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avintagekiss24 · 5 years ago

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Hot for teacher [4] > Bucky Barnes

PAIRING; Dark!Professor!Bucky Barnes x black!reader, Dark!Peter Parker x black!reader

WORD COUNT; 7,973

WARNINGS; Age difference, teacher/student dynamics, spanking, smut, sex, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, mention of blood, slight praise kink, slight crying kink?, overstimulation

SUMMARY; A friend comes to your defense and Bucky finally gives in.

NOTE; Gif credit goes to @/fluturojdallandyshia! I wanna say/reiterate that Cher, reader, and Peter are in their senior/last year of school AND they are all 18 years old. I had a “late” birthday (May), so I turned 18 three weeks before I graduated. My brother had an early birthday (September), so he turned 18 like two weeks into his senior year. Peter, Cher, and reader all have early (August/September) birthdays. Any crap about aging Peter up will be deleted and blocked. You’ve been warned multiple times - if you continue to read after this point, it’s on you.

I also gave reader a last name. Sue me. Hope this lives up to the hype... I’m probably gonna hide for the rest of the night and not look at tumblr for the rest of the night... posting anxiety sucks.

Any mistakes are mine, I was rushing towards the end, lol.

☞ PART FIVE | ☞ SERIES MASTERLIST

You toss your freshly braided hair over your shoulder as you move through the halls towards Bucky’s classroom. You’re actually pretty excited. Sure, you were fuming for most of the day yesterday but after a joint and an appointment with your vibrating boyfriend, your mind cleared. Your mother's words came floating back to you, and you knew what you had to do. Kill ‘em with kindness. After all, healthy competition goes both ways.

You turn into his room, finding it empty, but the light on. No bother, you just move up the rows and plop down in your seat, pulling out your laptop. You don’t even look up when Cher walks in - late, of course - and sign loudly when she acknowledges you.

“Didn’t realize sucking up started this early.”

“And yet here you are,” you smile quickly, “Late, but here, nevertheless.”

She rolls her eyes, mumbling something about you being a bitch before she sits in her seat. Bucky arrives some minutes later, a cup of coffee in his hand, his glasses low on his nose, “Morning ladies. My apologies, I'm dragging ass today, had to get some coffee.”

You don’t answer. You don’t even look up from your screen as you tap away, finishing up your English paper. You hear the two of them making conversation, flicking your eyes up as Cher moves to the desk, leaning over it to no doubt show off the boob job her father paid for over the summer. Her irritating laughter rings out, but you pay it absolutely no mind until you feel a set of eyes on you within minutes.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning.” Bucky says, tilting his head as you finally glance up at him from over your screen.

“Good morning Bucky.”

You watch as his jaw twitches slightly and his eyes squint at the sound of his first name. You shift in your seat, dropping your eyes back to your google doc, having to literally stop yourself from grinning. You’ve got him already.

“Bucky?” He questions, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You click your teeth and scrunch your face as you pretend to be confused, “You did say at the beginning of the year to call you Bucky, yes? Has something changed?”

He scoffs lightly, a confused smirk playing on his lips as he rubs his chin, “I did, yes.” He agrees, shaking his head, “I thought you said you preferred Mr. Barnes.”

You shrug, “Well, I guess I don’t anymore.” You cut your eyes to Cher, who squints back at you, her lip slightly snarled, “If you want to be called Bucky, then I’ll call you Bucky.” You lift your eyes back to his, crossing your legs, “Just like everyone else.”

You drop your eyes back to your Macbook and fill the silence by tapping away at your keyboard again. You feel his eyes on you for a few seconds more before Cher draws his attention with some bullshit question. You stay true to course, never lifting your eyes back to him as he throws random looks at you, trying to get your attention as the class starts to fill up.

You close your laptop but never really give him your full attention as you usually do as he begins his lecture. You glance out the window, or keep your eyes cast down on your pristine white shoes You gaze at your nails, making a mental note to schedule an appointment. You keep your legs crossed. You don’t engage, you don’t answer any questions, you don’t offer any insight. You just sit there - like everyone else.

His eyes are on you the entire hour. He poses questions, but ignores the raised hands for a few moments, waiting for yours to pop up into the air. When it doesn’t, his eyes linger on you for a few beats before he finally calls on someone. His questions get short, his thoughts sort of jumbled as the time dwindles. You smile. This is going to be easier than you thought.

The bell rings and you fall in line with everyone else, heading towards the door. A hand catches your bicep and you sigh, but you keep your eyes straight ahead. Bucky nods and smiles at a few students before he turns his attention to you.

“You stopping by after class?” He asks gently, “I got something in my pants you might like.”

You smile back at him, cocking your head, “No, I can’t make it today.”

His lips part as his eyes bounce back and forth between yours, “Why not?”

“I have a riding lesson with Mr. Udaku.”

He laughs in disbelief as he runs his hand through his hair, “A riding lesson?” He repeats, “That early in the afternoon?”

“Yes.”

He clears his throat as irritation starts to bubble in his chest, “You gave me your schedule. Wednesday through Friday, six to eight, twice a day Saturday and Sunday.”

You shrug, “Not anymore.”

You take a step from him, but he stops you, grabbing your arm again. You turn towards him, your lips set in a hard line. He looks back at you, crossing his arms over his chest as you refuse to give in.

“Come on,” he says after the last student clears the room, “What is going on?”

“Nothing.” You shrug again as you answer sweetly, “What do you mean?”

“You’ve barely spoken to me today. This isn’t about yesterday, is it?” He probes, wrapping his arms around your waist, “I was just joking. You know you’re my favorite girl.”

You smile. It’s too late for that. You step out of his arms and head for the door as his eyes follow you, “You were absolutely right, Bucky,” you stress, “A little competition is healthy. For everyone.”

You turn and walk out before he can respond.

----------

You brush down Apollo, your most prized possession as he neighs gently. You shush him, patting him softly on his side before you kiss him on his snout. He shakes his head and you laugh, reaffirming his good boy status just as Cher walks into the stalls. You throw your eyes at her as she stops in her tracks before rebounding quickly and moving to her horse’s stall.

“And just what are you doing here?” She asks.

“Isn’t it obvious? I have a lesson.”

You hear her scoff, “I’m not stupid.”

“You sure about that?” You giggle, rolling your eyes, “I moved my lessons to mirror yours, just so I can crush you everyday of the week. Show you who’s boss.”

She tuts, batting her big eyes, “You just can’t stand it that Barnes doesn’t want you anymore.”

“Please,” you scoff, “Just the fact that he’s entertaining you, makes me reconsider his intelligence.”

You smile sweetly as you grab Apollo’s reins and start to walk him out of the barn. You lean into her and push some of her blonde hair off of her shoulder, “You fuck with me, I fuck with you. You should have stayed in your place, little girl.”

She slaps your hand away and you laugh before moving out into the field. You place your foot into the stir up and hoist yourself up onto Apollo, adjusting yourself on the saddle. You start a slow trot around the fenced in area, warming him up before you start working the obstacle course.

Your lesson goes exactly how you thought it would, compliment after compliment from Mr. Udaku, (or T’Challa, as many of his students call him) about your form, your technique, your skill - while Cher struggled to keep up. Pride swells in your chest as you gaze upon her flustered, red face as she rips off her helmet and runs her fingers through her hair.

“Cher, you still need to work on not bouncing as much when you canter, you're still gripping too hard with your legs. Here,” T’Challa says, “Watch Ms. Prescott.”

He waves you forward and you start a canter with Apollo, your body moving naturally with his, “See how relaxed she is? You gotta let your legs stay soft. You have to remember to stay aligned with Cotton’s body or you’ll never be a smooth rider. Thank you Ms. Prescott.”

“Not a problem,” you coo sweetly, “I’m always here to help. You have my number Cher, you can text me anytime if you need any pointers.”

She narrows her eyes at you as she exhales hard, “Thank you.” She hisses as sarcasm drips from her words.

“I mean, now that I’ve switched my schedule, we’ll get to ride together more. I don’t mind showing you the ropes. I know you’ve only started riding a few years ago.” You smile widely, continuing to step on her throat.

“I think that’s a good idea actually,” T’Challa agrees, “There’s no shame in asking for help sometimes Cher. Ms. Prescott’s knowledge and skill set could really help elevate your riding. You know she and Apollo are three time Champions.”

“Going for four,” you smile proudly, “Cher was there, cheering me on for all three of my wins. What did you place last year?” You ask, knowing good and damn well she was disqualified from your skill class.

“Fuck you,” she mouths.

Your smile practically breaks your face in two. Kill ‘em with kindness. You pull Apollo away from T’Challa and Cher, starting another slow trot around the fence. You glance over your shoulder and spot Bucky walking through the grass. You squint slightly, pulling on the reins to slow Apollo to a stop. You’ve never seen him out here before. He must be checking up on you, seeing if you really had a lesson this afternoon. You smile again. Men.

You click your tongue quickly and pat Apollo on his hip, turning him back towards the two teachers. You ride just close enough to hear their conversation but not close enough to where they’d know you’re snooping. You jump Apollo over the hogsback in the center of the arena as their conversation wafts towards you.

“I didn’t know she rode this early in the day, especially on Tuesdays.” You hear Bucky say.

“She usually doesn’t, but she texted me last night wanting to change her schedule to free up her weekends. She wouldn’t tell me why. It’s not like she really needs to practice this hard.”

You glance over at the two of them at the fence and meet Bucky’s gaze. You blink back at him, never one to back down from a staring contest, and quirk your eyebrows up your forehead. He turns his attention back toT’Challa, before he sends his gaze towards Cher. You turn Apollo again, trotting him over to another jump.

You cut your eyes over your shoulder, watching Bucky shrug, “She’s been my TA for a few weeks. I just thought it was kinda sudden that she couldn’t stop by after class today.”

T’Challa slaps him on the shoulder, “I’m sorry man. Didn’t mean to steal your help away.”

“No, no,” you hear Bucky say before he links his eyes with yours again, “We’re just going to have to share her it seems.” He shakes T’Challa’s hand, “I’ll catch you later, huh?”

You watch as he moves back across the grass, running his hand through his hair as he bows his head. You let Apollo cool down for a few more minutes before you ride him back into the stalls. You brush him down again, before cleaning out his stall and laying down some fresh hay for him. You give him his dinner, feed him a few carrots as a treat for a job well done and rub noses before kissing him again.

“You’re the only man I can depend on. See you tomorrow baby.”

You remove your gloves as you move out from the back of the barn, jumping slightly and clutching your chest when you come face to face with one Bucky Barnes, “Bucky -”

“Stop calling me that.” He answers sternly, his hands in his pockets, “You switched your riding schedule? Really?”

You shrug definitely, “So I wanted more lessons during the week, shoot me.”

“T’Challa said you don’t even need them. You’re just fucking with me.”

You giggle, “And Cher,” you add, “This isn’t all about you.”

“Can we just knock it off please? I’m sorry, okay? I told you, I was just joking yesterday.” He says with a huff, running his hands through his hair again.

You cross your arms over your chest, a smirk on your face and a sing-song tune in your voice, “But I’m just getting started, Bucky.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “It’s a little funny. Look at you all worked up.” You mock, bopping his nose with your index finger, “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“Hey. Prescott.”

You snap your head back towards the new voice, taking a quick step away from Bucky. You smile as the young Peter Parker leans up against the fence, nodding his head at you, “Peter Parker. How are you?”

“You got a minute?”

Your smile widens, “Of course.”

Bucky grabs your arm again before you step away from him, “I’m not finished talking to you.”

You pull away from him, “Well, I’m finished talking to you.” You state, stepping away from him, “I’ve been involved in competition my whole life, Bucky. I don’t cave and I certainly don’t lose. You wanted a competition, now you got one.”

You turn on your heel and bounce towards the waiting Peter. He stands up straight, smiling at you again but keeps his eyes on Bucky as he walks off. Once you’re close enough, he nods towards him, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You wave it off, “No interruption. I don’t see you out here much.”

“Nah, I came by to see you. I think we can help each other out.”

“God,” you roll your eyes playfully, “You read my mind. I smoked my last joint last night.”

“Not with that,” he laughs, “Well, I can help you with that too, but I have something else in mind.”

You raise your eyebrows, intrigued with him, “Oh?”

“Word’s getting around that you and Cher are battling over Barnes.” You shoot your eyes towards him, “You know she’s got a big mouth.”

“Fuck,” you mutter.

“Don’t worry. Everybody here has something on them, nobody is gonna snitch for fear of it coming back on them ten times over.” He says slowly, scrunching his face slightly as he faces the sun, “That’s what I thought I could help you with.”

You cross your arms as you glance around the deserted area, “How’s that?”

“You know Cher and I fucked around for a while late last semester, right before summer. Turns out, the fucking bitch burned me.”

“Ugh,” you grimace, “You’re kidding?”

“No. My parents intercepted the test results. That’s why my ass has been on lock down. Plus, I had to be on a fucking regimen of antibiotics to get rid of the shit. Killed my fucking game for the summer, man.”

You giggle a little, bumping your shoulder with his, “Sorry to hear it, but what exactly does that have to do with me, Parker?”

“It would kill her if we hooked up,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows, “Barnes too. He hates me.”

You inhale deeply as your lips curl into another devilish smile, “I didn’t know you had Barnes.”

“I have him in the afternoon. He busts my balls over every little fucking thing.” He rolls his eyes, “Cher is absolutely obsessed with you, it would drive her nuts. It’s the best revenge that I can get and I know you love making her feel second best.”

“It gives me great joy, actually.” You watch as Peter laughs, “Alright Parker, you got yourself a deal, but we need to draw some lines.”

“Okay,” he nods, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Lay ‘em out.”

“I don’t,” you start, clearing your throat, “I haven’t fucked-fucked yet and I'd like to keep it that way.”

“Saving it for Barnes?” He teases.

“Fuck you,” you giggle, “Make outs, blow jobs, heavy petting… whatever, I’m down with all of that, just no fucking. Deal?”

He holds out his hand and you take it, shaking it to make it official, “A woman confident in her sexuality. I love it.” He pecks you on the cheek before he starts to walk off, “It’ll be a pleasure doing business with you.” He calls.

“Same to you, Parker.” You smile, “Same to you.”

----------

You and Peter keep your newfound “romance” on the low for the next few days, as not to arouse any sudden suspicions. You continue to show up to Bucky’s class a half hour early (always making it in before Cher) and completely ignore him. You catch up on homework, you read, you paint your nails. Your nonchalant attitude towards him has continued to get under his skin, as his frustration and irritation has bled over into his lectures. Everyone picks up on his attitude, even Cher, now also receiving a cold shoulder from him in the mornings and afternoons.

You and Peter decide to start your attack bright and early Monday morning. You meet up in the parking lot, hanging out next to his car, laughing and joking with a few of his baseball teammates. You walk in around seven fifty, twenty minutes after Bucky has been expecting you, hand in hand. Peter throws his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his body as the two of you make your way through the halls.

You pass by the open door of Bucky’s room and Peter stops purposefully in front of it as he calls for one of his friends down the hall. You glance into the room, but quickly cut your eyes away as you find Bucky and Cher gaping out at the two of you - Cher practically flipping over her desk she’s leaning so far forward. You and Peter push forward out of sight and you lean against the lockers, pulling him into you.

You kiss him hard, making him moan in surprise at first but he quickly follows suit. You smack your lips on his a few times before he pulls away, resting his forehead to yours as he drags his finger down your now swollen lips. The two of you whisper back and forth, smiling and giggling all the while before he leans into you again, capturing your lips.

A throat clears loudly from beside the two of you, but you both ignore it, continuing to giggle and kiss as if you don’t hear a thing.

“Guys,” you hear Bucky sigh, “Break it up.”

“Oh, Mr. Barnes,” Peter laughs, wrapping his fingers around your neck softly - possessively, “Shit, man. Sorry about that. Didn’t even hear you, did you babe?”

You shake your head, “Nope. Sorry Bucky.” You peck Peter on his lips again before reaching up to wipe away the excess lip gloss you left behind, “You’ll walk me to my next class, yes?”

He winks at you before dipping back into you to kiss you once, twice, three more times, causing Bucky to speak up again.

“Guys, I mean it. You aren’t on a beach somewhere and you need to watch your mouth, Parker.” He sighs loudly, “Ms. Prescott, your seat please.”

You roll your eyes and push away from the lockers, you and Peter linking hands and extending your arms as you both walk in different directions.

“I’ll be right here after class babe.” He says, winking again.

“Ms. Prescott.” Bucky barks before pushing a hot breath out of his nose.

When your hands actually come undone, you wiggle your fingers at him before tossing your braids over your shoulder and push past the verklempt Bucky. You step past Cher, and she grabs your wrist, pulling you down into her.

“So you want my sloppy seconds all of a sudden?”

“Sloppy seconds?” You repeat, laughing lightly as you tilt your head, “Sweetie, it’s the restaurant metaphor all over again. Peter moved on from a bug infested pizza parlor to a clean five star restaurant. You’re still the sloppy one here.” You wink.

You revel in Bucky’s anger for the entire hour. He continuously cuts his eyes towards you, now dark and brooding, but you smirk back and drop your eyes to your book, not giving him the satisfaction. Your legs stay crossed and your panties stay dry - much to his chagrin. Peter is right there by the door as soon as the bell rings. The two of you intertwine your fingers and swing them back and forth as you walk down the hall, two pairs of eyes on you all the while.

“Mr. Barnes, I-”

“Not now, Cher.” Bucky bites back, running his hand through his hair again quickly before he damn near shoves her out of the classroom, slamming the door.

----------

You pull your next stunt in the library a few days later. It’s a study period, so there’s a few more teachers and students loitering around than usual - Bucky just happens to be one of the loiterers. Peter pulls you through the bookshelves by the tips of your fingers, finding the perfect position for the two of you to be aligned within Bucky’s eyesight.

He’s perched at a table, his glasses low on his nose as he scribbles into his notebook before returning his gaze to the thick book just off to this left. Peter pushes you up against one of the bookshelves, jarring a few of the books loose from their spots and sending them crashing to the floor. You laugh, and Peter covers your mouth with his hand as he leans in and kisses your neck. His other hand snakes up between your thighs and pushes into your skirt, his fingertips brushing along your sex.

You push your chest into his and sink your teeth into your bottom lip as your hooded eyes flick towards Bucky. His jaw is tensed as he stares back at you. His lips are set in a hard, thin line, his face flushed red as his chest rises and falls harder than before. He falls back into his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, almost daring you to keep going - to keep pushing him.

You dig one of your hands into Peter’s hair, pulling softly and hissing when his teeth sink into the fleshy crook of your neck. You push your hips into his fingers as he teases your clit with light, soft strokes. He licks a slow path up your neck and chin before he kisses you deeply and pulls you suddenly out of Bucky’s sight.

“This is fun,” he laughs against your mouth, kissing you again as he squeezes your hip.

You giggle in return, tilting your head up towards the ceiling, silently asking him to continue. He obliges, and starts sucking on your skin again, pushing his hand back between your thighs. He slips his fingers underneath your panties and moans when the slickness of your sex coats his fingers. You let out a small moan as your hips move with his fingers. You grab his free hand and push it to your left breast, helping him to grab a handful of you.

You gasp suddenly when Peter’s fingers push inside of you. You laugh again but spread your legs instinctively, raising one slightly to rub his calf. You feel him laugh against you as his fingers pump softly, his palm rubbing against your clit.

“Fuck, Peter,” you say softly, pushing your body into his again as he finger fucks you up against the wall of books.

You roll your head and jump when those familiar blue eyes are on you again, this time just on the other side of the bookshelf in front of you. Your mouth falls open as you stare back at him over the tops of the books. He slides a book off of the shelf, removing his eyes from yours to flip through the pages before he slides his angry eyes back to yours. He runs his eyes along Peter’s body, then halts at his hand as it pumps into you.

You snarl your lip as a pang of excitement flashes through you. You’ve never been watched like this before - it’s kinda fun. You keep your eyes on Bucky’s as Peter’s hand quickens inside of you, his palm beating against your clit. You bite down into your bottom lip as you rest your chin on his shoulder, your head falling forward as your orgasm starts to build.

“Shit,” you whine, your breath growing ragged as your hips pulse with the pace of his fingers.

You lift your leg a little higher as the lust in your stomach starts to flood through your veins. You wrap your arms around his neck and ball his t-shirt into your hands, struggling to keep your eyes open as Bucky peers on. You watch as he runs his tongue over his teeth, blinking at you slowly, anger brimming just below his surface. He doesn’t shy away though, he doesn’t walk off, he doesn’t lash out, he just flips aimlessly through the random book he picked up as he watches as you come all over Peter’s fingers.

You slam your eyes shut at your orgasm rips through you. Peter moans as he slams his fingers into your wet, tight muscles. His free hand creeps back up to your face and covers your mouth, stifling the squeaks and squeals that dribble from your lips. Peter crushes you to the bookshelf with his weight, chuckling as he nips at your chin and neck. You keep your bottom lip between your teeth as you smirk at Bucky. You wanted a competition, now you got one.

Peter pulls out his phone and lifts it into the air, hitting record as you still lean up against the bookshelf, still panting and giggly as your body floats on cloud nine. He smiles slowly into the camera, before leaning in and kissing you deeply, his tongue skimming along the roof of your mouth before it slides along yours. He situates your panties and skirt, like the gentleman he is, before he tugs at your wrist to pull you out from between the aisles.

When he clears the bookshelves, he stops suddenly when he locks eyes with Bucky just on the other side. He nods his head towards him, before shoving his wet fingers into his mouth. He licks them clean before he pulls them out with a soft pop and glances back into his camera, throwing a wink it’s way. The two of you waltz out of the library, smiles on both of your faces. You hear Peter’s phone as it starts to sound, ding after ding after ding as a quick flurry of text messages slide through.

He pulls it out and snorts before he tilts it towards you, Cher’s name flashing across it as a call comes through.

“This is going tremendously.” He smiles, declining the call and sliding the sleek phone back into his pocket.

----------

You glance down at your watch as you whistle slowly; 8:06am. You’re now officially late to Bucky’s class, and officially late for the first time in over four years. You turn down his hallway, scrolling through your tumblr as you come to his closed door. You push through and feel the eyes of the entire class on you as you waltz in without a care in the world. Bucky’s lecture comes to a halt as he slides his eyes with you as you pick your way through the seats to find yours.

You sit, taking your time as you pull out your notebook and pen while everyone watches, just as surprised as Bucky that you’re late. You take a deep breath and expel it calmly as you finally glance up at him.

“Good morning.” You say cheerfully.

He crosses his arms over his chest and licks his lips slowly, “You’re late.”

“Oh,” you sigh a little, glancing at your watch, “Sorry about that.”

“We had a deal at the beginning of the semester.” He says, his voice deep.

You cross your legs and swing your foot lightly, “Did we?”

He narrows his eyes at you as he pulls his glasses off of his face, “Should I remind you?”

“Please.” You nod, “It’s slipped my mind.”

He nods slowly, starting to pace, “You wanted me to hold you personally responsible if you were ever late.”

You squint your eyes as you tilt your chin towards the ceiling, pretending to rack your brain, “That’s right, I did. That little check mark next to my name on the attendance sheet is gonna hurt.”

“Oh no,” He chuckles as you challenge him so openly, “You wanted to be held responsible. A little check mark isn’t going to do that.”

You smirk, “So what’ll it be, Bucky?”

“Detention.”

Your face drops. Detention? Detention? For one fucking tardy?! “Detention?” you repeat, sitting up a little straighter in your seat, “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

He turns back to face you, leaning back on his desk as he kicks his legs out in front of him. He shrugs, shaking his head, “You asked for it.”

“You’re joking,” you laugh, your mind starting to race, “A detention for being late one time? Have you handed out a detention to anyone else?”

He shrugs, “Nope. But you’re not everyone else, are you?”

You squint your eyes at him as he smirks back. This is the only way he could get back at you - to tarnish your perfect record. Your body flushes with heat - you honestly didn’t expect this. This… this is below the belt. You’d figured that he’s been so out of sorts that he’d just slap you on the wrist and beg to see him after class. You’d trade barbs back and forth, he’d eat your pussy and the two of you would be right back on track, like this never happened. But this?

“I’m getting you ready for real life. That’s what you wanted me to do, isn’t it?”

A chorus of oooh’s ring out from the rest of the class as you throw your braids over your shoulder angrily, “I have a riding lesson at three twenty five today.”

“I’ll talk to T’Challa if you’d like me to.”

You laugh sarcastically, “This is ridiculous. This’ll go on my record, you realize that?”

He shrugs again as he pushes away from his desk, “Maybe you should have thought about that. Now,” he smiles, turning his attention back to the rest of the class, “Where were we?”

