#however the mistake comes in me having handled all that ink right next to it so there's some spatters...

[xx-justsomeguy-xx]

moment of clarity earlier as i stopped myself from touching my white keyboard with horribly ink-stained hands (it was dark blue with purple and gold shimmer)

[ikroah]

Whiskey river, take my mind, don't let her memory torture me. Whiskey river, don't run dry, you're all I got, take care of me. —“Whiskey River,” Shotgun Willie (1973)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #15 - Vegas Outskirts

Collaborative Issue! Guest Colorist: @malpaislegate​ / @socksual-innuendos​

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Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

MAN that’s gotta hurt!! Volume 2 kicks off with a bang, literally if you count the gunshot and honorifically if you count Socks’ knockout color job on this issue. Look at those lovingly rendered bullet wounds!! Muah!!!

It’s been a relief having a month off from the comic as I handled a bunch of other things but there’s a lot to look forward to in Volume 2, as you can probably tell from that very forboding fist clench at the end there. Will Agnes and Cass get the revenge they’re looking for? Can they make it big in Vegas? Will it keep right on a-hurtin’? Find out next ish as Cass leads Agnes to meet the first of their new “friends.”

Original Pencils:

The pencils for this issue are like an autopsy report of all the things that can go wrong with your art if you don’t plan ahead and pay attention. Listen, friend, to my tale of woe, and learn from my mistakes so they don’t become yours!

First, you can see a lot of places where there’s floating objects, empty backgrounds, and incomplete heads. Part of this is because I always intended to just copy and paste repeated elements across each panel instead of drawing them multiple times, but other times I was forced to just because of my lack of planning. The top three panels on page two, for example, required me to draw the background I’d use for them on a separate page.

Second, you can probably tell that I actually had to flip the two raiders around in the final lineart because I forgot to keep the hands their were holding their guns in consistent—and since I couldn’t flip the middle panel on the second page without ruining the composition, I decided to flip all of their other appearances so that they’d be lefties. I doubt you even can seamlessly wield those particular guns left-handed.

Third, the size of the cart that Agnes and Cass are kneeling behind changes CONSTANTLY and is dramatically oversized from the third page onward. After inking these pages, it took a lot of work to correct the inks and shrink that cart in each panel, but fortunately it came out looking good.

And finally, I completely redrew the second panel on the fifth page because it wasn’t until I had already handed he pages off to my colorist that I realized having a second profile shot of Cass so soon after a first one was just...redundant and lazy-looking. So I went back to my sketchbook and whipped up a much more unique, striking angle (I also just wasn’t satisfied with the quality of my art on that panel, so I’m very glad I redrew it). But again, my failure to plan ahead bit me in the ass and my redraw attempt wound up taking up a lot more space than I thought it would, so after inking it I had to basically surgically remove it from the other inks.

I’ll be honest with you folks: part of the reason that I work in such simple, thick, high-contrast lineart is because it’s very easy to make corrections and adjustments with stuff you could technically color in Microsoft Paint.

Transcript:

EXT. SOMEWHERE IN THE MOJAVE, morning. AGNES SANDS and ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY stand over the wreckage of a caravan, scattered over a dirt road.

CASS: Hell.

EXT. SOMEWHERE ELSE IN THE MOJAVE, midday. Looking over a second wrecked caravan, at the bottom of a ditch.

CASS: Fuck.

EXT. PRE-WAR HIGHWAY OUTSIDE OF VEGAS, mid-afternoon. AGNES and CASS survey a third wrecked caravan.

CASS: Shit. The proof is in the pudding. Or the pile of ash, rather. These attacks were done with Van Graff guns for Crimson Caravan caps. I'm sure of it.

As CASS explains her theory to AGNES, a short distance from the caravan two RAIDERS peer at the two of them from inside a barn at a ruined farmstead. They have snake-bite tattoos on the sides of their shaved heads and are holding rifles.

CASS: The scorchmarks and residue in the wreckages? That's energy weapon shit. Plasma and laser. Silver Rush special. Not like it'd be the Brotherhood. And Crimson Caravan must have bankrolled this fucked-up little hunting trip themselves.

The RAIDERS move out from the barn, sneaking up on two passers-by who’ve stopped at the caravan wreckage.

CASS: That explains why they bought me out...they needed the last loose end to saddle up back west with a tidy sum.

(NOTE: *Agnes delivered it and Cass signed it in IKROAH #7—Lou.)

CASS: It's a racket, Agnes: torch the local competition and it's win-win for both the f—

SFX: KRAK

A gunshot rips out from one of the RAIDERS’ rifles and sears across CASS’ shoulder.

CASS (gasping): —uckers.

CASS slumps down beneath the overturned caravan wagon on the road, clutching her shot shoulder.

CASS: —Aaggghghhhhhhh.

AGNES: Cass! Are you—

CASS: Fuck! Agnes, get down you moron!

AGNES ducks behind the cover of the wooden caravan wagon just as another gunshot splinters the top lip of it.

SFX: DTHWAK!

The RAIDERS advance on CASS and AGNES’ position, firing at them from off the road.

SFX: KRAK

AGNES leans over the top of the wagon with her pistol, returning fire.

SFX: BTAK BTAK BTAK

AGNES lands a shot right in one of the RAIDERS’ guts, and she drops her weapon and falls down.

SFX: SPLUT

CASS, leaning out the side of the wagon, takes as careful of aim as she can with her shotgun by holding it with her good arm. Trembling, she fires, connecting with the other RAIDER.

SFX: KBLAM

The would-have-been RAIDERS are dead.

AGNES: ...were those the Van Graffs?

CASS: No. Just some vultures.

CASS leans back behind cover to sit against the bottom of the overturned wagon again, wincing from her shoulder injury.

CASS: Ugghhn.

AGNES (slipping off duffel bag): Cass, your shoulder—

CASS: Yeah, it's been shot. I'm pretty fucking aware.

AGNES (unzipping bag): Quick, can you take your shirt off—

CASS: What!?

AGNES: —so I can dress the wound, Cass!

CASS: Oh! Good! So you weren't coming onto me on what remains of Griffin Wares Caravan.

CASS starts removing her shirt while AGNES produces a bottle of something from her duffel bag, and dampens a rag with its contents.

CASS: And since when are you a fucking field medic, anyway?

AGNES: 2269. NCR Certified.

CASS: What?

AGES: Yeah. I've been one kind of doctor or another since I was six.

CASS: What?

AGNES: Now hold still, this is antiseptic.

CASS: Since you were six!? I...shit, wait, hang on, Agnes—

AGNES pressess the rag onto CASS’ shoulder wound, and CASS winces instinctively. But, confusingly, there isn’t any pain.

CASS: ...isn't this supposed to sting like hell?

AGNES: No, not really. It's an acetic acid solution. Vinegar, basically.

AGNES begins cleaning the wound with the rag.

CASS: I thought you put alcohol on wounds to clean them.

AGNES: That's...a common misconception. It's good for tools, maybe, but too strong for skin. And it can complicate healing if you apply it directly.

CASS: So you're telling me, all my years, I've been wasting good whiskey only making my boo-boos worse?

AGNES: I mean...it's better than nothing in a pinch, but...

CASS: Well, then. Thanks for the lecture, doc. Can you just pass the whiskey anyway? Shoulder still hurts like hell regar—

AGNES hands her the whiskey bottle. She’d already gotten it out.

CASS: —dless. Oh. Thanks.

AGNES unspools a roll of bandages in her hands, then begins wrapping it over CASS’ shoulder and across her chest..

AGNES: So. It's a relatively minor wound, more of a deep graze than a real gunshot.

CASS: You'd know all about real gunshots, huh?

AGNES (unfazed): Uh-huh. I can suture it if necessary, but for now, these bandages will be fine. Just hold still. How do you feel?

CASS: I feel fucking pissed, Agnes!

AGNES recoils, taken aback slightly.

CASS: As I was saying before I got shot in the shoulder—which, however "minor" the wound, is real fucking close to my head, Agnes—this wasn't some random attack. These caravans, my caravan, got hit by the Van Graffs and Crimson Caravan. It ain't just some tragedy anymore. Now I've got names. Places. Faces.

AGNES resumes bandaging CASS.

CASS: I told you—ow! Don't pinch my tit, dammit—

AGNES: I said hold still.

CASS: —I told you, when you told me about this guy who shot you...when I let you drag me out of that fucking outpost...and when we went to Boulder City...that I would do the exact same thing in your shoes. Now, it is the exact same thing. This fucker shoots your eye out, these fuckers ash my caravan...these same fuckers I sold my own goddamn name to on a piece of paper. I mean...what else are we doing out here, Agnes? Getting shot at by Khans and Raiders just for kicks? Are we just fucking around?

AGNES finishes bandaging CASS, then leans back, pensive.

AGNES: No...no, I really guess we’re not.

CASS: That's what I thought. Your friend in Vegas can wait. Help me get mine, and we can get that shitheel together, and that's a prom—

CASS raises her arm  to shake her fist as she speaks, straining her shoulder injury.

CASS: —mmmmmmghhhh. Ooww, oww, oww, oww...

CASS grabs her shoulder in pain while AGNES looks off in the distance and stands up. She looks out towards the horizon—towards VEGAS, and the pre-war casinos and hotels that still gleam and glitter in blinding sunlight.

Her fist clenches. Her brow furrows. Her body tenses, all over, staring at that city, that place.

The caravan wreckage remains alone on the highway, brahmin bones long picked clean by scavengers.

AGNES SANDS IN: IT KEEPS RIGHT ON A HURTIN’

VOLUME 2: MAKE IT BIG IN VEGAS

[det-loki]

poison & wine pt. one

 “I know everything you don’t want me to.”

warnings: angst, cursing

pairing: detective loki x fem reader

word count: 1,378

A/N: I’ve read and reread what seems like every detective loki fic and I’ve decided it’s my turn. I’m still relatively new with writing series, but I’m very proud of this. Enjoy, feedback is greatly appreciated! (if you find a grammar mistake, let me know)

REWRITE MASTERLIST

⌽  2  3  4  5  6

You hated the rain. It was cold and wet, always sending a bone-chilling cold through you. It reminded you of too many bad memories. Hospitals, pain, and blood. Yet all it seemed to do in Conyers was rain.

You sat across from Loki while you were toying with your fried rice inside of the vacant restaurant. This was yours and Loki’s spot, always seeming to end up here at least once a week for the past five years. You grew to hate the food but it was a constant in yours and Loki’s life and you refused to mess that up. Too many memories have been made in this shitty restaurant, good and bad.

 Neither you nor David cared much for Thanksgiving and you couldn’t be bothered to cook for just the two of you. It was too depressing, so Chinese food it was. The waitress came to your table with the check and hot tea, Loki reaching for the check before you could. Not once has he ever let you pay for a meal. Even when he could barely afford socks. 

“Happy Thanksgiving, detectives.” You wondered if she was waiting on you two to leave for her to go home to relax and celebrate the holiday. You felt bad, considering you and Loki were the only ones there, like usual.

Loki mutters a ‘thanks’ into his coffee cup before continuing, “Do you have any of the fortune-cookie things?”

The waitress looks at Loki with a smirk, “My boss told me cops don’t like fortune cookies.” Classic. 

David looks down at the zodiac placemat, “What year were you born? Are you a dragon, or a snake, a horse, or a sheep?”

“I’m a monkey.” The waitress ogled David who was barely paying attention to her. You knew he would never act on her advances, he was too caught up in whatever the two of you were. Lovers, roommates, co-workers, family. He was everything to you and vice versa. 

Both you and Loki look down to read, Loki responds, “Oh, you’re a monkey. You’re very intelligent. You have the ability to influence people. Think maybe you could influence your boss to lower the check a little bit?” He was flirting. Sometimes you thought that he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. It’s how he charmed you all those years ago. Both of you young and dumb; too young to know any better or any different.

The waitress brings you out of your head, “No, I cannot. My boss is a rooster.”

Again, both you and Loki look down to inspect as the waitress walks away. Selfish and eccentric. Nice, reminds me of Captain O’Malley.

Loki looks at you with a genuine smile before asking, “What’s your zodiac? I forget.” You loved it when he smiled, he didn’t do it enough. You couldn’t really blame him though, neither did you. 

“Well, considering it’s tattooed on your hand, I feel like you should remember. I’m a horse also a cancer, whichever way you want to look at it.” He had gotten the tattoos a month after it.

Loki laughs and looks down again, “Energetic, passionate, and aspirant. I’d say that’s pretty accurate for you.”

You laugh, “Yeah, what’s yours?” You already knew the answer, it was tattooed into your skin years ago along with two other zodiac symbols next to it. Never allowing you to abandon Conyers or David. You were forever tied to it all, inked permanently.

Loki looks at you, his eyes teasing, “I’m gonna give you the same line. Considering it’s tattooed on your collarbone, I feel like you should remember.”

Before you could respond, both yours and Loki’s phones interrupt with a call. Two missing girls, fuck.

The rain is coming down in sheets as you step out of Loki’s car. You pull your raincoat tighter as you follow David to the RV that was called in surrounded by cops at the edge of the woods.

You take your radio out of your pocket, “13-40 and 13-43 engaging with the suspect. Be advised.”

