaving him in there to fend for himself, but she didn’t have any other option.

Her family was easy to manage when she was just by herself—she could let their mean spiritedness and her Dad’s ignorance wash over her like an evening chill, but with James there, it took on a whole new life. What could he possibly think of her now? Of where she had come from? She thought back to everything she knew about James' upbringing: a wealthy, well-to-do wizarding family that was kind hearted enough to take in strays like Sirius and Remus whenever they needed…she wouldn’t be shocked to find James fled by the time she made it back to the table.

A sharp knock pounded at the door, awakening her from her spiral.

“Lily–open up.”

There was another bang, and she turned to open the door, wondering if he was mad he was left with such horrid company or worse, no longer wanted anything to do with her.

He’ll probably be a blood purist after tonight—seeing the state of this lot.

She opened the door and James slid in, eyes wide and dark.

“James I’m so sorry, I–”

He crowded her against the sink, pressing his hips flush against hers. His hands moved quickly, one reaching around to grab her bum and lift her onto the countertop and the other around her waist to keep her from falling back. He pressed his face into the open slot of her dress, dragging wet kisses down her sternum.

“You are so fucking incredible,” he panted into her skin, turning his head to nose at the fabric hiding one breast. “Your family are a bunch of arseholes. How can they not to see how fucking fantastic you are.”

A finger hooked the lining of her dress and pulled it aside. The creamy curve of her breast culminating in the rosy peak of her tit, hard just like he had imagined while watching her at the dinner table. He dragged his teeth lightly over the blunt tip, gaining a moan from Lily before taking it into his mouth and flattening his tongue against it.

She hummed in response, her legs wrapping around his waist, pooling her dress up to her hips so the lace of her knickers peeked out. All the fear of losing him melted from his touch and she leaned back farther, arching her back to the cyclical movement of his tongue on her nipple, his other hand now hitching her thigh higher.

“Now I know I was right. They are just jealous. It’s the only explanation–”

The memory of him calling Petunia jealous in that empty classroom flashed through her mind. It had only been a year since they had been in that room, learning to be vulnerable and open and friendly for the first time. Could the Lily in that memory even comprehend the idea of being pressed up against Marge Dursley’s powder room sink by the same boy a year later?

“James–”

From her chest, his eyes glanced upwards, “If you are about to ask me to stop, then just don’t, Evans,” he called up to her, moving to the other side of her chest.

“It’s clear you don’t get the recognition you deserve around here—I’m about to change that.I’m about to fucking worship you.”

Something hard pressed against the center of her knickers, making her gasp. James had leaned forward, the straining outline of his erection putting pressure right where her body was already begging for him.

Surprising both of them, she reached down and tugged at his belt, chest heaving under James’ open mouth which had begun adding teeth into the equation as he wandered from breast to breast.

“You better make it quick then, Potter. I’ve been wanting you all day.”

Something clicked inside him and he moved up to her mouth, holding the back of her neck with a firm hand as they melted together, teeth and tongue fighting for dominance. She made quick work of his belt, shoving a hand down the front of his open trousers to palm the thick base of his cock. The moan he made inside her mouth was absolutely sinful, eyes snapping open, then widening in realization.

He wrenched her hand out of his pants, but before she could let her confidence waver, she was being flipped around, feet placed back on cold tile and eyes meeting a matching pair through the reflection of the mirror.

“Look how lovely you are. How lovely and perfect and bloody sexy…”

Her hands grasped the basin of the sink as his hips pressed in from behind, his cock flush again against her center. His hips waved forward, bucking instinctively and she watched the friction zap all the way to her face, her mouth unhinging and eyes going glassy in the mirror. From above her bent body, James stared down at her reflection with a blown out expression, wetting his lips from the sight of her watching herself, rosy tits peeking out from the sides of the fabric in heaving gasps.

“Fucking hell,” James panted out, hands grasping at her waist while his hips make another wave against her. “Just look at you—I can’t believe I get to kiss you—to shag you. I’m the luckiest man alive.”

He leaned forward, a hand finding the small of her back and pressing down with a light touch so she arched underneath. Swollen lips reaching her ear, he gave a soft flick to her earlobe.

“I didn’t put a silencing spell on the room so we are going to have to be quiet—but fuck Lily. I need to touch you now. Please say I can touch you.”

She watched his face in the mirror, eyes completely dilated and darkened with a want that went beyond any earthly possession.

“Yes—fuck me.”

His chuckle quickly disintegrated into a moan, not waiting any longer to pull aside her knickers and sink an exploratory finger into her. She let out a mewling gasp, mouth opening wider in the mirror to the feel of another finger entering her, then curling in tandem inside.

“Christ, that feels good,” she called out, not realizing how loud her voice would carry. James shushed her, a haughty smile lingering on his lips and fingers working diligently, pressing in and out of her. His other hand moved slowly to grasp at the front of her neck and his eyes looked to her reflection for approval.

“Is this ok?”

Contrary to the striking look of his hand around her, there was no pressure from his grasp other than the support to keep her head up to watch through the mirror.

“Yes—fuck James. I—”

“Lily!”

Three sharp knocks rapped on the door behind them.

“What are you doing in there? It’s been ages.”

The handle shook and in the mirror she could see James’ eyes flick over to it for a second before skirting back to her face. His hand twisted inside her, a thumb reaching behind until it found the tight entrance of her ass and pushed in slightly. A triumphant grin reflected back as he watched eyes dilate into a heady darkness, head falling against his chest.

“Quiet, Evans,” he whispered. His eyes roamed her reflection, taking in the image of her gasping against him like it was the most treasured image in the world. She struggled to keep her eyes open, his fingers relentlessly working her. “You don’t want your sister to hear—“

“Lily! Vernon’s family is starting to worry! And where did your bloody boyfriend run off to…”

The handle rattled again, but James was quick, removing the hand from around her neck and grasping the door knob still. His hand continued to move inside her, thumb now carefully dipping in and pressing through her anal wall to tighten the work of his fingers on the other side.

“James–Fuck, what the fuck—that feels—”

She didn’t even know how to describe it. Good was an understatement—the pressure of his thumb only added to the mounting fire that burned inside her, pushing her to the complete edge.

“Come for me Lils,” He murmured, his breath tickling her skin. “Watch yourself come on my hand—be as loud as you want, I don’t care anymore. Let your pathetic asshole of a sister hear how good you have it. She might be the one getting engaged but I guarantee she will never be fucked half as good as you are now.”

If Lily had even a single coherent thought to use outside of the way James’ fingers filled her, she would have probably told him to check his ego. The door handle tried to turn again, but James kept it still, his voice chanting in time with the thrusts and curls of his fingers.

“Come Lily. I can feel you’re close. Let me feel it, baby. God you are so wet—the second you come I’m going to be inside you, the second.”

It was as though watching herself in slow motion. Her eyes dilated, jaw going slack, and then she keeled over, a burst of pleasure rippling through her, mounting endlessly to oblivion. Her eyes tried to flutter closed, but in an instant James’ hand was back on her neck, his voice breaking through the haze.

“No, keep your eyes open. Look at how beautiful you are when you come. Look, Lily. Look.”

Her eyes blinked open. Heavy and clouded in imminent climax, her nerves crackled with pleasure. The sound of her sister just beyond the door, probably now able to hear them completely lost to her–only able to focus on her own face staring back and the complete fullness of James’ fingers filling every part of her.

“Come, baby. That’s it. Do you see how beautiful you are? I love you.”

She didn’t say anything back to that, but when he twisted his fingers one last time, his thumb adding more pressure from behind, all her synapses fired at once, and she did—she saw it.

#jily #james potter #lily evans #jily fanfiction #marauders era #CtW #Chapter 18 #The dursleys AND the Evans being awful in this one #Rated M #Again thank you so much for voting this for the Jily Awards!!!#my writing

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thecomfywriter · 2 months ago

Note

What flower represents von doro?

hi wyked! finally finish von doro day womp womp. this is a fun one, so let’s get into it!

day six of tcw’s 12 days of askmas—the bouquet of von doro’s character [tov and sai spoilers]:

alright i'm using this website as my reference for the flower and their symbolism: https://www.almanac.com/flower-meanings-language-flowers

honestly, it's hard to summarize von doro into one flower, namely because she is such a layered character. to the point where her aura isn't even one colour (the way that it typically is), but instead 2 colours (pink and black).

so instead, i'll make a bouquet of von doro as the type of flowers her personality represents.

begonias -- beware: everything about von doro is ominous and a warning for fate or the alteration of your own life. you do not encounter the queen without reason, and if there is a reason, there is dread to be had.

black-eyed susan -- justice: she represents the justice system of soilaila. the basis of its morality, of the story's justice and morality, and the way vengeance plays a role in her verdict. the previous draft had a quote: "my vengeance is my justice" which illustrates this pretty well.

carnations/daylily -- maternal love: von doro means "mother dragon" in galka and it complies with the pink colour in her aura, which represents her maternal instinct towards all her subjects, dragon or not.

purple hyacinth -- sorrow: von doro's story begins and ends with tragedy.

hyssop -- sacrifice: what she has sacrificed and what she is willing to sacrifice is integral to her character.

thanks for the ask, wyked!