He completely turns the tables on you after that. He ignores you for the rest of his lecture. His mood lightens considerably. He cracks jokes, he banters with other classmates as you stew in your anger. When class is over, he holds out your detention slip between his fingers, which you snatch and crumple up in your hand as you pass by without so much as a glance in his direction.

Asshole.

The final bell of the day rings hours later and you start the trek towards Dr. Banner’s room, the resident detention monitor. He’s surprised to see you and gives you a reassuring smile as you head to the back of the room, plopping down in one of the desks. You catch Mitchell Bryant, the fifth year senior and fuck up extraordinaire, smirking at you and roll your eyes deeply before shifting in your seat to block him from your line of vision.

You busy yourself with your trigonometry homework, actually getting into it within a few minutes. The door opens and you flip your eyes towards it, doing a double take when you spot Bucky walking in. He smiles at Dr. Banner, leaning into his desk and muttering something before he heads back to the door.

“Ms. Prescott?” He calls, “Grab your stuff and come with me please.”

You cock your head as your eyes instantly narrow at him. You take a deep breath, but stand and collect your things. You walk out into the hallway, finding him waiting for you, “Yes?” you ask, your tone flat and irritated.

He doesn’t answer, he just points forward and waits for you to start walking. You roll your eyes but ultimately obey, your feet carrying you back to his classroom. He enters a few steps behind you, closing the door softly before he flips the lock.

You spin on your heel to face him as your bag hangs off of your shoulder, “What is it, Bucky?”

“Drop your bag. Put your hands flat on the desk.”

His voice is deep and eerily calm. Your lips part and your eyes widen a little as you stand in your spot. He cocks his head when you still don’t move, “Did you not hear what I said? Hands flat on the desk. Now.”

You drop your bag from your shoulder and move to his desk, flattening your palms on the top of it. You’ve never heard him like this before - so stern. You swallow hard as your eyes dart around the chalkboard in front of you. You feel his presence behind you, hearing the material of his tie rubbing against his shirt as he loosens it, before pulling it from around his neck.

You jump when he slaps lightly at the insides of your thighs, “Open sesame.”

You spread your legs wider as his fingertips brush along your soft skin. His hand slides up your spine slowly and pushes you forward until your chest is resting flush against his desk. Your breath becomes audible as he pushes his hips into your ass, making you gasp when you feel his hard on pressing into your flesh.

He grabs your right wrist, bending your arm to place your hand in the small of your back before he reaches for the left. You then feel the soft silk of his tie as it wraps around your wrists, looping around them both before he ties it tightly into a nice, firm knot. Without warning, he bucks into your ass, jolting you forward as you gasp loudly again.

“You are one smart cookie, Ms. Prescott.” He says softly, running his hands along your hips and ass, “I underestimated you.”

“Mental warfare is my specialty.”

You bite your lip as your body starts to warm from his touch. A moan escapes you as he rucks your skirt up around your hips and groans at the sight of your sheer, pink panties. You close your eyes as his fingers dance along your plump ass, cupping it in both of his large palms and jiggling it gently.

“Nervous?”

You shake your head definitely, “Of course not.”

“Never one to show weakness, huh? I like that.”

You let out a sharp scream when a hard slap is suddenly leveled to your behind. Your body tightens as you pull against the tie wrapped around your wrists. He spanks you twice again in quick succession and you slam your eyes closed as you squeal and squirm underneath him. He pushes his hand back between your legs, his fingers brushing along the sudden, new wet spot on your panties. Goddamn him.

“I’ve gotta give it to you, Prescott,” he says softly as his fingers push underneath your panties and slip through your wet folds, “You had me going. I was jealous.”

You hiss as you roll your hips into his hand, “I told you Bucky - “

He spanks you again, the sound of his flesh meeting yours bouncing off of the chalkboard, “That’s not my name.”

“Fuck!” You mewl as the sting radiates through you, but you don’t give in. Not quite yet.

“What were you saying, darling?” He coos as his fingers travel to your hips and dig underneath the thin band of your panties.

He pulls them down slowly, slipping them over your feet. You hear him inhale deeply seconds later before his fingers slip through your folds again. Your mouth drops open as he plays with your clit, drawing slow circles around it before he pushes two of his thick fingers into you. His thumb pushes between your ass cheeks and flattens against your tight hole, applying a slight pressure as he starts to pump his fingers slowly.

“Did you have fun with the young Peter Parker?” He asks, pushing his hips flush to your behind, “Hmm? Did he make you feel good?”

You whimper as his fingers curl inside of you, his thumb pushing just inside. When you don’t answer fast enough, he spanks you again, making you squeal loudly. He pushes his thumb further and you squeeze your muscles as tight as you can as you tilt your head towards the ceiling, relishing in the electricity bouncing through you. His fingers push deeper in your pussy and you growl as you run your tongue over your teeth.

“Yes.” You hiss, the smart ass in you still winning out, “You were there, Bucky. You saw how good he made me feel.”

He chuckles deeply, removing his fingers from you before he pulls you up into a standing position. He turns you around to face him and picks you up, sitting you gently on top of his desk. He stays nose to nose with you, his eyes bouncing around your face as he smirks. He lifts his fingers to your mouth, smoothing your wetness over your bottom lip.

You lick your lip slowly before you suck it into your mouth, blinking up at him slowly as you swallow your taste. He kisses you hard, wrapping his hands around your neck and pulling you into him as his tongue bursts into your mouth. You moan, letting your head fall back into his hands as you accept him, sucking on his tongue as you pull lightly against the tie still around your wrists.

He pulls back slowly, pulling your bottom lip with him before he lets go. He tilts his head as his fingers drop to the buttons on your shirt, popping them one by one until it falls open. He flips his eyes back to yours as he starts undoing his pants, letting them slightly fall down his hips. You bite your lip as you watch him push his hand into his black boxer briefs, stroking himself. He pulls his dick free and you inhale deeply, your eyes growing wide as he springs out from behind the stretchy material.

“That little prick couldn’t satisfy you.” He says quietly, “Not like I can, baby girl. I’m a grown man.”

Your mouth falls open as he pushes the tip of his dick along your throbbing clit and through your folds. He pushes your legs open wider, wrapping your right limb around his hip. He pushes at your slit, positioning himself right at your opening.

“What’s my name baby?”

You bite your bottom lip again as your lips start to curl into a smile. You bat your eyes at him but shake your head - not giving an inch.

He smiles back at you, “You are stubborn as all fucking hell.”

“You started it.”

“I suppose I did,” He laughs, leaning in to kiss you softly, “You’re my perfect little princess.” He says, “You always were, you always will be.”

“And?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, cupping your face in his hands, “Don’t be mad at me anymore.”

You breathe in confidently, pushing it out of your nose as pride swells in your chest. You never cave. You never lose, “Apology accepted.”

“Good. Can I fuck you now?”

You nod slowly, “Of course you can, Mr. Barnes.”

He bites your lips and growls at the sound of his name tripping off your tongue with such ease. He grabs his shaft, slipping the head of his cock through your folds again before he stops at your slit. He wraps his other arm around your waist and starts to push slowly, breaking into your tight canal. You squeak as your muscles spread for his flesh for the first time, hissing as a delicious pain courses through you.

His mouth drops open as he watches you swallow him. He pushes a focused breath out of his mouth as he pushes until he completely disappears inside of you. A tear slips down your cheek as he pulls out and slides back in. You dig your nails into his desk as you adjust your hips - the pain and the pleasure of it all mixing and melting together into a perfect harmony.

You moan loudly as he fucks you nice and slow. He pushes his fingers to your clit and rubs quick circles against it as he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes hooded as he watches you squirm and writhe.

“This is what a real man feels like,” he says softly, digging his fingertips into your hip as he fucks you, “Do I feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” you answer breathlessly, tears streaming down your face, “You feel so good.”

“Mmm,” he grunts, “You are such a good girl. You’re taking me so well.”

Your head swims as he praises you, stroking your ego, making you clench around him. His hips start to move faster as his hands run up and down your thighs, gripping and kneading your flesh. His fingers roam up to your breasts, pushing into your bra to tease your thick nipples, adding a new sensation to the mix. He drops his right hand back between your legs, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit and starts to rub again, his other fingers still pulling and flicking at your aroused buds.

Your hips jerk without warning, pushing his cock into you deeper, pulling a guttural scream out of you. Your eyes continue to leak as your head spins and your body tightens and flexes. A shutter runs up your spine, your thighs shake. You tighten them around his waist and try to grip the desk below you as a dull ache sits in the pit of your stomach.

He fucks into you faster - recognizing that you’re starting to come undone as he overloads your senses. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, pinching and pulling as he continues to rub your clit and pump his hips into yours.

“You gonna come for me?” He starts to coax softly, “Hmm? Is my girl gonna come?”

My girl. Your brain can’t even form a coherent sentence. You’re nothing but sensation as he pushes you right to the edge of the cliff. His strokes get harder, his fingers faster as he rests his forehead to yours. He leaves your nipple to wrap his hand around your throat. His hot breath washes over your face as he kisses you quickly.

“I want my girl to come. Come for me, baby. Give it to me, I want to own you.”

You grunt as your eyes start to roll. He fucks into you as your toes curl with each of his strokes, pushing, pushing, pushing, until he tips you right over the edge. You mewl into the empty room as your orgasm floods through every vein, every muscle, every sensor in your body. He loses his control - pounding into you as hard as he can as your pussy quivers around him.

Your clit jumps with contractions as you tighten your legs around his hips. He coaxes you on, whispering sweet nothings as wave after wave crashes against you. His grunts grow louder and more erratic, his hips faltering every now and again until you feel a sudden warmth burst into you. He hisses as he spurts long, hot ribbons into your cunt over and over again.

He nearly collapses - having to slam his palm to the top of his desk to hold himself up. His breaths are deep and ragged as his head falls to your shoulder. He leans back after a minute and tilts his head towards the ceiling as he focuses on his breathing, pushing them in and out slow and evenly.

“Fuck,” he lets out as a laugh rumbles through his chest, “Goddamn.”

He reaches around and unties your wrists before pulling you up into his arms. You throw your arms around his neck and let him wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you around his desk and sits in his chair. He curls you into him, wrapping you up in his warm arms before he sweeps your braids over your shoulder. He kisses your forehead and the top of your head as he strokes your spine gently.

“You are so pretty when you cry.” He says gently, smiling at you, “My perfect little girl.”

You still can’t talk. You just smile as you nuzzle into him, blinking down at your thighs, a small amount of blood splashed on your skin.

“Can you cancel your riding lessons tomorrow and Sunday?” he asks after a few minutes.

You nod slowly, “Why?”

“I want you all to myself.” He says, pushing his knuckle into your chin to tilt your head up towards his, “I want you to pack a bag for the weekend. I’ll text you my address, okay?”

“Okay.” You say simply.

“Okay.” He smiles, kissing you again, “Come on, let's get moving.”

You reluctantly climb out of his lap and start to arrange your clothing properly, buttoning up your shirt and smoothing your skirt back down on your hips. Your legs are shaky, your pussy and clit sore, but you’ve never felt better. He grabs your bag and places it on your shoulder as the two of you move to the door. When he opens it, the two of you come face to face with one Cher Goodwin, her hand still in the air as she was just about to knock.

Her lips part as she stares at you, before flicking her eyes towards Bucky, “I thought you had detention.”

You shrug, “You thought wrong.”

She slides her eyes down your frame, squinting as she looks you over. Her face drops as the realization floods through her. Your smile widens. She doesn’t even have to ask. She runs her hand through her hair roughly as she takes a deep breath, letting the dread of knowing she’s lost again flush through her. She’s come up just short - second place, once again.

“Cher,” Mr. Barnes starts, “I’m sorry. Something came up, I’m not gonna be able to stick around this afternoon.”

She scoffs, clicking her teeth as she crosses her arms over her chest, “Mr. Barnes, I - “

“I’m sorry,” he cuts her off, “You know, I can get you a couple of names of some really great tutors that can give you all the attention you need. Okay?”

She runs her tongue over her teeth as she stares off into the distance, laughing slightly, “Sure, yeah. Whatever.”

Bucky pushes past her and out into the hallway, “I’ll have them for you Monday morning, okay? I’m sorry ladies, I gotta split. Have a good weekend. Thanks for all your help Ms. Prescott.”

You smile at her as he moves down the hallway, “Oh, Cher.” You laugh, “Poor thing.”

“I’ll fucking get you.” She sneers, “One of these goddamn days, I will win! I will fucking beat you!” You shouts, stomping her foot.

You nudge her chin with your fist, “It’s cute you still believe that. The only thing you’ll ever have over me, is knowing how second place feels.” You brush past her shoulder as a frustrated tear slips down her cheek.

“Oh,” you say happily, turning back on your heel to face her, “I forgot to tell you. T’Challa signed Apollo and I up for the relay competition on Wednesday. You’re participating in that too, right?” You wink, watching as her eyes fill with dread, “See you there.”

You throw your hand into the air as you walk away from her, wiggling your fingers, “Tootles, darling.”

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livtries · 4 years ago

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yule ball - c.d

yule ball - cedric diggory (dont worry, he doesn’t die BAHAHAHSKSK)

pairings: cedric diggory x ravenclaw female reader

summary: it was triwizard tournament time again. & cedric was chosen. with the tournament comes the yule ball. your least favorite part of it all...

cedric diggory. your crush... ever since first year. you guys were really good friends, but you never had the confidence or guts enough to tell him how you felt. you hope he felt the same... but then again, you didn’t have the balls to ask him.

all of the houses were packed into the great hall, watching, waiting as dumbledore was about to call names for the triwizard tournament. even if it was a fun time, with all of the event that went on, you weren’t a huge fan. you’d rather be in your dorm, studying, or reading. big groups weren’t for you...

“ok, everyone! please point your attention to professor dumbledore while he announces the triwizard champions for this year.” mcgongall annouced, waving her hand towards dumbledore, who stood by the goblet of fire, with hundreds of students names in it.

with a wave of his hand, the first name was picked. “our first champion is... our very own, cedric diggory!” he annouced, as cheers erupted from the entire school. you looked on as he stood in front of everyone, waiting for the other two people to be called.

“our second champion, fleur delacour.” dumbledore annouced, waving his hand towards where the beauxbatons sat. cheers and shouts erupted from the crowd again, cheers from fleurs friends, yelling her name and congratulating her.

dumbledore got ready to announce the third champion, waiting for everyone to quiet down from moments before, “our third and final champion is... viktor krum!” dumbledore announced, clapping along with everyone else.

“one last round of applause for this years champions!” dumbledore walked up to the three, and shook each of their hands, watching as they all smiled and clapped. shortly after, they all returned to their tables for dinner.

you looked over the table, to see cedric, as giddy as ever. he was so happy... dumbledore spoke for a little while before dinner started, about the rules of the tournament, and what it brings. all of the challenges, and how long the three have to complete them, etc...

after dinner, when all of the houses were headed back to their common rooms, you found yourself thinking not only about cedric, but about the tournament. you were worried about him. not about his skills, because it was obvious he could stand up for himself, but you were just worried about him. of course, you worry about everything. but this was different. what if something actually happened to him?

after about a month of challenges, it came time for the yule ball. the last celebration-like event before the final challenge. you never liked it, because no one ever asked you, but much to your surprise, someone had already been thinking about it. even before he was deemed a champion.

you were in potions class, sitting beside cedric when he slipped you a note under the desk.

it read:

meet me near the hufflepuff common room at 7pm tonight.

-ced :)

you folded the note back up, careful not to get caught by snape, (which was probably one of your biggest fears...)

at dinner that night, cedric kept looking at you. since you were sitting directly across from each other, just as different tables, you could see each other perfectly. dinner was finished, and everyone went off to do their own things. some went to the library, some went back to their dorms. you, though, were going to meet cedric.

even though you could see him for the entirety of your meal, you managed to lose sight of him after dinner ended.

“hey, luna? have you seen cedric lately?” you turned to her. she was your roommate, and one of your best friends.

“oh, um, yes. he just walked by me.” she spoke, pointing in the direction in which he went.

you nodded, “okay, thank you, luna! i’ll see you later tonight!” you spoke, before walking past her, and into the sea of people that were flooding the hallways of the school.

you managed to break away from the sea of people, into the basement level, where the hufflepuff common room resided. most of the hufflepuffs either went to the library after dinner, or went to get tea to bring back to their common room, so the hallway was fairly empty.

as soon as you stepped down from the last stair, you saw cedric. he was standing there, rocking back and forth on his heels, clearly nervous.

“hey! i’ve been waiting for you.” he smiled and said, “its almost 7:30.” he spoke, giving you a frown.

“i know, i’m sorry! i was trying to get down here, but there were so many people in my way, it was just so hectic. but, i’m here now.” you apologized, and he smiled again.

“i have something to ask you,” he said, before he blushed.

you looked up at him, waiting to hear what he had to ask. “okay, i’m all ears, ced.”

“well, you know how to yule ball is soon... and i was wondering if you wanted to be my date?” he asked, nervously chuckling.

you were in disbelief, and it showed. cedric looked hurt, and you immediatly felt bad.

“oh, no, no, ced. i’d- i’d love to. i’m just surprised because i was gonna ask you the same thing.” you said, continuing to lookup at him, watching him grin like a little kid.

he pulled you in for a hug, and you guys just stood there for a while.

“i can’t wait, ced.” you said, as you pulled away from the hug.

he smiled, “neither can i,” he took your hand, “now, what do you say we go get some tea and study in the library?”

you nodded, “sounds like a plan to me.”

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alolanrain · 4 years ago

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Have some more HC! Though these are more based around Gou, Chloe, and the Galar League experiencing AshTM at his fullest.

———

Gou, Chloe, and Professor Cerise watching Ash one morning having a full stilt conversation with Mr.Mimy and Pikachu, and I’m talking a full conversation one human would have with another.

Mimy makes an off handed comment when Ash avoids eating the small sun tomatoes that the Pokémon had set into his plate. Ash fires back with a tired “I do not!” And both Pikachu and Mimy shoot back absolutely gibberish at the other three humans stand point.

Everyone pauses because their kinda used to Ash generally understanding Pokémon better then they were but not at this extent. They watch as Mimy huffs and crosses his arms before glaring Ash into submission who wilts over his plate and stuffs one of those tomato’s into his mouth and glares at Pikachu was was snickering over his own cucumber slice.

———

Ash taking Gou, and Cerise forcing Chloe to go to because Sunlight is good for you Sweetheart, to Oaks lab and Ranch.

Chloe likes the country view, though she doesn’t like how early they had to get up, and makes small talk with Ash as they walk from Viridian through the forest. She keeps a tight and painful grip on Gou’s arm so the boy doesn’t dart off somewhere and the other two leave them behind.

Besides the grip on his arm Gou is excitedly yelling-talking about how amazing Oaks ranch is supposed to be and how all the super strong Pokémon are there as well. It’s during another reiteration when a loud cry echoes through the early morning fog and Ash, who was walking half dead on his feet, peeks up and skips ahead of the frozen pair.

Both Chloe and Gou go to warn him, or in Gou’s case pull him back, but their once more stun frozen when Ash opens his arm out and a giant Pidgeot comes drifting down from the tree canopy and perches itself onto Ash’s arm. The young adult/old teen easily holding the large bird Pokémon no problem on one arm.

“Everyone!” Ash turns to look at his two friends, “meet one of my first Pokémon! Pidgeot!”

Ash’s smile is tired and a bit strained, more so with his backpack filled to the brim with science paperwork from Cerise to Oak then the giant fucking bird perched on his arm, and he looks angelical and also strangely a bit scary with how the Golden morning rays splash down from between the trees.

It takes a few seconds for them to realize what happen before Gou goes into a MASSIVE freak out and starts asking Ash all these questions which he answers none to instead talk to Pidgeot. Having another full stilt conversation while Pikachu sleeps in his shoulder.

Pidgeot leaves after rubbing its beak against both sides of Ash’s head and tapping lightly against Pikachu’s. Immediately disappearing into the leaves. Gou jumps Ash again and Chloe has to drag him off the poor Pallet boy. The only explanation that Ash gives them is that Pidgeot is his and that they protect Viridian forest and all the other Pokémon in it.

“But there’s nothing to protect the forest from.” Gou points out.

“That’s what you think!” Ash covered a yawn before waving at the two. “We’ll be late at this point, come on.”

They make it to Oaks ranch. All the while Ash is eyeing any coffee shop or bakery that is, super sadly, not open yet because of how early it still is. Ash doesn’t even bother knocking. Flouncing in with Pikachu practically stumbling/melting off his shoulders down to the scuffed hardwood floors before moving upstairs.

Gou and Chloe hiss at him because it’s obvious that no one is home or no one is even up. Ash waves them off, stating that he’s been doing this since he was six years old, and moving to the kitchen after closing the door behind the two and towing off his shoes. Chloe and Gou following nervously after him and quietly hisses at Ash to stop being so loud, going clanking pots and pans, as Ash makes Arceus forsaken coffee in the professors house.

Ash continues to ignore them. Forcing them to sit in the kitchen table chairs, leaving the island open, and telling them if that they don’t want coffee then they can just not talk. Chloe gets huffy but she still ask’s for a cup, which Ash happily obliged after getting what she adds to her coffee, and Gou still starts to quietly rant about how they couldn’t be doing this at all but he still doesn’t get up from his seat that Ash forced him into.

Not long after the smell of, probably illegal coffee with how strong it smells, coffee drifted through the kitchen. Loud knocking sounds came from upstairs and a string of curseing soon follows as a door opens up.

“Good morning!” Ash does the unthinkable and bellows as loud as he could. Chloe and Gou finally stiff up to tell him to stfu and not anger the Professor when Professor Daisy walks in like a half alive zombie.

“You.” She points to a tired but insane grinning Ash. Shuffling forward and cupping both of the boys cheeks before swaying his head back and forth. “Are sunshine incarnation and, therefore, a bane to my existence.”

“But you love me.” Ash slurred with the way Daisy keeps squishing his cheeks.

“I do,” She mumbled and tugged him into a loose hug, “but fuck you at the same time.”

This sends Ash into giggles, because that’s just Daisy for you, which worsens when he sees Gou and Chloes shocked faces.

“Oaks are affectionate without their coffee in the morning-Argk!” Ash was cut off by a swift back of the head hit from Daisy who didn’t even tear her eyes away from the pot.

“Little fucking shit,” she growled, “That’s just Gary.”

“And Green!” Aah whined. Running his head.

“And Green.” She was quick to agree.

Soon Professor Oak actually comes up from his lab, sleeping down there AGAIN Professor?, and then Gary soon follows. Pressing himself up agains Ash’s back and starts to mutter how Ashy is a sunshine God and how he’s the only one who knows how to make good fucking strong coffee in this house hold. I’m talking about you Daisy-

“It’s because he stashed the illegal good shit somewhere away from us.” Daisy makes it out by taking a loud pointed sip and eyeing Ash, and by extension Gary who was pointing because the pot was tk far away from his position as a human Komala, then the cupboards.

“It’s not there.” Ash mumbled while setting the pile of paperwork on the table and stuffing the now empty bag off the chair so he could push Gary lightly into it to go make the brunettes cup.

Chloe at that moment decides to just... roll with the punches and just take the cup of coffee without complaint. It is in fact that good illegal shit and she made a zipping close motion over her mouth when Daisy sent a glare her way.

Gou is having his mind blown to smithereens for like the fifth time that day but he decides to keep quite so he can question Oak about a bunch of stuff like his last few research papers.

“Ash’s pokemon actually helped a lot with those papers.” Oak purposely chooses to ignore Ash’s clear facial expression of pure agony when Gou sent a wide eyed look at him.

Ash’s pokemon are mostly moved to his house by know besides Muk because he eats the Professors food recycling and compost so Gou and Chloe don’t get to see any of them besides what he has on hand and Muk.

“You should go and show Lance and Agatha what you caught.” Daisy makes the mistake this time because now Gou has, once more, descended upon him asking if he knows THE Champion Lance.

———

It happens in the same day. Chloe was supposed to be back in Viridian an hour ago for school but her dad called her out for the day saying something like, it’s more educational! And you get to see more of Kanto then you’ve ever had before!, which is whatever.

Gou is freaking out even more, like to the point of hyperventilating, as he reads off any facts that he can fine on the Kanto Champ and E-Four. Ash doesn’t even bother listening, to tired still because Daisy and Gary drained the entire fucking pot before Ash’s second cup, and he’s instead texting Lance to meet him behind a Denys so he can fist fight the man instead of their Dragonites.

Lance, being the League Dad that he is, decided to wait for Ash and His friends right out in front of the front door. Decked in his casual wear because he Dad.