You creep along with Loki towards the RV as the driver revs the engine, tail lights flashing red against you. The RV violently backs up, Loki instructing everyone to not shoot. The driver changes gears, driving forward and slamming into a tree. You advance forward, gun in hand along with a flashlight. Arriving at the door of the RV, Loki takes your flashlight, “Stay here, keep watch.”

Loki entered the vehicle while you and other officers stood by, waiting. The door opens violently, Loki throwing the suspect out. The man stumbles as Loki takes hold of his jacket, dragging him further into the woods. You followed silently, letting David handle him. He never was gentle with cases when children were involved.

Loki yelled at the man with no response, only a blank stare. David shoved him forward, falling at your feet, “What the fuck is this guy on?”

 You take his forearm and haul him to his feet, instructing an officer to take him to the station while David called out for someone to call PSP. This case was already bad. Fear, and pain already settling into your bones. 

You sat in the interrogation room while Loki had the suspect, Alex Jones, backed against a corner. The interrogation had been going on for 2 hours and nothing useful has been said and Loki was getting impatient. You could see it in the way he squinted his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. He needed a break before he exploded.

“Detective, let me try. Take a break.” Loki looks over his shoulder at you, frustrated. He knew you were right but he didn’t want to give up. With a hard sigh, he left the room. Alex visibly relaxed as Loki left.

You had your suspicions about Alex’s cognitive abilities by the way he was speaking, you wouldn’t be able to confirm until the psychologist arrived. Your best bet was to speak as if you were speaking to a child, “Alex, would you like to sit down with me?”

Alex nodded his head, slowly shuffling towards the chair sat across from you. He visibly trembled as he sat down.

“Alex, is it okay with you if I ask you some questions?”

Alex only nodded, “What were you doing today with the RV?”

Alex speaks softly, voice cracking, “Just driving.”

You sigh, “Yeah, I like drives. Was today a special day to drive?” You did not like drives, you preferred not to. David had always been the driver between the two of you. 

Alex shakes his head no. You couldn’t help but feel bad for the boy. He had no idea what was going on, however, you quickly shoved that thought down, he was a suspect in the case of two missing little girls.

“Okay Alex, I’m going to step out for a minute to give you a break, I know this is all different and scary. Let me know if you need anything.” With that, you left the room. You turned towards the interrogation viewing room door where you knew Loki already was watching your questioning.

As soon as you step foot in the room, Loki snaps at you, “What was that? You were too soft, we won’t get anywhere with that.”

You scoff. David was good at his job but he had a habit of going too far, “No, I wasn’t. You scaring him speechless isn’t going to get us anywhere either. Let me do my job the way I need to and I’ll let you do yours.”

Loki knew you were right so instead of protesting, he went to go talk to the forensics team, leaving you alone in the room with your thoughts. This case was going to be bad for the both of you, you already knew that. You needed to keep your head on straight and keep composure, if you didn’t, this case was going to consume and eat you alive. It was bound to happen, your good luck as partners was going to run out one day and you hoped this case wasn’t it. 

You walk back to your desk in hopes to find David when you look outside to see it’s still raining. Stupid fucking rain. 

Taglist: @lexie-wayland  @whew-oh-em-gee​ @winterlavenderskysworld​ @buck-this-nasty @heeyirenee 

[nafeary]

Napoleon, Theo, Dazai, and Jean reacting to College Student!MC Stressed by Deadlines

Requested by @hqissodelicate:

hey toni boo, sara/delicateikemenmemes here ❤ i've been Going Through It with school 😔 so i was thinking of how my boos napoleon, theo, dazai & jean would react to MC who's a (stressed, exhausted) student who got yeeted to the mansion in the midst of a bunch of deadlines? thank you boo & i hope you're drinking your water 💙😤

✧✎ A/N: I’m sorry it took me this long to finish... but this was super fun to write and it helped me get back into writing after such a long break due to school bs. I’m not too satisfied with Dazai’a and the haphazard scenario/headcanons mush, but I still quite like this I think. Thank you for the request dear! Take care and drink water, everyone!

Warnings: Stress and mild mentions of anxiety, and like one mention of sexual intercourse

Napoleon Bonaparte

“You’re just a chore, after all.”

You whirled around. “Don’t act like your job is going to be that hard,” you could only scoff in annoyance, “I’m going to be inside my room all day, anyway.”

At first, Napoleon was slightly confused by your statement. Wouldn’t you want to explore this new world at all? But according to code, he’d just smirk and go (sleep) do smth

And true to your statement, you did stay inside your room for the most part

It’s not like your quadrillion essays would write themselves

It’s not like your college would just excuse your tardiness

It’s not like—

“Nunuche, you sure you don’t need a break from... whatever you’re doing?”

Napoleon was quite suddenly standing besides you, trying to read the mess that you’ve created.

“And who gave you permission to enter?”

“Me, obviously. I did have the impression that you were in danger, judging from the amount of curses I perceived.”

You could have died from embarrassment. Of course he had to hear your yells of frustration, stemming from the fact that your laptop was out of order, that you had no idea how to use ink properly, and—

“Have you realised that you regularly zone out?”

“I suppose? But if you wouldn’t mind, I really need to finish...” you trailed off, gesturing to the papers in front of you.

However, at his inquisitive gaze, you decided to explain that these were essays that could very well decide how you’d pass university, and, upon further inquiry, elaborated how a modern student’s life looked like

He never interrupted you unnecessarily, only to ask questions when a concept was too modern for him to comprehend

Your cursed assignments certainly made your life in the past harder to enjoy, but it also brought you and the emperor closer than ever

Unable to access the internet—or visit the college library—you had no proper sources for you references (considering that Comte’s library had no modern content, naturally)

You also didn’t want to bother Sebastian, especially since him and Comte had shown so much understanding for your peril that they practically forbid you from helping him out around the mansion

Their reasoning didn’t make you feel less bad though

Hence, you only had one option left that could complete your last essay

Which oh-so conveniently encompasses the Napoleonic Wars, something you truly did not want to burden him with

“Napoleon? Remember those essays that I have to finish for my university courses?”

“Of course.”

You were twiddling your thumbs, contemplating whether your grades are worth revisiting unpleasant memories, aka the taboo of the mansion

Abruptly, he grabbed your cheeks with just enough force to turn you away from looking at your feet, but not enough to inflict pain. “If there is anything I can help you with, I’d never shy away from it.”

Begrudgingly, you inquired him about his reign with as little focus on the gruesome details as possible your professor be damned

And holy shit, he’s amazing at writing? And Not just cringey love letters? Panty Sniffer Napoleon brrrrr

As you grew closer, he’s spoil you with vitamin-rich snacks (going as far as asking Arthur and Sebastian for medical advice)

He enjoys carving cute shapes out of fruits and eggs because he knows that their and his adorable presence will prompt the perfect amount of distraction to allow a small moment of rest

Says that it’s his duty as your guard and boyfriend to take care of your overworking habits

Expect frequent complaints from your beau, ranging from “how could they assign so many essays? Aren’t students just humans, too?” to “‘Reasons Why Edison Is Better Than Newton’? Do they even know what they’re talking about? Tch!”

Theodorus Van Gogh

You gleefully indulged in his charades for the first few days. They were a welcome distraction from your college work, after all

But the procrastination was accompanied by guilt, your anxiety building up every second you spent helping Sebastian with the chores, and gallivanting around town with Theo

A week passed before your sense of responsibility finally kicked in. So when Sebas came to wake you up just as the sun peaked past the horizon, you were already scribbling away on some sheets you’d found in your drawers

“Ah, good morning, Sebastian-san.”

“Good morning... what are you writing, if I may ask?”

“Just some essays for my college courses...” you said, glancing dejectedly at your notes.

Now that you didn’t have access to the internet, and your laptop’s battery was all used up, it made your work all the more tedious, but you had to set your teeth and do this.

“Give me 10 minutes, and I’ll join you in the kitchen.”

He had wanted to argue, but you didn’t let him. And when he saw you leaving the house with Theo later in the afternoon, he could only shake his head.

You felt like you owed the art dealer, especially since you blurted out his secret the literal next moment, so you committed to helping him while also keeping up with your work

Although, him calling you dog wasn’t nice either—even though, according to Sebas’ explanation, Hondje wasn’t exactly the equivalent to mutt

That cycle continued for days. Helping out around the mansion, getting pulled around by Theo, and writing your essays deep into the night

Not to mention all the worries that pressured your shoulders further and further into the ground

You were missing so many group project deadlines, disappointing people that relied on you... it was safe to say that sleep did not come easy, if barely

Just before you arrived at your room after a late night art exhibit did your body decide to fail you, tripping over nothing multiple times.

It prompted Theo to call you out before you could even think of rushing past the door, steadying you with a hand more gentle than you had ever experienced it to be.

“Sebas informed me that you’ve been working yourself to death.”

You silently cursed the butler. “I haven’t—“

“Give me your laptop.”

Perplexion ran across your mien, wondering how he could possibly have remembered such a modern detail from your countless rambles. “It’s batt— it doesn’t work right now, so it’s not like it would stop me from working.”

Arguing with the devil was a mistake.

He snaked his arms around you, holding the door handle in place with one hand while the other still kept you upright. “I don’t care whether you work or not, I’m not your mother. And regardless of its abilities, hand it over, knabbletje.”

What other choice did you have but to comply?

He ordered—yes, ordered—you to go to bed right that instant

If you hesistanly ask him to do the same (we all know what a hard worker he is), he’ll just press a guileless kiss to your forehand, telling you not to worry about him

The next morning, you were already worrying for your baby’s safety within the sadist’s hands when the devil invited himself into your room

“Ever heard of knocking?”

“Morning to you, too, Hondje.” He sent you an overly handsome smirk, handing you the laptop tucked underneath his arms. “You won’t be able to use that spider web Sebas told me about, but writing should work.”

You stared at Theo in disbelief, all the while internally laughing at him misinterpreting the World Wide Web. Deciding to trust in him, you clicked the power button. And sure enough, it sprang to life. “What... how in the world did you...”

Leo overheard you and Sebas talking about solar energy sometime… hush, just run with it

He fell into the seat next to you, propping his chin upon his fist. “I didn’t do anything. Just asked Sebas whether there was a way for you to use this. Leonardo took notice and tinkered around with it. Don’t ask—ah!”

You threw your arms around his shoulders, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “Thank you for taking care of me, Theo.”

Would you have lifted your face, then you’d have caught a glimpse of the vermillion shading his cheeks. “I didn’t do it to help you. I simply can’t risk having you become a liability at work. That’s all.”

Anyway, tsundere tendencies aside, you know what another big factor of dating Theo is?

King if you’re not allergic, understandably, if so, he’ll change his clothes before even thinking of visiting you

On days that you decide to be especially stubborn, he pulls you outside, all the whilst whistling for the jolly golden retriever

And as soon as he comes running, your mind goes brrrrr cute dog

Although, he’ll try his best not to distract you from work. He knows from personal experience that it’s a much bigger annoyance than help

Thus, he’ll certainly use his connections and amiable rip Shakes relationships with the residents to help you out with the research process

Also, with his superior memory, he knows what generally makes you happy and relaxed, so he’ll be his usual observant self to decipher just what would help you perfectly relax/finish your work

Hardworking boi, please love him

Dazai Osamu

Dazai is the type of person that doesn’t mind upsetting people and risking someone’s disdain if it supports that person in the long run

And he’s able to read people like books, so it shouldn’t be surprising that he knows you’re overwhelmed before you even realize it

You’ve been going to sleep too late and waking up too early? He’ll gently force you (if you’re 100% against it, he won’t do it ofc) to sleep beside him, making sure that you won’t rise with the sun for once

You’ve been exposing your wrist to heavy sprain? He’ll teach you some handy-dandy 5 Min Crafts techniques that are guaranteed to send your hands on a vacation

You've been suffering from writer’s block? Time to go on a lovely stroll through nature with your boo

Your shoulders and neck are hurting beyond sanity? He swears by hot springs, so the thermae is his go-to for when you need to relive some muscle kinks

He never fails to procure the perfect amount of bubbles and temperature. And depending on how comfortable you are with it, he’ll offer to wash your hair.

And since dude got Disney princess hands, you most probably fall asleep, but our man is there to hold you above the water

His bare thighs are an added bonus, sending your mind into spirals faaaar away from college work

After you’re done bathing, he’ll ask you whether you’d like him to braid your hair (if it’s long enough), and his Disney princess hands will not disappoint

In the beginning, it was incredibly vexing to have a security cam in the form of a handsome man always on the qui vive

But at some point, you started embracing Dazai’s overwhelmingly passive—you knew exactly what he was doing whenever he’d do something random—protectiveness

Especially since it didn’t only help you complete your work; on the contrary, you were always excited to spend time with the Japanese writer

But that didn’t curb your confusion at the whole debacle. Why was he this focused on your well-being?

So, you decided to confront him

“Dazai?” Once again, you were relaxing in his arms, his fingers threading through your hair lulling you into a dreamlike state.

He ticked his head to the side, pulling your entwined hands closer towards his heart. The sun streamed into the run at just the right angle, yet the golden light was not as bright as his vivid citrine orbs.