-- the holiday limited-edition tag list --

@wyked-ao3 @an-indecisive-nerd @drchenquill

@paeliae-occasionally @theink-stainedfolk @inseasofgreen

@thelovelymachinery @the-letterbox-archives @illarian-rambling

@bunnymermaidwrites @the-golden-comet @sm-writes-chaos

@leahnardo-da-veggie @corinneglass

[please tell me if you don't wanna be tagged i promise i will stop 🥺]

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shearlin · 2 months ago

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Chapter 3: What is magical aura?

Word count: 4262

First || << Previous || Next >>

Hi! It me :D Early Happy New Year and late Happy Holiday Season! <3

You might have noticed that the chapter number went up. Once I finished writing "the intro" to what used to be the original chapter 3 and I got a nice 4k+ words, I decided I would split it in two. I'm posting the original body of that chapter - now chapter number 4 - immediately after this one, so there's no delay. I wanted to finish it before the year ended and post it together and I did it! Yey! :D

While writing this I had two month break when I didn't touch this fic at all, because of life that was happening. In the meantime, I lost some of the original brainrot that compelled me to write it in the first place and was not able to put myself back into that mood again. It didn't affect my want to finish this story - that was very much still there - but it did affect the academic tone I was trying to maintain. I did my best to blend it in with itself within the chapter and with the tone of the previous ones while editing, but if you notice that some part are repetitive or feel disjoined from the rest of the fic - that's why.

Enjoy! :D

He and Hyrule started to swap their knowledge, comparing terminology and experiences in an increasingly animated back and forth, where they were infecting each other with their enthusiasm. It wasn’t long, however, before they were interrupted by Wind with an unimpressed look on his face.

“Hey nerds!” he shouted, making them both flinch and turn to him like startled dears. “Could you two slow down for the newbies in the class? I got like five words from what you said.”

“That’s five more than me.” Twilight said, while Wild looked at him in mocked surprise, whispering “Those were words?”

Legend felt himself blush slightly in embarrassment as both he and Hyrule rubbed their necks bashfully.

“My bad,” the veteran mumbled, before clearing his throat and summoning back the confidence and excitement from moments before. “Alright! Let’s take it from the top.”

“Before talking about alignments, let’s talk magical aura. You already know about life energy and that it gets converted into magical energy when your body overflows. But when your soul fills up, there is no third state of energy that magic could take, nor do we have a third aspect of being to store such energy. So… what happens to it?

“Well. It leaks. Like heat radiating from your body, magic radiates from your soul in a steady but small trickle. Eventually, that energy will be picked up by the world around you and absorbed back into the cycle. But before that happens, there is a window of time when your magic is very distinctly you .

“Magic energy - your magical energy - is a culmination of your being, your entire lived and taught experience. Your magic is unique to you and only you . Magic-sensitive people can pick up on that energy residue in the air or on the objects you touched and track you, using the specific feeling they get from it, called magic signature. Of course, the better you know someone, the easier it gets. It’s a lot like looking for someone in a crowd. If it’s a stranger you’ve seen once in your life, they’re going to disappear in the sea of faces. But if it’s someone familiar, a friend for example, you would be more likely to spot them among others.

“So! What does it have to do with anything? Well, one’s aura, at its very core, is centred around one’s alignment. No matter if it’s warrior or scholar, old wizard or sniffling brat - people with shared alignment will also share certain motifs in their aura that allow for estimation of what that alignment is . Key word though. Estimation.

Read the rest on Ao3!

#linked universe #linked universe fanfic #linkeduniverse #lu fanfiction #shameless exposition #of the theory of magic #my writing

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fadingeternity · 3 months ago

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Matchup trade for @archive-of-the-lost

I match you with — Suguru Geto !!

✦ You and Geto’s personalities would mesh well, as you both are intellectual and think a lot about deep subjects! Geto, unlike some, is deeply introspective and thoughtful—even after his time at Jujutsu Tech. He would have no issue listening to you talk. He enjoys it, in fact. He loves to debate philosophy with you; Geto isn’t just someone who listens—he’s someone who truly hears you. He absorbs every word, reflecting on your thoughts before offering his own.

✦ He values someone who can challenge norms, and your resistance to conformity would not only resonate with him, but also inspire admiration. Your firm sense of individuality would spark both his respect and curiosity - which is why I think you’d made a great match!

✦ Geto likely noticed you long before you realized he did and took his time to get to know you naturally; he’s in no rush. He sparks up conversation with deeper topics, skipping small talk for the most part, which is how he shows his interest. He slowly introduces himself into your life, slithering in similarly to a snake as time passes - until he’s with you frequently during free time. Your mind, authenticity, and depth would be what first draws him to you.

✦ Geto is a very attentive and devoted partner. He diligently ensures you feel valued, whether through his words or his actions. This is where your love languages fit well! Geto can be very affectionate through his words, offering praise and comfort when it is needed. Of course, Geto has a nurturing side to him as well, which makes acts of service second nature to him. He takes pride in doing small things such as making sure you’re well-rested by handling your responsibilities or surprising you with small, considerate gestures to make you feel cherished and supported. Words of affirmation and acts of service are certainly his strong points! Geto appreciates the little things others do for him as opposed to grand gestures, so when you lighten his load a bit or give him a thoughtful gift, it touches him deeply to know he was in your thoughts.

✦ The both of you exude quiet strength and intelligence; you two would definitely give off a “power couple” aura with your combined strengths. You compliment each other well in many aspects, including intellectually and emotionally. Your deep connection would be clear with the authority and silent understanding you share and your mutual respect for another. Your unshakable connection would draw in the admiration of others.

✦ Although dates might be scarce, due to Geto’s rather tight schedule, he makes it a point to make time for you - canceling his plans on occasion when he feels you two haven’t connected enough. Geto cannot stand for dates at home, as he feels it isn’t memorable enough, preferring to take you out instead. Other than that, he isn’t picky regarding where you go, as long as you both enjoy it in the end. He’d specifically enjoy visiting an amusement park during holidays or somewhere more secluded from crowds, such as scenic walks or picnic dates, where he can be with you in a more private environment. He would love spending time with you, even if in complete silence and doing your own, separate activities.

✦ He more than happily listens to you info dump about your special interests; Geto listens with keen interest, leaned forward and smiling as he does so. He’d share your interest in personality types, though his knowledge wouldn’t be quite as extensive, which provides a better opportunity for you to educate him on the topic. During these moments, he tends to listen rather than speak, other than the occasional input to reassure you that he’s thoroughly captivated with the topic as well. There is just something about watching you light up at the mention of something and grow so eager to share your passion for it that enamors him.

✦ Of course, every good relationship comes with conflict to some degree. Geto’s thoughtful mind is a double-edged sword in the fact that he tends to dig himself into isolation and a crushing sense of loneliness, no matter who he may have around him. His habit to retreat into himself would definitely make it challenging to help him through these dark moments, but he just needs a reminder that he isn’t completely alone. Geto is grateful for any effort you make, since he’s all too used to being overlooked. Simply showing you see his suffering would ease the weight on his shoulders, if only a little.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

For your sibling, you get — Yuta Okkotsu !!

✦ Yuta could easily pass as either your older or younger sibling, but his protective and caring nature gives off strong older sibling energy. Even if he were the younger one, his demeanor wouldn't change much! He seems timid at a glance, and it may seem like you two are quite different, but the similarities you do have are undeniable. He takes his role as your sibling very seriously and often checks in to make sure you’re alright. He wants you to feel like you can depend on him to be there for you when you need someone to lean on.

✦ Yuta is very considerate of your personal space and boundaries; he’d never push further than he knows you’re comfortable with unless it was truly necessary. However, he would gently encourage you to try new things and push yourself towards your goals, but it’s more out of support and genuine belief that you could accomplish whatever you put your mind to. He happily cheers you on from the sidelines and helps you up when you stumble or fall. Yuta makes it clear that he’s there for you every step of the way. If you seem down or frustrated, he doesn’t pry - but makes it his mission to lighten your mood with small deeds such as leaving you your favorite snack.