Ash, on sight, gets the giant urge to punch Lance because he needs to just Stop but he settles for stomping on his feet when Lance pulls him into a hug and keeps an arm curled around him as he leads them through the castle to his office. Chloe and Gou don’t spot him because their both to preoccupied with freaking out about being in the Kanto/Johto League Castle to see Lance and Ash tripping each other up throughout the entire way.

———

Ash got the other Champions addicted to Boba. It got to the point that they always go out a get some after meetings or during their lunch breaks during those meetings.

Ash’s favorite is orange cream with mango jellies that fill the entire bottom of the cup.

———

Dawn has kind of become a sister between Ash and Gary, they form the Gremlin Trio, and this causes the adults such as Professor Oak and Delia to cring slightly because the trios dynamic reminds them of Red, Green, and Blue.

#wolfy talks #ash ketchum #champion lance #delia ketchum #professor oak #daisy oak #gary oak #gou #chloe

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sockparade · 5 years ago

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tips for surviving the pandemic: things i learned from my immigrant parents

It’s hard to believe that it’s only been a little over a week since the WHO announced that the coronavirus (COVID-19) was officially a pandemic. This has been a long, challenging week for a lot of people and it is nothing short of terrifying to read reports of what is happening in Asia and Europe as many predict that we’ll likely endure a similar fate here in the United States. In the midst of all of this chaos and uncertainty, I’ve been reminded of so many lessons that my Taiwanese immigrant parents taught me. I’m sharing them here so that others might also benefit. Thanks Ma. Thanks Daddy.

你昨天已經出去了.

“You already went out yesterday.“

1. Learn how to stay home. Our family is eight days into self-isolating at home and Tony asked me this morning if I had cabin fever. And strangely, the answer is no. I’m not. Not to downplay the difficulty of this moment but my experience with this “shelter-in-place” ordinance reminds of pretty much all my summers between kindergarten and 8th grade. Both of my parents worked full-time so summer was just three blissful months of nothing. No structure, no plans, no camps, no playdates, and no responsibilities. My parents never made me feel like I was missing a thing by staying home and I don’t remember ever feeling bored. There were always library books to read, stories to write, and thoughts to journal. Hours were spent playing school with my big sister (now a first grade teacher!), making up random games like who can avoid touching the carpet longest, learning Kim Zmeskal’s latest gymnastics floor routine, writing lyrics to Kenny G saxophone solos, and rehearsing for our variety show that we would perform to our tired parents at the end of the day. And that’s not even including the hours we spent watching The Price is Right, CHIPS, Knight Rider, and Airwolf (yep, no cable).

As a teenager I carefully plotted all my hangouts with friends so that I didn’t have too many consecutive days when I was out of the house. Whenever I asked my parents if I could hang out with friends, they would always say, “But you already went out yesterday. What’s wrong with staying home? Why do you always have to go out?” It was as if having too much fun two days in a row was off limits. If there was a big party on Friday, I would purposely make sure I stayed home Wednesday and Thursday just to increase the chances of being able to go out on Friday. I know a lot of people talk about how awful their high school years were but I was one of those lucky kids who had a really great group of friends that made me feel seen, loved, and cared for. The downside was that I couldn’t get enough of it. I was always thinking about the next hangout, the next event, the next thing. It took me all the way until my late twenties to fully appreciate the fine art of staying home and to finish my unexpected transformation into the expert homebody that I am today.

I’m reminded of that old quote by Blaise Pascal, “All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone."

It’s great to be out and about, but it’s also really important to learn how to stay home.

______________________________________________

晚上要吃什麼？清冰箱.

“What are we eating for dinner?” “Cleaning the fridge.”

2. Be creative with what you have. I love food. Not in a foodie sense, but I get a lot of pleasure out of eating. I’m not a food snob by any stretch of the imagination. I thoroughly enjoy a Stouffer’s frozen lasagna or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as much as I enjoy a fancy, inventive, Michelin-starred meal at Commis. What’s hard for me is when food is eaten as sustenance rather than with delight. But my parents taught me that you can always take pride in preparing a meal. No matter your ingredients.

My mom is an excellent cook. I know a lot of people think their mom is a good cook but my mom is legitimately skilled in the kitchen. There were some nights when I’d ask what was for dinner and my mom would just reply, “Cleaning the fridge.”

Now for some, this might sound terrifying. But my mom could honestly make something out of nothing. I still crave my dad’s simple egg and garlic fried rice. My parents raised me to be able to make an tasty meal just from rummaging in the pantry and fridge for random leftover things. There were plenty of summers where lunches and snacks were an individual culinary adventure for each of us kids. I still remember the day I witnessed my baby sister add a Kraft single on top of her onion ramen noodles. She saw my confusion, shrugged and said, “You should try it, it’s good.”

With all the hoarding folks have been doing during this pandemic, I’ve found myself feeling quite anxious. Trying to calculate if we have enough food. Estimating how many more meals we can eat at home before we need to make another grocery run. As someone who struggles with a scarcity mentality it has been hard not to panic. But then I keep reminding myself that I know how to make good food using just whatever’s available.

You know, I was pretty disappointed with Mary H.K. Choi’s second novel, Permanent Record, given how much I enjoyed her debut novel, Emergency Contact. But I was absolutely thrilled with the shine she gave to what her protagonist calls “Hot Snacks”.

Here’s an excerpt from Permanent Record that is a beautiful ode to creative food mashups and immigrant kids everywhere:

“I edit and post a Shin Ramyun Black video set to music. My favorite instant noodles with three flavor packets and so much garlic. It’s a classic Korean HotSnack, especially when you throw in cut-up hot dogs, frozen dumplings, extra kimchi - and this is where the artistry comes in- eggs, cheese, corn from a can, and a drizzle of sesame oil on top. And furikake if you’re feeling wealthy. The next night I put up a bacon, egg, and cheese not in a bagel but in a glazed honey bun. Laced with sriracha and pan fried on the outside. Then it’s chilaquiles with Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos and chorizo. Jamaican beef patty casserole disrespected with a smothering of Japanese curry and broiled. With Crystal Hot Sauce over the top and pickled banana peppers. I’m trolling with that one but the controversy is berserk. When I run out of old videos, I make saag paneer naanchos with Trader Joe’s frozen Indian food, and it’s a hit. Especially when I add yogurt and a thick layer of crushed-up Takis on top.”

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看連續劇.

“Watch soap operas.”

3. Find a way to escape. I’m generally pro technology but I’ll admit I’m a little bummed at the way iPhones and iPads have made TV viewing such an individual activity. I like how Disney+ has gotten some families back to watching TV together again. Although I will say, we really coddle our kids these days. I grew up in a time when movie ratings only applied in the theaters and we watched movies with our families like Alien, The Fly, and Gremlins. We were scared out of our minds and sometimes could only watch through the cracks between our fingers covering our eyes because it was so scary. Okay, this also might be why I can’t watch horror movies as an adult.

From a young age, my parents taught me that watching other people’s drama unfold on screen is one of the best way to escape your own drama. Some people say binge watching became a thing when the TV networks started releasing shows on DVD. Others give credit to Netflix releasing their original content a whole season at a time. But truth be told, I first learned how to binge watch from my parents.

We would rent 30-40 VHS cassette tapes from that random spot in Bellaire Chinatown. Can you picture it? You needed multiple plastic bags to transport that many VHS tapes.

Do you remember the one about the dying mother who needed to find homes for each of her 7 children? I don’t think it’s normal for a 10 year old to cry so much but you better believe it’s made me learn the true value of a soap opera escape hatch.

Are you in a pandemic? Now’s the perfect time to pick up that YA novel, binge that reality show, start that kdrama, or rewatch all six seasons of The Sopranos again.

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下個禮拜會下雨.

“It’s going to rain next week.”

4. Be informed about what’s ahead. If you ask either of my parents about the weather at any given time they can reliably tell you the daily percent chance of precipitation and humidity for at least seven days out. They’ve always been this way. They would inform me of the weather at various points throughout the week. They planned their yard work and car washes around the weather forecast. There’s something about the way the weather forecast is available to everyone. And it feels like it’s just a matter of making the small extra effort to access it and gain a slight advantage. I feel like so much of the immigrant mentality is to be diligent in making the right choices to not screw yourself over and seizing opportunities whenever you can. And it wasn’t just weather but this is such an obvious example of it.

I remember my dad saying to me once, "Can you imagine if someone decided to read every book in their local library? If they just went shelf by shelf and systematically read all the books? You could do it, you know. It’s free, it doesn’t cost any money to check out a book from the library. But no one really does it.”

I think immigrant parents get a bad reputation for forwarding chain letters and health/science hoaxes they get on email, WeChat and Line. And in a pandemic, yes, they are definitely susceptible to misinformation, rumors and flat out untruths. But the thought behind it seems right.

The mistrust of government leadership is actually quite relevant right now in this pandemic. Many immigrants left countries with governments that were overtly corrupt, oppressive, and used propaganda to influence its citizens. And while many Americans still take pride in living in a country that verbally champions freedom and democracy, the truth is that our government has already failed us and lied to us in many ways. During this pandemic, we cannot wait on leaders to tell us what to do. We must be diligent in reading for ourselves, seeking experts, using our critical thinking skills, and making preparations accordingly.

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會不會冷?

“Are you cold?”

5. Check in with yourself. Check in with others. I have so many memories of my parents walking through the living room and asking me and my sisters if we were cold. It felt like they couldn’t walk past the thermostat without asking us if they needed to raise it or lower it. As if they couldn’t hear us sneeze and wonder if they needed to turn off the ceiling fan. They couldn’t see us sitting in a dim room without turning on a light for us. There are so many times I fell asleep reading on the couch and woke up with a blanket over me. Or sometimes I was fully awake doing something random, like playing Egyptian Rat Screw with my sisters (a cardgame for the uninitiated), and my mom would walk by and wordlessly drop a warm, heavy blanket over my shoulders. That’s care, y’all. Consistent, immediate action, and often without words.

The tip here is to pay attention to your discomfort during a pandemic. There’s this immigrant stereotype of stoicism and that’s true to some degree but maybe the resilience is made possible not because of unnatural toughness but largely because immigrant parents can also be so incredibly perceptive and tender in some very tangible ways.

When everything is chaotic around you and you’re busy multitasking these next few months, don’t ignore your needs. Notice how you’re feeling. Physically and emotionally. Where are you carrying your stress and tension in your body? You don’t have to tough it out. Oh and remember to check in with your people on how they’re feeling. Is there a light switch you can turn on for someone?

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笑死人.

“Laugh to death.”

6. Laugh to survive. Look, we didn’t have the perfect family or anything like that. We’ve definitely had our share of difficult times, financial stress, health issues, arguments, and pain. But my parents also really knew how to laugh and taught us to laugh with abandon. Like, bent over, tears running out of your eyes, can’t breathe kind of laughing. Our dinner table was kind of like a writer’s room. It was difficult to tell a mediocre story. You had better come prepared with a punchline or a point. It was a tough crowd, every night. On many occasions I stopped myself halfway through a story upon the self-realization that there was no real way to land the plane. Polite laughs were nowhere to be found, except perhaps a charitable smile from my baby sister. But it didn’t stop us from trying. I think my sisters and I are all probably better storytellers for it and we definitely have learned to try to bring humor into difficult times.

I know that this pandemic is so incredibly dark and depressing that it can sometimes feel disrespectful, inappropriate, or childish to laugh at anything. But my parents taught me that you laugh to survive. Nothing is ever so dark that you can’t find a reason to laugh. And sometimes you really need to find something to laugh about.

I’ve been taking long breaks each day from major media news outlets but I have been finding such joy and laughter from the meme creators on IG and the comedic geniuses on Twitter. In Taiwanese when something’s really funny, people will say a phrase that is imperfectly translated as laugh to death. Like you killed a person it was so funny. Now’s the time to find that content or those people who will get you to laugh to death.

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我要去挪車.

“I’m going to go re-park the cars.”

7. Go to bed with a plan for the next morning. I grew up in a suburb of Houston, Texas where one property developer built the entire neighborhood and used the same eight or nine floor plans for all the houses but changed up the brick and trim color to keep things interesting. Most homes have a long driveway that connects a garage set near the backdoor of a home to the street. By the time I was driving, we had four cars in total -- two in the garage and two on the driveway. At the end of the day when everyone was home for the night and my dad was getting ready to go to bed, he’d announce, “I’m going to go re-park the cars.” Then we’d all kind of stop what we were doing and rearrange the order of the cars to match our morning departure schedules. This meant figuring out who was leaving when in the morning and sometimes also prompted brief check-in conversations about any changes in our usual routine.

In a pandemic it can sometimes feel like there are a million different things to attend to and large conceptual concerns that demand your attention. But there’s something calming and centering about spending a few minutes each night thinking through specifically what needs to happen just tomorrow. Not the day after or next week. Get super tactical and specific about what tomorrow morning looks like. Check-in with your partner about any aberrations to your schedule (e.g. I have a super important conference call at 7am tomorrow) to minimize any unnecessary surprises. There’s something magical about setting up your morning that helps you rest just a little easier at night.

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星期三我們有禱告會.

“On Wednesdays we have prayer meeting.”

8. Make time for your spirituality. Growing up my parents both had physically demanding jobs. My mom was a seamstress for many years, providing alterations at my aunt and uncle’s dry cleaners. She later worked in an elementary school cafeteria and then eventually became a classroom aide for special needs students. My dad worked at that same dry cleaners for years until he got a job at the post office. He then became a letter carrier, delivering mail on foot. The summer months were especially grueling, carrying a heavy sack of mail in 100 degree, humid weather, and walking until sweat soaked his shirts and blisters formed on his feet. They had every excuse to skip weeknight events. But unless they were sick in bed, I can’t remember a time when they missed their weekly prayer meeting with their friends from church.

Pandemics have an unsettling way of forcing us to confront our mortality and can trigger a bunch of unresolved shit that has been bubbling underneath the surface. We’ve lost some of our usual coping mechanisms and it can be super hard to quiet the anxieties, fears, and other demons that we usually try to keep under control. This isn’t a lecture about a particular faith or belief system. It’s just a reminder to prioritize your existential questions, your interior life, and your connection to things much bigger than yourself -- whether that’s a community, a yoga practice, a faith group, a tradition, or something else.

I have a fledgling meditation practice that I’ve been trying to strengthen since last year. When I say fledgling I mean that sometimes I bail before the ten minutes is up and check my phone. Even though I’m not very good at it yet, I can really tell the difference on the days that I make time for it. Our church started hosting its weekly Sunday service online and that’s challenging for me because a church service feels like it’s designed to be so much about the physical rhythm of going to a place, seeing faces of people I love, hearing their voices co-mingling with mine in song and in prayer, and tasting the bread and wine in my mouth. The online service was short, and just for viewing through a zoom conference call, but there was still something meaningful about setting aside that time Sunday morning, asking our wiggly kids to be present, and saying the liturgy out loud knowing that in homes all across the country, other people are doing the same.

If things are really going to get as bad as some are predicting, we’ll need the spiritual strength to make it to the other side. Those habits are hard to form overnight. My parents taught me that you really have to make the time for your spirituality non-negotiable, so that you won’t abandon it when it’s inconvenient or when you are too tired.

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沒辦法.

“What choice do we have?”

9. Rise to the occasion. Whenever my parents are telling old war stories about things they had to do to get to where they are today, inevitably one of us will say, “Man that’s crazy, how did you manage to do it?” And instead of pointing to some super personality trait of theirs or some complex self-help principle, they always say, “We had no choice.” It’s not said in a defeated way, but in a posture of accepting that life can be cruel, unfair, and capricious. And that it’s not helpful to dwell too long on the why’s and how’s. My parents taught me that you can’t stay in despair mode. You eventually have to push yourself into problem solving mode and you do whatever it takes to move forward.

This coronavirus is so unlike anything we’ve ever experienced in our lifetime. It is so unprecedented for me that my brain is having a hard time processing the reality of what’s happening right now and the rest of my lived experience. I spent the first few days of this week just being overwhelmed, anxious, angry, and irritable. At this point though, I’m in go mode. I’m doing what needs to be done for our family and taking care of business. What choice do we have? I can hear my parents saying it. One day, if we’re lucky, we’ll say it to our kids too.

#coronavirus #immigrants #immigrant parents #survival tips #advice #covid-19 #pandemic #childhood #lifelessons

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batonpassport-blog · 5 years ago

Text

New Sword and Shield Info

So out of....pretty much nowhere today, we got a new Sword and Shield trailer! It showcased new Pokemon, new characters, and a new battle mechanic called Gigantamaxing.

Pokemon

One of the ones they officially revealed was Yamper, but I’ll skip over him since I talked about him before. Of the new ones, my favorite is Alcremie. It’s a Fairy type with the ability Sweet Veil. It’s known for producing a soothing, tasty cream which it can also use in battle

Then there’s Rolycoly, a Rock-type Pokemon with the abilities Heatproof or Steam Engine, a new ability that raises the Pokemon’s Speed stat drastically when hit with a Fire or Water type move.

Finally, there’s Duraludon, a Steel/Dragon type (Pretty col typing IMO I think it’s the first ever one?) with the abilities Light Metal or Heavy Metal.

Characters

They revealed something interesting today regarding the gym leaders. For, as far as I recall, the first time, the gym leaders you face will be different depending on what version of the games you get. In Sword, you go up against the Fighting type user Bea (WHO IS ADORABLE BTW) and in Shield you go up against the Ghost-type user Allister (Ironically enough, I named my Decidueye last gen Allister 0_0)

How the gym challenge and Championship Cup operates were discussed as well. They are all televised competitions with plenty of sponsors. In fact you need to have some kind of sponsor to be involved in the gym battles at all. In the game’s story, Leon, the current Champion and local cool dude, sponsors you and Hop. Two characters introduced today were Chairman Rose, the head of a large, vague “company” in the Galar region who currently runs the competitions. He was the one who originally sponsored Leon to become the Champion.

Also introduced was Rose’s secretary Oleana, a calm, cool, collected woman who does most of the work around Rose’s company.

I don’t know why but I’m getting like....”surprise twist villain” vibes from these two...Maybe I’ve been watching too many Disney movies. But something about them being so heavily involved in Dynamaxing and also being “obvious corporate” characters makes me think they’re gonna be up to something shady but....I guess we’ll see.

Gigantamaxing

The new mechanic introduced today, called Gigantamaxing, is actually a little confusing. Gigantamaxing is something like Dynamaxing, but not all Pokemon can do it. Hell, not even all Pokemon of a SPECIFIC SPECIES can do it! Take Corvinknight for example. Corviknight is a Pokemon capable of Giganamaxing. BUT NOT ALL CORVIKNIGHTS CAN DO IT! Only special ones that you get from Max Raid Battles will be able to do it, and even then apparently the ones that can be captured are rare. In short, all Pokemon can Dynamax, only some species of Pokemon are able to Gigantamax, and only some members of those species are actually able to do it, and they are very hard to find. Got it? Good.

Once Gigantamaxed, the Pokemon will change size and appearance and their moves change to G-Max Moves. Corviknight, Drednaw, and Alcremie are the only Pokemon currently known to be able to Gigantamax. Corviknight has the Flying type G-Max Wind Rage move which deals damage and also removes field effects (Reflect, Light Screen, Spikes, ect.). Drednaw has the Water G-Max Stonesurge move which deals damage and puts sharp stones around your opponent (essentially dealing damage and setting up Stealth Rocks). Alcremie has the Fairy G-Max Finale move which heals Alcremie’s allies as well as deals damage to opponents. As stated before, their appearances change as well.

Exclusives and Pre-Order Bonuses

Finally, they revealed some Pokemon that will be in the games, but exclusive to one or the other. Larvitar and Goomy are exclusive to Shield, and Deino and Jangmo-o are exclusive to Sword. All of these Pokemon are found pretty late in their respective games. HOWEVER! If you pre-order the Double Pack, you will get a code for special items called Dynamax Crystals. By using those codes, you will be able to have access to Jangmo-o in Shield and Larviatar in Sword through Max Raid Battles. You will also be able to encounter them much earlier that usual.

There are also Plush keychains that you can get with a pre-order of either Sword or Shield.

Thoughts

I’m really digging the designs of the Pokemon this gen so far. They have a kind of “original 151″ feel to them. I couldn’t describe what exactly that feel is so please don’t ask xD But they’ve all been creative and fitting to their type. I’m really liking the human characters too! Everyone is so gosh dang cute! I also love the idea of making the gym leaders different in the games too. I feel like it adds more weight to the increased price tag in purchasing both. They feel more like different games, and therefore gives the player more incentive to buy both.

I hope I am wrong about Rose and Oleana though. It’d be pretty disappointing if I could guess their twist based only on the “Corporate = Bad” trope.

Gigantamaxing is...interesting albeit confusing. I’m hoping the rarity of it keeps it from being too easily abused.

Thanks for reading all, see you around!

#SwordandShiled #Information #Alcremie #Polycoly #Duraludon #Yamper #Corviknight #Drednaw #Gigantamaxing #Dynamaxing #Bea #Allister #Chairman Rose #Oleana #Leon #Gen8

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thegempage · 5 years ago

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⭐⭐⭐ infodump time :3c

JFKDLAS DO YOU EVEN REALIZE THE POWER YOU’VE GIVEN ME

BCUS I’M JUST GONNA USE IT TO TALK ABOUT CLAIRRE

well okay 1. thank you fjdksalf

2. this is for that director’s cut meme

3. man this took a while to write bcus i had to keep coming back jfkldsaf

if you’re reading this and wondering “who the fuck is clairre” then you must be new here or spectacularly good at tuning me out, and anyway clairre is my d&d character who i love very much, you can read about them here, and you should bcus i love this dumbass lesbian

and actually. because i already have the fic pulled up, let’s talk about some of those chapters, huh : 3?

under a cut bcus i have three in mind i want to talk about and it might take a while

SO FIRST

let’s talk about lindie, whom i love, because i have been thinking about her all day in lieu of having anything else to think about that doesn’t make me super anxious, and in talking about lindie i will reveal the project i had hoped to keep secret because at this point nothing matters and i am nothing if not known for being bad at secrets

so lindie is the only named character from clairre’s past besides their lusus, and i love not only her but what she has become representative of, because there, there is the root of some of clairre’s issues that have started to come up more and more. she’s this optimistic, friendly gal willing to champion for a kid who’s clearly got issues in a world where that literally puts her head on the line. she’s passionate, to a fault even, she has her mind set on a long term goal and not even the universe can stand in her way of getting it. she’s big and loud and emotional, hell if she’d ever been in a game she was diagnosed as a hope player, so like, that says a lot about her. she’s a big heart and a big planner and she took one look at clairre being shady in a corner and was like “i’m gonna help them out”

and then! and then! because alas, she is the lone named figure in a d&d backstory, but also bcus of course her big heart and clairre’s soft attention would get the better of her, she starts flushing for them. and they’re flushing back, and it’s so painfully obvious, and she doesn’t want to come right out and say it, so she doesn’t. and she waits. and she loves, as much as she can, and then it’s all too late.

i’m actually working on some stuff about her, and there’s a passage that goes:

“The feeling of their hand leaving yours makes your chest hurt. They seem to be waiting, waiting on one more thing. They’re looking at you, and you wonder how many of the words stuck in your throat they can read in your eyes. You hope it’s all of them. You hope it’s everything you’ve ever thought about them, everything you’ve ever admired and loved and craved. ‘Promise me you’ll find peace, wherever you go,’ you finally choke out, because if there is one thing you want it is that if you can’t protect them, that the universe will. “

and that, i think, that’s kind of the core of what i wanted for the two of them, that they were just two teens trying their best and all they wanted was the best for each other, but the best for each other meant they could never be together. and it hurt! it hurt so much! clairre is still hurting in the current time! but they knew they had to.