You sighed, unable to look at his stupid handsome face for too long. ”Why is it that you insist on taking care of me?”

“Someone has to, Toshiko-san.”

You’d have blurted out your feelings if it wasn’t for the sudden embrace you found yourself in. As guileless as it appeared, you knew he was trying to stop you from acting on your thoughts.

Deciding that you didn’t want to pressure him further (after all, you knew that he had a hellish first life), you accepted the unclarity of his feelings—even though his actions spoke loud enough for you to understand.

It was that day that you decided to repay him for all he’s done for you

And you wouldn’t let him yeet himself through a window in an attempt to evade the love sent his way this time

Even if it took decades, you wanted him to feel just as safe and loved as you did in his company

You were glad to have such a caring man by your side who helps you with managing you self care

You could only hope that he’d allow himself to be treated the same way

Please just take our love, boo. We love you

Jean d’Arc

Well fuck, how could he possibly help someone who’s stressed when he himself is a 24/7 McDonalds that only sells Chicken McStress?

Anywho, I feel like he’d be the complete opposite of Dazai when confronted with a stressed MC

He’d care just as much, of course, but he thinks that it would be better to give her space, since he himself understands the desire for solitude well

So yeah, I can see him not going out of his way to check up on you if you weren’t super duper close friends/lovers IF it wasn’t for his friend Napoleon

After all, it was him who gave your boyfriend a lil talk, convincing him that, perhaps even if someone needs space, they probably still need someone to look after them

Living with Jean is basically Ted Talks everyday

Anyway, he embarked on his journey to hopefully help you and and to relieve some stress that was wearing you down (according to the statement of several residents)

And, finding himself halting abruptly, our pessimistic little bean realised that he’s got zero idea what did help you attain bliss

So he opted for the next best option—things he knew that made his friends relax

Plan A

Hearing a few oddly reluctant raps on your door, you went to open it. As soon as you did, the beautiful man who’d captured your heart entered your vision, your eyes finding his amethyst ones immediately.

You two stayed like that for a moments, only breaking eye contact when he sighed and simultaneously thrusted a mug into your hand, already in the process striding back to his own room.

“Uhm… Jean? I’m a bit busy right now, but would you like to come in?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t you find it inappropriate for a man to enter your room, mademoiselle?”

“Jean,” you giggled at his archaic mindset, gently rubbing your thumb between his brows to even out the crease. “We’ve had sex before, you know. Of course you ca—“

Wrong thing to say. He stormed past you, vermillion cheeks practically leaving a trail.

Chuckling to yourself, you turned to the mug’s contents. “Hm? Hot chocolate?”

Plan B:

“If this doesn’t harbor your discomfort…” Your boyfriend reluctantly stood in your room’s corner, standing straighter than a rod.

Frankly, your essays have kept you entirely too busy, and you longed for the warmth of the French man’s feather-like embrace.

“On the contrary, I enjoy your presence.” And you went right back to scribbling away.

Jean frowned. “Haven’t you been writing stories since this morning?”

“They’re not stories… and, yeah? I believe so.”

Stepping towards your seated form, he extended his hand; you grabbed it without thinking twice. “Is everything alrig—whoa!”

With the ease of a seasoned soldier, he picked you up before haphazardly tugging you into bed with bewilderment maring your features. “You should sleep.”

“—what?”

He stared at you blankly, as if expecting you to fall into the land of dreams right that instant.

“Did something prompt,” you slipped your arms out from underneath the duvets, gesturing wildly, “this?”

It was hard to be upset with Jean, his clueless but genuine persona the reason why you fell for him, yet you couldn’t disguise the irritation coursing through your veins—you had work to return to, after all.

“I think you need to rest, mademoiselle.”

Your blinking made him avert his eyes, explaining quietly, “I am uncertain what supports your release of tension, so I thought that perhaps sleeping could help since it certainly does show affect with Napoleon.”

“Ah, and you made me hot chocolate since that’s what calms Mozart.”

After internally simping for his soft and wholesome dumbass energy, you pulled him to bed beside you, claiming that it would help you relax (but only after telling him that it was okay for him to ask for your preferences)

And falling asleep to the heartbeat underneath his broad chest is definitely a 5-star-resort vacation

He’d eventually ask his relationship advisor Napoleon whether it is okay to have you help them out with his reading/writing lessons (you

You, alongside Napoleon, steadily agreed, despite knowing that it was a ploy to keep you away from overworking

Please also love this boy, thanks

Tag List of the most wonderful sweethearts (just message me if you’d like to be added <3): @juminly @kisara-16 @sweetlittlemouse @thesirenwashere @nad-zeta @delicateikemenmemes

[sugaxela]

AN ACCIDENTAL FIC REC LIST

So.. I’m a lurker who reads a lot of fics and I get annoyed when I can’t relocate my fave ones. I started making this list of my faves mostly for myself but then figured I’d share it...

I’m Yoongi biased and gravitate towards angst fics so it’s mostly that but there’s fics for every member tossed in here. Some of these are pretty popular so you might have seen a few. 

Also, I realized I need to read more Jin, Jimin, and Hoseok fics so if you have recommendations let me know!

Once again it’s a LOT of angst so I would just like to say... CRYING IS GOOD FOR U.

***

KSJ

Start Anew - @gukyi

Seokjin x Reader. Angst. Summary: it’s been five years since you left your hometown, vowing never to return, but a simple invitation to a christmas party and a yearning to know whether or not you’re truly over the heartbreak you left behind has you wondering if, maybe, the christmas spirit and promise of a new beginning can change your mind.

No Limit - @sailorbellewrites

Seokjin x Reader. Fluff. Summary: you and jungkook don’t even look alike. how was seokjin supposed to know you were off limits?

Lovely Little Mess - @guksheart

Seokjin x Reader. Fluff, smut. Summary: telling seokjin of your pregnancy should not be so daunting, but you hide it  as long as you can—at least until you are sitting with him in a bathtub and the secret comes spilling out. 

No Parking - @jungshookz

Seokjin x Reader. Fluff. Summary: “to the asswipe who owns this mini cooper - do you know how to read signs? this is a no-parking zone. no. parking. zone. that means you are not allowed to park in this zone. DO NOT park here.” (also I made up the title bc it doesn’t have one)

MYG

Seasons Change - @taetaesbaebaepsae

Yoongi x Reader. Angst. Summary: Min Yoongi and you, through the seasons, break up and come back together. Nobody said love was easy.

I’ll Float Away - @ppersonna

Yoongi x Reader. Angst. Summary: years after the breakup, yoongi, a successful award-winning rapper with an unhealthy addiction, finds your wedding invite on Facebook.

Memory Lane - @hayjeon

Yoongi x Reader. Fluff. Summary: grumpy husband yoongi au aka lots of fluff (mentions of sex)

Do It Again - @kimnjss

Yoongi x Reader. Angst. Summary: months after deciding to end their three year long relationship, a sex tape hits the internet. fans go wild speculating that rap star, min yoongi and aspiring model, yn are the stars. old feelings arise as the couple try to figure out a way out of this.

Cuddles and Kittycats - @dinoyoongi

Yoongi x Reader. Fluff, angst. Summary: After a night of drinking, you go to Yoongi’s dorm for some quality cuddles. Unfortunately, you’ve forgotten that you are currently giving him the silent treatment.

Overstayed Welcome - @kkaep-jjjang

Yoongi x Reader - Fluff, smut. Summary: Y/N decides to get over her crush by getting under someone else. Sounds fool proof right? Wrong.

Ghosted - @bloomsuga

Yoongi x Reader. SM AU. Summary: your new roommate is everything you could ask for: quiet, never makes messes, a killer dry sense of humor... and oh yeah—he’s dead.

Wildest Moments - @joonbird

Yoongi x Reader. Angst. Summary: “Min Yoongi is forbidden territory. And although you both know better, the two of you just can’t seem to stay apart.”

Romance is Dead - @dinoyoongi

Yoongi x Reader. Angst, fluff. Summary: You try to surprise Yoongi with a night full of romance but he manages to ruin all of your plans.

Fools Rush In - @sailorbellewrites

Yoongi x Reader. Drabble series. Summary: min yoongi, music executive and perpetual bachelor, marries a las vegas stripper he’s only known for six months. chaos ensues.

Pretend - @gimmesumsuga

Yoongi x Reader. Angst. Summary: “You know what they say: the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?” 

Aquiver - @floralseokjin

Yoongi x Reader. Idol AU. Summary: Yoongi can’t remember the last time he was able to successfully bring himself to the point of orgasm, then Namjoon gives him a business card advertising ‘Healing Hands’, and that’s where he meets you; pretty and innocent looking, who gets paid to provide hand jobs for a living…

Hidden Stars - @jungblue

Yoongi x Reader, Jungkook x Reader. Angst. Summary: It started out simple, but when your feelings start to grow for the idol who isn’t allowed to date, things get complicated.

Talk To Me - @btsrpp

Yoongi x Reader. Fluff, angstyish. No summary. But it involves a silent treatment.

No Title - @jungxk

Yoongi x Widow!Reader. Angst. No summary.

JHS

Hobi’s Girl - @v-hope

Hoseok x Reader. SM Au. Summary: after attending a bts concert and very clearly catching one of the members’ attention, you can’t help but get flooded with hate comments once people find your twitter account. who would’ve thought that would be the reason jung hoseok would find his concert girl, too.

Bloom - @jungxk

Hoseok x Reader. Smut. Summary: you’ve always had a crush on hobi and he’s always handled that gently. what he can’t handle is you now, nine years later. 

Blue Side - @minyoongone

Hoseok x Reader. SM AU. Summary: when you get a text from a heartbroken boy who you mistake for your ex

KNJ

Confirm or Deny - @dinoyoongi

Namjoon x Reader. Angst. Summary: You’re a member of the rising group FRNZEE. You’ve been dating Namjoon for years when Dispatch releases an article exposing your relationship. Your company confirms the relationship. Big Hit denies it.

You’ve Got That - @mikrksmos

Namjoon x Reader. Angst. Summary: After making a life-changing decision for your career, you’re unsure of how exactly to bring it up to your boyfriend after your relationship and communication has not really been in sync. Namjoon is ready to take this relationship to the next stage, and he is sure that what he needs to ask you will be the solution to all the problems you have been having. Both know this next move is the right idea, but are unaware of how parallel those ideas really are.

Duck and Cover - @versigny

Namjoon x Reader. Fluff. Summary: There were two things you never dreamed would become your biggest worries with your new job: Kim Namjoon, and that god damn camera.

Inked - @1997jk

Namjoon x Reader. heavy angst, slow burn, soulmate au. (no summary).

Try Me - @jjkfire

Namjoon x Reader. Fluff. Summary: You wanted nothing more than to leave behind your old self when you graduated from high school and moved on to college to play rugby but when you see your high school classmate, resident fuckboy and captain, Kim Namjoon, at the rugby department orientation, you feel like everything might fall apart.

Stitches - @glassbangtan

Namjoon x Reader. Angst. Summary: People always said getting married at a young age was a mistake - could they have been right?

All In - @kookiesjoonies

Namjoon x Reader. SM AU. Summary: you aren’t usually one to give out your number to strangers (let alone customers), but after you start talking to Namjoon and getting to know him, you decide that there’s no way you’re going to let him leave without it. however, he fails to mention that he’s one of the most popular rappers in South Korea. and it just so happens that one of your best friends ends up with an extra ticket to one of his shows. 

PJM

Come Home to Me Darling - @roses-ruby

Jimin x Reader. Angst. Summary: Jimin cheats and you try to make him stay. But whatever you do, it’s never enough.

Attention and Care - @your-daily-biaswrecking

Jimin x Reader. Fluff, angstish. Summary: Jimin must be the only person in the world who complains about his girlfriend not complaining... When Amy doesn't pester him to come home early (like the rest of the members) he starts thinking she might not care for him as much.

Daisies - @silverlightqueen

Jimin x Reader. SM AU. Summary: You’ve had a long-running feud with fellow idol Park Jimin, saving all the anger and bitterness for the yearly award shows and shooting each other a few dirty looks, not bowing when you walk past each other, or just generally throwing shade. After one particularly obvious encounter between the two of you, the fans start to notice, just in time for The Rose Tour!

Doubt - @heartkook

Jimin x Reader. Fluff, angst. Summary: Jimin gets jealous of your relationship with Jungkook, and needs reassuring that he’s the only one you love.

KTH

Of Lace and Lust - @hobidreams

Taehyung x Reader. Smut. Summary: friendship rule number one: don’t imagine how amazing your best friend’s cock would feel inside you. except that’s all you can think about after accidentally discovering taehyung’s kink for panties. specifically, the lacy ones you’re so fond of wearing. 

Queen Cobra - @fantasybangtan

Taehyung x Reader. Gang AU. Summary: when your boss offers the chance to take down the nation’s most lucrative gang from the inside out, you know you’ll do it no matter what the cost… even if that means entering an arranged marriage with the kingpin himself.

See You - @gimmesumsuga

Taehyung x Reader. Smut. Summary: The one where Taehyung notices you at a concert, and can't help but want to see you again.