✦ He’s definitely your number one fan when it comes to your creative exploits. He fully supports your passion for writing and might ask you on occasion if there’s anything you’re currently working on, and maaaaybe if he could read it! He may not always say so verbally, but he’s incredibly proud of you. It really shows when he tells his friends of your accomplishments, not so discreetly bragging. He can’t help but feel proud of you.

✦ Should you ever be injured, there's no question he would lose his mind worrying over you. Even a minor injury causes his anxiety to stir and he’ll remain by your side vigilantly until you’re better. If you get sick, Yuta is attentive and regularly checks your temperature and responds to your needs for food or medication. Should you run out of either, well, guess he’s making a sudden dash to the nearest store!

✦ He’s a bit overbearing at times, but if you told him you’d like to be left alone, he’d begrudgingly give you time to yourself. Yuta can be scarily protective at times, as well; although he wouldn’t start a confrontation unless absolutely necessary, if someone were mistreating you or making you seriously upset, you might have to calm him down. His capacity for forgiveness is, at times, fiercely limited.

✦ Serious disagreements between you two are rare. However, if they do occur, they likely stem from his tendency to be overprotective. At times, he may come across as overbearing, especially since he might step in even when you don’t feel that you need help. When you're determined to shoulder something on your own, Yuta is prone to step in, albeit with good intentions. This can be aggravating if you value independence, as it may seem like he doubts your judgement or capacity to manage alone. Typically, Yuta is self-aware enough to recognize when he's crossing boundaries and will pull back, which is why such conflicts are infrequent.

✦ He might not understand every one of your interests personally, but his support doesn’t waver. He makes an effort to embrace the things you love, like your taste in music, anime, or literature. He's the kind of person who has you in mind when he comes across anything that aligns with your interests. During a storm, he would pause his activities just to inform you and quietly observe the lightning together. Upon discovering a new cafe, he's eager to share the news with you and suggests visiting it together. In essence, he's keenly aware of your likes and dislikes and considerately keeps them in mind!

#matchup #matchup trade #jjk matchup #jujutsu kaisen

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a-m-pyra · 11 months ago

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First Burn: Ch1 Madame Seymour's Home for Lost Youth (American McGee's Alice/Lies of P)

Madame Seymour was a short, curvy woman before her forties, whose head was adorned with high pinned, fiery red hair. She was dressed in red and bejeweled with silver rings, necklace, bracelets and earrings.

She greeted them at the door. Her arms were crossed in front of her, she stood straight, with a black trench coat draped over her shoulders. Because even though the sun had been shining over London since the morning — which, as he learned, wasn't so obvious — there was still blowing a cool autumn wind.

He thought that she looked like Sophia in some way — in some way, because she was sort of the opposite. It was as if someone had changed her color palette — Sophia in light blue, Madame Seymour in dark red. But because of the aura radiating from her, he almost felt as if it was Sophia herself, standing and waiting for him to approach her.

She smiled at him gently and warmly. He noticed the dimple in her left cheek, and as he and Giangio moved even closer to shake hands with her, he noticed the freckles galore — which were everywhere he could see, standing out strongly on her cheeks, nose, and shoulders as soon as she took off her of them a coat inside.

He was immediately struck by the noise that was coming from the right. Ten children, a teenager who was probably not yet eighteen, and a young woman were discussing at the table as they ate breakfast together.

He looked down at his feet, stopping for a moment. Under his feet, he saw an ornate scorpion that decorated the floor. The almost black wood against the deep brown background looked as if it had been burnt.

He felt someone's eyes on him. He glanced furtively toward the dining room, noticing the young woman glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. He could get a better look at her — her hair was as dark as his and resembled a sheet of spilled ink in its smoothness and shine, that she was dressed in a dress whose cornflower blue color complimented her beauty, and that her eyes were so intensely green that they could easily compete with malachite or emeralds. She was petting a large dog that seemed to be staring at her like a picture.

He heard Giangio clear his throat, bringing him back to earth and reminding him to follow them. This is what happened; They went up to the second floor, where Mrs. Seymour's office was located. It was cozy, warm, even more so than the rest of the building. A comfortable sofa, armchairs and a chaise longue, plus soft pillows, a lot of different textures and materials, a warm shade of wood, healthy, green plants and pictures on the walls intertwined with children's cards — on the occasion of Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, birthdays, holidays and such which she received without much opportunity.

These children seemed to idolize her, judging by the inscriptions on each of the cards and their number.

Mrs. Seymour sat down at the desk, with him and Giangio right in front of her.

While Giangio and Seymour were talking, he didn't dare to look at her. Instead, he looked at the legion's arm. Venigni stayed up at night with Eugénie especially to make it for him. Now it was not supposed to be used for defense, but for normal functioning. He could install it under his clothes without worrying that the material would interfere with its functionality, and what's more, it no longer looked like a typical mechanical part of his body — they made sure that he didn't have to expose himself to strange looks from the English, making his the new arm looked like a human hand.

He felt strange without a weapon. Strange, as if he was no longer himself. Just knowing that he didn't have to worry about fighting anymore was a strange concept to him.

After all, he had been fighting ever since Sophia had breathed life into him.

“I haven't had the chance to work with the puppet yet, but I will do everything I can to help him.” He heard it and then lifted his head slightly to look at her.

“I'm not a typical puppet,” he whispered, and Mrs. Seymour looked at him and smiled softly.

“It's true,” she admitted. “Maybe you would like to tell me what you would like me to address you, hmm?” She laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them

He was never asked about it. His father called him simply Son , Sophia Clever one , Gemini Pal , Venigni Compagno , the people he met along the way, Geppetto's Puppet .

No one asked him his name or what he would like to be called. But now the question made him think that perhaps they were all trying to dehumanize him.

Still, all these puppets had names. Pulcinella, Pollendina, Gemini, Romeo, all the puppets he fought. But he had none.

He clenched his left hand and then relaxed it, ignoring the strange cold and tightness in his chest as he thought about his name. He stole a glance at the extinguished Gemini lamp at his side, resisting the urge to grab the legion's arm and rub it nervously.

“Pinocchio.” He lowered his head again. “Though I'd rather just P.”

Her smile widened.

“It's very nice to meet you, P.”

P noticed that she leaned towards him. Her face was radiant with a sincere smile, concern and joy. He felt himself smile slightly.

Giangio and Mrs. Seymour stood up. He felt that Gemini's lamp was shaking just like he wanted to say something, but he himself realized that he should get up and follow them. They went down to the first floor and Mrs. Seymour opened the door at the end of the corridor, allowing him to enter.

His own room.

It was as cozy as Mrs. Seymour's office. It had a spacious wardrobe, a large desk, a comfortable-looking bed with plenty of pillows and a thick eiderdown. What he liked most was the large bookcase, which still had plenty of space for his own books.

The interior was not much different from the hotel in Krat, and this was probably not so common when it came to orphanages and such centers.

Mrs. Seymour truly made sure that not only her knowledge and skills improved the condition of her patients, but also the environment. So that they can really feel at home and recover in truly comfortable conditions.

P put his suitcase next to the bed and sat on it, bouncing on the pleasantly soft mattress with fascination. Then he touched one of the furry pillows, feeling like he was burying his fingers in Spring's fur.

“I like it,” he announced, and Seymour giggled.

“Okay then, you'll probably want to see Mr. Paracelsus off.”

He nodded and the three of them went downstairs. Giangio adjusted his top hat and patted P on the shoulder, then walked towards the carriage, completely speechless. He drove away, and P followed the carriage with his eyes.

“Would you like to join us for breakfast, P?”

He was about to unpack his things.

Contrary to what he expected, there weren't many of them. A few sets of clothes and some vinyl records were all he could take. He didn't need weapons, and he didn't have any trivia to pack in his suitcase.

He figured he'd do that later, when he had some free time, and he nodded as he followed Mrs. Seymour into the dining room, where everyone was still sitting with warm tea and leftovers.

Mrs. Seymour grabbed him lightly by the shoulders and said, “My dears, please meet P, he will be staying with us for a while.”

The monstrously large dog barked as if happily, and after a while there were whispers from the girls. P looked at Mrs. Seymour, and she laughed and scolded them playfully.

“P, please meet Otto,” She pointed to the red-haired teenager, who smiled broadly as he held a cup in his hands, “Charlie, Dodo, Diggie, Toby,” She approached the four boys one by one, the blond, the one with glasses, the boy with curly, dark hair and an eight-year-old with a gap between his teeth, “Abigail, Inez, Angela, Mila and Betty.” One by one, she placed her hands on the head of a girl with pigtails, a darker complexion and two buns on her head, a blonde girl, a girl who had bows everywhere, and a girl with ponytails. “And these are my daughters, Alice and Clara, and my faithful companion Cormac.”