AND SECOND

THE SAME SCENE, BUT TWICE, BECAUSE YOU GAVE ME THREE STARS

because if you think i’ve stopped thinking about that session then you’re sorely mistaken

so the first one, the one with the kiss scene?? i’m still emotional about it. i mean i’m emotional about the whole thing but kind of tying into that entire rant about lindie above this, clairre is like, still healing from their past, and jaynne is still kind of awkward about feelings, and they’d just lost basically their entire fucking party (as far as we knew at that point) and they were still mourning, but for just a second, the world gives them sapce to breathe (hehe) and even tho clairre’s head is still spinning from facing so much at once and jaynne just had to face one of her deepest fears, the sheer relief of we made it, we made it, we made it and the fact that holy shit this is the longest they’ve been apart since being teleported to the Battlefield just. slingshots clairre at jaynne and it was gay and i’m mentally lying on the ground thinking about it bcus tbh??? that was the best way that scene could’ve ended, if u ask me

(and holy shit was i shaking that whole time. like actual, irl, making it hard to write my notes shaking)

and i think this was the quote i used to introduce it to chat, but my favorite line is still:

“Jaynne, dressed in yellow and orange, hair undone, indigo wings holding her in the air. The sun on her shirt is oddly appropriate, considering how your heart seems to alight with pure, unfiltered red love. She looks around, she spots you, and you are connecting before a conscious thought can even form in your mind, because if there was a time in your life for a kiss it is here, now, after you stared down death and told it to fuck right off.”

bcus just. i mean look at it. i love it and i love these gays and i can’t wait for all three of them to be reunited (and also clairre and aerith bcus that’s gonna be good too)

also both clairre and jaynne have long hair and clairre has wind powers, that kiss was a hair tornado and that’s a v fun image to me

and then clairre’s constant internal insistences -- they’ve stopped taking no for an answer, including from themself, and it was so fucking fun to write them just putting their foot down and giving a big middle finger to the universe trying to beat them down bcus Guess What, Fuckers, I’m Sick Of Your Shit! and it works!

and then them seeing that oh shit, zierre and aerith are okay? much like clairre i was already sobbing but if i wasn’t i would be now

even if it’s then followed by an oh shit but perspehone isn’t jfkldasf

and then the second version

so to be completely transparent, i started the second version half bcus yours, octo, made me Big Emotional and half bcus i realized i wanted to explore the role of like, touch and being connected and holding hands? bcus that’s smth i’ve established about clairre, that they show affection of all sorts through physical touches, and the fact that they were just like. leaning on each other and clairre was messing with jaynne’s hair and they literally have to hold hands to use their fraymotif??? like??? aaaahhhhhhh????

but it ended up kind of unfolding into this larger exploration of not only the role of physical affection but also like, clairre’s thoughts on a much deeper level and their relationship to relationships in general and how even if they’re not blaming themself in so many words for what happened to everyone, they still feel like somehow their presence has doomed everyone to this unhappiness because that’s what’s always ended up happening.

and i also got to throw in their random observational thoughts! i think there’s just. smth poetic about how they’re literally flying through space at top speed bcus someone they thought was a friend but has been apparently torturing and manipulating the people they love just shot one of their gfs nearly to death and one of their only coherent thoughts is

“Jaynne’s blood is running down your arms as if to serve as an hourglass for what time you have left. Something in your think pan wonders if the trail you’re inevitably leaving behind in space looks like stars.”

and like i’m not saying i’m right but --

jakldsf anyway

also like. the parallels of these two trying to reassure the other in what ways they know how, except clairre’s only ever had to do this once before and jaynne is trying to make sure that even if this fails she’s given them something to hope for, and the fact that both of them are like .5 seconds away from saying “i love you” but neither one of them is ready for it??? poetry in motion d&d

............. okay i think i’ve talked long enough jfkdalfs thank you for coming on this thought journey with me, everyone!!

#i had to turn dam dadi do nightcore back on to write this #so that's where i'm at #it's been a weird day #homestuck #hs #clairre #shyyren #ciaran attempts socializing

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dyaz-stories · 6 years ago

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SanKag #10?

10. high school popular kid/nerd au

Honestly, bless you for sending this request anon! I’ve been wanting to try my hand at KagSan for a while now (InuKag is my OTP but I just love my girls). First time writing some, but I hope you will enjoy it! Tooth-rotting fluff ahead…

SangoTaijiya was no doubt the coolest of all the cool kids of the ShikonHigh School. Captain of the martial arts team, she was knownthroughout the school for winning several championships, and perhapseven more, throughout the girls of said school, for being alwaysready to defend them in case there was a problem with a boy — asMiroku Hoshi had painfully discovered more than once.

Sangodefinitely tried her best to put her strength to good use whenevershe needed it, as had been taught to her by her father. She didn’ttry to intimidate people nor to scare them off, though she knew shehad that effect on some of the younger students, which she found tobe very unfortunate. It didn’t bother her too much this yearthough, unlike the previous years, because at least she didn’t seemto scare her.

Her,being Kagome Higurashi.

Sangohad been assigned to working with Kagome for the semester in theirlab sessions. She remembered Kagome vaguely as the girl who struggledin her maths class, which Sango related to a little too much for hertaste, and she thought that this class could only go rather poorly,considering she wasn’t exactly great at precision and delicacy andKagome was apparently bad at that stuff.

Boy,had she been wrong.

Itturned out, Kagome may have trouble with maths, but she definitelyhad her shit together when it came to virtually everything else, andSango spent most of her time staring in awe.

Itdidn’t take long before she knew a lot more about the girl, whobehind her bangs and her impassive attitude turned out to be a verybright and kind person. She was good at most stuff because shestudied a lot (“what can I say, I have a lot of free time”), herpersonal preference was history and more specifically the Feudal Era(“as long as my grandfather’s not the one talking about it”),and she occasionally trained for her spiritual powers and archery butshe left most of that to her sister (“I guess Kikyo’s the one whogot the talent…”).

Oh,and she had the most beautiful smile Sango had ever seen, and eyes inwhich she regularly got lost — which would make Kagome laugh andtease her and wowher laugh and…

AndSango Taijiya was, no doubt, hopelessly and helplessly in love withKagome Higurashi. Which was a problem, because she could not, for thelife of her, manage to ask her out, nor even to find an excuse tospend time with her outside of class.

Itshould have been easy for her. She’d beaten up people twice hersize, her dad occasionally asked her for help with their demonhunting agency (perfectly legal which only went after criminals, bythe way, simply being specialized in demons), and she— she hadnever had problems talking to people, dammit!

Butapparently, that didn’t apply to Kagome, who just so happened to bethe first person she had ever wanted to talk to thatmuch,and God, did she hate herself for that.

Untilone day, while she was going to the cafeteria to eat her lunch, shefound Kagome in the hallway, cornered by Koga, captain of thefootball team, wolf-demon, and all in all kind of an asshole, thoughSango had heard from her friend Ayame that he had his good sides.

Itwas instantly clear to her that Kagome was uncomfortable. She hadheard through rumors — completely by accident, not like she wastrying to find out more about Kagome or anything — that Koga hadalready asked the girl out several times, always earning a refusal.Apparently, that hadn’t been enough for him. It took her less thana second to take action.

“Hey,Kagome,” she said, letting her hand fall on the Koga’s shoulderin a way that wasn’t exactly friendly, “everything okay?”

Kagometurned towards her and smiled. She didn’t exactly look like she wasimpressed or star-struck, which Sango had to admit was a littledisappointing, but at least she seemed happy to see her.

Maybe.

Perhaps.

Possibly.

Argh.

“Everything’sfine,” she replied, slipping from under Koga’s arm easily.“You’re late for lunch though. Bye Koga!”

Theboy opened his mouth while Kagome grabbed Sango by the elbow, but thedark glance the martial arts champion gave him seemed to manage tomake him shut up. Maybe he realized what he was risking.

Sangofollowed Kagome in an awkward silence, internally praying that shewasn’t blushing too hard (she was), until Kagome commented, a hintof amusement in her voice, “I could have taken care of him, youknow.”

Oh.Definitely not swept off her feet, then?

“Spiritualpowers?” Sango guessed.

Kagomelaughed. Had Sango mentioned she loved that sound yet? Because it hadto be her favorite sound in the world and it made her heart beatfaster in ways nothing else had before.

“That,or just conversation, you know? Koga is not such a bad guy if youknow how to handle him.”

Sangosomewhat tensed at that. “Well, he clearly can’t take no for ananswer.” And then her voice softened. “Maybe you’re just tookind Kagome.”

Kagomechuckled guiltily. “Yeah, I get a lot of that… Wanna actuallyjoin me for lunch, by the way?”

Ifher heart kept skipping beats like that, Sango was going to genuinelystart worrying.

“S-sure!”

Hadthat been too enthusiastic? Or not enough? And why had she stuttered?Oh God, what if Kagome knew she liked her now? And, maybe worse, whatif Kagome thought she didn’tlike her?

Andwhy on Earth was Kagome more terrifying to her than any demon she hadever fought? She needed to get a grip on herself!

“Great!I eat on the roof.”

Huh?Wasn’t that… Not allowed? It didn’t sound like Kagome to breakrules.

Itall became clear when Kagome pushed the doors to the roof opened andthey were greeted by white hair and a growl, soon followed by “You’refucking late you— Wait, why is shehere?”

Well,she’d be damned. Inuyasha-fucking-Taisho — no wonder no one wouldsay anything to him. Despite being a half-demon, he was one of thestrongest demons around, second only to his brother, and ofcourseSesshomaru couldn’t be bothered with taking care of him.

“She’sa friend,” Kagome replied as she let herself fall next to thehalf-demon while him and Sango stared cautiously at each other likethey were trying to assess the threat they presented. “I made you abento.”

“Itold ya not to do that. I can just go back to my place to make myselframen during lunch. ’s not like anyone’s gonna notice I’mgone.”

“Iwould,” Kagome replied simply, handing him a box, and it was soobvious that it made him so damn happy that Sango had to resistshaking her head openly.

Butthen, she was probably just as obvious, so she didn’t have muchroom to talk.

“I’msorry I don’t have anything for you by the way, Sango, but if youlet me know if you ever want to eat with us, I could make you one!”

“Youwant her to what?”

“Inuyasha…”

Tobe honest, Sango was paying no attention whatsoever when they startedto banter, too focused on Kagome’s proposition.

Shewas going to make her a bento.

Rulesof interactions should have made her decline politely, and thenhopefully Kagome would have insisted, but now Sango wanted to eatthat bento somuchand—

“Howabout tomorrow?”

…She’djust said that out loud, hadn’t she? Kagome interrupted her banterwith Inuyasha to look at her, and maybe it was just wishful thinking,but Sango could have swornthere was a light blush on her cheeks.

“H-huh?I-I mean, yeah, I-I can make that work, I mean I’d loveto, I mean… I’ll make you one!”

Andagain, maybe she was imagining it, but it looked like her smile waseven more bright and blinding than it usually was.

WhenSango arrived on the roof the next day, maybe just a littleover-excited, there was only Kagome there, which surprised her a bit.It had seemed that Inuyasha and her were close friends, and Sangoexpected to find him here.

“Idon’t know where Inuyasha is,” Kagome said like she was readingher mind. “He’s not that rude usually.”

Sangogrinned. “Oh, really?”

“Well,okay, maybe he isthat rude,” Kagome admitted, smiling back, “but he’s a reallygood guy underneath all of that, I promise!”

Sangosmiled again at Kagome’s enthusiastic defense of her friend. Shehoped she could one day be counted in the people Kagome would reactlike that for.

“Soare you two, like…”

“Hm?”

Wouldit be obvious if she asked what she had in mind? Did people ask thatsort of stuff to their friends? Did— She really needed to stopworrying about that stuff so much.

“…like,a thing?”

Kagomeblinked a couple of times. “Inuyasha and I? Oh, no! I mean, hedated my sister at some point…”

“Kikyo?”

“Youremembered!” Kagome beamed for a second. “Yeah, so they weretogether, but that, ahem, didn’t work out, to say the least. Webecame friends though, we have been for a while — but no, there’snothing like that between us.”

“So…You’re not interested in him?” Sango was probably pushing herluck by now, but dammit, she wanted to know.

Kagomelooked at her, still rummaging in her bag for the bento, and when sheblushed, Sango felt her heart stop.

“N-no,”Kagome mumbled, “I’m— er— Here you go!”

Holdinga box in her hands, she presented it to her, probably a little tooquickly, and Sango’s heart sunk. Kagome was lying — and poorly,at that. It was okay. She couldn’t force anyone to have feelingsafter all, nor would she have wanted to.

Witha heavy sigh, she opened the bento.

Andthen, everything stopped, while she stared at the heart made of ricethat she was facing — surrounded of course by other delicacies towhich she paid no attention for now.

Wh—Did— Was that— Did friends do that? She had never gotten a bentofrom a friend. She had never made one either. Was that a thing?

Sheglanced at Kagome, but the girl was staring at her bento, her hairtucked behind her ears, which were now a very obvious red as well.

“Ihope you like it,” she ended up whispering.

“I-Ido!” Sango replied immediately. “Me too— I mean I really likeyou— it!I really like it!”

Kagometurned to look at her, and Sango immediately plunged into her eyes.So beautiful, so blue, so expressive.

Then,Kagome’s eyes started getting closer. Was she— Was she leaningcloser? Was Sangothe one leaning closer? Was this actually happening? Please,please,let this be happening.

Kagomeclosed her eyes, only inches away from Sango’s face, and Sango didthe same. She could feel Kagome’s breath on her lips, she couldalready imagine her taste and—

“Hell,no.”

Witha shriek, the two girls jumped away from each other, and Sango’sfurious eyes landed on Inuyasha, who was perched on the fence thatwas supposed to stop people from, you know, jumping from the schoolroof — something a half-demon didn’t really need to care about.

“Iwas down to give you time to figure it out and all, but I ain’twatching this.”

IfSango was mad, Kagome’s blood was screaming for bloody murder.

“Inuyasha!”she hissed, furious, “I swear I—”

“You,”Inuyasha said, ignoring her completely, eyes fixated on Sango. “Ifyou hurt her, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Sangostared and him, then blinked. “First of all, I’d like to see youtry.That being said, if I hurt her, you will have my permission.”

Inuyashafrowned, but nodded. “Good, then.”

“Good.”

“Ifsomeone hurts me, I’ll take care of them myself,” Kagomegrumbled, clearly annoyed at their attitude. “You’re all reallyunderestimating me.”

Sangoand Inuyasha exchanged an amused look. Yeah, right…

Theyhad an enjoyable meal. Inuyasha was already starting to relax aroundSango, which made her think that he was mostly acting all tough. Hedid seem to be a really nice guy, just like Kagome had said. Thatdidn’t mean he was particularly talkative, but he wasn’t openlyhostile, and that was definitely improvement. If it kept going likethat, Sango mused, they’d be best friends in a week.

Oncethey were done, they proceeded to leave the roof, ready for anafternoon of class, after the best bento Sango had ever eaten.

Inuyashawalked out first. Immediately, Kagome grabbed Sango’s hand and,getting on her tiptoes, pressed her lips against the other woman’sfor a brief kiss.

Sangomelted. It didn’t last long, but Kagome’s mouth was warm and softand she felt heat all over her body suddenly.

Kagomepulled away too soon, exactly when Inuyasha was reopening the door tocomplain about how long they were taking. He eyed them suspiciouslywhen he saw their expressions, but didn’t comment.

Sangomanaged to grab Kagome’s hand on their way down, and Kagomeintertwined her fingers with hers.

Sangothought then that life couldn’t get any better.

Shewas wrong, of course. There were many better times to come. Theschool dance with Kagome by her side, the day when they moved intogether, the moment when she asked Kagome to marry her.

Butthis was the beginning of it all, and she would probably be right ifshe said the sun had never shone so bright on her life.

So I was going to mention them getting married at the end, but then I remembered same-sex marriage isn’t legal in Japan and now I’m sad, but anyway that’s why I say Sango asked Kagome to marry her. I don’t know if they’d get married in another country or if they’d wait for it to be legal and I didn’t want to make it sad (because I would expect them to want to get married), but, erm, yeah. Sorry for rambling, I hope you liked it!

#inuyasha #kagome #sango #kagsan #kagome higurashi #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha au #my writing #asks #inukag as best friends #because i need them together SOMEHOW #this was a lot of fun to write!

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zephyrbcll · 6 years ago

Text

Zephyr/Remus DM thread 3

Date: April 5th, 1980 Word count: 18,073 Notes: Otherwise known as ‘the adulting dm’

Remus:

There was nothing that unsatisfied Remus like waiting irritably and dwindling his thumbs. Remus has read the same line from his book five times as his mind drifted to the Order meeting he was missing. He knew the empty chair would be loud enough and wondered if Fabian or Moody had clued in the reason of Remus’ lack of appearance. It still made his blood boil from the last week of being unable to do anything except read the articles. His fury led him to charge candidly into the Auror Department as well as the Regulation Department. Both had bit his temperament to bed and Remus was trying to gather his wits. Already the news of Remus Lupin basically admitting himself for being a werewolf at the Ministry had reached the ears of his job and Remus barely contained himself there when his boss gently waved him off. There was nothing left for him and Remus felt like bargaining with himself. If he couldn’t be employed or do Order missions then what was left. Remus only raised his chin slightly when the door creaked open. He was practically immobile on the couch, setting his book down in his lap and gave Zephyr a raised brow. There was a hint of a welcoming smile but the recent events had stolen any sense of him. “Anything interesting tonight?”

Zephyr:

"You weren't there, so of course not." Dear god, did he want to yell at some of those idiots. Zephyr knew that he probably didn't have as much right to be angry as some, he hadn't been in the country for a full year and he didn't know everyone as well as others did, but he'd still liked Reg and now he was dead. He liked Peter, he was Zephyr's favorite of Remus' friends, and just because there were people that could boast closer connections didn't negate the anger that swirled through him or the uselessness. Shit like this was what he'd come to Great Britain to stop and yet each issue of the Prophet only drove home how ineffective the Order seemed to be lately. "Well, I might have yelled at a few people, but it wasn't actually productive yelling. More just emotional venting," Zephyr admitted with a sigh as he crossed the floor to the couch and reached out to place his fingers lightly beneath Remus' chin before bending over quickly and kissing him hello. "There aren't any leads on... fucking anything. No sign of Dorcas or the others, no clue who jumped Reg or why he was a thief, it's like we're all blind for all the good we're doing." Dropping down into the space next to Remus, Zephyr turned his head to look at him curiously, pretty sure he hadn't told him anything new or anything that he actually wanted to hear. "How about you, baby? Anything interesting with you tonight? You can tell me about your day while I make tea, if you want, I think it would be a nice change of pace."

Remus:

“I’m sure you don’t mean that,” Remus answered hastily, his brows frowning at Zephyr. They had both met at the Order meetings and Remus had been to enough to know each one carried unfortunate wright. It was not enough that his friends were dying and missing but his own life was at stake and he was raising it every day. Every single day Remus had felt his friends pitying him over and over again and the tainted realization of him being at the Ministry had affected him. “Might have? Emotional venting? I would be careful with that. I hear Moody isn’t prospective to that any longer.” The book closed in his lap and his finger trailed lines over the cover distractedly as he felt Zephyr’s movement change in front of him. He greets the kiss and wants to chase it more but feels his blood chill at his words. Lately, no updates had been just as worse as updates themselves. Remus didn’t know if they were still missing or just waiting to be found. “I don’t know how we started losing so intensely...they-I think at least we owe a debt to those families that have been crossed...” Remus feels Zephyr move and barely registers the question. “...I got-I got fired today-I-I guess my boss was smarter-...I don’t know what...I don’t know what I am-sorry, I know that’s probably not what you meant-I’m tired of sitting...”

Zephyr:

"Honestly, I'm surprised he didn't throw something at me. He might have if it wasn't obvious that I'm not the only one that feels fucking frustrated with how things are going lately. Ever since that awards ceremony, it's like we can't catch our breathe." He sounded old, like he wasn't some sort of radical, but a professional that has been at their job long enough to sound jaded. Dear god, he sounded like some of the people his mother worked with. He didn't want to admit it out loud, but it did feel like they were losing and he didn't like that, especially not since defeat had never really occurred to him as a possibility before. How odd to realize that now. "As much as part of me wants to keep barreling in to fights, the truth is that if we don't watch out, we'd going to end up running into a trap and besides, you and I both know how hard it is to lose someone. Something needs to be done about that somehow." It seemed like no matter what they did, they were screwed. "You were fired? Shit." Zephyr had heard about the registration, of course, it seemed like that article headline was blaring at him no matter where he went and he'd very nearly gotten into a fight when he heard someone say something about monsters being locked up. Werewolf rights was not a cause Zephyr had ever pictured himself championing, but damn it, if people were going to use the bill as an excuse to start trashtalking them, then he just might start throwing punches. But in that moment, his hands were unclenched and his touch was light as he reached over to grab Remus' hand, not actually sure how to comfort him or what to suggest considering how idiotic the world had become overnight. "Don't apologize to me for that, baby. I'm sorry about your job, okay? Look, you're tired of sitting? You want to go somewhere with me? We can get you moving while you tell me what you want to do now. Do you want to find another job somewhere?"

Remus:

It was hard for Remus to listen to Zephyr talk knowing why he wasn’t at the Order meeting and was not surprised when there were no updates. Everyone was sharing the same frustrations and patience was running thin. “You mean Moody? I don’t think he’s the type...No-you’re right you aren’t the only one...Look-um...,” Remus began, sighing as he tried to get his words together. He had not gone into detail yet of why he was sitting on the couch and not being at the Order meeting, simply shrugging it of as being something Moody wanted for temporary reasons. “I...I might have been too frustrated with-with everything and I went to the Auror Department...yelled at Prewett-Fabian. I don’t know....” Remus pauses and rubbed his hand over his face exhausted. “I yelled at my dad too...Kingsley had to-I just thought you should know why...I wasn’t there tonight-Moody said my emotions are guiding me right now.” When he was done talking, his eyes found the floor and didn’t dare to look up. Saying it all aloud only made him tense and more frustrated with himself. He was a loose canon and couldn’t be trusted. Remus knew some might be a short minute away from putting a muzzle on him. Remus only nodded along to Zephyr’s words, already feeling like the fighting at the Ministry had caused him to sit down for a moment and think. This wouldn’t be what his mother would want or even Marlene. He needed to be patient for Peter and Dorcas’ return but he was boiling now. Remus stood up as gracefully as he could, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck and faced away. He was letting his emotions control his actions and now he was out of work. The man was kind and honest and Remus only did so in return, not wanting to rip his head off with his words like he did Fabian and his father. Remus knew sitting out of a meeting or two would be good for him but now time seemed to slow when he wasn’t behind his counter doing something for himself.

“Yes and I-I’m fine, alright? I just...It’s for the best.” He squeezed Zephyr’s hand in return and swallowed hard, his eyes gazing down. Remus finally looked up and laughed at his own expense, letting the hand he was holding with fall to his side. “I don’t know what I want to do now. I don’t know what I need to do now. No job will want me-no Wizarding job at least. I read the article same as everyone else-I haven’t even bloody signed the damn thing but I might as well be signing it with my blood. I can’t go to Azkaban-,” Remus was talking and out of breath, beginning to pace lightly. “No one will want me. Not when they know what I am. My father is not the only who thinks I deserve the Dementor’s kiss. I should have said yes to Dumbledore about the professor job instead of yelling at him-“ Remus stalled, his next words stopping in his throat and blinked at Zephyr. It had been months since Dumbledore came to him and Remus agreed. It felt like so long ago that Remus felt like he was only being led on a leash if he were to accept the job. He partly wish he had now given the circumstances and all things considered. Remus bit his lip hard enough to taste blood and turned hesitantly to walk to the kitchen.

Zephyr:

Considering the terrible news that filled the Prophet day after day, the deaths and disappearances all stacking up, Zephyr couldn't blame Remus in the least for being rustrated and wouldn't question anyone that said they weren't. He would also be a hypocrite if he judged anyone for being frustrated, his temper pushing him into a gym and in the direction of a punching bag until his arms wanted to give out. The first night he talked to Remus, really talked, they'd discussed anger and how to deal with it and Zephyr's tactics hadn't really changed that much, except he went to a gym instead of picking fights and throwing himself headfirst into trouble without regard for his own safety, mostly because he was pretty sure if he walked away with his head still attacked to his shoulders, Remus just might bite it off because he was stupid. So yelling at someone seemed understandable and Zephyr didn't immediately respond as he tried to picture Remus walking into the auror's offense and yelling. "Can I point something out?" He asked, although it was a good bet that they both knew he was going to keep going regardless. "One of your best friends is missing, along with other people, another of your best friend's just lost his brother, to name just one dead, and your dad just pulled a dick move that requires you to get registered like some kind of show poodle, which is really dehumanizing and the rest is just depressing. So I think you have three pretty damn good reasons to be emotional. I'd be more worried if you weren't emotional," Zephyr admitted, rubbing at Remus' knuckles. "But I do appreciate you telling me because no one told me a damn thing, just that we were going without you. So what, they've fucking benched you and put you in timeout until you cool off, is that what I'm supposed to be getting from this?"