Who Cares? - @floralseokjin

Taehyung x OC. Angst. Summary: what happens when Taehyung falls for someone who’s already taken? Can he control his feelings or will they take over and render him powerless? In the end is it all her fault or his…?

Color of Your Shirt - @firebettercallnct

Taehyung x Reader. SM AU. Summary: when you're close to your soulmate your shirt changes to their favorite color. yn hates taehyung's favorite color.

JJK

Comfort Inn Ending - @joonbird

Jungkook x Reader. Angst. Summary: “It was you who Jungkook gave his heart to- that is, until the day you broke it. And it is you now, hoping that some faultlines can be repaired, and that some broken hearts can be put back together again.”

After I Left You - @latetaektalk

Jungkook x Reader. Angst. Summary: “when you decided to meet up with taehyung for dinner to reconnect, you didn’t expect to see jungkook, your ex, on a date with his current girlfriend and not to mention, end up fake dating taehyung.”

Rattled - @gukslut

Jungkook x Reader. Genre: Single dad AU, Angst, Healing, E2L, F2L, Smut. (no summary)

Risk It - @kookiesjoonies

Jungkook x Reader. Sm Au. Summary: a drunken text ends with you wrapped up in the arms of your ex-boyfriend. aka the man that you dumped two years prior, after he refused to marry you. suddenly, all of the feelings that you’d seemingly had buried come rushing back up to the surface, and you’re not sure how long you can ignore them.

Damn the Delivery Boy - @deerguk

Jungkook x Reader. Fluff. Summary: Jeon Jeongguk is a computer science major working as a pizza delivery boy, and you are an uninspired published author who has just started an art degree. When you realise that the delivery boy is your old high school crush, he keeps coming back, but with more to offer than just puff pastry and vegetarian supreme. Though little did he know that he would end up giving you something much more that flips both of your worlds completely upside down in the form of two blue lines and nine months.

One Thing Right - @hobios

Jungkook x Reader. Angst, fluff. Summary: desperate to get your ailing mother into the best care possible, you ask your childhood friend turned enemy to marry you for his health insurance benefits. the only problem is it’s illegal. and he’s the sheriff. and you swore to hate him since the day he broke your best friend’s heart.

Hidden Stars - @jungblue

Jungkook x Reader, Yoongi x Reader. Angst. Summary: It started out simple, but when your feelings start to grow for the idol who isn’t allowed to date, things get complicated. 

Tamped - @chimoona

Jungkook x Reader. Smut, fluff. Summary: You and your business partner/best friend Jin have struggled to find good help to run your coffee shop. Employee after employee, it just never worked out. However, Jungkook is determined to impress and deliver. He wants this more than ever, and it always feels good to want something. To need, well, that’s even better.

Strawberry Kisses - @kimnjss

Jungkook x Reader. SM AU. Summary: an online dating app pairs him with the perfect girl. the two quickly start falling for each other and when things are getting good, he finds out she’s his best friend’s little sister.

Crush - @jungxk

Jungkook x Reader. Fluff, light angst. No summary, amnesiac jk.

Look Alive - @jamaisjoons

Jungkook x Reader. Angst. Summary: a year after you and jungkook break up, the two of you meet at your brother’s party.

***

I got a lot of these from some fic rec master lists.

Here’s a namjoon angst master list by @bts-ficrecs

Also this bts fic rec list by @platinumjeon

An infidelity list by @hellreads

Fic-Recs by @joonapeach

Top fics compilation by @xjoonchildx

There’s more but I’ll add those when I find them, and I’ll either update this list or make a new one when I have enough new fics.

[acciomalfoy]

fool’s gold (cedric diggory x reader)

summary: you’ve been best friends forever, and valentines hasn’t meant much until now

a/n: GO FOLLOW @fromashescomephoenixes THIS IS YET ANOTHER COLLAB WITH HER!!!!! FOLLOW NOW AND CHECK OUT HER FICS!!!

-

“I’m still not happy with you,” I said, and Cedric only laughed. “Stop laughing!” I scowled, and he swung an arm around me.

“The tournament is well and truly over, Y/n, and you never have to go in the Black Lake again.” He grinned at me, and I only scowled.

“You could’ve gotten killed, or worse, lost the tournament!” As a member of Slytherin, winning is absolutely everything. Maybe Ced dying was a tad worse.

“But I won.” His shit-eating grin said it all, and I whacked his shoulder. 

“Get off of your high horse.” I shook my head, and he stood up. For some reason he had taken to sitting at the Slytherin table during meals, not that I was about to complain. 

“Look’s like Sprout’s about to charge me, I’ll see you in potions?” He asked, and I nodded. Potions was definitely my favourite class, and it had nothing to do with a greasy haired git, but everything to do with the golden boy I sat next to.

“See you then.” Not a second after he left Eleanor Flint clutched my shoulder.

“You’re totally dating! When did he ask you out? Was it right after Chang dumped him, or did he wait a while? Waiting is totally more classy, but I can see Diggory not wanting to wait.” Eleanor babbled, and I stared at her.

“We aren’t dating, and nor does he want to.” I said, but as soon as the words left my mouth I knew I had made a mistake.

“But you want to.” El screeched, and I quickly covered her mouth with my hand.

“No! Cedric still likes Cho, I’m certain of it.” I said, and El pushed away my hand.

“Rumour has it she broke up with Diggory because you were in the lake and not her. If Diggory liked her more than you she would have been in the lake.” El was batshit crazy, I was positive.

“I was in the lake because I’ve been best friends with Ced since first year. I’m not listening to this, El.” I stood up quickly, and before she could continue arguing with me I speed walked my way out of the Great Hall. Good thing too, since I realised that I had left my advanced potions textbook in my dorm. 

The dungeons weren’t too far from the Great Hall, and I made it there in what I would consider record-timing. My textbook was on my desk, and it wasn’t until I was leaving did I see the note on my bed. 

I gingerly picked up the note, all too aware of how the Weasley twins had it out for the Slytherin house, and froze.

I’m like a crow on a wire, you’re the shining distraction that makes me fly.

I spun around the room, as if the writer of the notes would be standing in front of me, but the room was still, void of life aside Eleanor’s plant that was bordering death anyway.

I shook my head and stuffed the note in one of my robe pockets. I really didn’t have time to contemplate shit like this. With my potions book in my bag, I turned and left the dorm, soon entering the common room and eventually the hallways of the dungeons. I didn’t have to go far, since the potions room was only a couple corridors over. I slid into my seat seconds before Snape swept into the room, and I looked at Cedric who was already staring at me.

“What?” I whispered, and he looked at Snape before replying.

“Where were you?” He asked, and I pulled out my quill, ink pot, and finally some parchment.

My dorm, why?

You left the hall in a rush. Why’d you go to your dorm?

I forgot my potions book. Besides, El was killing me and I had to get out of there.

He nodded thoughtfully, and I decided to listen to Snape for once in my life. Anything to keep my mind occupied.

Later that afternoon, we were sat in the dark, stuffy tower for divination. The scent of lavender and peppermint was already overcoming my senses to cloud my mind and make me feel extremely sleepy. According to Trelawny peppermint was meant to sharpen seeing abilities, however I’m not sure anything can sharpen the non-existent...

Luckily, this was another class with Cedric. Merlin knows why we chose to continue it after OWLs, but I suppose that’s the Slytherin in me again: proving I can do it, and do it best.

Right as I’m preparing to drift into my sleepy daze, Ced nudges me. 

“Trelawny. Five o’clock,” he mouths, nodding his head in the direction of my left shoulder.

“Hello dears!” She springs up, slightly like a jack in a box. I entertain the thought of telling her so, but she cuts me off as I open my mouth.

“Have you seen anything in your teacups yet?” She questions, staring at us in a way that is a touch too dramatic for my taste. 

“Erm, yes.” I respond, trying to save Cedric’s skin since he just saved mine. Grabbing his emerald green tea cup, I grasp the golden yellow handle, and twist it three times. I’m not sure why... it just seemed right.

I glance at my book, but decide to wing it. 

“I see a knight- or er. Perhaps a hero?” Trelawny nods, her eyelids fluttering as she rests them close and furrows her brow. 

“No, it’s a knight in shining armour.” I nod, settling on this seeing. Cedric glances up slightly at the word ‘shining’ but shrugs it off quickly. He smirks at me,

“Oh, and what does that symbolise y/n?” His eyes flash slightly with mischief.

“It means you should keep your big mouth shut!” I glare at him, but can’t help cracking into a smile after a moment in his laughing gaze.

“Well dears,” Trelawny chirps at us, grabbing for the cup. “Indeed! I see...”

She gasps as I lazily flick my wand to float the cup off of the ground. I still wish I had remembered this trick when we were working with crystal balls...

“Oh Professor!” I groan miserably, despite the traces of thick sarcasm. “Please don’t say I’m due to die,” I throw myself back in my chair while Cedric tries to hold in a snort.

“I’m afraid you are my dear, in a most unfortunate incident involving a revolving door and a popsicle...”

—

“Charms is the worst.” Cedric groaned from beside me, and I nodded. Charms was fucking boring is what it was.

“Flitwick said it was a practical today.” I remembered, and Cedric brightened up considerably.

“About connecting minds?” He asked, and I nodded.

“I think so, partners?” I answered and asked, but I already knew what Cedric was going to say.

“Howdy.” He tipped an imaginary hat at me, and I sniggered.

“Attention seventh years! I’d like you all to get into pairs, and I will form the mind connecting spell. It will last for just one minute, and there may be minor discomfort as the minute comes to a close. Jordan and Berg, you’re first up.” Flitwick began the charm on the first Hufflepuff and Slytherin duo, and they laughed excitedly as the charm went into effect.

“Diggory and L/n, let’s get to it. Face one another and stare into each other’s eyes.” Flitwick instructed, and Ced beamed at me as we stared at each other.

“Now hold each other’s hands, please.” I felt myself growing sweaty at the thought, but Cedric took my hands with ease, and without breaking eye contact.

His grey eyes were more startling than ever, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell the pretty boy was thinking.

“Ut copulare,” Flitwick began murmuring until out of the corner of my eye I watched a flying wand hit the professor. “Oh!” Flitwick let out a startled cry, and Cedric and I nodded simultaneously as we broke eye contact to stare at him.

“Uh oh.” He tittered nervously, and I swallowed. The last time I heard a professor say uh oh was when Slughorn brewed a de-aging potion and it exploded on one of my classmates, rendering them to infancy for a good three weeks. Rumour had it she still used the pacifier from time to time.

“Do you feel okay?” Flitwick asked, and I nodded.

“I feel fine, Professor. In fact, I’ve never felt better.” This was a lie. I had woken up with a knot the size of a rats nest in my hair this morning, as well as having forgotten to do the potions homework last night. However, my teacher looked relieved, so I smiled at him.

“Same here.” Cedric added, and Flitwick sighed.

“Just in case the spell worked, I won’t be able to perform another one on you until at least a week from now.” Flitwick said, and with that he moved to another pair.

“Well I’d say that went well.” Cedric said, and I snickered.

“About as well as your date with Cho.” I was talking about his final date with Cho, which ended in her pouring a milkshake on his head. 

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, and I stuck my tongue out. 

—

“Salazar, what’s the reasoning for all these decorations?” I asked as we left charms. Pink and red decorations hung from ceiling to floor, and it was then that I realised it was Valentines next week.

“Every year the house elves go overboard. We should talk to them about it sometime.” Cedric wrinkled his nose, and I nodded. This was just too much.

“What’s going on over there?” I pointed to a circle that had formed, and it looked like two people were in the centre of it.

“Only one way to find out.” Cedric said, and we slowly approached it. Adrian, a fellow Slytherin, nodded at me.

“What’s going on?” I asked him, and he gestured to the pair inside the circle.

“They’re trapped until they kiss, because a rose fell from the ceiling right in front of them. It’s magically binding, so we could be here a while.” Adrian explained, and I tugged on Cedric’s arm.

“Did you hear that? It’s like mistletoe, they can’t leave til they kiss. It only happens when two people are in love.” I repeated, and Cedric nodded as we walked away from the circle.

“I barely survived the mistletoe.” Cedric said with a shiver, and I laughed as I remembered the girls that had chased Cedric down while waving mistletoe. It had been a sight for sore eyes.

“It’s okay, Ceddie. Time for lunch!”

—

“Could we maybe eat by the lake?” He asked, already having dodged three eager third years. The Great Hall was as busy as ever, and I noticed I myself was subject to several glares.

“I suppose.” I dramatically consented, grabbing two pumpkin pasties and some carrots with hummus from the nearest table. “Let’s go,” I led the charge. 

A particularly determined looking Goyle stood directly in my path, stationed by a suspicious rose. I debated how best to get around, when I felt my feet lift off of the floor altogether.

“Cedric!” I shouted as I was levitated a good ten feet across the hall towards the door. I could only hear Cedric’s laughter as he ran below me, and I ducked as I saw the doorway coming straight for my head.

“Mr. Diggory!” McGonagall was heard shouting across the hall, however we were already halfway to the lake.

Dissolving in a fit of laughter, we sank onto the bank of the lake. 

“Ah, back where it all began.” Cedric grinned towards me. I could think of a great deal of memories surrounding this lake, but I wasn’t entirely sure of any that had marked the beginning of something.