P glanced at Alice, appreciating every detail of her face like a porcelain doll. Appreciating the way her lips parted as they looked into each other's eyes for a moment. Then they both turned their heads, and P was glad he couldn't blush — or at least he deeply hoped he couldn't.

Cormac walked up to him and started sniffing him.

He had rather experiences with cats — one in particular. Hence, the sight of the dog filled him with anxiety, especially because it looked so large that if it stood on its hind legs it would only be slightly shorter than him.

Cormac, however, did not attack him as he expected from his menacing appearance. He lay down at his feet, scratching the floor in front of him and looking into his eyes.

“He wants you to pet him!” Abigail exclaimed, and P wondered if he should do it the same way he did with Spring, or if the dogs should be petted differently.

He pursed his lips and crouched down, hanging his hand over the dog and the dog pushing its head under it. P carefully stroked his head, noting how gentle this intimidating giant was.

“Let me show you something,” Charlie announced and crouched down next to him, only to start scratching Cormac behind the ear.

Cormac began to lie on the floor, wagging his tail happily and laying on his back.

“He loves having his ears scratched!” he added, then scratched his stomach and stood up.

“Wash your hands before you eat, Charlie,” Mrs. Seymour pointed out.

“Of course, Alex!” he shouted, running to the bathroom. He returned a moment later, returning to the table, and Seymour crouched down next to P and grabbed his arm,

“Why don't you sit down at the table, hmm?”

P nodded and sat down next to the redhead. Otto, if he remembered correctly.

Mrs. Seymour, on the other hand, sat at the head of the table, opposite her older daughter.

“Where are you from, P?” Inez asked, trying to brush a stray curl from her forehead that had come out of one of the buns.

“From Krat…”

Dodo and Diggie sighed happily.

“It's a puppet city!” said Dodo.

“How amazing!” Diggie added. “We were going to go there, but Alex said it wasn't safe there. Apparently they rebelled.”

P brushed his hair back, feeling everyone looking at him.

“Unfortunately, yes, and that made them very dangerous. I know something about that,” he said, and interested murmurs echoed around the dining room. “I had to hunt them.”

The boys suddenly dropped their jaws in shock and jumped up in their chairs.

“Were you a puppet hunter?” Toby leaned against the table with his arms bent. “How cool!”

P felt like getting up and going for a walk. He didn't expect such interest. His body tingled, and suddenly his legs began to hurt terribly.

Until now, he didn't think he could feel pain at all.

“Okay kids, finish eating, and we'll help Ms. Sharpe clean up, then you can play before your sessions.”

P was grateful to Mrs. Seymour. It seemed that she noticed the tension that was building within him, and that he himself didn't have the heart not to answer them to the barrage of questions that were unfolding somewhere on the horizon.

“Thank you, Mrs. Seymour.”

“I know how difficult it can be, and they don't always know moderation.” She patted his hand lightly on his lap.

The children were playing, Mrs. Seymour was helping the housekeeper wash the dishes, and Alice had left the orphanage before ten o'clock — something told him to talk to her, but he didn't particularly have the courage to do so. He tried to stop his thoughts by unpacking his things, but they kept coming back to him and made him pause for a moment.

“I think you're tired, pal.”

P looked over his shoulder at Gemini's lamp. He sighed and shook his head.

“It's not tired.”

“So you're just lost in thought. I hope you don’t go back to what happened with… you know.”

P pursed his lips and hung his shirt on the hanger.

“No. I try not to think about it.”

“Hmm? So what is it about?”

He was about to come up with a neat lie when there was a knock on the door. However, he didn't have time to answer, because after a while he saw red hair and a freckled face peeking out from behind the open door.

“Well, listen, it was really good, you know? Incredible.”

P froze in place and Otto went inside and sat on the bed.

“I don't understand.”

“Well, your story. A puppet hunter who looks like you... damn, that would be a good story for a play or a book. Some kind of love story, probably…”

P didn't quite understand what Otto meant. Looks like him? What's that supposed to mean? What love? So far, he has had deeper contact with three women. Lady Antonia was his mother figure, as was Sophia — who always wanted him to do as he wanted, unlike his father. Then there was Eugénie — and although he thought she was a lovely person and liked her very much, he never saw her as a possible lover — more of a, well, sister-type.

He feared that his life as a puppet hunter was much less epic than Otto would have liked to imagine.

In addition, he felt like he was between a rock and a hard place. He had the choice of going back to talking about his thoughts with Gemini, or talking about the Puppet Frenzy and fighting them with Otto. He didn't feel like doing either.

Especially since telling someone other than Mrs. Seymour didn't seem therapeutic to him — more traumatic, especially since he couldn't quite tell how Otto would react when he would tell him everything.

Giangio said that Mrs. Seymour would have no right to judge him; but anyone else could have done it.

“I don't know what you're thinking…” he paused for a moment, trying to choose his words correctly — talking to others was still a bit difficult for him, “but it's not an epic love story at all.”

“So there was no knight on a white horse and no damsel in distress?”

P shook his head.

“There was oil and people who were mad at me for absolutely no reason and tried to kill me.”

“Still epic enough.”

A quiet, irritated snort escaped P's lips unconsciously.

“You don't seem to be the carousing type, are you?”

P looked at him over his shoulder and reached into his suitcase for his vest.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, big groups of friends, partying in bars, lovers…”

“Somehow I haven't had time for this before, you know?”

“I guess. But you wouldn't want to have time for this?”

P thought for a moment, looking at Gemini's lamp, hoping it would help him a little. But Gemini didn't speak.

P looked down and hung the vest in the closet.

“That's right, I'm not the carousing type.”

“Well. I won't force you to do anything. However, Ms. Sharpe asked us to help her with the delivery of products. There are two of us, plus the delivery person. It will go faster.”

P nodded and closed the closet as he and Otto went downstairs to the kitchen, where the delivery boy was fighting with a sack of potatoes. P walked over to it and helped him pick it up, earning surprised looks from both Otto and the delivery man.

He looked at them questioningly, then understood what they meant.

“I fought giant puppets. It’s not even that heavy.”

Otto laughed and P turned away to hide his slight embarrassment and carry the bag into the pantry.

The work went by quickly — in fact, the three of them, and with the strength of P, managed to deal with it extremely efficiently, because after just a dozen or so minutes the car was empty, and the pantry was topfull.

The delivery man took off his flat cap in greeting and drove away. However, in his place, a portly woman appeared, dressed as a housekeeper. P guessed it must have been Ms. Sharpe.

She grabbed Otto's shoulder and patted him on the back in thanks. Then she looked at him and smiled slightly.

“Well, I guess you must be P. Thank you for your help too.”

P nodded, smiling back.

“Okay, you can go about your business. I'll drag these rascals to peel potatoes. Dinner will be before two o'clock.”

“Skip one portion,” P muttered, and Ms. Sharpe looked at him questioningly. “I… well… I just can't eat.”

Nan slapped her hand on her forehead and nodded.

“Oh, yes, I understand. I’m sorry.”

He only assured that there was no problem and went upstairs, intending to hide in his room again. He was interrupted by Charlie, who ran up to him with a smile, announcing that Mrs. Seymour was calling him into her office for his first session.

He glanced towards his bedroom door, wondering if he should or even could take Gemini with him. Then his eyes fell on Charlie again, and he walked into the office without a word.

He took a breath and knocked on the door, walking inside as soon as he heard permission to enter.

Mrs. Seymour sat behind her desk with a cup of coffee at her side. P could smell it and wished he could eat or drink. He wondered about the taste of food and drinks — and he could only imagine them.

When he sat down, Mrs. Seymour asked him for a story. How did it all start. What he went through. What was the end.

Talking about his father was difficult. He felt inside that this was not how a father should behave, although in his head the thought appeared that maybe this was how it should be.

He talked about Lady Antonia, slightly lifting the corner of his mouth when he talked about the most wonderful voice in all of Krat. The smile only left his lips when he started talking about how he wished he could have spent a little more time with her.

Mrs. Seymour did not interrupt him once, only writing something down in her notebook from time to time. He noticed how different her typeface was. Sometimes she wrote sweepingly, other times long letters ended straight, without any loops. Sometimes she wrote in cursive, other times straight. Sometimes the E was made of dashes, other times it was a mirror image of a three — she crossed out the first one most often, and he could see her knitting her eyebrows.

He usually saw regular writing and wondered what could be causing this variability, which could occur even within a single word.

He fell silent, looking at her. She noticed this, asking him to continue.

“I think that's it…”

She muttered, setting the quill aside.

“Tell me, what do you associate with Geppetto?”

P thought for a moment.

“Or I have a better idea.” She stood up and rummaged through one of the drawers, pulling out some cards. “Now I should shuffle them and put them face down, but we'll do it differently this time.”