That was insulting if he was reading the situation right and Zephyr was doing his best to keep his mouth shut and actually let Remus vent before going back over the entire thing with his own commentary. Was it too soon to get out the whiskey? Because it already seemed like it would be one of those conversations and Zephyr didn't bother to hide his frown at the idea that Remus being fired was 'for the best', especially not having hearing Remus talk about how good his job was. "You're not fucking going to Azkaban." Zephyr said, serious and uncompromising, the very idea of losing Remus to that place dragging out and instant denial. "Your father might be a bigoted asshole, but not everyone thinks like that. Dumbledore doesn't. The people I sat with tonight don't. Not everyone in the world is a clueless dick that's going to judge you without thought." And he still couldn't believe that Remus' boss had fired him after all this time, when he knew the kind of word Remus did and that he was a good person. Irritated at Remus' situation (he wasn't irritated at Remus, he understood the difference and hoped Remus realized it as well), Zephyr stood up to follow Remus into the kitchen and grabbed for two mugs, although he wasn't sure yet if they were for tea or whiskey. "Look, I'm not saying it will be an easy time for you to get a job or that you won't have to get a muggle job for a while, but don't go assuming the worst of everyone just yet, okay? Now, do we want tea or whiskey and what's this about Dumbledore and a professor job?"

Remus:

The recent articles and news that arrived unwelcome had shifted almost everything in Remus’ life and everything had only shifted this week. It was like he was being suffocated, his chest tightening every time he heard more bad news. There didn’t seem like there was even a glimmer of hope as he felt more buried by the deaths. His friends were dying and missing around him and Remus felt useless and helpless, frantically wanting to pull a solution out of a hat and get rid of the war entirely. He had nursed a glass of whiskey when Erika came home and tried to comfort Sirius the best he could but every act felt useless. He knew there wouldn’t be an end to this damned war anytime soon and expected the worse had yet to knock on his door. Remus felt disappointed in himself and after confessing him being rogue with his feelings he would understand if Zephyr was as well. “Yes, I know-I know. But I-I can’t just be emotional and I shouldn’t have. I...if I hadn’t I wouldn’t be sitting here being useless.” His hand tightened and Remus couldn’t even put into words how his father’s face stilled when Remus came in and argued his point. “So what? Zephyr I’m one argument away from being detained-I’m sure if it had been anyone else who did that in the Auror Department they wouldn’t be so lucky.”

Remus was twisting his fingers in his hair after spilling out his words. He would have thought he was under the Veritaserum again but he was shaking with frustration. There was not a day he had thought about signing his name down before the registration and he especially didn’t want to now considering the laws and implication not to mention the discriminatory that would only escalate when he signed his name on a public record. Remus didn’t even meet Zephyr’s gaze, just feeling himself tense. It didn’t seem as if he had a choice with the alternative. “Everyone will now, though. Don’t you see? Werewolves are clearly not on the right side of the war right now and everyone will just assume we are one in the same. I might as well have been there that night.” It was the truth and Remus had felt more like a victim of war than before. He was not there when Marlene and her family suffered but he felt a twinge of guilt knowing that monster was him as well. Remus worries his lip and turned his back, his hands resting on the counter and tried to regain his steady breath. “The bookstore wasn’t a very high profile job and they don’t even want me. I’m forbidden to work at the Ministry...not that I would-“ Remus stopped and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. It had been months ago and Remus had only told Marlene and now that secret had died with her. Remus’ lips twitched into a frown at holding onto the secret for so long and not being honest with Zephyr. “I-um...Dumbledore...he invited me to teach at Hogwarts. Be the new Dark Arts professor...He started asking about...the Order and Fenrir. I knew he just wanted me close to him for his own reasons...not for any other reason surely.” Remus fell into silence and closed his eyes and reminded himself to breath. “Whiskey is fine.”

Zephyr:

The use of his name prompted an odd reaction out of him, it made him sit up just a little straight, jaw go a little tighter as if he was paying more attention to the situation even though he'd been paying attention before. The use of his name instead of something else wasn't something he'd call a rare occurrence, but in that moment, it made things feel even more dire and made him view Remus more as someone panicking than anything else. And what was even worse was Remus had legitimate concerns and there wasn't any easy answer, he couldn't make it all better, and he hated that. He wanted to protect Remus, but dear god, it was like the world didn't want to let him. "You know me, I think it's healthy to let things out. I think sometimes you just need to punch something or break something to blow off steam, but yeah, fine, I admit that maybe you didn't have the best timing for it, that it wasn't the appropriate place. But give Moody time and you'll be back in the meetings. Focus on that, okay? Focus on proving Moody wrong instead of what you did wrong. And yeah, maybe they'd keep you overnight or something for losing your cool, but do you think you're the only person to get upset over a loss and storm the aurors office? Or the only one to get upset over a bill and protest? You didn't throw any punches and that's not enough to throw away the key for, not when it seems like some people are on the verge of fucking riots."

Of all the ways for Marlene to die, by a fucking werewolf attack had to be the worst and Zephyr had known that would tear Remus up. It sometimes seemed like he wanted to carry the weight of every terrible decision made by a werewolf on his shoulders and that wasn't fair at all, but Zephyr didn't know how to change his mind. "You're right. People are scared and if they know, they're going to take it out on you. But that's because they're scared people that are taking the easy target and they're not holding the right people responsible. It's not your fault and if anyone bothers you about it, you know you have a team of people that will punch them in the face because you deserve better even if you think you don't. That attack was not your fault and she wouldn't want you to blame yourself, so don't." He insisted, convinced he was right that Marlene wouldn't want Remus to feel guilty about it. Moving to the cabinet with the whiskey, Zephyr grabbed the bottle and didn't bother trying to get actual glasses, instead pouring a healthy serving directly into a mug and pushing it in Remus' direction before pouring some in his own mug. "I don't know, you seem like you could be a good teacher to me. It's not like he asked you to teach potions, so it's not like you'd be incompetent. But why is he asking about the order? Isn't he supposed to be top guy in charge?"

Remus:

Nothing was optimistic right now for Remus and everything was stained with blood. Everywhere seemed like it was crowded with bodies showing up, some familiar faces and some not. Everyone was innocent and being targeted for what they were. Remus was afraid for them and himself. This was a grim time for him to be experiencing and didn’t know if he can handle another body dropping. He was aware of his friends still missing and were somewhere out there. Already he had assumed they were dead just in case if they did show up mangled Remus would already be mourning. Remus couldn’t make eye contact now with Zephyr, his angered words slipping out of him with a projected tone and bite that sounded not like him. “Marlene thinks-thought that too. Said swinging a bat helped...I don’t think it’s the therapy that works for me.” He gave a tight and reassuring smile that Zephyr was at least trying to diffuse the tension built in his shoulders. “Moody thinks I’m a wild card...if I did even one more thing that jeopardizes my trust with him I won’t just be benched I will he removed. The biggest threat is myself...I dont have any names on my list to go off on but I’m sure I can find a few Death Eaters to match it with. People are rioting and shouting and I can’t even focus on that. Surely they have enough wits to change it but I don’t think they will.”

If Marlene had died another way this possibly could have been avoided but he couldn’t point and choose freely how people would die. Remus knew what people that about werewolves originally but the attacks was only stirring the pot. Remus knew during school and just by eavesdropping that some people thought they should be locked up and not be given rights. It was twelve year olds saying it and now it was grown men in power saying it. His own father had said he deserves death and Remus didn’t favor their dirty laundry being printed for everyone. “Trust me I can handle their comments. Words is not what I am afraid of. It’s what people hide behind when they are cowards. What I’m afraid of is in a month’s time being carted off to Azkaban for not signing their precious fucking paper. Violence isn’t what we’re supposed to be stressing ourselves over. If we punch back we are more in common...and I can’t-I won’t let anyone do that. I can fight my own battles...my father won’t change his mind. I saw it on his face. Doesn’t matter how many people reject it or rally against it. But it could have been! It could have been me that night. Merlin, I don’t know where I was that night. I could have killed someone and not know-if someone comes anywhere near me when I am that thing it might be the last time. The only difference between me and those that did attack her is i haven’t killed anyone. Don’t you see that?” Remus was shaking with anger, his fists curled by his sides before running a hand across his face to help sooth the frustration away. He could hear Marlene’s voice in his mind telling him none of that was true but it was. He was the same as them but the only difference was he did not have the will to kill but he could. His teeth were just as sharp and his claws would be just as lethal.

Remus crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the ground. “I don’t know if I want to teach anymore...have nothing to teach second years except defense spells that seem redundant to what I’m facing...Dumbledore...he asked about my missions. I think he wanted me closer to him to whisper in his ears.” Remus took the offered mug full of whiskey and braced himself against the bitter taste that filled his mouth. “I...I know I shouldn’t have yelled at him. Haven’t heard anything since.”

Zephyr:

"I don't..." God, he hated admitting this, hated feeling useless when Remus needed him, or at least needed something, but Zephyr was always going to give Remus honesty to matter how unpleasant it tasted on his tongue. "I don't know what kind of therapy works for you, but we can figure it out. If you say that's not what it takes, then okay, I'll cancel plans to take you to a gym and introduce you to a punching bag." Zephyr didn't think it was always enough to train with magic, he'd gotten into enough fist fights that he believed in physical training as well and Zephyr's mom had always told him not to trust his opponent and had likely taught him spells he wasn't supposed to know. It was unlikely she knew that her protectiveness and her rulebreaking would come in handy during a war, but teaching him to be good in a fight wasn't helping Zephyr in that moment. "Can he actually do that to you? That doesn't seem fair, how can he just stop someone that wants to fight?" He knew Moody was important, head auror with a good reputation and age seniority, but still. Sighing, Zephyr dragged a hand through his hair and couldn't help the thought that there was unlikely to be anyone in the order that didn't have an issue with a death eater.

"You're not going to have a choice but to sign it, are you?" He didn't want to see Remus forced to do that, but considering Lyall Lupin's place in the department, Remus was a known factor and couldn't pretend that he wasn't a werewolf. "Are you going to start blaming yourself for things you could do? Dear god, I could go out and murder someone, you don't need to be a werewolf for that. You have flashes, right? You remembered enough about that night with Fenrir to tell me about it, you really think you wouldn't remember something about that night with Marlene? Besides, I doubt the McKinnon home is anywhere near where you changed or where you woke up and there probably would have been blood on you. You're careful, you're not like the ones that got Marlene, so don't go around charging yourself for crimes you haven't committed. Being able to kill doesn't make you a killer, baby." Zephyr didn't know if Remus was in a state to hear that or if he was too torn up by Marlene's death to do anything but let his guilt eat himself up as he mourned. Regardless, Zephyr was going to be there to held ground Remus in reality even if he didn't like it.

"If you were a teacher, you'd be facing second years. You'd be trying to help them understand things like disarming spells so maybe they'd have a chance to run if someone comes after them at home, I think that's something to teach. But that's not the point. You think that Dumbledore... what, wanted you to inform on the Order for you?" That didn't sound good and Zephyr frowned as he sipped at his own whiskey, fingers tapping against the ceramic. Zephyr didn't have the strong feelings it seemed like everyone shared for Dumbledore and didn't have any trouble questioning his motives, wondering just why the hell he wanted Remus to be his fly on the wall. He knew Dumbledore had given Remus a mission, so asking about that wouldn't have been odd, but clearly something needed to be off for Remus to notice it. Maybe Dumbledore didn't trust Moody? "From what I've heard, Dumbledore is supposed to be a pretty important person, so is it actually unusual not to hear from him? Or is he out of contact with everyone?" Zephyr asked, trying to make sure he had the full picture. "I'm trying not to jump to conclusions, but you're making it sound like something is off."

Remus:

Remus hung his head and was fuming with the irritation built up over the past week. He hadn’t meant to expand upon it when Zephyr came home and should have put a foot in his mouth. This is why he didn’t humor people with his bitter thoughts as he saw Zephyr fumble over what to say. “A punching bag-I will day that’s probably better but not in the best interest...I don’t know what to do but anything is better than this.” He didn’t know what this was but vaguely put it as torturing himself with selfish thoughts during the war and worrying over the edge about his friends and funeral arrangements. That first night he chose drinking over punching something and he was sure to do it again but there was only so many times he could do that. “I don’t know what the problem is-I’m fighting aren’t I? Thought I was doing a better job than some but...’suppose I shouldn’t be fighting those in the Order...Moody is the one more in touch with Dumbledore and if he thinks I’m a risk then perhaps I am.” Remus had felt like his advantages were being stolen from him and he didn’t know what to do next. He should be out there fighting, at the meetings where he could be beneficial. He didn’t even know when he was meant to return and it was drastically making his importance not levied.(edited)

Remus beat the silence with a few answers but sighed as if defeated. Already he had laid out each consequence to his action if he did or didn’t sign it and had concluded there was only so little to be done. They had managed to weasel in this registration which plagued him. It was the worst case scenario. If he did sign it he would be agreeing to audacious ridiculing terms for the ministry of which he couldn’t get behind. If he didn’t sign it they would lock him in Azkaban where the dementors would await his fate. There was nothing he could do and even in the bleak cress of the moment he didn’t know any other alternative. He could go to Dumbledore but he couldn’t run from the Ministry forever. “I...I don’t know,” Remus said weakly, his tone trying to come up with something on the whim. “I can’t...I can’t run. They know who I am and where I live-but I can’t sign it. The Ministry...has had a file on me since I was bit. My father is in the department and a public figure. The Ministry knows who I am and what I am but I have to be the one that signs the document...I don’t know what to do.” Remus only wish everything that happened to him would have some sway with his father but that didn’t turn out well. It turned out just as he thought it would and cursed under his breath, dragging his hands to his eyed and sighing heavily. The anger felt pent up in him and he turned suddenly with hurt mixed in his eyes.

“Gods, fuck I know that. But humans are not the same as werewolves-yes, you can go out and kill someone but if I so much as say I’m a werewolf I don’t have to kill anyone. They would gladly put a stake through my heart if they could. Yes, I have blurred memories and I wasn’t there-I know that...but they’re going to group me in anyway. It’s what they do-it’s, Fuck, it’s what they’ve already done. I was placed on a life sentence when I was bit when I was five and ever since then I’ve just been in purgatory....in school they said werewolves were primitive and monsters-it’s in the monsters chapter to be fair. I don’t have to kill anyone for people to blame me the second they know what I am.”

“I don’t think I would last in that school teaching...I know I would be alright. I don’t have any experience and unprepared for that...I’m sure Dumbledore found someone better without any risks invited to it.” That day seemed out of focus now and Remus stayed silent, weighing his words carefully. “I think he just wanted me close. To make sure I was okay...Took it the wrong way suppose...I look like a right idiot now don’t I? Could have a job-a real job and now...well what’s the point anyway?” Remus sipped timidly at his drink and let it steal his thoughts. Everything seemed like a game of chance now and every missed step would bring him two steps back. Since he was a child he looked up to Dumbledore like any child would do a great and powerful wizard. He recalled believing he wouldn’t be able to go to Hogwarts and then was invited by the Headmaster himself. It dented the picture of himself he had made in his room when he was alone about himself. Now, Remus had been searching for ways since to say thank you or feel like he owed Dumbledore something. He knew he should have accepted the professor role and took it in stride, not looking back. “He tries to keep in touch with the Order. Not so much now. I’m not...I’m not trying to. I trust Moody even if I’m constantly pissed at him. If anyone’s talking to Dumbledore it’s him.”

Zephyr:

"You know my methods. Fighting, drinking, sex, that's usually what I do when keeping my hands busy doesn't calm me down. I don't know what to suggest for you yet, but I'll learn and the drinking is probably a good start. I seem to remember smoking with you, too. I guess it depends on what calms you down. Do you need something to keep your brain busy or something that occupies your mouth or your entire body. Maybe jogging is your thing, maybe just soaking in a bubble bath or doing math, I have no fucking idea, but we'll work on it." He probably should have made more effort to figure it out after that first night, but the times he shared with Remus were good and his mood was better and somehow he didn't think of it again, which was stupid considering it wasn't like the source of their troubles had magically disappeared. "You know I'll tell you what's going on, right? You're not going to be in the dark and it's unrealistic to think that some of us won't get upset sometimes. If you just want me to sit here and listen, I can, but if you want me to talk to Moody and find out if there's something he wants to see from you or if he just wants you to sit out for a few days, I can do that, too." He wasn't going to talk to Moody or Fabian or anyone like that without Remus knowing about it, pretty sure that in the mood Remus was in, that would just earn yelling for interfering with his life. Which wasn't to say that he wouldn't ever do it, but not in this case.

Listening to Remus, he just sounded so defeated and Zephyr couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch him, fingers curling around his arm and squeezing before slipping to Remus' back while Zephyr tipped his head, pressing a brief kiss to Remus' shoulder. "There's no group or magical lawyer working on fighting this? It was narrowly passed, right? Can't something be done to overturn it? You could move somewhere, but they'd find you again. I'm trying to think of a third option, but short of moving out of the country, I'm blanking. If they have a file on you, it sounds like you should already be tracked and they wouldn't need you to sign up, but who do I know, maybe they need your signature for some tracking spell of something. But I'm with you. Look, I know I'm shit at being useful right now, but I'm here and I'm listening." Zephyr reminded him, although he was soon enough left with the impression that he hadn't been listening hard enough. The moment Remus looked at him with hurt in his eyes, Zephyr felt terrible, beyond putting his foot in his mouth because he hadn't meant to say anything to put that look on Remus' face, not when he was in enough pain as it was. "Shit, baby, don't look at me like that. I'm sorry. You know I'd jump in front of that stake for you, right? it may not do much damn good, but I'm not going to let someone slander you just for being a werewolf, not even you. It's not right and you don't deserve it and maybe you're used to that, but you're not a monster. I swear, Remus, you're not. Now come here, okay?" Reaching out once more, this time Zephyr wrapped his arm around Remus' waist, stepping into his space and pressing a kiss to Remus' hair. He didn't know what to say or what to do to make it better and he hated it, he hated feeling like he was useless and like he was failing Remus, but he could at least hold him and try to understand.

"I think you'd do just fine teaching. You helped tutor people, didn't you? So that's experience right there and you'd have books to teach out of and if you needed help, I'm sure the others would help you make a lesson plan or whatever." Although Zephyr wasn't actually sure yet if going to work for Dumbledore was the best thing for Remus if he'd gotten a weird feeling from Dumbledore, he did think Remus had the makings of a decent professor. "I guess no matter how much we wish it to be otherwise, there's always gonna be shit going on that we don't know about with all of them. Dumbledore did ask a lot of you, but if you're a professor, would you really have that much freedom for the order? Although maybe he had some other role in mind for you. I don't know, but..." But the way people kept dying, no one could afford to have someone useful and willing sitting on the sidelines, but dear god, things were grim enough without thinking about it like that and Zephyr shook his head before sipping at his whiskey, feeling it burn all the way down. "You know, I bet you're not the only one that this has happened to, but not everywhere is firing people. Camilla still has her job and yeah, I know, she's a veela and not a werewolf, but my point was that I think she fucking owes people that lost their jobs, don't you think? Maybe get a list of places to put out their opinions on hiring werewolves and vampires and veelas, that way people without a job have some clue where to look."

Remus:

It was easy to remember the times that Remus would be excessively frustrated but school grades and dramas were less important than a war. Remus was being actively taken off from Order duties until he settled down and became calm again but there was no sense of knowing when that would be. Remus huffed in frustration, earning a small chuckle at Zephyr’s examples. “I remember. Told me the first day...Yeah, suppose that helps too. I think smoking and jogging are sort of counterproductive but I’m sure I’ll have a list of my own. When I was in school usually just walking around helped...otherwise. It’s not the first time I’ve…” A breath released from him and he gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He wish that there were more possibilities that could sooth him like Zephyr had. There were times he felt like a waste of space or standing for someone else to come in and take his place. Being away from his job and now the Order only made him feel suffocated with want. There were many things he could be doing to help instead of waiting by dwindling his thumbs for news. “Of course...but no one else is-is doing whatever the fuck I’m doing. Moody didn’t even say when I could come back.” Remus glanced away impatiently, thinking of the Order and Moody only reached a frustrating core. It only made him run thinner with the idea he wasn’t ready if he was so quick to anger at the thought of them. “-No. I mean, no. Just...if I want to talk to Moody, I will. His intentions are...usually trusting. If he thinks it’s best then...this is what’s right. I will have to practice being calmer. That’s what he wants.”

The reassuring touch only felt like a mocking burn but Remus didn’t pull away, only dropping his gaze and leaning his forehead on Zephyr’s shoulder in defeat. His heart was hammering in his chest and his pulse was quick in his throat. “I don’t think fighting it will do any good. Things like this...actual government orders. It’s harder. It’s more delicate. There are people protesting it, but I do not think it wise...it’s natural to want to do something. I know my father. He’s always stayed true to his own self. Otherwise he would be working on something this minute which I doubt that above all things. I’ve thought...about everywhere I could go. Scotland, Austria...America. They would find me and it doesn’t matter...a file is different than a signature. I...I don’t have all the information and I wish I had.” There was only a few facts of information he knew and the Prophet articles only aided little. The options were scarce and Remus still didn’t know what he should do. The registration seemed like a faded white noise counting down his seconds while more things took center in his mind. Remus felt his chest rise with every bated breath from his pent up words. He didn’t mean for his words to become aggressive but in the short sentence of silence he raised his hand to cover his eyes tiredly. He remembered telling Zephyr what he was a couple of months ago and now feeling a twitch of guilt in his stomach over telling him. It passed as he looked back at Zephyr and shook his head. “No, if-if that happens you are far more important. Please, don’t. I am not asking for you to be heroic...I’m only being honest. I think monster is just an umbrella term for all werewolves after what happened to Marlene and-” Remus felt his words run dry in his mouth as he was pulled against Zephyr. For a moment he tried to restrain himself but instead his head sunk against his shoulder once more. There were more like him that were dealing with the same problem and it was selfish of him to be ripped apart. It felt like each breath was a sip of air gulping into his lungs and he felt crumbled over Zephyr’s shoulder, his hand gripping at Zephyr’s back.

Remus was aware of what Zephyr was doing and barely smiled in return, only being appreciative of Zephyr’s suggestion. “Yes, you’re right. I did...but it’s different-it’s completely different. I wanted to do it back before I met with Dumbledore and now the want isn’t wanted. I can’t...and especially not. I don’t think any Wizarding school would be more kind to a werewolf professor. I have to abandon that thought…” It was like letting go of a ghost thought that he hadn’t even wanted until he had it. It was slipping from his fingers and now he wish he had taken the position. “I can’t...I can’t be that anymore. It wasn’t meant to be and there’s nothing good coming out of wanting it. So, please. Don’t remind me anymore.” Remus could feel the wheel of hope beginning to dwell and his eyes only landed on the glass in his hands. Maybe things were different if he had accepted it but it wouldn’t do any good. “It was-was humiliating…” He stilled when Zephyr mentioned Camilla and his lips twitched into a mocking smile. Camilla was the one who was wrapped around his father’s finger and the one who was pretending to know his family. She seemed to pretend to know what he was going through when she barely even scratched the surface.

“Don’t,” Remus warned, glancing back at Zephyr with some heat in his eyes. “She’s different and she knows that. Why else do you think she was campaigning for the registration to be done? She knew what she was doing so I don’t think it’s fair to sympathize with her.” Remus knew there would be times that he would get impatient with Zephyr or frustrated but didn’t think he would treat him the same as Fabian or Moody. The same irritation stirred but he controlled him simply by raising his drink to cover his lips. “If a bookstore or the Ministry doesn't want me I think everyone else will follow the same standard. It’s pointless.”

Zephyr:

Against his willing, Zephyr ended up snorting in amusement at the mental image of Remus trying to smoke and jog at the same time and had to grin at it briefly before returning to the seriousness of the conversation. Walking didn't seem like anything special or unique, but then again, who would have guessed folding paper was something that would help with Zephyr's temper? He wasn't going to judge and instead he nodded along, thinking about the garden trails that he'd seen advertised because they were opening for spring and sure there had to be a forest or something around that Remus could show him and they'd go hiking or something, maybe he could see where Remus spent the full moons if he didn't manage to completely piss Remus off. Holding up his hands as if in surrender, Zephyr wasn't about to try arguing for the right to talk to Moody because he'd already known that Remus wouldn't like the idea and while there may have been some subjects he'd push, that wasn't one of them. "Okay, fine, I wouldn't say anything to him. He probably didn't tell you when because he wasn't sure how long it would take you to calm down and control your temper. If you want to take up hiking, we can do that, if you want to practice meditating, we can do that. I hate admitting I have no clue what to do, but I'm going to support you, I hope you know that." Considering everything out of his mouth seemed to be making matters worse, Zephyr wasn't sure what to say beyond reminding Remus that he wasn't alone.