“What began?” I nudged him with my elbow and took a rather ‘unladylike’ bite of my pumpkin pasty.

Cerdric shrugged, and responded by taking a large mouthful of his own. He then grinned with a pumpkin paste covering his teeth.

“Ugh, you’re disgusting!” I threw a pebble at him gently. He simply transformed it into a golden finch. And so, another calm, sunny day was passed by the lake.

••••

After lunch, I took a quick trip to the dorms while Cedric was in quidditch practise. I needed to finish this potions essay, and only one person could save me.

“Come on, Y/n! You’re so slow.” Pansy teased as she speed-walked to the dorm, and I only huffed.

“These legs weren’t made for walking!” I shouted as she entered the portrait, and the only response was the faint echo of her laughter.

By the time I stepped through the portrait, the common-room was empty aside a few stray kids from the years below. I walked through the short hallway to our dorm, and Pansy was staring directly at me as I came in, a note in her hand. 

“I’m the first to admit that I’m reckless, I get lost in your beauty and I can’t see two feet in front of me.” Pansy read it aloud, and I froze.

“What the fuck is this?” She asked, and I shrugged.

“I don’t know. I got another one yesterday, I kinda forgot about it.” I explained, and Pansy raised an eyebrow.

“That’s sus, but whatever. Come on, let’s get to the library!”

—

“Holy Hippogriff!” I jumped as I felt a hard impact in my lower back. 

“You okay y/n?” Pansy frowned as I rubbed my back. I frowned back, puzzled by this unexplained pain.

“I think so? Something just hit me in the back,” I explained, glancing around for the remnants of a prank of some sort. None appeared. Pansy shrugged and returned to her potions work. I gathered my stuff, and debated where to head next. 

It was the end of the day, and I had completed all of my homework. So I was blessed with some nice free time. In a last second decision I veered towards the Quidditch pitch to meet Cedric after his practice. 

“Hey y/n!”  A sweet voice called out as I was about to duck out of the entrance hall.

“Hello Holly!” I spun on my heel. Holly was always quite nice to me, even though most of the Gryffindors avoided me. “How are you?” 

“Swell thanks,” she nodded. “Just wanted to say congrats to you and Diggory! You two are so cute together!” I blushed all the way up to my ears.

“No I-“ she was already speeding down the hall back towards the tower. I sighed and continued towards the pitch.

••••

“Y/n!” Cedric waved across the field towards me. I noticed him limping slightly, but didn’t think anything of it. 

“How was practice Ced?” I asked, and he only shrugged.

“Managed to take a bludger to the back, but it wasn’t too bad.” He said as he approached me. 

“Doesn’t look good if you’re limping. Want to go to Pomfrey’s?” I gestured towards the various windowsills side by side that was the infirmary, and Cedric shook his head.

“I’m fine, Hooch said it would be worn off by tomorrow. Did you get all your homework done?” He asked, and I saw his face flinch.

“That’s it. We’re going to the infirmary. Give me your arm. Besides, my back has been aching since the library. Maybe I can get it checked out.” He held his arm out curiously, and I wrapped it around my shoulder so I could help him put less pressure on his leg.

“Thanks, Y/n.” He said sheepishly, and I smiled at him.

“I got all my homework done, by the way. Pansy even helped me with the last part of the potions essay that we struggled to do, so I’ll explain it tonight or tomorrow.” I said, and Cedric nodded.

“Sounds good, let’s go.” 

—

“For some reason you’ve both bruised the exact same area in your lower back. Do you two have anything you’d like to share with me?” Pomfrey stared at us, and Cedric laughed.

“It's a complete coincidence!” He said, and I nodded, but I was mentally frowning.

There’s no such thing as coincidences.

—

“One day you’re going to spill the boiling water all over yourself.” I said as I watched Cedric in a feeble attempt to pour the water from 15 inches above into his teacup.

“I’m not the quidditch captain for nothing-ow!” Cedric yelped at the same time I hissed, and I quickly inspected my wrist.

“Some of it just landed on me!” I glared at him, and he stared blankly back.

“It landed on me, Y/n. You’re across the table it couldn’t have splashed you.” Cedric said slowly, and I realised my wrist was bone-dry.

“I swear to Godric I felt it hit me.” I said earnestly, and Cedric nodded.

“I don’t doubt it. Shall we go back to Pomfrey?” Cedric asked, and I shook my head.

“It’s probably nothing. Lighten up, Ced, we’re fine. We’ve got the lovely class of charms next, followed by Sprout’s endless herbology lectures.” I nudged Cedric with my elbow, but he still seemed upset.

“Hey, what’s up?” I leaned closer and murmured, and he leant his head on mine.

“What if it’s not nothing? What if we’ve been cursed somehow?” I wished I could erase the worry from his face.

“I highly doubt that. Hogwarts is one of the safest places ever, and if someone was going around cursing people we would definitely know about it.” I tried my best to reassure him, and he sighed.

“Okay, dipshit. I guess I trust you.”

— 

“Odds on you asking Sprout what the word sex means?” I asked, and Cedric laughed.

“Ten.” I looked at him in surprise. 

“You sure? That’s pretty low.” He nodded.

“Why wouldn’t I be sure?” He asked, and I snickered.

“No reason. Three, two, one!”

“Eight!” We both shouted, and I screeched with laughter. Ced was done for.

“No! Rematch!” He said desperately, and I tried to control my laughter.

“Nope! Go ask!” I put my hand over my mouth in an attempt to control my laughter again, and Cedric reluctantly raised his hand.

“Professor? I have a question.” Cedric called out, and Sprout turned around to face us.

“Yes dear?” She smiled at him, and I nudged Cedric’s leg.

“What’s sex?” The entirety of the Hufflepuff-Slytherin class erupted into screams, and Sprout gasped.

“Mr Diggory!” She exclaimed, and I genuinely thought I was going to piss myself.

“Well, as my head of house, I thought you would be the best teacher to ask.” He said, and I noticed his cheeks were bright red. He shot a glare at me before smiling innocently at Sprout. 

“If you stay after class I might be able to explain, however, we are currently in a herbology lesson!” She looked like she was about to cry, and I slapped Cedric’s arm as I laughed.

“You’re insane!” I said, and the smile he gave me made my breath get caught in my throat.

-

The next day I ran into Cedric just before potions. He was about to trip right over his own two feet, when I caught his hand. 

"Morning, clumsy!" I smirked slightly as he brushed off the imaginary dust he had acquired during his slip. 

"Morning, y/n," he mumbled, lacking his regular enthusiasm. After chatting for a minute or two he started to back away slowly. 

"Hey, I just have to run to the bathroom. I'll be back in time for class though!" He yelled over his shoulder now. He started to run down the stony corridor, however I realised after a moment that he was heading the wrong way. 

"Wait! Ced, you're heading towards the common rooms!" I tried to yell after him, but figured he'd learn it in a moment anyway. It's not like he hadn't learned this before either. He came to the Slytherin common room almost as much as I went to the Hufflepuff one. 

I followed his footsteps, figuring I would be able to talk to him on his way back. What I didn't expect was to see a single slip of parchment fluttering to the floor, and Cedric nowhere in sight. 

I bent down quickly to pick it up, crinkling the hard corners with my anxious movements. 

I’m like a boat on the water, you’re the raise on the waves that calm my mind.

It was in the same, scrawling writing as the other notes I had received, and the paper was exactly the same to all of the other's I had received. 

Was it Cedric? I flipped the paper over and looked at the blank back. He couldn't possibly love me. Could he? 

I smiled at the message, remembering when we met up over break once. We had taken his father’s boat sailing, and had somehow managed to capsize on three different occasions. I heard footsteps coming down the corridor, and I shoved the message in my pocket.

"Hey!" Cedric called out as he came near.

“Hi, Ced. Or should I say boat on the water?” I twirled the piece of paper around my fingers as he approached, and I watched as his face fell.

“That’s not mine.” He said quickly, and I raised my eyebrows.

“Hmm. If that’s true, then I better go search for my secret admirer.” I grinned as he took the bait and grabbed my hand, tugging me closer to him.

“How long have you known?” Ced asked, and I shrugged.

“I had my suspicions on Finch-Fletchley, but you proved me wrong with this note,” I laughed at Cedric’s reaction. “I’m joking of course, Ceddie. I had no idea who it was, but I’m glad it’s you.”

“Wait, really?” He seriously was the cutest. The way he was looking at me right now made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world; then again, I just might be.

“Of course I am. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been trying to drop hints for four years.” Cedric laughed at my confession, and I elbowed him.

“Oi! I was only laughing because I’ve been dropping hints for five. I figured in our last year at school I may as well confess that I’m in love with you.” My breath caught in my throat, and he raised his hand to my face only to brush a piece of hair out of my eyes.

“You’re in love with me?” I asked, and he nodded.

“It’s practically impossible not to be. Now that you know it’s me, I was wondering if you wanted to be my valentine?” Cedric asked, and a rustling from above made us look up.

A red rose had just bloomed.

-

It was valentine's day. Of course, just about everywhere was packed with starry eyed couples. We had opted to stay at Hogwarts, and have a sweet picnic together. Cedric had taken care of the setting, and I had found all of the food. 

It wasn't a bad effort. In my opinion he went slightly overboard with the pink, but I did appreciate the various hints of green he had added with the plates and napkins. Plus, I had brought plenty of food from the kitchens (which Cedric had shown me in my fourth year) 

We settled down on the edge of the lake, and I took a moment to appreciate the sunny day, and the time I could finally spend with Cedric not just as friends, but as a couple. I laid down, and gently rested my head of Cedric's lap.

"We should have done this a lot sooner," I joked, but I meant it as well. Knowing I could have been dating Cedric for months before now was a little bittersweet. I tried to remember that at least we were here now together. 

I wasn't exactly sure if I believed in soulmates, but I knew that if I had a soulmate, it would be Cedric. 

"Thank goodness you found the note I was going to hide the other day," Cedric smiled.

"That's true, you're no Gryffindor," I teased. "Thank goodness!" I stuck my tongue out in mock disgust. 

And that's when things took a turn. I watched as Cho came up to us, with a nasty frown on her face. Her frown darkened our picnic almost instantly.

“Fuck.” I breathed under my voice. What in Merlin’s name could she possibly want with me and Cedric? Obviously we were about to find out.

“Ceddie, honey!” She sang sweetly as she came closer to us. Cedric shot me a look and quickly set a reassuring, soft kiss on my lips before getting up.

“Cho. What are you doing here?” He asked, sounding incredibly confused. He rubbed his hand through his hair, anxious about her mission

“I came to rescue you!” She grinned innocently. As she reached for her hand I couldn’t help myself.

“Hey! Back off!” She shot me a burning glare, and sent a stinging spell at my wrist.

“Shit,” Cedric and I spoke in unison as we both grabbed our wrists. I muttered a healing spell or two as I glared towards Cho.

“Look, Cho, go away. Okay?” Cedric tried to kindly shoo her away. “I’m perfectly happy with y/n!” I smiled softly, glad to here Cedric say that.

“It’s okay Ceddie! I realised exactly why it was her in that lake and not me!” Cho chirrped. She sounded quite proud of herself, and I was curious what on earth she had come up with.

“Yeah, it’s because I love her!” Cedric explained. Cho let out a shrill laugh, and patted his arm.

“No silly!” She smiled sweetly, as if explaining to a young child. “You THINK you love her!” She shot another laser like look towards me.

“I’m pretty sure I know who I love Cho!” Cedric’s face began to harden as he realised this wasn’t going to be easy to brush off.

“She used a love potion on you!” Cho screeched, grabbing hold of Cedric.

“I said let go of him!” I got up off the blanket and walked over.

“She’s best in our potions class, she’s loved you since we were 13, and she’s a fucking Slytherin!” Cho explained desperately! She had small, glistening tears in her eyes now. I almost felt pity for her, but I couldn’t.

I walked over slowly, deciding exactly what I should say.

“Being a Slytherin doesn’t make me evil Cho, just like you being a Ravenclaw doesn’t make you smart!” I frowned. I hated how much the stereotypes of our houses defined us. “People aren’t able to be perfectly categorised between four groups!” Cho glared and jabbed her wand at me.

Before I realised what was happening, Cedric jumped between me and the flash of white light, but it couldn't stop the spell for some reason. I doubled over in excruciating pain that hit right around my belly button. It was as if my stomach had turned inside out and began to burn the surrounding flesh. I glanced over, and Cedric was in obvious pain as well. 

I couldn’t contain the whimper that escaped from my mouth, and Cedric met my eyes.

“How the hell did you hit Y/n with that?” He spat out, while Cho only stared at us in shock and what looked like panic. After Cedric let out what sounded like a painful groan, Cho waved her wand and relief flooded me.

“Tell me! How did you do it?” Now that he was able to stand up without pain, Cedric got incredibly close to her, towering over her. 

“I-I don’t know! You jumped in front, she must have been faking it!” I watched as Cedric lowered the manicured finger she had pointed at me, and whispered something in her ear. The effect in had on her was instantaneous; she slowly stepped away before turning tail and bolting away.