She opened the yellow aluminum box and unfolded the cards with various drawings on them. They depicted various areas of life, some of them depicting fantastic characters — the Emperor, the Empress, the Fool, or the Magician.

“Draw out the cards that remind you of your father.”

P looked at them, trying to pick out details that would tell him what the cards meant — any he didn't understand, he discarded. He drew The Emperor, The Pope, The Chariot, The Death, King of Swords, Five of Cups, Two, Three, and Seven of Swords. He also made an exception for The Moon — because even though he didn't fully understand this card, something told him he should draw it.

Alex was silent for a moment, resting the lower part of her face on her intertwined fingers.

“And if you were to tell me what you felt then and now, would you rather talk about it or present it in some way?”

P scratched the back of his right hand — not that it was itchy, he did it completely on reflex, hoping it would ease the strange feeling that was inside him.

“I'm just starting to learn how to talk about emotions,” he paused and looked at the cards in front of him. “In Krat I didn't think about them, and in fact, the first time I felt something was the death of Lady. Antonia. Such a tightness in the chest; weight.”

“Sadness.”

He nodded.

“So you don't have a problem with basic feelings. But if you had to tell me more about it. About what's on your mind. Would you rather show it or discuss it?”

“Show; but I don't know anything that could perfectly describe my thoughts. Talking about it seems… pretentious. Like I shouldn't talk about it.”

“That's nonsense. Each of us feels something, me, the children, my daughters, Otto, Nan. Even you.”

Alex opened the desk cabinet and searched it carefully.

“You said you're not an ordinary puppet-” She placed the object on her lap, “and I agree with that. When I look at you, I see someone in between. You may have springs and gears and pistons in your body, but you act like a human, feel like a human, think like a human and use defense mechanisms like a human.” She placed a sketchbook in front of him. “I bought it thinking that I would write down notes from the session in it, and then I threw it away in favor of this notebook.”

Mrs. Seymour's notebook was full of bookmarks, loose pages and numerous traces of use on the leather cover.

“Children have pencils in a container. It's on the shelf in the living room.”

“I can’t draw.”

“That’s nothing. Your drawings don't have to be perfect. They are meant to represent what is going on in your head. People, thoughts, whatever you want. Every session, you'll give it to me to look over, and we'll see what you've drawn, hmm?”

She smiled slightly at him. He returned the smile.

“All right.”

“Well then. Sketch your mind for me, and then we'll think about what to do next.”

P heard the children running down the stairs to the dining room, ready for afternoon tea — but he was so fixated on sketching what was on his mind that he only curled up his legs tighter on the couch and bowed his head to hide his work.

He really didn't want anyone but Mrs. Seymour to see it. He felt intimidated by the thought of someone else looking into what he thought. What he felt.

He heard the door open quietly and heels click. After a while, he saw the cornflower blue fabric of the dress out of the corner of his eye.

He closed his sketchbook and sat up straight, returning the slight smile he saw on Mrs. Seymour's older daughter's face.

“She used the same tactic with me.”

P opened his mouth.

He didn't think people couldn't describe their emotions, either. He attributed it to the puppets, especially himself. After all, he didn't know if other puppets felt emotions too.

“Does Mrs. Seymour do this often?”

She thought for a moment and shrugged.

“I don't think so. Children are usually effusive. Otto knows his feelings better than anyone and has no problem expressing what he thinks.”

He looked at Gemini's lamp. He was quiet except for his natural chirping sounds.

“Would you like to sit down?”

“No, I'll sit at the table, I don't want to disturb you.”

“You're not disturbing me.”

She glared at him, then set her bag on the coffee table, right next to Gemini's lamp, and sat down next to him on the couch.

They were silent for a moment. P wondered what to do now. He felt his heart flutter slightly as he tried to think of something.

“You left before ten. Something happened?”

Alice looked at him and took off her shoes, tucked her legs in and leaned on the armrest.

“No, everything was fine. I work in a theater, I sew costumes. I was going to work at ten o'clock.”

A big red exclamation mark appeared in his head. It worked, he found something they could talk about.

She could. She could tell him about her work, what is happening in the theater and what it all looks like behind the scenes. And he could listen to her, sometimes just asking for details.

Then, at dinner, she got up to get for herself a portion of food and returned to him to continue talking about her work.

“I feel stupid for only talking about myself.”

P smiled slightly.

“It doesn’t bother me. I don't want to talk about what I had to do.”

“So, maybe what you would like to do?” She rested her head on her hand, waiting to hear what he had to say.

“I haven't had time to think about it yet,” he admitted. “But the set designer job you talked about sounds interesting.”

“Oh? Maybe a conservator?”

“The set designer sounds better. It's work-”

“Man, isn't this romantic? Just look at that sunset”

They both jumped, spotting Otto leaning against the wall and looking out the window.

“Right, sunset.” Alice rose from the sofa. “I should go home. The streets of London get dangerous after dark.”

“I think you can hang out some more. P will definitely be happy to accompany you.” Otto grinned and P looked at him, trying to understand what he meant.

“Thank you, but I'll be fine,” she assured, and after saying goodbye to Mrs. Seymour, she left the orphanage, bidding farewell to P with a quick wave.

“Well, well.”

P looked at Otto questioningly.

“What?”

“Nothing, that's just what I was told without a reason.” He shrugged and, putting his hands in his pockets, headed for the stairs, whistling.

“Otto, no whistling!” Mrs. Seymour exclaimed irritably, and Otto uttered a quick apology and ran upstairs.

P sighed and grabbed Gemini's lamp to go to his room as well.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Seymour.”

“Good night, P. Get some sleep.”

P smiled to himself. Thanks to the fact that he began to gain humanity, he was able to fall asleep normally. Sleep turned out to be pleasant, sometimes even necessary, and in a way he was glad that he could finally rest.

He put Gemini on the shelf and started changing into something more comfortable, first unfastening his legion arm and placing it next to the bed.

Gemini activated right after P got into bed and snuggled into one of the pillows, smiling to himself as an image of Alice appeared in his mind, happy as she talked about her job and the people she worked with.

And about the fact that she often had the opportunity to work with Mrs. Seymour because she performed on the stage of this theater.

“Okay, so that's it,” Gemini said. “You were thinking about Alice then.”

“She is nice.”

“And you like the way she looks.”

“She's pleasing to the eye.”

“That's what I'm talking about.”

“I won't talk to you about it. I'm too tired.” He turned over and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep.

But then he opened them again and smiled like a fool.

#alice madness returns #american mcgee's alice #alice liddell #lies of p #pinocchio lies of p #alice x pinocchio #p x alice #oc: alex seymour #oc: otto #american mcgee's alice oc #alice madness returns oc #alice madness returns fanfiction #american mcgee's alice fanfiction #lies of p fanfiction #archive of our own #ao3fic

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kanerallels · 1 year ago

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Last chapter of this before the holiday season kicks in! Hope y'all enjoy it-- I'm finally clearing up a few mysteries hehe. Sorry to everyone who thought they knew what was gonna happen (I'm too insane to be predicted most of the time) and respect to @singswan-springswan who figured out a plot line and I have no idea how. First lines under the cut!

Taglist: @selfish-giant @jedi-nurse @seleneisrising @accidental-spice @laughingphoenixleader (DM me if you want to be added or removed!)

A blue aura seemed to hum around him for a moment, then faded away as the edges of the cube pulled back to their original position, but twisted off-center. It dropped towards the ground, and Ezra instinctively reached out to catch it.

The moment his hand touched it, the man— who looked real, but not real. There was a definite sense of incorporeality about it, but he was no hologram. Ezra was sure of that much— opened his eyes.

His gaze swept across the cave, moved on to Jacen, and then rested on Ezra. “Where the kark am I?” he asked, sounding as confused as Ezra felt.

“Uh,” Ezra said. Cleared his throat. Tried and failed to come to terms with the fact that a human being had just materialized out of a cube— what had Old Master called it? A holocron?— he’d opened with the Force. “A cave?”

“I see that,” the man said, turning in a slow circle. He had dark hair, tied back in a ponytail, and a goatee. His green-blue eyes were bewildered as he looked back at Ezra. “But this does not look like a cave on Malachor. Or Dathomir, I suppose, would have been my second guess.”

“Because it’s neither of those planets,” Ezra said. “We’re on Krownest.”

#why am i INCAPABLE of posting this fan fic without evilly cackling?#it's so fun #star wars rebels #swr #ezra bridger #sabine wren #sabezra #sabezra aladdin au #kanan jarrus #jacen syndulla #ahsoka tano #writing stories is a kind of magic too

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faofinn · 1 year ago

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No. 15 "I don't need you to help me, I can handle things myself."