Taking advantage of the way Remus bowed his head, Zephyr ran his fingers through the hair at the nape of Remus' neck and squeezed reassuringly for a few seconds before letting go. "I hate them for doing this to you. I've questioned their decisions before, but this... christ, I don't need to tell you it's unfair. For what it's worth, MACUSA doesn't have a registry like this, but I'm not going to pretend for a single minute that I think you'd run." There were bound to be other people in the order that worked in the same department as Remus' dad that could get the information Remus wanted, but Zephyr didn't now if that would look strange or not. "Think there are people in your dad's department that fought back against it? If thee are, they could be a good start." He suggested and immediately biting down on his tongue because he'd meant to stop offering suggestions and solutions and instead just listen to Remus since he seemed to keep saying the wrong thing. It felt like there wasn't any solution to be found, but no matter how frustrating it was not to be able to fix the problem, it wasn't about him and what he wanted, it was about Remus and if all Zephyr could do was hold him and give him whiskey, that's what he'd do. "I'm not trying to be heroic, I'm trying to take care of the guy I'm in love with because you are what's important to me, okay? I don't know the right thing to say in situations like that and I'm going to fuck it up, but remember that much for me, okay?" It wasn't an excuse, he'd admit it if things came out wrong because he was learning about Remus' struggles as he went, but his end goal was the same. He loved Remus and he wanted Remus to be okay. He wondered if maybe Remus would feel better if he got drunk and cried and let himself mourn Marlene, but he didn't say that as Remus buried himself in his arms. Squeezing Remus tightly, Zephyr hand his hands fisted in the back of Remus' shirt as he turned his head to press his face against Remus' hair.

He wanted to fight back against the idea of Remus having to let go of what sounded like a dream of his, argue about the idea that Remus wouldn't be able to do something just because he was a werewolf. There was no goddamned reason why a Wizarding school shouldn't be kind to a werewolf professor unless it was staffed by idiots and racists and while Zephyr had always known the world and the people who governed the countries in it were flawed, never had he been so angry at the injustice as he was then. He wanted to argue about it, but Remus sounded so sad that he couldn't and Zephyr had to keep reminding himself that no matter how enraging he found things, no matter how upset and heartbroken he felt over Remus' stories, Remus was still the one feeling it and he was likely to feel so much worse. "I believe in you, but I won't remind you." Zephyr agreed quietly, feeling defeated and sipping quickly at his whiskey in an attempt to numb the hollowed out feeling in his chest and he was surprised when it ran empty. How had he ever finished it so quickly? Sighing, Zephyr reached for the bottle and poured more in his before adding to Remus' mug without even checking what he had left. It was humiliating. No one should get to do that to Remus and he set the bottle down before edging closer, side brushing up against Remus in quiet support. "Want to tell me what happened?" That way he'd know just how badly he wanted to punch Remus' former boss and if he wanted to break his nose if Zephyr ever saw the man again.

Really, he should have known that mentioning Camilla would be a mistake. If he had to name someone for Remus to have as an enemy, chances were that Camilla would be his first guess and normally Remus' distaste of her alone would be enough reason for Zephyr to keep his distance, but considering they worked together, that was a little hard. Besides, Remus had also given an opinion before that implied that Zephyr probably shouldn't start fights with people just because they upset Remus and that he probably shouldn't get himself fired. He really wished Remus would chance that policy, though. "Trust me, I'm not sympathizing with her. I'm saying she needs to take some goddamn responsibility. You really think I'm just going to forgive her for doing something like this to you? Because I'm not. I know this is hurting more than just you, but you're the one I'm concerned with. I hate the idea that it's going to be a trend to hate someone for something like this, but this country already has a problem with hating people for their blood. Maybe you will have to get a job in a muggle shop." The words tasted like ash in his mouth, like defeat, and Zephyr grit his teeth before huffing out a breath. "I wish I could just make them open their ideas and realize they're being idiots, but it's not that simple and I know that, just like I know that no matter how much I hate this, I don't get how hard it is on you. So I guess the real question is what do you want to do now?"

Remus:

Even at school in his adolesence he had managed to ground his temper and be void of it. If that was because he was agile in ignoring it or because it simply did not have the same gravity as it did now. At school he would walk around the castle just as he did now except it was familiar and some unfamiliar streets until his mind was cleared. Remus couldn’t trust himself to handle stressful situations in the moment. Already he had managed to find a way to be excluded from Order meetings and knew it wasn’t just because of his physical fight with Fabian at the Auror offices. It was something Remus did not pride himself on and thought lowly of. It would be hard to hone in on his frustration now. He knew what he had done had left a dent in whatever foundation relationship he had with Fabian and knew word would get around about what happened. Of course Fabian would tell Austen and perhaps Gideon of what happened, something that didn’t sit well in his stomach along with other sharpened feelings. When he saw that Zephyr was not being a threat he simply waved his hand dismissively and sighed. “Moody was vague. I suppose I have jurisdiction over when I can attend meetings again...or at least that was what was implied. I don’t-I don’t know what I want or need. You’re here. You’re helping me. Trust me.” Remus voice was thin as he locked his gaze with Zephyr to emphasize his reassurance. “Without you I would be starting fights with everyone.”

Remus head felt heavy as he leaned against Zephyr, his eyes shutting and trying to shut away other thoughts. There were few times that Remus got into a shrill panic over complicated matters and it was not the best place to see him. He knew it would be easy for Zephyr to push Remus away and tell him to stop behaving so foolishly like a child. It was what Remus was thinking of himself as well as that Zephyr shouldn’t see him like this. He sighed against the touch massaged at his neck and breathed shakily out. It was inevitable that this would happen and the small twinge of hope that Remus had for the Ministry was stolen when the registration came out. “They’ve been talking about doing this for years. Even when the government wasn’t counseling over it I heard about it at school. They think creatures are dangerous and they have proof we are,” Remus said flatly, not amused with how everything was being spun out. Of course Remus had thought about leaving the country several times but every time he did he knew that he would be apprehended eventually. Remus remembered being in his father’s department and how everyone seemed in their own headspace and not minding him at all. They were all focused on the registration and none of them seemed bothered by Remus’ presence or what they had done. Remus shook his head mutely against the suggestion, knowing it would be a waste of time to try and convince the people who did this to undo it. Remus bit his tongue, a frown forming in between his brows as he leaned against Zephyr

“I can’t fix what happened, alright? No one wants it to be fixed-I can’t do anything about it. I don’t want optimistic thoughts...nothing will be changed. At least not now.” His words were bordering harsh and Remus tilted his head back for a moment and just tried to breathe as his lungs felt hard in his chest. He knew that Zephyr was trying and trying to make Remus feel better, something he did see and appreciate. The familiar rise in his chest however was what was infuriating him now and pushing against whatever was being said. His chest would rise and fall in tandem and he just continued clutching at Zephyr in return, feeling like there was nothing else he could do.

Remus was rewarded selfishly when the conversation about him being a professor soon died. It wasn’t something that he ever thought he was capable of doing but the opportunity had been something he mulled over before the interview. It would have at least led him to a job if he could have seen himself falling out of the one at the bookstore. Of course there had been no way to know but out of all the people he had yelled at in the past couple of months he wish he could erase what happened with Dumbledore. He trusted him and he completely butchered whatever trusting friendship they had. Remus sipped at the shallow contents in his mug, feeling his face tingle with the familiar taste of whiskey that was only help numb the other feelings from the past week. It was well needed and Remus didn’t need to say that aloud. He nodded his appreciation quietly as Zephyr filled his mug up once more and at the question went still. For a moment he was quiet, placing his mug on the counter before pressing his palms to his eyes. It was an exhausting day to remember and when he dropped his hands to his sides he exhaled a sharp breath. “I was late. I thought he was firing me because I was late. Apparently Price had a suspicion of what I was and when he read about the registration and the attacks...he said he didn’t think I was fit to work there. Said he had known for a while and couldn’t have a...couldn’t have me working there anymore.”

The mention of Camilla left a sour and bitter taste in his mouth and his stare hardened on Zephyr for mentioning her at the time. His father had become close with her and Camilla apparently had known his mother. The audacity for her to even think she was involved in his family had been cruel and unsatisfying. She had held his mother’s hand when she was sick and walked through the same halls he had at his home in Wales. After the registration, Remus didn’t need to pretend to like her and he moved past Zephyr, brushing his shoulder as he did and faced away. “You don’t have to pretend to be against her for my sake-I know you two are friends. She said she knew my mother-it was completely blindsiding. My father probably thinks her as his daughter-a child that isn’t cursed. I have no reason to like her so I would appreciate if you don’t mention a damn word about her.” Remus was clutching his glass harder than before and his gaze fell to the side. “The Ministry is just a form of government built on what they think is right and ignorant to anyone else. If I’m seen as a danger then I can hardly say I’m not-if I argue I’m not then I am for trying to make a point.” Remus breathed out slowly, his hand reaching to his forehead and closing his eyes. Of course if he needed money he would need to find another job and if a bookstore couldn’t accept him then he didn’t have the trust that any other place would. He wasn’t about to resort to asking people for money but knew a muggle establishment would be his best bet. He didn’t need more people knowing what he was and being exposed for the registration was not aiding him in anyway. In a softer tone, Remus breathed out and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “I don’t know-just be here. I-I don’t want to be a broken record and complain like this everyday and it’s selfish of me for doing that to you...Just don’t leave, please.”

Zephyr:

He didn't see exactly how he was helping since Remus seemed to be taking insult in almost everything he said, but then again sometimes you just needed an outlet and if Remus lost his cool and yelled at him, so what? That wasn't going to get him banned from the Ministry or kicked out of order meetings, the worst that could happen was that it would end up hurting his feelings, but Zephyr knew Remus wasn't actually trying to do that. Sometimes people got pissed and needed to let off steam and he didn't fully understand the gravity of what was going on, he knew it and he admitted it, he had no idea how badly Remus was suffering and could only compare it to what he'd experienced. How would he have felt if they hadn't caught the one responsible for his mom dying? How would he have felt if he couldn't have joined the order at all to try making things right? Hell, how did he feel just standing there, seeing Remus upset and knowing he couldn't do a damn thing to fix it? Zephyr may not have understood exactly, but he didn't need to understand to actually be there while Remus dealt with things. "Fights with everyone, huh? I didn't realize I had a bad ass for a boyfriend. But if being here and giving you alcohol while you want helps, you got it. And we can start looking into jogging trails or something, we can drink and walk and figure things out." Although at that moment, he wasn't sure if they'd be walking any further than the couch since if he had to guess, it was going to be the kind of night where they killed the entire bottle and Remus woke up miserable. Rubbing at the tendons at the back of Remus' neck, Zephyr knew that being understanding wasn't his strongest trait, but tomorrow would be one of those days where he put his ability to pamper to use if he was right about how bad Remus was going to feel.

"Anyone can be dangerous. They're persecuting you because they want to say they're doing something to keep people safe when the death toll keeps climbing. Werewolf deaths don't even make up ten percent of the deaths and - right, sorry. Not helping. Shutting up now." Although he was right and he knew it, damn it. Arguing about details and how unfair it was to someone that had been suffering because of that same unfairness was perhaps not his most compassionate move and he could at least wait until Remus wasn't so irritated to actually do his own complaining about the measure. He was trying to soothe Remus, not rile him up, although Zephyr knew he was going to have a lot more luck with the later if he couldn't stop himself from running off at the mouth. "I know I have no clue how much shit you've had to put up with in the past and that being offended on your behalf isn't actually doing anything, I'm not actually trying to remind you of how shitty things are. Can't believe I'm being the optimistic here, I just hope that one day all those idiots pull their heads out of their asses and things get better. But until then, I'm in your corner willing to chew people out." There was a difference between being positive and being supportive. You could say that everything would be fine, that there was no reason to be upset, but that didn't actually do anything to make someone feel better, it didn't change that they felt miserable and instead said they didn't have a right to feel bad. You could give them a hug or ice cream and be there, that was more useful, or at least his dad had tried to impress that upon him before, and Zephyr may not have had ice cream, but he did have alcohol and he tightened his grip on Remus, rubbing between his shoulder blades. Anger was still bubbling inside of him, a righteous sort of indignation because Remus should have been free to walk outside the day of the full moon, to be a professor. Maybe one day.

Hold loosening on Remus, Zephyr kept an arm around his waist as they resumed drinking, trying to recall if he had a pack of cigarettes somewhere around. He didn't think so, smoking was something he seemed to only do with company since moving to England, and he denied that their word choice had anything to do with it. He'd shared a smoke with Remus when they first met and so while he was willing to guess that it helped, he didn't have any stored away for unexpected fits of emotion by anyone and wasn't actually sure if he wanted to change that. As he listened to Remus explain what happened, Zephyr exhaled slowly and reconsidered that cigarette as he took another sip of his drink, remembering how amused he'd been once about Remus always sleeping in and being late to work, how they'd talked about Remus shifting his schedule so he didn't have to work mornings and could sleep in. It used to be amusing, but now... now Remus could sleep in all he wanted, but Zephyr couldn't help but feel anger. Later, that was for later because Remus was the one that was dealing with his problems right them. "So it was fine as long as no one else knew, but now it's an image problem. But I guess your monthly pattern became obvious after a while." The bad thing was, the man probably had a case for firing Remus for being late, he could have let Remus go thinking it was that, and Zephyr didn't know if he should hate the man for his honesty in the reason, hate him for his cowardice in refusing to keep Remus employed, or be grateful that at least Remus wasn't going to wonder about the reason. He usually respected honestly, but it seemed he could do that and still be angry about the outcome.

As soon as Remus glared and bumped into him as he brushed past, Zephyr knew that he'd put his foot in his mouth again and somehow managed to piss Remus off somehow, although at least he wasn't left guessing just what the problem was. "You and I have a different definition of friend, I think. You told me once not to go picking fights with my coworkers, remember?" To be precise, Remus had said not to lose his job because of him, because Zephyr had started picking fights with someone just because of Remus. Zephyr didn't hate Camilla, but he did hate how she upset Remus and just because he could spend time around her without throwing a temper tantrum didn't mean he wanted to exchange secrets with her and go for a drink together like he did with Juniper, it didn't mean he was going to stick his nose in Camilla's love life or pester her for baked goods like he did with Daisy. "But I won't mention her." She's not a replacement for you. She could never be as special as you. He thought the words, but he didn't say them because Zephyr knew how sore of a topic Remus' mum was and considering how his dad treated him, having the man take in a girl that was part creature had to be hurtful if not infuriating.

"Damned if you do and damned if you don't, basically, because the people in power are thriving on fear and they'll spin everything to be against you like every other politician." In spite of his mother's profession (most likely because of it, in all honesty), Zephyr didn't have a lot of trust or respect for governments in particular and the Ministry kept going down in his opinion the more he learned about it. "Baby, look at me." He coaxed gently, circling around Remus to be within sight line before reaching out to touch Remus under the chin briefly. "Just look at me, okay? You have every fucking right to complain right now. This isn't something to be quiet about and don't even pretend like you wouldn't be listening to me complain if something upset me, so don't call yourself selfish, okay? I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you and you're not losing me. Seems to me that you'd be more likely to kick me out because I keep putting my foot in my mouth. Come on, let's move to the couch, I've got the bottle." Zephyr declared as he lifted the bottle and waved it around to make his point.

Remus:

Remus needed to get out of his head for the more time he spent listening to his thoughts the more paranoid he was becoming. This was the most reckless he had been in a while and he knew choices had consequences but he felt like some universal karma was biting him in the arse for something he did years ago. He didn’t expect to lose almost everything in a single month and yet the fates were mocking him with everything. Remus had lost his friends, his job, his control, and somewhere in all of that himself. There was a balance that was off and Remus was desperate to temper it. Remus knew Zephyr was trying to be teasing but he shook his head dismissively. “I’m not being a good boyfriend-I’m not being a good person. It’s not bad ass to do what I’m doing...nothing good about it. I don’t know what’s happening.” Remus tried to remember all the good moments in the past months and all the times spent with his friends instead of worrying about this, filling his head with negative thoughts. It was barely clear and cohesive thought in his mind but knew being here with Zephyr was helping. It was fueling him to be better and not let his emotions get the better of him. “Drinking, smoking, walking. All are more preferred coping methods than what I’ve done this week...can’t believe I got kicked out of the Ministry twice.” Remus leaned against Zephyr and welcomed the touch with appreciation, smiling despite what he was feeling and saying.

Remus knew what a werewolf-what he was capable of. The sharp teeth and the blood he craved when he was a werewolf. There were blurs he remembered like chasing a rabbit or another animal but animals was the only thing he hunted and knew he could rip a human apart and barely remember it. It wouldn’t be him thinking about the actions but he could remember parts the next morning. Of course none of that had happened but he knew that animal was within him somewhere and he knew what it was capable of. Remus glanced away as Zephyr said how dangerous werewolves were and how dangerous people thought they could be. “Thank you,” Remus said breathlessly, tilting his head back and closing his eyes with a sigh. He read about what happened to people during werewolf attacks and knew the details without being told them. There are many things I haven’t told you...about my father. About my mother. Maybe I will...but my father-what he said in the papers-he’s said that to me before. I’ve been tied down when I was a child and at school-it was fine but no one liked werewolves once they learned about them. There’s nothing to like about them. They’re ugly and vicious-and hopefully you never see me like that.”

Remus was grateful for Zephyr being there and talking to him through all of these obstacles. It was hard to do alone and he barely did it at all. The company of words that made him feel human and suffering from problems no one could relate to but felt like Zephyr was trying to help was enough. The pain that drilled through him every month could last for days or a week depending on how fatal the injuries were. Of course he would just tell his boss he was sick but eventually he knew that would become a lie and it would be more obvious, especially when he was only taking days off around the full moon. Remus should have been more careful or at least been honest instead of lying every month about who he was. Adam had not seemed hesitant when he fired Remus but he didn’t want to relive that memory. “Adam is...he is a fine man. Sometimes. Elena was there and talked to me, but...Adam is also smart. Of course he found out and with the attacks and more attention to werewolves I’m sure he is scared. Like everyone else. I hate it. No one else will want me.”

“Oh, do we?” Remus echoed, carefully wording his sentence sharply. It was rare he ever actually got frustrated but now he could feel the heat rising in his throat. “I’m not saying to bloody punch Camilla in the face. Gods, that’s not what I’m saying. She is your coworker, yes, I’m aware. I would rather not hear her name or anything about her with all due respect. Hopefully you can consider that before doing so.” Remus felt his chest rising and his frustration rising with it, turning away sharply and drinking the rest of his second drink. The burn felt numb in his throat and he ignored it. Every time he heard Camilla’s name or anything about her, Remus thought about her relationship to his family and her father and what they did together. It made him feel stomach weak and he faintly heard Zephyr resign the conversation.

“Yes, well. I’m damned entirely.” Remus knew what people would be saying and didn’t want to hear anything about it. Everyone was against the werewolf reforms and other creatures and there was little Remus could do and he knew he needed to be registered. Remus heard Zephyr close to him and tipped his chin up. Finally, his eyes looked up and he forced himself to stare back. “I know, but...I feel like that’s all I’m doing and eventually I feel like I will hurt you or something will happen. Just stay here with me...I promise I don’t have to talk about myself like this if you don’t want to hear it. Please, let me know if I’m being hard.” Remus stayed in his place for a moment and watched as Zephyr made his way to the couch. He felt a twinge better than he did before, but still he felt lost for every thought he was feeling. Silently, Remus pushed himself from where he was standing and followed behind Zephyr. At least he deserved a drink and if Zephyr was going to take it from him, he had no choice but to follow. Remus sat down on the couch, feeling his muscles relax and leaned himself on Zephyr’s shoulder. “Give me that damn bottle. Please.”

Zephyr:

"A bad person wouldn't be worried about not being good." That response came out instantly, it wasn't something that Zephyr even had to think about because that was something his mom used to tell him. Bad people didn't feel guilty about what they did, good people did. Good people wanted to be better and bad people wouldn't try. "And you're being a good boyfriend by letting me know what's going on in your head, so even if you don't want to cut yourself any slack, I'm going to do it for you until life stops sucking so much. I'll still hold you responsible if you screw up, but you're not a bad person even if you feel like one." Hadn't they had this same conversation about him being a werewolf before and being a monster? Some people had issues that kept popping up and Zephyr wasn't surprised at all by the idea that this was one of Remus'. "I know you're not happy about it and I shouldn't be encouraging you, but getting kicked out of the Ministry twice does sound pretty bad ass to me," Zephyr admitted, pausing before kissing Remus' hair and adding quietly, almost in explanation. "My mom would have been impressed." And that meant something to Zephyr even if it wouldn't mean anything to Remus. His mom may have been a ministry employee, but she also advocated for keeping an eye on your government instead of trusting them blindly and Zephyr liked to think she wouldn't have been a fan of the shit they were pulling by taking advantage of people's fear, either.

It would be impossible to learn about someone's entire childhood in the short amount of time he and Remus had known each other because for as normal as if felt for their lives to mesh together most days, Zephyr knew that the stress from the war could have impacted how quickly they bonded and was most likely responsible for the way it seemed like they'd know each other for ages when in reality, it hadn't even been a full year. But no matter much Zephyr did or didn't know about Remus' parents, he'd heard enough about Remus' father the night they got together to know that he thought the man was an asshole and he didn't particularly approve of his parenting methods. "You don't have to tell me about any of that until you're ready. I know enough to know you have good reason to be pissed at your dad and maybe he had his reasons, but I don't like the idea of them tying you up. Guess maybe it's because you were a kid and kids just deserve better than that." He'd made a quip once about tying Remus up and while he didn't remember exactly what Remus had said in response anymore, he remembered getting the distinct impression it wasn't something he should bring up unless he wanted to upset Remus and it sounded like he'd found out why.

Since they'd started dating, Zephyr had tried not only to learn as much about Remus' transformations as he could, but also as much about his life as possible and part of that came in the form of his friends and his work. Zephyr had visited Remus enough to have met his coworkers, Elena had helped him out before and while Zephyr wouldn't go so far as to say he knew Adam, but that didn't stop him from wanting to track the guy down and have a few choice words with him. Logically, yes, he had the power to fire Remus. Logically, fine, he probably could have made a case to fire Remus for all the times he was late and sure, Zephyr acknowledged that sneaking off while Remus was working to trade off blow jobs was probably frowned upon in most bookstores, but that was logic and Zephyr was fueled more by emotion and his heart said his boyfriend was hurt and he should fucking do something about it. Listening was what would actually help Remus, but damn, was it hard to convince himself to just sit back and not do anything. "How did Elena feel about it?" He asked in what he thought was a tactful avoidance of debating yet again if anywhere else would want Remus to work for them.

He was trying to be tactful. He was trying to be useful and patient and understanding, he was trying to push down his own anger in response to Remus' problems and it wasn't personal, but for the first time since the conversation started, Zephyr felt irritation flare up in response to how Remus was reacting to him. "I get that you're pissed right now, but count to ten and breathe." He said shortly, taking his own advice and drawing in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Not terribly helpful, but at least it kept him from snapping back and forgetting what his real goal was. "The only reason I brought up her name was as a suggestion to help you, I wasn't trying to make things worse. It was a suggestion, it was a shitty one, I'm working on keeping my ideas to myself and listening, but remember that even when I screw up, I'm on your side and not going to pick anyone over you. Conversation over."

It was likely a good thing Zephyr never had the grades to follow his mom's career track because chances were his temper would have gotten him kicked out in a span of months and then all that work would have been for waste, but maybe he would have been in a better place to argue for Remus. Or maybe not if he could sway public opinion, he didn't know, but first was working on Remus' opinion. "We're going to hurt each other's feelings sometimes, it will happen. Then we'll kiss and make up and be stronger for it. You can complain all you want, but I'm still going to tell you when you're being too hard on yourself." He was sure Remus meant too hard to handle, but he ignored that and conveniently interpreted how he wished to. Settling onto the couch, Zephyr handed over the bottle to Remus before wrapping an arm around him, playing with his hair while holding him close. "For what it's worth, I'm proud of you." He said quietly. "And don't argue. I'm not talking about for getting fired or getting kicked out of the Ministry, I'm proud of you for sitting here and talking about it instead of bottling it up. I'm proud of you for caring enough and wanting to see things done to get in trouble in the first place and not just locking yourself up somewhere to break you. That's what they want and you're not doing it. I'm proud of you."