“We need to go to Pomfrey.” Cedric spoke without looking at me, though when I clasped his hand he squeezed mine tightly.

-

“I don’t know what to tell the pair of you. Have you been hit by an unknown spell in the past month or so?” Pomfrey looked tired, I noticed.

I wondered how often she slept.

“Not that I can think of.” Cedric said, and I nodded. 

“Unless someone’s hit us without us noticing, then no.” I added, and Pomfrey sighed.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with the two of you. I’ve only heard of cases like these, never seen one myself. I think there’s only been four or five documented.” She explained, causing Ced and I to exchange glances.

“Well, what happened to those people?” I asked the obvious question, since my lovely boyfriend clearly wasn’t going to. Pomfrey shifted slightly.

“One person in each pair died before a full analysis and case study could be completed.” I almost laughed at the look on Cedric’s face until I realised that one of us was totally going to die soon.

“Well, my darling, it was lovely knowing you.” I patted him on the back, and he wrapped his arms around me, encasing me with love.

“What can we do?” Cedric asked, and Pomfrey shook her head.

“Not a whole lot. Try and remember if the pair of you have been struck by a spell in the past though.” 

-

It took fourteen seconds after we left the infirmary to Cedric to slap his forehead.

“I think we’re stupid.” He said, and I raised an eyebrow.

“Speak for yourself. Personally, I’m the smartest person I know.” He snickered, and I frowned. Where was the joke?

“Flitwick hit us with that spell, remember? And the spell was interrupted halfway through, which created a new spell entirely.” Cedric explained, and I sighed.

“I think we’re stupid too.”

-

We'd spent another lovely 10 years being stupid together. Sure we'd had our ups and downs, but we always knew that we were soulmates.

 Since we had found out about the spell, we've helped Flitwick research whatever charm had put us in the situation of feeling each others pain. It was actually quite strange when I was pregnant with our son, Cedric had noticed the contractions first. 

 After spending a couple of years with Flitwick researching the spell, we'd moved to Scotland and gotten married. Life had been quite pleasant. We owned a small farm where we raised cows and hippogriffs alike. Our son was now 6 years old, and had already decided that he wanted to be in Slytherin 'Just like mummy!'  

Currently we were sitting in our favorite wizarding restaurant. I gazed over towards Cedric's kind face as he helped our son go through the maze on the children's menu. I grinned over at my two lovely boys, and nudged Cedric with my foot under the table.

"Hm?" He looked up, and our son copied him. I smiled towards them both, and silently thanked Merlin that I had these two lovely boys in my life.

"What do you want to eat?" I held up the menu, and raised my eyebrows. Cedric and our son looked at each other and then looked back towards be in sync. 

"PIZZA!" They said together. I giggled and they quickly joined in. 

Just as we share pain, Cedric and I share the multitude of joys that have bloomed in our lives. And that made the joy all the better.

[bakersstreetirregulars]

Meet Crowberry Cookie

💫 It’s time to meet the mysterious Crowberry Cookie… uh…

🕯 Everything going smooth back there?!

💫 …sorry guys, the Editor’s guild master is giving me the stare while Candlelight’s trying to give me pointers… yes I know what her story is, Radish! There’s no need to look at me like that!

🕯 Did ya forget crows and ravens are two different species of bird again?!

💫 No I didn’t! We’ll discuss those points in a bit, but I’m sure Roguefort’s willing to handle this, right?

💎 Certainly. I saw that Crowberry has an eye for jewelry, just like me… now then. On with the show. And the backstory.

If you ever happen upon a crow aimlessly wandering close by a jewel-filled treasure chest you’re about to open watch out! It might just be the shapeshifting Crowberry Cookie, looking for the next jewel to snatch! This Cookie is decorated with so many sparkling crowberries that actual crows mistake it for a piece of jewelry! Crowberry Cookie flies around in the air, only coming down to grab the next gleaming keepsake. If you take your eyes off the feathery pointed hat for a second, this Cookie is covered by large, black wings, only to be gone the next instant. All the stolen ornaments end up fancily decorating a far-away tower; however, the Cookie claims to just put them in fitting places. Even after such an unbelievable statement, you can’t seem to help to nod in agreement after seeing the Cookie’s friendly smile! Can you be sure you haven’t been put under a spell?

💎 Crowberry Cookie turns into a crow periodically, flying around towers to steal jewels. Snatching a jewel creates Jewel Shard Jellies. Stealing all three scores points based on how many jewels were stolen while also creating Crowfeather Jellies relative to the number stolen. The ability ends with Crowberry taking off on a broomstick in a short Blast.

💎 As a cunning thief, you have to exercise caution and remain undetected. If Crowberry gets caught next to a window where a Cookie is tidying up, you’ll lose all the jewels you stole so far and garner the attention of a now irate Cookie.

Crowberry’s Stats

❤️ Energy: 180 + 9 per additional level

🕰 Skill Activation Time: 36 seconds

💎 Score for Jewel Shard Jellies: 3,000 points + 10,500 per additional level

💎 Score for Stolen Jewels: 20,000 points + 70,000 per additional level

🪶 Score for Crowfeather Jellies: 1,600 points + 5,600 per additional level

🥚 Combi Bonus with Eggsquisite Brooch: +465,000 points for Jewel Shard Jellies

🕊 Combi Bonus with Peaceful Dove Bun: +198,000 points for Peaceful Jellies

💎 Using Mysterious Ornate Necklaces and Black Sugar Crystals, you can create Crowberry’s Magic Candy, which creates Golden Crowfeather Jellies that add additional points to the preexisting Crowfeather Jellies

🍬 Score Bonus for Golden Crowfeather Jellies: +104,000 points + 39,000 per additional level

Eggsquisite Brooch

While resting on a branch, Crowberry Cookie discovered a tiny egg, fast asleep. The Cookie decided to turn the egg into a brooch so beautiful, it seemed the very stars of the night sky had been embroidered onto it. Seeing as the Cookie decorated the brooch with precious feathers, it is clear this is among the Cookie’s most precious treasures of the Raven Tower.

The Brooch generates shimmering lights at given intervals, creating Jewel Egg Jellies ahead of its Cookie.

💎 Score for Jewel Egg Jellies: 2,816,000 points + 256,000 per additional level

🕰 Jewel Egg Creation Time: 17.8 seconds

Relationships

Kumiho (200): “I simply turn into what I want to look like.” (Friendly 👍)

Werewolf (300): “I have seen a beautiful wolf in the forest… That was you?” (Friendly 👍)

Wizard (450): “I was flying in the sky before you were even baked.” (Friendly 👍)

Squid Ink (600): “We both gather shiny things in our own separate places.” (Friendly 👍)

Roguefort (750): “Jewels have the right to choose their owners too.” (Tension ⚡️)

Cookiemals (850): “I’ll play with you, if you bring me shinies.” (Friendly 👍)

Candlelight (850): “Such a nice Cookie, collecting and cleaning Treasures for me.” (Friendly 👍)

💎 …well I never…! Already at ends with me? Perhaps this is why the Editor is working this late into the night. Or not.

Editor here. The app on the iOS client chose to not save my work when I was working on the relationships, so I’m now also doing some posts through the browser client. Still dunno why it gives me errors for things like that, but maybe that’s a thing for the people at Tumblr to be made aware of so they can fix it. On the bright side, I now have a new (hopefully finalized) template to work with for any new Cookies we cover in the future :)

[leomitchellart]

So… about this latest Inktober controversy….

Time to begrudgingly chuck in my two penneth… (Remeber you can always press “J” to skip this post altogether)

As most of you may or may not know, Alphonso Dunn released a Youtube video wherein he publicly accused Jake Parker, and creator of the Inktober challenge, of plagiarising his book. Both of these men are public figures, artists specialising in pen & ink. In the video Dunn looks at the preview pages and flip through footage of Parker’s “Inktober All Year Round” and says they draw many similarities in the illustrations, language and layout that he used in his own book, “Pen & Ink Drawing”. Parker’s book was set to this month. Hense why Dunn only used footage and not a physical copy.

Since the video’s release, the art community has been very spilt down the middle. The book’s publisher has halted the launch of Parker’s book until the matter can be investigated. Even DeviantArt cancelled their own Inktober event thing (I’ll admit I don’t keep up with these things DA keeps doing). Parker has since released a statement in the matter. Now it’s up to the courts to decide what’s happening next. The video itself is an hour long, but it’s crucial to see it yourself. 

People are, understandably, outraged after seeing it. This seems like a shitty thing to rip-off Dunn - not to mention stupid. Since Dunn is the more popular pen & ink artist with more social media followers and name recognition. Many have called to boycott inktober and condemn Parker. I’ll admit, I was right alongside them at first, at least for feeling outraged. The similarities are there. But if YMS’s Kimba video has taught me anything, it’s that, even if an accusation of plagiarism may be obvious at a cursory glance, sometimes it’s important to take a more critical eye and do more research to learn that things aren’t as cut and dry as they first seem. If there’s a lesson I can take away from the internet as a whole, it’s that no one thinks about the consequences of mob mentality.

The most common defence of Parker is that because they’re both books about pen and ink drawing, then they’re inevitably going to be similar. I’ll admit that, when you pick-up so many art books, a lot of them will cover the same basic grounds of materials, tutorials, strokes, techniques etc. The parts about rendering textures on spheres and cubes isnt new. Look up “texture study” and you’ll see so many examples of artists rendering these kinds of things digitally. I’ve also noticed a common theme of people more formally educated in art pointing out how none of these are original. Everything down to the steps and illustrations are things they’ve learned from years ago. Since I'm a pen & ink artist, inspired by my love of comics, I have quite a few books about inking: Dunn’s included. I own both his books and still highly recommend them. I didn't even preorder Parker’s book. Ironically because I didn't think it could offer anything new that my other books hadn’t already.

While Ethan Becker took the time to cross-examine Dunn and Parker’s books with several others, there weren’t many of the ones I actually owned. So I looked to my shelves to see what I could find. Books like:

“The Art of Comic Book Inking” by Gary Martin & Steve Rude

“How Comics Work” by Dave Gibbons & Tim Pilcher

“The DC Comics guide to Inking Comics” by Klaus Janson

“Making Comics” by Scott McCloud

“Stan Lee’s How to Draw Comics”

I’m sure there’s plenty more examples out there. I was planning to go through all of these and take pictures. But ultimately that’s not the core point of these post. Plus it would’ve taken WAY too long and this post itself, is long enough.

Of course, none of the them are 100% close to Dunn’s in the way they’re displayed. Not as close as Parker’s could be considered. That being said, I know Dunn is trying to claim that he invented these techniques. The nucleus of the issue is how similar they are in terms of order and how these pages are displayed. Some I can chock-up to standard practice, while others seem more coincidental.

If there’s one thing I’m adamant about, it’s that I think that Dunn should’ve messaged Parker first before making the accusation public. Some try to dispute that this would've made it easier for Dunn to be “silenced”, whatever that means; but that sounds a bit conspiratorial to me. Ideally, you confront him about it in private, if he makes any threats or blows you off, get your lawyer on the phone and then make the video. Not only is it the more civil thing to do - but it’s the smarter thing to do. This is a serious legal matter, not just internet drama. While I’m sure Dunn had no intention of tearing Parker down or getting a mob onto him, that’s unfortunately what’s happened. A backlash both from the general artisan community and several companies. Wherein it was left to Parker himself to make this an official legal matter. If Parker’s found not guilty, then this could easily leave the gate open for him to sue Dunn for damages, loss of revenue, defamation of character or whatever else, should he see fit. As could the publishers, given how this affected their sales. Companies responded to the accusation of the video alone, before an investigation could be launched. Sure, it wouldn't be “acting the bigger man” but he’d be well within his right to do it. Dunn showed that Jake has mentioned him before, shown admiration for his career and referenced him in other posts. If it comes to light in court, that Dunn is even cited as an inspiration or source in the book itself, then it’s case closed. 

Then there’s the other possibility that Parker might not have done this on his own, but that he has a team behind the book. If that’s the case, the most I can accuse Parker of is being a hack. I worry Dunn has kneecapped himself for just how badly he’s handled this situation. Made worse by him not having an actual physical copy to assess and just had footage of preview pages to go on. So far, the circumstances don’t seem on his favour. 

I don’t think ill of Dunn. I do think he believes he’s been wronged and no malice in his intentions. I just think he’s made some critical errors on how to handled this. As for Parker himself, I couldn't give a donkey’s doo-dah about him. I’m sure you could accuse me of playing devil’s advocate earlier, but to me, he was the guy who released the annual prompt list. If it really does turn out that he’s a plagiarist and had malicious intent, then fuck ‘im. I never regarded him as an inspiration of mine or paid much attention to him outside of that. It was the community that made Inktober what it is. I’ve never met Parker. Maybe he’s a cool guy? Maybe he’s a bellend? I don’t know.