@whumptober-archive

Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | "I'm fine."

Alex had laughed at Fao when he’d said he wanted to take Finn camping over the summer. She’d asked if Afghanistan hadn’t been enough for him, if the English summer was the extra level of suffering he craved. He’d told her to piss off, that it would be a nice holiday, something to enjoy. He had his house, they could camp there, swim in the lake, and there were always showers, and warm beds if the weather got really shit. They’d buy a big tent, Finn could bring Jess, and Fao even invited Hars and Marcus. They both had time off, and had agreed, though Hars grumbled if he got cold overnight he’d be going inside and nobody was stopping him.

Sure enough they’d all driven down, hiked out to the camping spot next to the lake, and set up the big tent there, all cosy with airbeds and duvets. It was luxury compared to being on tour, that was for sure. Finn’s seizures were a worry, of course, but Steve had made sure they had the meds they needed, that plans were available if needed, and told them to enjoy themselves. After all, they had enough medics there to make sure he was safe.

They were sat around the campfire that first night, looking up at the stars as they toasted marshmallows, listening to the crackle of the fire. Finn had brought his guitar with him, and his soft strumming broke the night air every so often as he tried to work out what he wanted to play.

After a few hours just chatting and singing along to Finn’s guitar they all headed to bed, snuggling down under warm duvets. After a slap up breakfast the next morning, Fao insisted they at least go for a walk and enjoy nature. There were loads of footpaths leading off his land, and some of the walks had some amazing views. Alex teased him and told him he was turning into Fred, and Finn said the same, but Fao didn’t care. They were going to enjoy their holiday, and the countryside was perfect to unwind.

Mornings were far from Harrison’s favourite, the air still cold and not quite fixed by Fao's breakfast. He grumbled half heartedly as he ate. Marcus was much more of a morning person, laughing at the state of his boyfriend. He'd never been to Fao's, and was quite excited to go explore, even if Harrison wasn't.

Food was packed, as well as drinks and Finn's meds - it seemed everyone had double checked that one - and soon enough they were on the trails. Harrison had brightened up, happily joining in the conversation as they went. Finn was slightly withdrawn as they picked their path, a little tired and worried he'd ruin it as he always did. Jess, of course, told him to stop being daft, linking their fingers and swinging their hands as a distraction.

It didn't take long for Finn to start complaining he was hungry, so of course they had to stop for a snack. It was easier than listening to his complaining, that was for sure. Once Finn was happily chewing away, they continued, glad of the five minutes' peace.

Despite Finn’s grumblings, it was a nice walk, up into the hills and then down to the stream that cut through the land. They’d been going for a few hours now, and they were all in need of a rest, so Fao paused to sit on a large rock, digging around in his backpack for some water.

Finn had been trailing behind, having been distracted by a butterfly on a plant, crouched close to the edge. He'd sent a few photos to his dad, knowing he’d love to see them too. On his way back, his stomach twisted, his phone falling from his hand. He shook his head, swearing softly. It wasn’t a full aura, just a partial, nothing to worry about, he was sure.

Finn’s quiet swearing had caught Harrison's attention, frowning at the other man too close to the edge. He brushed it off, assuming he was just being overly cautious. But then, he caught the look on his face, all too aware of Finn’s seizures - tonic-clonic or not, Finn was too close to the edge. He jumped up, rushing to grab him before he just walked off the edge.

Finn made no move to stop himself, not even a frown as Harrison grabbed him. He pulled him away from the edge, Finn tripping over his own feet. He landed on his arse in the grass, dazed and disoriented.

Harrison, however, wasn’t so lucky. Everything happened all at once, his ankle twisting as the edge of the riverbank gave way. He gave a surprised shout, hands scrambling at the side to try and stop himself from falling. It was no use.

A sudden stab of pain in his palm saw him lose his grip, blood immediately dripping down his arm. It wasn't his main priority for long, finding himself dunked under the cold water. Instinctively, he gasped, river water in his lungs making him retch and cough. Head under water, it took him a moment to realise what happened, forcing himself to try to kick to the surface. As his head finally raised above, Marcus's hand grabbed at him, dragging him to the edge.

Harrison collapsed onto his side, his whole body shaking. He continued to retch and cough, Marcus trying to help by smacking his back. It took him a moment to realise he was speaking to him, crouched by him with soft words and gentle hands. He gratefully leaned into him, closing his eyes. They were both wet, soaked through, but it was the least of Marcus' worries.

Fao and the girls had been just too far away from the edge of the river once they realised there was an issue, as everything fell apart and Harrison ended up under the water. At least Marcus had been close to him, and as Fao scrambled to his feet to get over to the edge he’d already hauled him out and onto the bank, Harrison coughing and retching at the water he’d taken in. Jess had gone straight to Finn, fussing over him where he was still rather confused.

“Fucking hell.” Fao commented, moving closer to the pair. Harrison was pissing blood from a cut somewhere, too, and he looked shocking. “Are you hurt, Marcus?” He asked, eyes flicking over both men.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." He said quickly. "Hars? Sit up a bit for me, yeah?"

Harrison shook his head, surprisingly exhausted. He continued trembling, unable to stop himself.

Harrison had properly shut down, Fao could see it in his eyes. He knelt in front of him. “Hars? Did you hit your head?”

He shook his head again. His throat was too raw to speak, and he wasn't sure he even had the energy to. He managed a weak smile as Marcus brushed his hair from his forehead, stopping the water from dripping in his face.

“‘Lex, did you bring the first aid kit?” Fao called over his shoulder. His girlfriend dug around in their bag for it, and then shook her head.

“Must’ve left it.”

“Fuck’s sake.” Fao muttered, and then pulled his t-shirt off over his head. “This’ll have to do, otherwise you’re going to bleed everywhere.” He paused, and then ripped a couple of strips from it with some difficulty.

Harrison flinched away from him instinctively, turning into Marcus for protection.

"It's alright. You're okay." He hummed, pressing a kiss to his hair. "Just relax."

“Sorry, Tomcat.” Fao said gently. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Can I have a look at your hand? That’s gotta be sore.”

Marcus took Harrison's arm, holding it out for Fao to sort. "You're okay."

“Thank you.” He murmured, glancing up at Marcus. “I’m gonna sort it, yeah? And we’ll look at it properly when we get back. He wiped the worst of the blood away as gently as he could, and then set about wrapping it tightly. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do for now. As he did it, he turned to look at his brother. “Jess? How’s Finn?”

It was Finn that answered. "I'm fine. I didn't mean for Hars to get hurt. I don't know what happened."

“Just an accident Finn, not your fault.” Fao told his brother.

"Is Hars okay?" His voice wavered with guilt and worry.

"Just a bit bruised, I think." Marcus replied, glancing at Fao. It was obvious Finn was blaming himself, and it wouldn't help anyone if they let it.

“Bruised and dazed. He’s alright.” Fao told him. “Think we’ll head back to camp though.”

Harrison pulled away from the pair of them, turning away to cough and vomit. He instinctively reached for Marcus to steady himself, crying out as he used the wrong hand.

“Careful, careful.” Fao said. “Maybe he did hit his head. We’ll keep an eye.”

Harrison shook his head, his back still to the pair as he retched again. He tried not to be sick, but it was no use, bringing up more water.

"Swallowed it." Harrison managed, breathing heavily as he all but collapsed against his boyfriend.

“Yeah, okay.” Fao said, wanting to reach out and comfort him but knowing it would just make him worse. “We’ll stay here a bit, let everyone get their breath back and then we’ll head back.”

Marcus wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. "We're okay, yeah? We're okay."

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contumacious-arcadia · 6 months ago

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-CHAPTER 24 IS POSTED!-

EXCERPT: Drawing on his best impression of someone who’s actually got their shit together and isn’t currently teetering on the edge of yet another breakdown, he lets his legs carry him into the suite.

He’s nearly overcome the moment he enters.

A fragrant warm breeze is swirling through the space, flowing out from that strange, ethereal bayou. Moss in a thunderstorm. He inhales deeply. Lovely . In the distance, lightning bugs leisurely float among the trees. Crickets are chirping and the fire is low and crackling. The overhead lights are off and the whole room is lit only by a handful of lamps and the green glow of the fireplace. Billie Holiday plays softly in the background while Alastor lounges in front of the fire, book in hand and a strong drink posted on the end table. The light prickle of Alastor’s static aura tingles along the edges of Lucifer’s, and a strange nostalgic sensation nearly brings a tear to his eye.

What is this?

What am I feeling?

Oh Satan, it’s home. It feels like coming home.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin fanfic #hazbin lucifer #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel fandom #alastor x lucifer #radioapple #appleradio #WASCA fic

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blackbrightweek · 2 years ago

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It's the final Fanfic Friday everybody!