Remus:

There was always a time he knew that Remus needed to stop talking before he deepened the conversation off the ledge. His heart was hammering in his chest and the topic of him not being good was something he thought he needed to argue, his lips already twisting to reply but his words died in his mouth. This whole month had led him to believe that but Remus was struggling with the reality of what he was for years before it was printed to the masses. Everyone thought he was abnormal now, people he didn’t even know that if they knew that about him they would be leaving or advocating for him to behind bars. Remus was short to agree with them but knew there were others like him, others that were dealing with unsolicited remarks already and Remus was fortunant or a coward to not face the public with the same boldness. “They’ll say I’m a bad person. They are expecting me to react and I did and...look where that led me.” It was a dismissive thought and he knew his actions had been impulsive but the only one he felt the most guilt for was Fabian and Moody. It was something he couldn’t take back. A first fight that he wasn’t expecting. A fight with his father was only normal but in front of a crowd was a fear that Remus overcame quickly. Remus didn’t argue with Zephyr, smiling inwardly at the comment. “Yes, well. I don’t think losing a job and losing a position in the Order for a few weeks is the reward for being a bad ass-” His explanation stopped and he gazed up at Zephyr with a soft smile. “Yeah? Did she get kicked out as well once or twice?”

There was so much to comb through to even reach where Remus was today. Every thought and effort that led him to doing what he did was because of who he was and not really what he was, al though it was a strong character trait as well. It had been a normal childhood for the most part ignoring the one day a month that everything wasn’t normal. But from their conversations before and times Remus felt the urge to talk about his past, he knew Zephyr got the impression of who his father was. “Thank you...it’s just. Weird, I guess. I accepted who and what I was because he told me that. It was never weird to me. But hearing other people’s childhoods...and what they did and what I didn’t. I didn’t realize I was different-I mean of course I did but I didn’t realize how much I missed out on because my father was being dramatic. I suppose he thought locking me up every day even on the full moon was for the best. People in the town would talk and he never liked rumors. My mother though...she was always there. She treated me like an actual kid. Gave me memories. She was my only friend until school, actually.”

It had been a few years that Remus worked at the bookstore. He started not soon after he graduated and knew it was a good opportunity to earn money going forward for rent and other expenditures. It wasn’t something Remus looked forward to, but now his days felt even more lonely without having something to do. There was no job and he was living off of the last few checks and some money from friends that he didn’t want to touch yet. Remus shrugged his shoulders against the question. “She came out after me when I stormed out. I didn’t tell her why I was fired but it was nice to talk someone directly after. I know Adam and I rarely got along but I thought he was better than letting me go because of this...I don’t even know where to get a job-if somewhere finds out I’m a werewolf after a month of absences they will fire me. If purebloods find out I’m working at a muggle place, they will find me. I don’t exactly know where to look now.” Remus knew the professor job at the school would be the best for him if he had compromised his frustrations with his actual income needs. It would have been more beneficial now with everything but knew there was a chance of the same thing happening at the school. Parents could be furious at Dumbledore for allowing him to work there if they knew and that wasn’t a line he wanted to cross quite yet.

The mention of Camilla stirred heat in his words and he was trying to swallow his frustration but his mind was hung on the idea of her. This had been a shared effort of her fault and Remus could easily point a finger at her for advocating for the registration as if someone like her couldn’t be hurt as well. Remus remembered her in the bookshop that day, trying to get Remus to listen to her but Remus would much rather hit a book over his head than listen to what she needed to say. His fists were curling by his sides and tried to ration his thoughts as Zephyr told him to calm down. “Yeah, well. Perhaps you’ve learned not to bring her up to help me,” Remus offered, pressing the heels of his palms against his closed eyes. There were only a few times he would get upset at Zephyr but now he knew that walking out the door for fresh air seemed a better option than letting the air around him suffocate him. Apparating back to his own flat for the night seemed like an enticing option but when Zephyr called the conversation over and stepped away, Remus stayed and stared down at the ground as if burning holes into it with his gaze.

Remus sighed out to himself, dragging his breath out to try to get it back to being even. This was all happening and falling around him, nothing seemed good except for Zephyr and Remus couldn’t lose him. Not because of his behavior and being frustrated at the situation and not at him. He was right. Remus sat down on the couch at first a few feet away but shuffled closer, leaning his head against the curve of Zephyr’s neck. Even though he said not to argue with him, Remus wanted to. There was nothing to be proud of. He didn’t accomplish anything except for his name being on a banned list from places he thought he could be. The Ministry kicked him out twice, his work fired him, the Order put him on temporary leave. There was nothing he could do and it wasn’t something to be prideful of. “Talking helps. If I don’t talk I get trapped in my head. It’s not the best place to be...but thank you. It’s good to have someone listen. And I...I don’t know what to do.”

Zephyr:

"People say a lot of shit. Some of them are going to call you a bad person and you know what? Maybe you're going to do a bad thing sometimes, but that doesn't make you evil. You're human, you're going to fuck up, and you know what you do? You suck it up and you go apologize to the ones you did wrong, you do not apologize for who you are. Because there's nothing wrong with you. For every single damn time someone calls you a bad person, I'm going to tell you that you're not. And I may get in a few fights over your honour, too, and no, you're not going to talk me out of that because bigots have it coming." Bigots? Racists? Speciesists? Whatever in the hell you called them, but he was prone to ranting again and he was trying not to do that again, instead just letting Remus get it out of his system and feel listened to instead of feeling managed, so Zephyr forced himself to suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly, adjusting his view again and flashing Remus a quick grin. "If they'd kicked my mother out, she probably would have went out the wrong door with her middle finger in the air. I've been told it's a miracle she didn't get fired, but I think she was suspended a couple of times." Zephyr admitted as he shrugged one shoulder, his smile as lopsided as his body language. He wasn't ever going to know what day to day life was like for Remus, especially not with the registry in place, but the least he could do was try to distract him, remind him he was good and special and, most important of all, put that smile on his face.

It was weird how much a parent could fuck up a kid without even trying. You could tell them something once and their brain would suck it up like a sponge and suddenly it was ingrained in who they were even if they forgot about it when they grew up, they could learn actions and patterns and it would just seem so normal to them because they came from the world that formed their personality. It was proof of how daunting parenthood was and Zephyr could admit that it was probably a good thing he didn't have kids or else he would likely fuck it up as well. "Well, he's still your dad. When you're a kid, it's your parents that shape your world and back then, it's not like you had any reason not to trust him, right? Normal was what your parents said it was, but that doesn't mean they were right about everything. I get that it can be hard to unlearn some of the things you were taught, but... just because something was done one way doesn't make it the best or the only way. I wish your dad could find a better way, but at least you had your mom. She still sounds like one hell of an incredible lady. But then again, she raised you, so I know she was."

Sometimes Zephyr looked in the paper for things to take Remus out to do, various events and activities that they could use for bonding experiences if not outright dates and Zephyr supposed that he would have to start looking at job listings as well, although he wasn't really sure what Remus would be willing to do for a paycheck. "I hope she gives Adam hell for firing you. I know he could have fired you for other things because let's face it, baby, you weren't so good at being on time, but still... you've worked there for a while, he should have known better." Maybe he was just using it as an excuse to fire Remus, something that was more of a hot topic that just oversleeping to get Remus out of the store, Zephyr wasn't sure, but he knew that he was angry either way at Adam Price for providing yet another blow to Remus' self-esteem when so many things seemed to make him want to crumple lately. "Do you want to at least try to find a magical job? I can help you look if you want to test it out, but... fuck, I hate saying this, but if you're worried about what people will say, muggle is probably better. I don't know if purebloods would care enough to track you down to a muggle place. And if you want to try going back to Dumbledore and seeing if he had some other place for you, well, I still want to visit that place, so I'll back you up on that option, too."

Zephyr felt like he was running out of ways to say that he supported Remus because that was all that he really wanted to do. He knew he couldn't solve things, but he could at least offer ideas and suggestions, could go over different options, but it seemed like that was just going to lead to them snapping at each other. Maybe it would be best to shelve the useful stuff to a later time when Remus wasn't so worked up or else chances were they would end up saying something they regretted, which wasn't what Zephyr wanted. He didn't give a fuck about Camilla, didn't consider her a friend as much as a tolerable work colleague, but her standing with him had dropped considerably for what she'd done against Remus and how could Remus doubt that? Why didn't Remus know that Zephyr was on his side at not palling it up with the woman that was apparently Remus' enemy behind his back? Certainly not a good thing to focus on and Zephyr helped himself to a larger swallow of alcohol than he really needed as he slouched down on the couch, wanting to move attention back to Remus where it belonged instead of anyone else.

Some of the tension he'd felt during the Camilla conversation eased away as Remus tucked against his side, head fitting in the curve of his neck and Zephyr kissed the top of his head, fingers brushing along skin in an effort to soothe him. "We're going to take it one day at a time, okay?" He promised quietly, the words murmured into Remus' hair. "I love you for you, not because of your blood status or your job or your standing in the Order. No matter what's happened, I'm going to be here to help you through it. Just let me know what's going through your head, okay? Even when it's a problem I can't solve for you, I can listen. I can give you booze. And I can sit right here with you and hold you until the world sucks less. How about first we say that we spend the rest of the night just sitting here drinking and not worrying about fixing anything until tomorrow, does that sound like a start? Then we can tackle one problem at a time and figure out what you want to do."

Remus:

“That-Yes, I don’t think everyone will get upset about who I am...but more about what I am. I’m not going to apologize to everyone...that’s what they want. They want me to be detained-to be closed off. It’s just the full moon day now but in a few months it could be off all the streets at all times. I’m not even part of a pack and I’m considered a threat. They still haven’t found the pack who killed Marlene and her family...I would do anything to find out.” It was the first time since the funeral Remus had said Marlene was killed aloud and Remus could feel himself shake as he did. The pack had been in Ireland and he knew werewolves could travel but not that fast to be in London. If they were someone would know. Someone could have details and Remus knew that going into the Auror Department with a blind mission had been more of a suicide mission. Everyone was trying to solve Marlene’s death. His first thought had been Greyback but Remus had not heard of him being involved in anything since January. Even if he told himself a thousand times Fenrir did it, he didn’t know if he could believe it. “I don’t need you fighting my fights, alright? I’m capable of doing them myself, but unless someone starts an argument with me, I want to stay far from fights if I can help it. I can’t afford to be kicked out of any other establishments for my...my behavior.” Remus always liked it when Zephyr shared information about his mother and even being compared to her felt like an accomplishment. “Well, she seems pretty bold. I didn’t go out with a middle finger but Kingsley did have to talk me down from going back and starting another fight...a talk with Kinsgley and Moody are two people I would rather not disappoint and I did.”

It never occurred until Remus went to school that he figured out that his home life had been different than others. It didn’t matter about changing once a month into a monster but the psychological behavior that was implemented through that. When Remus told Zephyr about his father before, the same feeling occurred of knowing he could have had it worst. He could have been in a house with someone like Sirius’ family that wasn’t as forgiving. “Yes, he’s still my dad...whatever estranged definition we share each other he is still my father. I know nothing I had was perfect-my father was hardly around...my mom wouldn’t like this. What he’s done. I don’t think he’s aware of that. He was always thinking about himself...I think he thought this would be the best for me but...of course he’s wrong.” At the mention of his mother, Remus’ face softened and shrugged his shoulders. “She was great. She would have liked you.”

Remus wasn’t oblivious and knew he and Adam didn’t have the best relationship with each other but Remus didn’t think he would actually fire him the first excuse he could pick up on. He exhaled a short breath and shrugged his shoulders in defense. “I don’t think she would. But it’s fine. She doesn’t have to. I don’t want anyone else causing trouble for the sake of me. I know I could have done better...but I don’t know if that would have changed his mind. Adam was doing his job...it was twisted but he did.” Remus had not begun to think about what he would do when he got fired. It was something he never thought he would have to consider and now the reason why he got fired was implementing the same counterproductive hiring process in other jobs. As if reading his mind, Remus sagged against the counter with his gaze on the ground. “I-I don’t know...I can’t think of anything that I could do. You think they’re hiring dragon tamers? Is it too late to get into quidditch? I know I could get a job in the city anywhere else but...when Marlene died she...she gave me-or the law...gave me some money. I guess I have that while I figure out what to do. Until then...I’ll be fine, alright?”

There was nothing else to give and Remus knew that bringing up Camilla had been something that stung. He knew Zephyr didn’t have any malice behind the conversation which is why Remus surrendered the conversation to be mute. There were more reasons that Remus didn’t want to bring to the surface about why Remus felt indifferent to Camilla but he didn’t think to mention it now. Remus also didn’t need Zephyr starting fights at his work again in his favor, something that would later weigh heavily on his conscious. Remus found peace as he melted against Zephyr and the silence, humming and tangling his fingers in with Zephyr’s. “One day at a time. One hour at a time. One minute...it’s going to get harder.” It wasn’t a question and Remus nodded at his own words, closing his eyes as he rested against Zephyr. “Here I thought you were very into unemployed violent halfbloods,” Remus grinned teasingly in response. It was nice to know Remus could turn to Zephyr for anything. He was the only one he trusted with anything besides the marauders and that was so rare recently. “Listening and talking and drinking. You’re speaking my language. I know-I know the world will go down six feet under before it gets better but...as long as I have you then I will be okay. I think not worrying and only drinking sounds like a good night. For now I don’t want to tackle anything. I just want to sit here with you. If that’s alright.”

Zephyr:

What Remus should apologize for and what society in general wanted him to apologize for happened to be two very different things and Zephyr nodded along. If Remus broken something or hurt someone, he was a good enough person to apologize for that without being told, but that didn't mean that he should apologize to someone that was offended by the idea of a werewolf roaming the streets and it was that sort of unfeeling, privileged asshole that made Zephyr's temper rise. He wanted to rage against the idea of being not being allowed on the streets at all, he wanted to promise he would fight against that and took whatever he could to help, but the mention of Marlene cooled his temper. While her death was upsetting, Zephyr knew Remus was far more familiar with her and that even if she hadn't been a friend, it would have mattered more to him for the way she was killed. "I'm not trying to fight them for you, I'm saying that I'll fight them with you. But I'll try not to go adding anymore fighting problems to our lives right now even if you are worth getting in a fight over." God, if only it was as easy as knocking someone out to solve problems. If only that would make people realize werewolves weren't monsters, if only it would get the right people locked up, if only. But it didn't work like that. There can a point when more violence wasn't helping and while it might have made Zephyr feel better, it wasn't what Remus wanted and that meant Zephyr had to wait, he could blow his top some other time and he tapped his fingers in a meaningless rhythm against his thigh. "She was bold. Got into a lot of trouble when she first started because some of the others thought she only made it because Grandma campaigned for the President. I think going down fighting shows it matters. Sometimes we disappoint people, god knows I have, but it doesn't mean you can't fix it in time."

If Remus wanted something, then Zephyr believed in him enough to think he would at least try and he knew that he would support him, regardless of if that was patching things up with Moody or when it came to dealing with his father and the registry he'd passed. "Do you want to tell me about the fight the two of you had? I know things were bad before, after your mom..." Zephyr knew what Remus's mom had wanted him to promise, but it seemed like Remus' dad was intent on burning anything between them after her death. "I can't say anything about your dad, I don't know if he did this for his career or if he thought it would keep kids from being bit like you, but you shouldn't be hurt in the process." Probably something his mom would agree on, from what Zephyr knew of her. "I would have been on my most charming behavior. Would've called her ma'am and brought her flowers and promised I'm only a bad influence on you half the time," He said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile.

"It sucks what he did, well, it sucks why he did it, but people get fired all the time. It happens. It may be hard to find another job for a while, but you will find one eventually and I think if Marlene gave you money, then she'd probably want you to use it to buy yourself time to find you care about and not just rush into finding the first shitty job that will take you. It sounds like Marlene gave you options, so... make her proud with how you use them, right?" Zephyr hesitated, licking his lips and getting the feeling that Remus wouldn't like what he was about to say, but that was a feeling he'd gotten though the entire conversation. "You're fine now and you know that even when her money runs out, even if you find a job and end up fired again, you know you'll still be fine financially, right? Don't get pissed, okay? It's not something you need to think about now, I'm just saying you have enough people that care about you that you're not going to end up homeless on some street just because you're between jobs."

While Zephyr had never shied away from an argument, it would be a lie to say that he didn't feel better to have Remus relaxing against him, their fingers intertwined. Not so much because he was afraid to fight with Remus, they'd been finding things to disagree on since they met, but because he didn't like Remus being upset and hated even more the fact that he couldn't fix it for Remus. He had a strong urge to protect and provide, but at some point he had to step back and accept that he couldn't make the world fall in line for Remus and he would have have to be there for him. "You want to know what my type it? It's cute boys that like books, boys that are shorter than me so I can pin them against walls. Being a pretty blusher is a requirement and you can't go wrong with having a smart mouth, that's pretty important. I think you fit the bill, don't you?" He remembered telling Remus what he was interested in the night they got together and Zephyr was intentionally trying to echo his words from that night, just not calling him a bookstore guy anymore. "You have me, baby," Zephyr promised quietly, handing the bottle back over while he kept playing with Remus' fingers. "I may be an asshole that has no idea how to deal with any of this, but I'm not going anywhere. I know it's going to get tough, but you've got me. At rock bottom and the top, I'll be here."

#t: Remus #remuslxpns #dm: Remus 3

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csykora · 7 years ago

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hey i've been meaning to ask this, but would you mind explaining to me in general terms (or specific, if you're so inclined, i like detailed explanations but I don't want to give the impression that I expect them), like, What Happened With Alex Semin That Makes Everyone So Weird About Him? I know you've referenced a complicated legacy that makes caps fans weird about him, and maybe some way that caps fans/ western hockey culture/the nhl wronged him, but wikipedia was not very helpful (1/?)

3/3) None of that as presented seems, like, worthy of the level of weirdness/erasure that you've mentioned/hinted at, so I'm assuming there's a lot more complexity and detail involved here, which I would love to understand.

First, I need to say this, you are an utter doll. You’re out there reading and questioning and investigating further and it’s all so great.

And you’re right, on dry paper the whole thing is pretty weird.

There isn’t a smoking gun, here. I’m not going to point at a particular coach or GM and tell you, “They made a poor or a prejudiced decision, and the rest of us are fine.” A staggering number of things happened to happen to Semin. Each one of them didn’t mean so much by themselves. But I think the fact that they happened, and kept happening, and were expected to happen, all to him says a lot about us.

What there is is a context, and then there’s a story here. I think what a lot of us missed at the time, and are still missing, is how they fit together.

So I’m gonna drag us all through both. Congratulations: you get two posts.

I’m traveling through Montréal, so I come down to grab coffee in just a jersey and my little pink running shorts. I’m not surprised when a man stops me. He asks what’s up, am I Russian, am I a Caps fan. “Oh, yeah,” I say.

“Yeah, yeah. They’re a great team every year,” he says, for the benefit of the man next to him. “No luck in the postseason though!”

The second man is Danish, and nervous, stuck between us. “You have a big rivalry?” he asks.

I have a personal rivalry with Les Habitants. “Oh, no,” I say.

I negotiate. If I admit I grew up watching the Canadiens as my hometown team, the first man will quiz me. So it’s friendly overture #2, angling towards him to show him the back of my sweater. The first man isn’t looking. “My favorite guy, Alexander Syomin, he played up here for a bit.”

I pronounce it that way, Сёмин, not an Anglicized eh. We can come back to that.

He admires my sweater. “Good player?” he tries.

“Oh, yeah, real skilled player,” the first man says, checking back in. And then, like he’s watching Semin backcheck right now, like the insight just struck him, “Lazy, though.”

“Oh, no,” I say, reassuring the Dane. “That’s just he plays Russian hockey, it just looks different than Canadian style, so some people think it looks like that.”

First man says, “Ovechkin doesn’t play like that.”

Of course he says that.

“Oh,” I say, laugh, cut him off. “Nobody plays like Ovechkin.”

(The Dane is looking between us like he’s about to ask how these people died.)

Something percolates through the first man’s mind. “Who’s your favorite player?”

And I turn around and walk away. He says, “Oh,” reading my shoulders. He hadn’t heard a word except the opening to tell me what he already Knew.

Listen, I don’t like feeling rude. But I was about to be late to interview for a graduate research position in hockey biomechanics, and I already knew I needed to go put on pants and fold Semin’s name back into a suitcase if I wanted them to respect me.

I’m not being dramatic so much as I’m trying to show the odd way that we all know things. That man knew I wasn’t an expert, because I don’t look like one. We all know my favorite player isn’t a good player because he doesn’t look like one.

(And I don’t mean the ethnocentrism and neurotypical judgements we paint all over his face, although that’ll come back into it.)

G, you might be saying, that guy was a stock character of a misogynist hockey fan. Of course he only saw what he expected to. Well, here’s one thing: we all kind of think like that. Of course we don’t know when we aren’t seeing things that conflict with our view. Just keep that in mind when we talk about Russia.

And when we watch hockey, a good amount of the time, our eyes are telling us real persuasive narratives. There are certain visual cues in the game that we think mean good, make someone valuable. They signal to us that the player is playing ‘well’, and once we’re hooked on them that reading is hard to shake. Experienced analysts like Steve Dangle will talk about this: after decades watching hockey, they still get caught up in all the great-looking things a player is doing and miss underlying weakness, or get stuck on what a player doesn’t do and miss what they contribute overall.

(This is why statistics are valuable and controversial: they can be used to reveal patterns, like how a player who scores plenty of pretty goals is also on the ice for a suspicious number of goals against, and sometimes that conflicts with what seems obvious to the eye-test.)

Ethnicity comes back into it because what we think looks valuable depends where we’re from.

Later, I’m laughing over it to my buddy. She’s an older fan than me, and I admire her so much, because she listens to me, and she says, “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you—I don’t know what you mean when you keep saying Russian hockey.”

Context: Soviet and Russian Hockey

Any moment that I have the puck and you do not seems like it should be good for me.

But if you’re allowed to just come up and smash me, and I just hang out holding it, you’re going to try to take it away. Some of the time you’ll manage and then you’ll have it and you can score goals with it. So maybe I want to risk trying to score goals with it before you do.

That’s good old North American.

Oh, I’m sorry, did you want this? Did you want to try to score some goals with it? Sure, I suppose you can borrow it for a bit.

Catch me first.

That’s Soviet.

This is a difference of philosophy; it’s a preference in coaching and play-making. There are some kids who weren’t considered particularly naturally talented who would be in Russia, and the other way around. But people also train to meet those standards, so by the time you’re in your teens or early twenties, you’re caught somewhere between the abilities and inclinations you were born with and the values you shaped yourself to try to fulfill.

Imagine a benchful of Evgeny Kuznetsovs.

Soviet hockey players were skaters first. At age 4 or 5, they would be learning skating fundamentals for an hour two or three days a week. Then an hour and half. At 10, they would skate every day. At 12, two practices a day.

“We put kids on skates at a very young age. Much earlier than in the U.S. and Canada. There are advantages and disadvantages to this. On one hand early development may influence game thinking, on the other skating may become a burden and be detrimental for the health.”—Sergei Gimaev (USSR champion)

I’m quoting Sergei because that’s my stance: on the one hand, and on the other. There’s a lot to say about the Soviet hockey schools. Athleticism was patriotism in the Soviet Union, as it is in many states, and the treatment of athletes was frequently disturbing—but it’s always more complex than a dystopia.

Their eerily effortless technical skating contributed to the outside image of the “Red Machine”, a North American narrative than Soviet skaters were only trained to be interchangeable pieces without any fun or independence or Canadian grit, but the Soviet style also valued a child-like intellectual creativity.

“Kids were always allowed to improvise on the ice,” according to Dmitri Efimov. “We surprised our opponents with the fact that we were difficult to ‘read,’ our actions couldn’t be anticipated.”

This play, from hockey-graphs.com, is a great example.Vladimir Krutov, Igor Larionov, and Sergei Makarov skate so tightly they seem about to combine into a single giant mecha, luring in the Canadians, and then fly past them.

All that skill and creative energy fed into the endless, eternal, interminable passing. Each player on the line swung around each other, dragging the opposition into position until one of them found a chance to shoot. The goal of Soviet hockey wasn’t to score goals: holding possession and winding the clock down was pretty much an end in and of itself.

“For me, I would love to have empty net at end of season, then (have someone else) score a goal you know? For me, that’s how my father teach me and how my whole coaches when I grown up teach me. You better to give your partner empty netter than you score it. It’s in my heart.”

So, Evgeny Evgenyevich…if you’re always giving the goal to your teammates, who’s taking the shots?

Ovechkin isn’t like that

Kristi St. Allain of St. Thomas University wrote a dissertation on why people say this. It was adapted and accepted for publication by the Sociology of Sport Journal in 2016, it’s 43 pages, and it’s worth a read.

There’s a more technical take, which I think is also interesting: yes, he is like that.