Granted this isn't the first time Parker has proved himself to be a controversial figure: - Last year people were upset about him trademarking (not copywriting, as many have erroneously claimed) the word “Inktober” and some artists were stopped from selling their related work or zines. Parker would issue a statement: claiming the takedowns were a mistake of “overzealous lawyers” and it’s just a matter of the logo being trademarked. People can sell their Inktober works and even mention they are Inktober-related. Just not use the official logo. On the one hand, from a business standpoint, I get it. It’s the bare minimum you need to do to protect your IP, especially when you have a store. BUT, like most people, I don’t like how, what’s intended as a community challenge, has slowly become more of a brand associated with one man. Hardly a surprise it left a bad taste in so many people’s mouths. But, since it doesn't actually effect anyone’s ability to take part in the challenge, outside of personal principle, I went ahead with it the previous year. 

 - The year before, when asked if one can do Inktober digitally, Parker said the following:

I know some are still bitter about that, but speaking as someone who inks traditionally and digitally, this came across as needless whinging and blowing things out of proportion. Claiming that Jake had derided digital artists and said they were invalid etc etc. Take it from me, challenging yourself to try out different methods to ink traditionally can greatly improve the work you do digitally. It’s like how learning traditional fundamentals of art can still be applied to digital. Plus he never said “No.” he just gave valid reasons about how it makes it a different experience. That said, if you’re someone who can’t afford any kind of inking equipment or pens and only have a selected application to draw on - then none of this applies to you. Just the aforementioned few who took it upon themselves to get angry over nothing. Recently I’ve heard from subscribers of his newsletter that he’s now embraced the idea of people doing inktober digitally, to the point of selling digital brushes for inktober. I’m sure some will call this “backsliding” or “money grubbing” because people aren’t allowed to change their minds or update their statements.

For weeks I’ve been torn on what to do, not being able to solidify one stance over another. One minute I thought #JusticeForAlphonsoDunn then I wonder “Wait maybe I should look again?” to “But wait, those are way too similar!” Having splinters in my arse from sitting on the fence for so long. The longer this went on, however, I began to realise that I can’t take one stance over another. This case is far too muddy and complicated. I don’t have enough sufficient knowledge or evidence. Nor do any of you. We literally only have Dunn’s video to go on. While it’s a good start, it’s not enough to be taken 100% as gospel when it’s the only thing to hand. 

As previously mentioned, a lot of artists have decided to not take part in Inktober at all, or follow different prompt lists. That’s completely fine. A lot of them are based around a specific theme: halloween, kinky stuff, bears, transformers, OCs, Disney or whatever. That has massive appeal. I just can’d do it myself. I prefer the focus on random words, rather than all centred on a single subject; allowing me to be creative with my ideas and execution. I actually did try to make a list of my own random words. Problem is, I worried that because I was choosing my own, I might be subconsciously bias towards certain prompts and not truly challenging myself. Even narrowing down my options was taking too long. In the end…. I’ve decided to just do the official prompts again this year.

For me, that’s what it ultimately came down to. TIME. It’s the middle of September. I can’t afford to wait for the court case to be settled. No other prominent artists I respect have released their own prompt lists. I know there’s been some shitty people who are condemning this choice. Attacking others, accusing them of supporting plagiarism, looking to block anyone who does the official prompts. Even trying to make this a racial issue. Just…. no. 

If someone doesn’t want to take part in Inktober, that’s fine. If someone wants to do the official prompts, that’s fine. If someone wants to do their own prompts, that’s fine.

Don’t go around aggressively making snap judgements or accusing people of taking a side. Do whatever makes you feel comfortable. This has been a shit year, let people enjoy something.

If you look at this situation and it makes you feel angry, and you don’t feel comfortable in taking part in a challenge because of it’s creator. I get that, I literally get that. It’s why I haven't done Mermay. And please don’t mention Pinktober, I’m aware of it, but given his insta video on the subject and the things he said, I quickly came to the conclusion that I can’t take this person seriously. I’m sure this might make me seem hypocritical, but how this differs, if only for me, is the sheer amount Inktober means to me. It’s more than a simple challenge. Inktober's the one thing I’ve been most excited about all year. As it was ruined for me in 2019, when I lost my home and I didn't get to complete every prompt. (Long story, I’m okay now). As we all know, 2020, has been an AWFUL year. We’ve got to take whatever joy we can. As I’ve looked longer at the official prompts, I found ideas I’m really excited for. 

Once I started to really dedicate myself to it, it became a massive event. I hype myself up as I prepare for the busy month. Buy in supplies, clean the house and workspace, cook and freeze meals in bulk to save time, printing off a sheet that allows me to jot down ideas as I plan ahead.  Then once it’s done, after so much work, it makes the reward all the sweeter: Ordering a takeaway, celebrating a great halloween night and still rocking those vibes throughout November. Feeling proud of myself for doing it and seeing myself improve my technique, discipline and earning a few lie-ins to make up for the sleep I lost working. I’m like a kid waiting for Christmas. That said, don’t think that there’s something wrong with you when you understandably can’t dedicate that amount time for a simple art challenge. If anything that’s plenty of reason to why you’re smarter than me. You have a life and don’t push yourself too much.

Now, I need to crack on with the preparations. If you want to boycott Jake Parker, just not buying any of his products should be enough. Doing the inktober challenge doesn't bring attention to him, as I doubt most people even know him as the creator, nor does it even line his pockets. I just hate how cancel culture can do such serious damage like this and then try and put pressure on others to act accordingly without even doing any research themselves. 

As long as you’re not harassing anybody. Just do what YOU want to do. That’s fine. 

[sardonic-courtney]

Crowley x Reader. We Met Before. P2/7

Summary: You end up living with Bobby after your parents die. You go to church and meet Priest Crowley and you end up getting along (if you know what i mean). A few years later when Bobby passes you move the the bunker with Sam and Dean and end up meeting Crowley again.

Part 1  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6 Part 7

Warnings: Mention of loss, Spelling mistakes, Picture of gun (straight after keep reading), you go to church?

Around 1700 words.

Meeting:

(Around season 5 but not following story at all)

…the day before your 18th birthday. The day you can finally start training and helping on hunts. You fall asleep after the movie and wake up to your alarm reading 8.30am (Birthdate) Sunday. The day you had been waiting for. You could finally start training. Well after Sunday service, it was something your mother never failed to attend no matter what state she was hunting in and you kept that alive, even if you weren’t exactly sure how you felt about religion, but going helped you feel close to your mum again, and after hearing briefly about what the Winchesters had gone though it could be useful to learn a bit more. You got ready and headed to the kitchen where you met with Bobby.

“Happy Birthday kid” he said trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible, even though he had woken up kinda early on a weekend.

“Hey, I’m 18 now, no longer a kid.” You smiled at him.

He shook his head in response chuckling as he grabbed an envelope with a box attached to it. When you received it you could see your name written messily on the envelope in a blue ink, you opened it and to no surprise was a card with (Your fav animal) wearing a hat, just like every year. You smiled and read the inscription inside. Then headed for the black box with a gold ribbon loosely tied around, Bobby had never been the best at bows, but you love the effort. Untying and opening the box you see a silver gun with carvings on, and a wooden handle with a pentacle carved. (Like below but you can change to preference)

“I know it's not much, but it was your dad’s, the boys found it when they…” he trailed of for a second. “when they were searching the nest, I thought it was the best time to give it to you, seeing as you’re so god damned persistent on training.”

“I love it Bobby, thank you so much” You gently lay it on the table and encase him in a hug, which he allows for a few seconds”

“Alright” He said patting your back and stepping away, “just because you have a gun doesn’t mean you are ready to hunt though. Understood?”

“Yeah I know” you reply trying not to laugh at his stern expression.

“Right well there’s some (f/f) if your hungry” he said moving to reveal a plate behind him.

“Oh my gosh you didn’t have to” You say looking at the counter with a neatly plated breakfast. You grabbed it and sat down enjoying the change from the usual cereal or toast, and with a mouth half full asked. “When can I start?”

“Lunch time. We will start with some basics ways to hunt and defend yourself.”

You were about to speak when he interrupted guessing your thoughts.

“You won’t be going on any hunts anytime soon until you are 100% ready. You can help out with some of the research though”

You rolled your eyes, as if you didn’t already help with the research. You finished your food and said your goodbyes, Bobby probably heading back to bed for a nap, you left heading for church to see Priest Peter. He was a nice priest and you got to know him a bit with the visits you made.

You were stood outside the church on time at 9:30 when you friend Lena came up and you started heading in. Lena was lovely, you had met at your first church service and continues to go together ever since. You didn’t really see each other outside, but you grew close nonetheless. She was only a year older than you but sometimes it seemed like she was half her age. She like the rest of people outside your small family didn’t know it was your birthday, and you liked that.

“So (Y/N), did you hear Priest Peters gone away for a while?” she spoke grinning at you, unlike you she didn’t like Peter, said his voice made her want to sleep.

“What, how come? I didn’t hear anything” you replied completely confused.

“Yep, No one knows for sure, but I think it's something about a family member getting married in Australia.”

“So, do we have Marcus today then?” Marcus was as you called him jr Peter, he was still in training and followed Peter around like a lost dog.

“Must do” She replied smiling, she never said it but you could tell she liked Marus a lot more, you took your seats, you sat on the second row back always. It was good for the winter because it was next to a heater, and good for the summer because it was near an openable window. You and Lena sat and talked about pointless things until everyone had sat down and the service started.

The priest walked up, but it wasn’t Marcus or anyone you had ever seen before. It was a very attractive man. He had messy hair, and very short beard on his pale skin. He was slightly chubby and wearing the usual priest get up, but for some reason seemed slightly us of place. Your eyes were drawn to him, it was like you couldn’t look away.

“Good Morning. I am Father Crowley, and I will be covering for Peter whilst he is away at his sister’s wedding.” he spoke confirming Lenas rumor.

He had a beautiful English accent and managed to get everyone's attention without raising his voice. The service went on as usual, although you payed more attention to the man in front of you instead of his teachings of God. Before long, it was over, and you all got up to give blessings and mingle a bit before you were to go. After a while Lena had left having to go run an errand, and you were talking to an old woman you did the occasional job for who lived about 5 minutes away. Just as you finished your conversation and the women went out, your phone buzzed, and you pulled it out of your pocket. 10.45 am, and two new messages.

One from Sam “Morning (Y/N), Happy Birthday, hope you have a good day, me and Dean will try to visit soon, I found a book in the bunker library you will like.”

Another from Dean “Happy Birthday (N/N) good luck training today, have a good one. Me and Sammy will swing round in a couple weeks to check in and make sure Bobby’s not driving you too crazy. Be safe xx”

You smiled as you slid your phone away deciding to reply later. You had been close to the Winchesters after the accident, both becoming brothers to you, Dean was however much more protective of you then Sam was. You looked around and noticed you were the last to leave, as you turned towards the doors you noticed Father Crowley still stood there looking at you.

“Did you enjoy the service?” he asked casually walking over to you.

You hesitated a moment before replying with a simple “Yes”. You don’t know why but he made you feel slightly nervous, not in a bad way, but you couldn’t describe it. You noticed up close his eyes were a sort of green colour.

“Good, I’m new to holding services to be honest with you…”

“(Y/N)” you filled in the blank.

“(Y/N) what a lovely name. Do you always come to church (Y/N)?” He asked lingering on your name.

“Yes, Father every week” you replied composing yourself a little. “It seemed like you had done a thousand services before, I don’t think anyone noticed”

“Thank you, and please just call me Crowley, I’m not a big fan of the whole Father thing” he said smiling. “What were your thoughts on the passage read today?”

“I’m not sure. I think in some ways it………...but it seems a bit………” You gave your opinion and Crowley responded with a grin.

“I agree completely. Well I assume you will be here next week?”

“Yes, I will be, and you?”

“Peter will still be away so it will be me again for at least another 2 weeks. Would you perhaps like to meet up after service for coffee and discus some more of your views?”

“Sure, I would love to” you replied trying to hide your smile, “I better get going though, goodbye Crowley.”

“Until next time” he nodded as you left to go back home.

Meeting up next week? For coffee? You thought as you walked along the path. Okay (Y/N) don’t think to much into it, he just wants to talk about the service. Oh, why did I agree, I don’t want to sit and talk to a priest about the bible, although I do want to talk to this specific priest more. Why am I even worrying about it it’s not like it’s a date, can priests even date? I wouldn’t even want it to be, he seems nice and he is attractive, but if he can date he's probably already married he did seem a bit older. It's probably a group thing and he just invited me along to go with them, of course that makes sense.

You finally arrived though the front door and are greeted with the sound of yelling coming from in the house.

“…no, you idjit, you’re supposed to give them the second number if you want the FBI………. Just don’t mess up again your lucky I have common sense.” He put the phone down just as you walked in the room.

“What was that?” You asked sitting on a chair.

“The wheelers, giving out the wrong numbers again. Your back later than usual service run over?” He asked looking at his watch.

“No just stayed to chat a bit after, it was a new priest.”

“Ahh I see, well do you want to watch a film seeing as its your birthday we could go get some snacks and rent a movie?”

“No way, you’re not getting out of this one, you said we would train at noon, its 11:30. We can watch a film after.” You looked up at him and he frowned.

“I don’t know kid, maybe we should wait another year.”

“Nope no chance, I’m going to get changed and then we can start.” Bobby looked unimpressed so you added on a “Please.” Giving him puppy dog eyes.

“Fine all right, alright go change we can start today”

“Yay thank you” You yelled heading up the stairs to get changed.