We're super excited to get to celebrate Blackbright week this Monday-- and we've got the official Archive of Our Own Collection set up!-- but before we do, we've got one more fic left to rec for y'all. :) This one's perfect for a little Christmas in July: All I Want for Christmas is You by @sparkyblizz!

When a sudden storm disrupts holiday air travel, Bobby is left to face the possibility of spending Christmas alone-- up until Simon takes the initiative and invites Bobby to come spend the day with him and his family (Aura, Metis, and Athena). It's pure fluff and humor the whole way through-- great for fans of the space center family, and of the precinct crew, too, as Bobby gets to go deliver cookies to all of his friends and coworkers. There's even a Meekins cameo!

Have a great read, everybody, and thanks to all the writers who've made this little column possible. <3

We'll see you all next week!

#ace attorney #blackbright #fanfic friday #aa5 #dual destinies #simon blackquill #bobby fulbright #this one's so cute y'all!#and I LIVE for the bits at the office with everybody #all the detectives being friends... it's correct #mod gigi 🌻

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auraisereigh · 3 months ago

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aura's holiday archives 2024

day seven : lore fact cards

#lore fact cards #lore #auras holiday archives #bodhi durran #garrick tavis #liam mairi #iron flame #fourth wing #onyx storm #xaden riorson #the empyrean

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an-aura-about-you · 1 year ago

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Long post is long, so I'll make a new one! Thank you @coolalicious for tagging me to do this!

Name(s) - Aura (to the point that if you see Aura in a handle somewhere else then it's probably me)

Pronouns - x/they/she in order of preference.

Star sign - on the Pisces side of the Aquarius/Pisces cusp

# of siblings & fun facts about them (if you have any) - I have one sibling who's younger than me by 1 1/2 years. fun fact: their favorite animal is the platypus!

# of pets & their names - I have one cat, a little black domestic shorthair kitty named Schroedinger.

Fandoms - Princess Tutu, The Magnus Archives, the Chzo Mythos, Homestar Runner, and pretty much anything else I've got on the backburner

Favorite color - puce

Favorite song - this is always one of the hardest questions because does this mean of all time? just right now? the one that I can listen to endlessly on repeat? the one that makes me go 110% feral? I think I'll answer based on vibes, and based on vibes my favorite song is Gymnopedie no. 1 by Erik Satie.

Favorite author (of anything readable-- books, fanfics, zines, webtoons, whatever!) - oh, this is another hard one. it is not at all helped by the fact that I've been going through the audiobook of Lightlark and thoroughly enjoying it for reasons the author never intended, which is the case when you pursue media with a So Bad It's Good mindset. but I might have to give an honorable mention to Alex Aster anyway for the sheer number of times I had to pause her audiobook because I was doubled over laughing at it. but for a more sincere answer, I will pick Mel Brooks, which almost feels like cheating, but his professional memoir All About Me! was such an enjoyable ride and had that same voice and beloved sense of humor he's honed in his movies. Mel Brooks is one of the few celebrities I've written a fan letter to, an actual physical fan letter written by hand, and he is well worth that effort.

Hobbies - cooking, writing, taking walks at the park, playing games with friends

Favorite fic type - you know how some fandoms have a very specific type of fic by the nature of canon? my favorite fic is a type specific to the fandom for The Magnus Archives related to the tropes of Loves My Alter Ego and Two Sided Love Triangle. specifically, I love the premise Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist being a former member of real life band The Mechanisms (that real life Jonathan Sims was a member of) and hapless archival assistant Martin Blackwood being a fan of The Mechanisms, resulting in him being torn between his crush on his prickly boss and his crush on frontman Jonny d'Ville unaware that they are in fact the same person. my ideal version of this would be at a point where the crush is mutual and at first Jon uses his Jonny d'Ville persona to try acting as a wingman for Martin to get him with himself?? but then that kind of evolves into Martin dating Jonny while still being unaware it's Jon somehow. we're talking Rio Pacheco from Jem and the Holograms levels of unaware, which I will forgive Martin for because he's just so starstruck.

Favorite holiday - New Year's! I even made arrangements to take the whole week off so I can properly enjoy it. <3

Do you have any partner(s)? (romantic, qpp, anything!) - nope! I'm happily single and ready for some Pringles!

Fun facts about you / anything extra you wanna share! - so y'all know I love food and I like to cook, and I've mentioned before that I've been to culinary school, but I don't know how many of my current followers know that I actually went to Le Cordon Bleu for their baking and patisserie program and in fact graduated from there with honors. I earned my coveted blue cravat for doing so.

and I tag anyone who wants to do this!

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ao3feed-sladedick · 1 year ago

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turn up the cards

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/YthTjeq by Anonymous Dick smiles at the frazzled-looking girl by the register, most likely unused to the influx of customers that keep coming in and not leaving. He’s about to order, when he notices the one table that only has a single customer sitting at it. There’s a buffer of space around him, like everyone can feel some kind of aura of danger surrounding him and are choosing to keep their distance from him, from—a man with white hair. Goddamn. The warm cozy holiday-like feeling Dick was getting into evaporates. Words: 4810, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: DCU (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Dick Grayson, Slade Wilson Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson Additional Tags: Manhandling, Dubious Consent, Wall Sex, Size Kink, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation, Under-negotiated Kink read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/YthTjeq

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #sladick #sladedick #sladin #dickstroke

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thecomfywriter · 2 months ago

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In Evan's eyes, what is beautiful? Who is beautiful?

alrighty, back at it with another satoh-evan ask. what an interesting question. let me see if i can get inside his head to answer it.

day seven of tcw's 12 days of askmas--evan's concept of beauty [lotf series spoilers]:

evan has grown up around a lot of superficial beauty. beautiful clothes, beautiful people, beautiful houses, beautiful gems... everything around him is spectacular. and yet, the glory of the obsidian city and the singer palace, despite all its beauty, is completely hollow. so if you had to ask evan what beauty was, tangible luxuries would be the last thing on his list.

but there are some things that always mesmerize him, no matter what. starting with noctem's smile.

noctem is evan's primary caregiver (his manny) and the person more precious to evan. he is evan's entire family in one person. he sees noctem as an older brother, a father, and a friend, all in one. i can't describe how pivotal noctem is to evan's development--he is the entire reason this child didn't grow up socially isolated and deranged. so if you asked evan to point to someone he thought was beautiful, he would point to noctem, with his heterochromatic eyes, his midnight blac hair, and his crooked grin, and say, "noctem and his teeth-licking smile."

but then, there are also the songs he grew up listening to. the ballads, the sonnets, and the arcanic poems. the myths and legends that animated themselves on his walls as murals and in the air as mirages. the four voices that sung him to sleep and woke him up in the morning--the only people who never left him during the tc arc--those four voices are the sound of love and bliss to evan. so if you asked him, what sounds beautiful, he would tell you, "the way aila sings."

and of course, as evan grows older, there are new people he meets. new humour he adopts. new love he attaches himself to. new auras he finds. if you asked him whose aura he thought was the prettiest, or whose eyes were the most enchanting, or if you asked him what scent stays on his mind, all his answers would lead back to one person and one person alone:

"faer."

her dry humour. her sarcastic side eye. the warrior dots that sharpen her icy brown eyes. they opal-spotted red aura that she masked. the scent of pomegranate oil from her hair. if you asked evan when he was older who carried the most beauty in every sense, he would say her name in his mind, but never on his lips. he wouldn't dare.

thanks for the ask, satoh!

-- the holiday limited-edition tag list --

@wyked-ao3 @an-indecisive-nerd @drchenquill

@paeliae-occasionally @theink-stainedfolk @inseasofgreen

@thelovelymachinery @the-letterbox-archives @illarian-rambling

@bunnymermaidwrites @the-golden-comet @sm-writes-chaos

@leahnardo-da-veggie @corinneglass @real-fragments

[please tell me if you don't wanna be tagged i promise i will stop 🥺]

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timekeepertwister · 2 years ago

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Case 0 Type P - File 3.1 - “Crimson Starfall”

Location: City of Wizards - Main Dining Hall

Timeline: PET-O

Date of Record: December 24, 2020

Subjects Involved: C/E-246, C/E-9, C/E-27, C/E-776, C/L-65, C/E-743, C/L-33, C/E-22, R-II/T-22

Responding Employee(s): Croissant Cookie

Division Office Response Poll Results: (Click here to see the original poll)

Historia Magika - 77.8%

Conjurer’s Cookbook - 22.2%

“…Historia Magika.” Moonlight Cookie’s voice was certain of this. The voices of her dreams had told her so, seven to two. She had watched over the Wizard Archives… the Archive of Magic… and its inhabitants and visitors. All from the powerful visor of her seat in the World of Dreams. She had seen the ancient historical text roar to life and devour the archive bit by bit until it was resealed by the quartet with a powerful rune. Was this the true extent of history and magic? Perhaps not.