Ovechkin is a monster. He’ll be once in the world, not once in a lifetime. Comparing any Russian player to him is pretty pointless, but comparing him to them is actually useful, because we can see that Ovechkin plays a specific role in Russian hockey.

Hockey was at its lowest low in Russia in the ‘90s, after the dissolution of the Soviet national team. Everyone had gotten used to Soviet hockey, and that was over. The new nation was wondering what the new Russian hockey was going to be, and it mostly seemed like it sucked.

And then they got...these two.

The Aleksandrs revolutionized Russian hockey by building a new role for themselves: the specialized sharpshooter.

I’m not saying there weren’t skilled shooters before them in the Soviet system, but those teams made plays in a more balanced way, effective divvying up shot attempts between three fairly equal forwards.

Two years older than Ovechkin, Semin was the first player to prove what that shot could do. In 2008 he led Russia to the first World Championship gold since 1993, against Canada in Quebec City, ending over a decade of low self-esteem in a moment of transcendently wicked awesomeness to a generation who grew up after but still very much under the weight of the Soviet Union.

Arguably, he’s the one who told us all what Russian hockey was going to be.

Sasha and Sasha both stood out from their teammates for their spectacular aim and strength. Semin’s wrist-shot was described “arguably the most powerful in the game” during his years in the NHL. (And that’s from SB Nation, not just me and Kuznetsov.)

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Instead of skating and passing until they happened to be in position for a particular shot, both Semin and Ovechkin would deliberately take up a shooting position, and their linemates would pass between themselves, dragging the opposition around until they could send the puck to the Sasha for a shot.

Taking those shots isn’t selfish: it’s a new way of using their unique skill to play for their teammates.

At this point in his career, we often get to see Ovi skate straight to his office and crouch there in active waiting. He’ll slide a little up and down in search of openings as the other team chase his center and right winger: “he’s the best in the world at adjusting to passes.”

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Semin would circle. He hovered over the blue line like some large and carnivorous bird, allowing him to either swoop in for a shot, or swing and pass back and forth with his center to set up his opposite winger. He could essentially shoot like a second Ovechkin or partner with Nick Backstrom to hold possession.

We can succeed

There’s something heart-wrenching to me about that quote from Kuznetsov. Because many Russian players don’t succeed in the NHL; they don’t fit in the spaces allowed for them in the Canadian conception of hockey. That should hardly count as a failing: like Kuznetsov said, Canadians don’t know how to play Soviet or Russian hockey. And they aren’t asked to.

Do you know how many Russian players are in the NHL right now?

It’s 39.

(Less if we set aside the goalies, which arguably we should here). That’s barely more than one per franchise, and that shakes out to mean something pretty profound for players who have it in their hearts to try to match what their teammates are doing, but who by their late teens and twenties simply can’t reshape the entire way they play the game.

Semin is a spectacular player in context. So is Ovechkin. For most of his career Ovi’s context was Semin, and Ovi is quite honest about that.

Semin was the best possession player on the Washington Capitals in 2012, while also seeing the highest percentage of scoring chances. He was a 40+ goal scorer while being someone else’s main man for assists.

I’m going to come back and to talk through his actual story in order, but this is the first thing to keep in mind:

All that circling didn’t look good. When he looked for passes, waited for scoring chances, played high-scoring but still play-making Russian hockey, he looked lazy.

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silkandconvalescencerpg · 6 years ago

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The day has finally come in which all of the prompts are completed! To make things easier for you all, I’ve placed each of the skeletons’ prompts below, so that you’d save yourself the energy having to seek each individual one out. These have been a long-while in the making, so I truly hope they help, even the smallest bit, in your application process. I bid you all good luck!

RUFESCENT.

001. Honestly, while writing Rufescent I was just giggly the entire time (hopefully nottoo obvious to you guys), so I’d love to read a para sample that is completely filled to the brim with quirks and jokes, if only for the laugh. It would be a nice nod to the circumstances of their birth into the group, and a firm representation of one of their main facets. Moreover, it doesn’t have to be entirely silly, and it’d be lovely to read a scene in which they manage to incorporate their blazing wit and comicality into a situation in which it might be uncalled for or inappropriate, which makes it all the better. Surprise me, shock me, make me bite my lip hard enough because I have to hold back vicious laughter ⏤ that’s how the rufescent rolls.

002. Another detail that I implanted in their skeleton is the “you know, when they ask for silence in a library, they don’t exactly mean your kind of locked lips” line, and I absolutely adore it. The subsequent para doesn’t necessarily have to fall into this scenario, but this blunt, rebellious cheekiness is one of my favorite aspects of the rufescent, and I’d be a fan to witness a situation where this quality of theirs is magnified and shining brighter than a lumos. They’re just someone that you can’t help but snort at, really.

003. Something that I feel would be overlook in the rufescent is their absolute, uncannily sharp wit. They are charming, they are hilarious, they are outspoken, they are a flirt to a fault, but they are also perceptive and clever beyond belief, which is how they get by. Write something that zeroes in on this, and how they use this to their benefit, or on the opposite spectrum, how perhaps it’s a “loss of potential”. In the same vein, maybe write about the cowardice they may be rooted in, the “carefully crafted bush” of theirs and how they “just wouldn’t fly away” from their current setting. Write about why! Write about pressure, and shedding personas, and just everything. I’d love to see your take.

NEMESIS.

001. As stated explicitly and dramatically several times within their skeleton, nemesis is what I would call a double-edged dagger, a dichotomy if there ever was one. It may prove difficult narrowing this down into tangible words, or elucidating this into a specific scene where it can be properly captured, but I urge you to try. They are the extremities you wish you hadn’t touched, miraculously burnt and frozen over from simple contact, be it flesh, words, a look. Then again, fire is always mesmerizing before you get burned and ice is stunning before it pierces your heart ⏤ a vicious, beautiful cycle, one a healing charm can’t magically cure. They are fatally complex, and it’s a noble cause to attempt to corral them into mere words ⏤ an honorable challenge!

002. I’m personally quite attached to the “cursing one parent while clinging onto the other” line, so I definitely wouldn’t object to seeing this sentiment portrayed in some form or another. Which parent did you pick; how do the dynamics differ; how do you suppose the parents react? All questions that can be carefully weaved and crafted into a passage of a scene, and my curiosity is certainly peaked.

003. The biggest question you can ask when faced with nemesis is why ⏤ why are they the way they are? How do they cope without turning to ashes inside out? I want intimacy, an inside look into the labyrinth that they sheathe. Who are they? A clear answer, a stark analysis. I need to be shown an understanding and development of what exactly they have become and will continue to be. The five W’s and H would be a fun tactic with nemesis, if I’m being honest, because I want to see that transparency that proves you know them inside and out, even the mangled, molten parts that nobody else can define. “What’s it all for anyway?” You tell me.

THRASONICAL.

001. One of my favorite little snippets about the thrasonical was making them a history-loving fool! I’d love to see how this obsession began, how it coiled into the very core of who they are. Perhaps a scene where we see them in the middle of a particularly vigorous session where they just went deep, completely encompassed within their own world of the past and its greats ⏤ the thought process, certain mannerisms, anything and everything that just embeds you into the world with them. Moreover, reveal some of their favorite pieces and periods of history! Strictly magical (here, you can really have fun and make up some lore on your own) or do they have a soft spot for muggle history as well, and how do the two mix, if so? How does the study and love of history complete them, and why?

002. Now, I wouldn’t be hyperbolizing if I said they were fuck-all, one hundred percent, tits-up charming, so much so it’s nasty. In fact, you could accuse me of understating it. Capture this in action. The suaveness, the delicately tempered eyebrows that can throw the strongest wills into frustration, the quirk of lips that can shake foundations. Please ⏤ this is their arena, and I’d pay to watch, so make the show worth an audience.

003. So, I kind of threw that line of “balling up fists and growling deep in your throat and calming the temper of a furious forest fire (sometimes it’s too late, sometimes you burn)” abruptly into the end, but that certainly doesn’t lessen it’s impact; perhaps it creates an emphasis, even, and I want to see that notion explored, abused, and taken advantage of. This is a bomb, and I want to see it detonated. Write an instance where they did allow the temper to catch fire and burn, and the consequences and clean-up of such a disaster. Or perhaps detail a moment when they could have, were so close to blowing up, but reined it in at the last second; capture the strength and will that it took, and how they blew off the steam in the aftermath. Go crazy together.

ACHILLES HEEL.

001. One of the funnest qualities of the skeletons was coming up with the names for each and every one of them, and how exactly they would be molded to fit their titles. For achilles heel, there’s a lot of weight behind their name, for it’s perhaps the most well known out of all of the skeletons. I know why I picked it, but I want to know why youthink it’s well-suited. How do you tie it into your character? Do you prioritize the myth, the biology, or the general meaning behind it the most? Maybe show me a scene where the name just clicks so perfectly with who your character is. It’s a classic that has survived centuries, and I’d love to witness the clash between old and new ⏤ your interpretation against the very own Achilles.

002. I instilled somewhat of a religious aspect within their skeleton ⏤ “analyzing scripture with your father in the italian countryside to fill up endless summer days, screaming at the top of your lungs blasphemy the next” ⏤ and it’s something I’d dearly love to see emboldened. I genuinely didn’t have any details in mind for this other than what I wrote, so I’d love to see any take on it whatsoever; it was a very impulsive inclusion, but one that I knew I couldn’t replace, simply because there’s so much that you can fabricate from that one line. Moreover, the Italian countryside is mentioned, and I’m curious to see how you would pave a subsequent path from there. This is where you can build up on the idea of their childhood (religion, family, residence), and there are so many roads to explore, it’s difficult to choose just one. The constant of achilles heel is their back-and-forth dance that is embedded into every facet of their existence, and it’s again apparent here. How did they go from point A to B? What is their relationship with religion and how does it affect them in their daily life? It’s a very boundless arena, but one that can only declare a single champion.

003. To me, one of the most gut-wrenching pulls of the achilles heel is their complete ability for self-destruction, not to mention adeptness as self-deception. It’s like a demented game of whack-a-mole, and it’s fair to say there’s no winner. I want to see this underlined, magnified in the harsh and bright light that it deserves. This is the most imperative facet of who I introduced them as, and it’s something I’m beyond thrilled to see come to life. I want to see how they face this in their daily life; paint an instance where “playing peek-a-boo with feelings” radiates from a passage or dialogue, where it can be seen without being explicitly told. To pull achilles heel off, a tender and clever portrayal is needed, and I’m excited to see what you can pull out of the bag. Moreover, your interpretation on the unrequited torture aching within their bones is a particular desire of mine, and I want to see it exploited and dissected. Do with this what you will!

ACCISMUS.

001. The driving force behind accismus is their undying and fervent passion. Beyond all else, they are like the unyielding embers in a stark winter; if you were to strike their bones together, a flame would appear. However, it’s almost as if this is lost on them. There is a certain desperation that trails their every breath, and every moment of their existence is spent trying to coax something deeper, something more, out of themselves. There are several lines within their skeleton that touch upon this, but “visiting the forbidden forest just to feel the thrum of explicit life around you, reminding you of your own blood pumping in your veins” works wonders to accentuate this point, and I want to see your own rendition of the meaning behind this. In order to wholly portray accismus, you must have a strong grip onto who they are, what their mindset is, the core understanding beneath it all. It’s complex to untangle and pinpoint, but I want to be shown that you know every single centimeter of the map of who they are.

002. Truly, it wouldn’t be unfair to call them a mess. They really, really are. In their skeleton, it’s touched upon that they nearly gave up the honor of head student, and I want to tour the thought process behind this. There’s a subtle tragedy that lurks beneath the surface, and it needs to be exploited. Perhaps it’d be interesting to see the snapshot of when they found out they landed the position, and how they news shot through them. Who did they tell? Did they keep it to themselves for a while? Did they laugh, cry, go numb? It might be difficult to capture, but that’s exactly why I want to see it. I want them to be empathically, appallingly human ⏤ after all, so they do.

003. For me, accismus is the rare introvert-extrovert type. It’s hinted at several times throughout the skeleton, such as “knowing the answer in class and waiting for the professor to call on you as a last salvation, drawling response and shy smirk at the ready.” They’re a beloved fixture within Hogwarts, despite not trying to call attention to themselves, especially in any boisterous or rowdy way. One of my main excitements relies on interactions, and so I’d love to see any dialogue between accismus and others. How do they react around others, what is their general temperament, if they were interrupted in a thrilling part of a book, how would they lash out, if at all? Really try to dig into their very essence.

GORDIAN KNOT.

001. The inspiration behind gordian was clearly the old legend, and the very idea has been a tug at both my mind and heart for a while. The character concept was one of the first that I came up with, and this core of tangled ties, of a mangled and impenetrable mess, is the center of this skeleton that truly draws you in. Of course, it’s nice and complex on paper, but I am eager to see how you can enact this through dialogue and a realistic and meaty characterization, in which I can truly envision your muse coming to life. I want you to make this hidden and intricately tortuous character utterly transparent to me, to prove that you know them inside and out, knotted soul and all. They may be a complete riddle to everyone else, but you must be inside that sphere, right inside their head. I want to be excited to figure each facet of them out, bit by agonizing bit.

002. One of my favorite injections within their skeleton was this idea of existentialism and their own curiosity with it. I was quite vague with the concept, for I wanted this to be the field where you can totally go off the tracks. What does this mean, specifically to your muse? How far and creatively wild can you go with this route? To me, gordian is a weird one, and I’m truly so excited to gather your interpretation of their mindset and how this idea became rooted in them. There’s a huge well of opportunity here, and I want to see how deep you’re willing to go.

003. There are some gothic themes implanted within the group, and gordian is one of the tiers in that aspect. Within the line “chasing (my bad ⏤ walking, casually, slowly, always on the disinterested front) fulfillment in empty corridors tense with brimming old souls of centuries past ; what is it that deceiving emptiness can lend you that a breathing, talking human can’t? is it the breathing or the talking part ; or both?” there is plenty to uncover and explore with, and I want to this notion to somehow, in some (obscure or not) way, be addressed. I mean, just dissecting that part of the skeleton can lead you in so many directions, with a plethora of insanely delicious storylines to trek into. I want to see you blossom in this element, and really run with it. Give me something to sink my teeth into and groan in appreciation. Moreover, take into account their three words: stoic, precarious, nomadic. How do they fit your version of gordian? Do you disagree with them? Really show me your vision, in whatever capacity you deem best.

PROCRUSTEAN.

001. The procrustean is quite the heavy character, and it’ll take a bit of skill to maneuver their characterization into something legible. The main notion attached to their skeleton, the very core of who they are, is this gilded cage that is shackled to their bones. The definition of procrustean reads “enforcing uniformity or conformity without regard to natural variation or individuality,” and it’s a perfect exposition of the center of the character. That latter part rings especially true, and truly emphasizes that not only are they weighed down by familial (or whichever direction you took) pressure in their future, but also their soul, their heart. They are clearly affected, but how? Strip every shackle off and reveal to me who they are underneath. Even more, show me who they could have been, had they not been born into a cage. Have they ever wondered this themselves? What is their mindset? Divulge these possibilities, these truths.

002. A section of their skeleton focuses on that “if anything, you own the distinct talent of fabricating an escape in any pleasure or pain, tiny crevices or eyebrow-raising reaches alike, you can find, seeking out with a desperate vengeance that momentarily grants you a shortly saccharine fantasy, even if the tang of blood is more bitter than sweet ( can you even tell? )” line, and my, does it pack a punch. This introduces a whole realm of possibility, and I’m keen to see what kind of vices you have affixed to their character. It even hints at delusional fantasies and lapses of desperation that may be all too disastrous for them. How dark are you willing to go, and how do you interpret the direction of the last few words within the line? Include a scene or snippet of how cavernous this vein really runs.

003. A regal mien is somewhat embedded into the flesh of their skeleton, and it doesn’t necessarily conclude that they’re born with a silver spoon in hand. They just naturally exude this palatial air that bears an imprint on anyone who crosses their path. I’m somewhat desperate to see procrustean in action, to be given a diagram of their mind, soul, and everything more. What are their interactions with others like; how do they react and how are they reacted to? The cloak of a coward conceals them, but how is this a player in the game of their life? How gracefully do they fit into their predestined box?

LOTUS EATER.

001. The very concept of lotus is derived from the greek myths and legends in which, “as a result of eating the fruit of the lotus plant, a group of people were stuck living in a state of idleness and dreamy forgetfulness.” This is one of the more interestingly based skeletons, and there’s so much that you can do with this. I wanted to pack in everything I could into this concept, and I want to see all possible fronts exhausted. This notion of laziness beautified and an extravagant stupor is etched into the very fragrance that islotus eater, and I want to see this grand sloth reverberate a heartbeat. Perhaps even weave a tale that compares them to their namesake, how they would bear in such a mythological tragedy (or peace?). Hearten me to their lethargic existence.

002. Moreover, an idea that can be warred within your application is the question of: how much of their soul is true, embedded laziness, and how much is clouded with the fear of change; of achieving the bare minimum so that perfection is the lowest bar to attain? Lotus is truly a tricky one, for their intentions are up in the air, floating in bliss among sunsets and daydream clouds. Take this line: “layering jewels upon jewels as they catch a shimmer and shine, layering shadows upon shadows of a girl, catching personas like light on diamonds” and wholeheartedly rip into it. You can take so much from those words, and I’m excited to witness your interpretations. As for scenes in which you can enwrap this into dialogue and interaction, perhaps a piece of synergy in which you highlight the conversation happening both inside and outside of their head. You do what feels most comfortable, as well as what can portray your enriched understanding of their character.

003. There are several hints of a rather rough exterior inside the skeleton, such as “running idle circles barefoot in an orchard, playing hide and seek within the groove of trees and healing scrapes and bruises on knees with the soft caress of emerald grass and blooming flowers” and the only foul word (“shit”) found within any of the skeletons, battled against a delicate, mortal softness that begs to be damaged: “careful, don’t prick your delicate veins on a rose’s thorns ; your flesh is too brittle.” I want to see this played out brilliantly, in a bright, sunshine gold light that catches the eye. With lotus specifically, I think the childhood facet is an important one to explore, for a section of the skeleton directly refers to it, and how they evolved from there to here. Thrill me with tender and bittersweet nostalgia!

PRESCIENT.

001. The prescient is a funky one, and I’m gearing for this to be played out spectacularly. Off the bat, you are drowned in this Alice in Wonderland swirl of an identity ⏤ except darker, funner, and snarkier. Truly, their skeleton holds some of my favorite lines, and one of them is this introduced notion of a holier-than-thou attitude regarding Divination, reminiscent of our favorite Brightest Witch of Her Age, while desperately gripping with both hands tight onto their own eyebrow-raising “prophecies”: “coughing bitterly on the dense fumes that cloud the divination classroom ( a roll of your eyes here, a barely disguised scoff there ), but clinging tightly onto the prophecies designed by your leftover tea leaves from that morning’s cuppa.” It’s honestly just so like them, and I want you to attain your own comfortability with the lunacy raging inside their head: not simply understand who they are, but sacrifice a piece of yourself to adopt their madness; Alice, meet your Mad Hatter.

002. I don’t typically like to reveal certain fictional characters who have played a role in the initial, loose characterization of the skeletons, but in this case, I don’t see it deterring you from your own interpretation, but rather pinpointing some new perspectives to get your mind turning where it may have not been. That said, particularly in the Harry Potter universe itself, I drew some influence from Luna Lovegood, Lavender Brown, Hermione Granger, and even Tom Riddle. They each lent something to the building of the skeleton diagram, and from there, I expanded it and fluffed it with a lot of my own twists from how these “seer-esque” characters are usually done ⏤ it’s safe to say I had a little too much fun with prescient. They are truly different at every turn, and mangle expectations inside out: thus, I want you to shock me with your application; surprise even (and especially) me.

003. One of the three words I included for prescient was meddlesome, and boy, oh boy, is that the truest thing I’ve written. This, mixed with their fatal curiosity, is a disaster brewing in the horizon. A large section of their skeleton reads: “everything and everyone has a rhyme or reason and oh, oh, oh, you’re too curious for your own good ⏤ what do you exist for if not for prodding and poking into a semblance of understanding / after all, one can be pushed down the rabbit hole or jump ; what difference does it make in the end if you’re the one to prod them off the ledge, as long as wonderland is reached at the crash of the fall?” and if anything, this is what you must pick up on in your interpretation. They can almost be suffocating in their ways, and that makes for some nasty interactions; or perhaps not? Detail their relationships across the sphere, or highlight a scene or dialogue in which their meddling ways are magnified for my viewing. Is the cat killed, or brought back?

FAVONIAN.

001. The tug of favonian is this grand, old-fashioned fairytale hook, which cloaks you in its worn, mysteriously-shadowed aura (I generally get more descriptive the longer I write for periods at a time, my sorrowful, regretful bad). Their skeleton is actually one of my shorter ones, but I believe it to be more within less. This idea of a desperation to find oneself magically within the pages of a storybook leads to a more grandiose and perhaps even tragic analysis, for who must you be ⏤ what life must you live ⏤ to wish to exchange your reality for fiction (says I, the hypocrite)? Moreover, the line: “worn copies of beedle the bard graining your fingertips as age-old excitement pulls you to turn the page, again and again” hints that this pull has seized favonian since childhood, and what can you twist and weave with this piece of news? Is this fascination like the roots of a tree, growing sturdier and stronger with each passing day, until oh!: an evermore, majestic oak? In a world of magic, with goblins, and spells, and wheezes ‘til the eye can see, what more can you long for?

002. I’ve been asked about this in the past, but allow me to reiterate and truly expand on my answer: a darkness clings in between the lines of favonian, and it’s hinted at through the “at least try and shave that hairy heart of yours, before they catch onto you” line. Like I said before, this is referring to the short story within The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and it’s perhaps the short story that reeks the most of the gothic theme, a thread that is most definitely deliberate. How you choose to incorporate or address this vein is up to you, but I suggest you get clever with it ⏤ if you’re having fun with it, I assure you that the same elation will radiate to me. Not all enchanted forests have a Tinker Bell, so run with it; after all, Hogwarts does have its very own forbidden forest to venture. A dark seed must always first be tainted.

003. An extremely vital part to favonian is the “plucking your way through your garden, dismembering one flower at a time, chanting childish demands of ‘will they love me … love me not’ ( try : will i love me, will i not? pity, my dear : not )” line, which is why it was chosen as the crucial sentence to highlight within the masterlist. Here, darker themes are also underlined, for the innocent children’s act of plucking petals from a flowers is twisted into a literal, crippling action, maiming what was once sweet into something pungent. Even further, an insecurity is introduced in the parenthesis, sharp enough to prick your finger on. It’s truly key to at least talk about this in some capacity, so search for that dark, deep crevice within yourself and channel it.

PHAETON.

001. The phaeton was a concept that was very original in the entire premise and creation of the roleplay, and I’m elated to see them finally flapping their wings out in the wild. Like essentially all of the skeletons, there is a soft dichotomy edged between the lines: arrogance versus inherent destruction. They are a very difficult concept to skillfully grasp, and can only be achieved with an exquisite and keen hand. They are wholly based upon the greek phaethon, and the myth instantly affords the skeleton depth where it may be hidden within the text: “inexperience proved fatal” is the theme that strikes severely, the chord that must be struck. However, legends may not be whole reality, and thus, I urge you to create a new picture rather than coloring within the lines.

002. Following that same vein, arrogance is a key factor that is deeply implanted within the bones of the skeleton. Moreover, you can play on the “inexperience” and conceit by meshing them to attack the Head Student position that has been gifted to phaeton. “Arrogance is a certain type of breed, but are you a perfect design or a mangled mutation?”: where can this lead them? What part does this line play in their future / potential storyline? How will this fail them or uplift them? You can address these questions in whichever format you may wish to use, as long as the grip you have on their mind, heart, and soul is stable and obvious to my own eyes.

003. A clever little input within the skeleton was “smirking dimples into fruition ; narrowing twinkling eyes into slits” and this truly warps what you thought the skeleton was into something else. This introduces a mischief to the concept, a fun gist and flowing wind that injects an acrid jest that you simply can’t help but inhale until you’re sneezing to the nines. Moreover, phaeton is perhaps the skeleton with the most singular lines, in which each new fraction amounts to a different meaning, and so much like the previous line, “heavy hearts weigh on the heaviest minds” is one that speaks thousands, and opens dozens of doors, without revealing much within the direct words themselves. Expand on these notions, and how they affect the vision of your own character; how they coil and root to encapsulate the core of your muse. Really wrap your fist around the center of their stem and tug.

#prompts #ahhhh so happy to have these done lmao #<33333333

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