“The Historia Magika… a textbook of the history of magic.” Blueberry Pie Cookie nodded in response. “I have studied this book since its reawakening, and it seems that various chapters of this book have been intertwined with those of the Historia Mundi. To dare to see what this spell has wrought… it should not be done. Magic and history merging into one can easily alter the past as we know it should this book fall into the wrong hands.”

“Yes, yes. Magic and the history of Outer Earthbread aren’t supposed to mix. Anyways…” Wizard Cookie nodded in reply, clearly there for a holiday party. His studies could wait, and he did not want to be reminded of them. “Where’s the jelly ham? Cinnamon Cookie looks like he’s ready to make that entire Wizard-Sized holiday fruit display disappear!”

Unfortunately, nobody had a chance to carve out their first slice when a crimson blast as dark as night overturned the room and basically ruined anything that was sitting on the table. From that dark cloud emerged Dark Enchantress Cookie, who still donned a freshly painted beet-red aura of anger and vengeance after being ruthlessly humiliated by being eliminated in round 1 of 2020’s Cookie of the Year Awards at the hands of Marshmallow Cookie. As Timekeeper Cookie was busy showing Ananas Dragon the door with the help of the ruthless panel of voters across Earthbread and beyond, Dark Enchantress declared her entrance into the dining hall in a shrill and booming voice, ”Well, well, well. What do we have here? A table of overturned food and a stack of lowly Cookies. I may have been bested in the Awards Ceremony, but mark my words: YOU SHALL NOT BEST ME!!!”

Moonlight Cookie escorted as many Cookies as she could to the top of the Clock Tower where they would be safe, telling them, “Hurry, hurry. The Clock Tower’s defenses will protect us from Dark Enchantress Cookie’s wrath. Wait… Where are Cinnamon Cookie, Wizard Cookie, and Cream Puff Cookie?”

Backed up against the stained-glass windows overseeing a nine-story fall with Wizard Cookie and Cream Puff Cookie next to him, Cinnamon Cookie was visibly terrified at Dark Enchantress Cookie’s presence as he managed to utter, “Wh-what do we do now? We’re cornered!”

“W-wait…! I’m not ready yet…!” Cream Puff Cookie eyed the lofty fall with a fateful look of fear. What would she do? Flee the scene with two other scared Cookies at her side? Or face the consequences of angering the Enchantress as a fellow Cookie of the Year Round 1 Reject to none other than Timekeeper Cookie herself? She was frozen in fear as the door burst open with Roguefort Cookie diving through with vengeful gusto. Walnut Cookie and Almond Cookie were tailing them in pursuit after receiving word of another stolen watch when they had gone to Cream Puff Cookie’s side.

“Hold it right there, Phantom Bleu! Your reign of time theft ends now- whoa! What the heck is that?!” Walnut Cookie, now donning a matching steampunk styled outfit similar to their’s, tried to rush Roguefort Cookie with handcuffs and evidence at the ready when she saw Dark Enchantress Cookie and froze in her tracks out of bewilderment.

“Roguefort Cookie, you’re under arrest for the serial theft of at least five hundred timepieces.” Almond Cookie put the cuffs on Roguefort Cookie, only holding back in self-defense upon seeing Dark Enchantress Cookie before turning to face Roguefort Cookie now in handcuffs. “And now you led us straight to the ONE prominent user of black magic too! What’s your endgame, Roguefort?! Fess up!”

“Who, me…? I was simply pursuing lost time,” Roguefort Cookie replied. While seemingly charming, there wasn’t a hint of deception in their tone. “The Blue Cheese Watch was an important heirloom of my family’s history, and to help make ends neat after another false arrest last year to accommodate for a coma that overcame THIS Cookie right here!” They pointed square at Cinnamon Cookie, who just shrugged at the whole thing before nodding in agreement. “See? He agrees with me. The Blue Cheese Manor had chosen to auction off the watch to raise funds for his medical treatment that followed, but in the end, all that came of it was this false check for a LOT of Coins.”

Roguefort Cookie presented the faked check to Walnut Cookie, who noted the faces of Matcha, Licorice, Pomegranate, Dark Choco, and Dark Enchantress in the last five spaces of the account number. “This check for 666,666,666,666 Coins is a fake! I can’t believe Phantom Bleu was telling the truth… But if that’s the case and they’re on our side and the culprit’s face is on this check, that means…”

“Were you looking for… THIS?!” Dark Enchantress Cookie produced the Blue Cheese Watch from her pocket. A spitting image of hubris as she let out a sinister laugh. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA…! It was I who was Lady Kard, who came to your pathetic mansion looking for your watch. I was the one to take it from you at the auction. This watch can do things that even you can’t imagine! NOBODY ACROSS TIME AND SPACE CAN STOP ME NO-“

*CRASH!!!*

What was once seen as her presentation of triumph turned into being overtaken by a flying dropkick square into Dark Enchantress Cookie’s jaw out of nowhere by a clearly-peeved Croissant Cookie, who had to miss the TBD holiday dinner to respond to a new lead on the Blue Cheese Watch presented by the Director themselves. But hey, at least Timekeeper Cookie gave her the opportunity to look cool doing it by opening a time rift right above Dark Enchantress Cookie’s face. “Not on my watch! You’re under arrest for the theft of a Class II Temporal Relic!”

Dark Enchantress Cookie was stunned from the impact, spun about and thrown straight to the floor by Croissant Cookie’s flying work boot dropkick as she stood up. She realized she had a visible crack by her jawline and snarled as she saw Croissant Cookie rebound and stick a perfect landing, brandishing the Watch in anger. “You…! You dare to strike me down with an ambush like that?! If I can’t have this Blue Cheese Watch, then NOBODY CAN!” Having said that, she threw the watch at the group as it shattered into tiny pieces. Roguefort Cookie, seeing this unfold, intended to tackle the Enchantress in the aftermath of it all before a time rift unraveled outside the window and only got to see the Cake Witch manifest itself.

Wizard Cookie, who was clearly out of viable options in awe of the Cake Witch, and in no position to fight, replied, “Us against that thing?! Not even close! Here’s the plan, everyone. We make our exit out this door- ACK!”

“OUT?! Guess this is exit stage left! C’mon, everyone. Follow meeeeeeeeeee…!” Without missing a beat, Cinnamon Cookie took Wizard Cookie over his shoulders while holding Cream Puff Cookie’s hand and bailed out the window, leaving a shattered glass window in his wake as he witnessed what awaited him below: a swirling gold portal on the City’s ground accented against a crimson skyline. The two screamed on their way down as they fell into the rift, where one could swear they heard Wizard Cookie saying, “DO YOU EVER THINK THINGS THROUGH…?!?!?!” To which Cream Puff Cookie responded, “No I don’t think he diiiiiiiiiid…!”

Having been left behind in a hurry, Croissant Cookie called in her Timecraft and threw a TBD Agent’s Standard-Issue Radio out the window, intending to have it follow the trio into the rift, to which Roguefort Cookie replied, “Now why would you do that? First the gliding dropkick, now throwing valuable equipment away, you’re even more reckless than I ever was. This should be very interesting indeed.”

“We can talk about it AFTER we get back to HQ. C’mon everyone, let’s get outta here!” Croissant Cookie rallied Roguefort, Walnut, and Almond Cookie onto the Timecraft and threw it into gear when the coordinates dialed in changed themselves and began taxiing to the open time rift outside the open window Cinnamon Cookie and company jumped into within the exact nanosecond before the time machine threw itself into drive, to which Croissant Cookie started exclaiming, “Wait, these coordinates are leading right back to… where now?! These coordinates don’t even exist…!” But it was too late to change them, the Timecraft was already en route to some new coordinates through the open rift, whether they liked it or not. As the time machine zoomed into the open rift, Croissant Cookie faced her passengers and threw them pairs of goggles, screaming, “Take these, this ride’s gonna get very, VERY BUMPY! HOLD ONTO SOMETHING…!”

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[End of File 3.1] - [Previous: File 3 - “Celebrations Cancelled”] - [Next: File 4 - “Scattered Lilies of the Subconscious”] - [Return To Case Record]

#cookie run #cookie run au #operation: time twister #case 0 #prologue #city of wizards #file 3.1 #cinnamon cookie #wizard cookie #blueberry pie cookie #moonlight cookie #dark enchantress cookie #cream puff cookie #walnut cookie #roguefort cookie #almond cookie #croissant cookie #blue cheese watch

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