 A/N I don’t really know what a service looks like because i haven't been to one for ages, so apologise about that. Sorry if your names Lena as well don't worry show wont be mentioned much. Thank you for reading hope you enjoyed it. :D

[writergamermom]

Promo and Live Blogging #6

Ship Your Own Adventure

by

Emblue_Sparks

 Mature

Chapter 1 Billie/Crowley; Chapter 2 Sam/Eileen; Chapter 3 Dean/Crowley; Chapter 4 Kevin/Aaron; Chapter 5 Claire/Kaia; Chapter 6 Sam/Gadreel; Chapter 7 Crowley/Mick Davis; Chapter 8 Dean/Benny; Chapter 9 Bobby+ Rufus; Chapter 10 Dean/Castiel

Liveblog

Man Emblue Sparks did their own art! How can I top this?

His beloved Imperium Innocentia never ceased to fill him with wonder, and yet as of late, he'd begun to feel a worrisome unease when visiting. The loyal ferrymen were paid handsomely to usher his precious souls from there to the shores of Elysium and Asphodel Meadows. Neither Castiel nor Gabriel had reported any bumps in the proverbial road, so that couldn't be the source. 

               To be honest I am rather confused.

The realm was fiercely protected by thousands of wardings and enchantments. His rambunctious rescues were all squeals and delight as their tender souls regained the sweet innocence lost, as was the realms purpose. However, when visiting recently, his grace sensed...not a presence really, but a watchfulness. As if some all seeing eye was casting itself upon it.

So a place in the Scottish highlands is the first circle of hell where all the unborn or unbaptized babies are? Wait Crowley has GRACE? So confused.

Perhaps she'd care for some tea..or Craig? No, no scotch wouldn't do, how would that appear? Lovely to make to your acquaintance. May I invite you into my home for strong spirits on a whim?

I mean I wouldn’t say no, but I am drunk so what are you going to do.

He'd longed to ask her why she felt so familiar. Why in her presence he felt they might have been from another time altogether. A far away memory tiptoed on the edges of recollection just out of his mind's reach. Crowley would spend untold hours in contemplation, opening his mind in hopes the memory in which he sought might emerge from its shy shell and present itself. Alas, to his disappointment, none had stepped forward to claim that missing piece of neurological real estate thus far.

Wow, this is some kind of poetry.  Okay there are some major spoilers so I won’t post any more for this chapter. But I want to read more. There are like layers here man.

Chapter Two Notes: Because I cannot abide the logic surrounding Eileen's absence in the finale. Every actor is entitled to their opinion, as are we, the fans. Though I disagree with Jared, I'll defend his right to express his thoughts. But seeing as how this is my interpretation of this pairing, I'm giving Sam and Eileen this ending I feel they deserved because this handling of the finale among other things had me livid.

               Ooops, I have not watched the last season. Oh well.

And yet for Sam, the fates had been so unkind. For as his son grew and garnered a beautiful life of his own, one he happily shared with none other than Castiel Fitzgerald, his memory of Eileen began to fade. Once Dean Jr had realized it was happening, he'd prayed.

               Dean Jr. and Castiel Fitzgerald are together and Sam is losing his memories.  Bittersweet!

"Dean is well, although he misses you. We're happy, he and I. Eileen as well. I've heard your son's prayers. He fears you'll forget her due to your memories' condition. You sustained many concussions throughout your life. She grows..blurry for you, does she not?"

               Yeah Sam got hit in the head a lot!

Without warning, Jody walks into his home.

"Saam?"

He turns his head, stunned. She shouldn't be even be driving anymore let alone-

"Yo!"

Anybody home?" Claire and Kaia both called out as they too enter.

               Aww I love these girls. Imagine Old Jody still kicking ass and filled with sass.

"Let's get this party started," Jody suggested, busting a bottle of Johnny Walker Black label from her oversized old lady purse.

               YES!

Chapter 3  It wasn't the first time he'd watched Dean Winchester sleep, nor would it be the last. But he'd paid close attention when overhearing the very true sentiment expressed, "It's just creepy." Since then he'd taken extra precautions not to make the seraph's mistake.

               So it’s Dean and someone not Cas.

Dean was as tenacious as any demon,

               It’s Crowley!

They'd had a deliciously rambunctious role in the proverbial hay with triplets earlier that evening.

               Yeah I knew they had an orgy!

He began slowly pulling his hand back, so slowly in fact, he hoped it would go unnoticed. However, before it left the warmth of Dean's skin, he felt Dean pointedly grab his hand. 

               Wow. Yeah. That’s the good stuff.

Chapter 4: You got the job?! Awesome! Well, I knew you would. You're an outstanding accountant," Kevin glowed at his best friend Aaron, whom he'd helped land a position at the same company he worked at.

               WOOT KEVIN! I love Kevin. And Aaron.  I can see it.

Kevin had found an outstanding job at "Write Your Own Story," a place kind of like Total Rekall, only no memory sorcery involved. His friend Claire and her wife Kaia had inherited a typewriter from a long lost uncle...Megatron or something like that. They discovered its magic and sought to use it for good but also a career. It was gaining steam, paid the bills, but barely out of the beta phase.

               Nice! I dig all of this.

Over the next few weeks business boomed with the coming holidays. People wanted to write those they loved beautiful dreams as gifts. And as Kevin discovered, it was all the ink.        

               I would love to give someone good dreams.

Get out. I can’t believe you would do something like this. And you used a sacred holiday too..ya know what? Nevermind, I'm late for service, make sure you're not here when I get back."

               Oh NO!

Chapter 5: "We all missed you and mourned you. Just because we'd just met didn't mean we hadn't looked forward to welcoming you into our little family," Jody declared to Kaia as they pulled out from the bunker and started their five hour journey plus change back to Souix Falls.

I have not watched season 15, did Kaia and Claire get a reunion? I think I remember hearing something about Jody and Kaia. How sweet if she got to bring her home.

"I'm not gonna intervene with you two beyond this, but hearing from Sam all these years about how Dean and Cas keep dancing around each other,

               Poor Sam

"It's really you…" the golden lightning in a bottle whispered before slamming into her, squeezing so hard her eyeballs almost popped out.

               Nice

Chapter 6 Sam's crushed on the martial arts instructor at the Men of Letters Academy for a year and finally finds an opportunity to do something about it.

               I don’t know what this is.

Sam Winchester had been working at the Letters Academy for all of one year as a Professor of Supernatural History and Lore. Dean had graduated ten years prior and was a field agent with a partner of the celestial variety, Castiel. Sam preferred employment on the educational side of operations and prepared his students well, heavily arming them with the knowledge of what was out there and how to effectively neutralize it, if necessary.

               Cool. I am down for this

The instructor had joined the academy's faculty the same time as Sam and to say he had a crush on the guy was putting it mildly. His name was Gadreel, and like Dean's partner,

               Man they would make a mightily tall couple.

"Heard Max Banes is working through the ranks of Tai Kwon Do pretty fast. Aces all the tests and assignments in my class. Seems pretty motivated.." Sam tossed out for conversation.

               Before Covid I was doing pretty well with Taekwondo. I have not kept up.

"Those are effective, until knocked out of your hand or your mag runs out. Come by sometime, I'll show you some stuff..if you want."

               Yeah Ill show you some stuff too. In my pants!

"Private lessons I see, Gadreel. I'd no idea they were on the table. Perhaps we can come to some..arrangement." Sam looked up to see Arthur Ketch standing in the doorway aiming a lascivious grin at Gadreel.

               EWWW. Can we say creepy

It had Sam considering the length of his wingspan.

               Wingspan… Sure

[matrixaffiliate]

Endeavor

New Story! FFN and AO3

Teddy Lupin just wants a job that is even remotely related to his shiny new marketing degree. But when Harry helps him find a job with Ron's bakery empire, Ted isn't prepared for his new coworker - the niece of the CEO - to change everything. A Tedoire Muggle AU. 

Starting another long one friends, because I have zero chill right now. I hope you enjoy it! The next chapter will go up on August 1. =)

Endeavor

Chapter 1

Teddy shook his head and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

"Everything alright, love?" His mum passed the potatoes to him.

"No, but I'll figure it out." Teddy took the potatoes before passing them to his dad.

"What was on your phone that has you upset?" His dad set down the bowl and then picked up his fork.

Teddy sighed, "Just another rejection email."

Teddy had been done with university for three months now and been applying for jobs for longer. But with no marketing experience, no one was taking a second look at him. He'd hoped to be able to quit the two jobs he'd been working through school by now and just have one job doing what he enjoyed.

His parents shared a long look and Teddy tried to ignore it.

"What if you put the word out that you're looking for something?" His dad asked. "You could send an email to everyone, your grandparents, James and Lily, Sirius and Marlene, Peter and Bridget, and Harry and Ginny know a lot of people too. Maybe reach out, see what anyone can point you towards."

Teddy looked down at his plate. He hated the idea of broadcasting to everyone what Teddy was hoping was just a run of bad luck. These people were his family and here he'd be coming to them showing how he couldn't even handle finding a job on his own.

"It's worth a try dear," his mum put a hand on his arm.

Teddy looked up at his mum, bubblegum pink hair freshly dyed. He realized he probably needed to touch up his hair. But his mum gave his arm a squeeze and Teddy nodded.

"Alright, I'll email them before I leave, let you two read through it and make sure it's good enough."

His mum leaned over and kissed his cheek, quickly catching his glass of water before she knocked it over. "You'll see, someone will have something that can help."

0o0o0o0o0o0

Teddy woke up the next morning to the sound of his roommate's 'morning music' playlist playing and sighed. He liked Kalil a lot, they'd ended up in this flat together when they were in their second year at university, and Teddy couldn't have asked for a better roommate. But did Kalil really have to play a music playlist for everything? Especially at half six in the morning?

Knowing he wouldn't be falling back asleep until he needed to be up at seven, Ted grabbed his phone and started swiping through the random notifications that had come in the night. He paused at a reply to his 'cry for help' email the night before.

It was from Harry.

Teddy opened it, trying not to hope for too much. His godfather had never failed him before, and Ted really didn't want it to start here.

Hey Ted,

Thought I'd let you know that Gin's brother is hiring at his place, and if you're interested, I'll take you there myself and put in the good word for you. Just let me know what works for you. Here's the link.

Take care,

Harry

Harry's response was the only one, and since Ted was up early anyway, he opened the link.

Ginny's brother Ron was hiring a new salesman, which isn't what Ted was hoping for. His degree was in marketing, not sales, and he didn't like tracking down customers, let alone schmoozing them into buying...industrial kitchen equipment apparently.

Ted closed the listing page and decided he might as well get an early start on his day.

However, Teddy's early start might have been a mistake. While stocking at his first job, one of the pallets he was moving bumped into a pallet stocked with glass bottles of imported maple syrup and broke at least a quarter of them. The cost would be coming out of his next paycheck, which meant most of his paycheck was gone. And he had to spend the majority of his shift cleaning up that mess.

From there he went to his servers' job and spent the night having every grumpy and unhappy person in England show up to simply sit and tell him what a horrible server he was. Ted made it home and collapsed on the sofa next to Kalil.

"Rough day then?" Kalil typed on his laptop.

"Brilliant," Ted huffed, "And yours?"

Kalil grinned over at him. "Got called for a second interview."

"That's fantastic," Ted forced himself to smile, "Really, mate, I'm happy for you."

"You'll get something, Lupin." Kalil shoved his shoulder, "Don't stress it."

Teddy willed his smile to stay in place and nodded. "Thanks, I'm going to go shower, stop smelling like low-grade Italian food."

Kalil nodded him on and went back to his computer. Ted moved to his room and pulled his phone out of his pocket. There was a text from his mum.

Mum: Did anyone respond to your email?

Teddy tossed his phone on his unmade bed. Was he being too picky? Wouldn't any job closer to marketing be an improvement over two jobs that he hated? At least a sales position would give him the "experience" that all these marketing positions he was applying for wanted. The worst that could happen is that he went from two lower-paying jobs that he dreaded to one job that paid a little more and maybe gave him some freedom to do something more than work day in and day out. Maybe he'd have time for a dating life.

Ted fell on his bed and grabbed his phone, opening the email from Harry.

What could it hurt?

Hey Harry,

Thx for getting back to me. Do you think tomorrow at half two would work? I get out of the warehouse at 2.

Ted

He texted his mum back that Harry was going to try and help him, and then he went to shower. When he got back to his room, now smelling less awful, he had a text from Harry.

Harry: I've confirmed with Ron. We're set for tomorrow at 2:30.

Teddy clicked on the address that Harry sent with his response and figured out how he wanted to get there from the warehouse. It would be close, but he'd probably make it in time.

Ted: Should I bring a resume or anything?

Teddy hit send and looked over at his cheap printer. He probably had enough ink in his printer to print one more, maybe.

Harry: Nah, just throw a copy on your phone so you can email it to him if he asks to see it.

Teddy looked over the copy he already had on his phone and decided it would have to be enough. He was exhausted and now he had a job interview tomorrow. He plugged in his phone and climbed into bed, Kalil's "chill playlist" playing quietly down the hall.

0o0o0o0o0o0

He didn't bring clothes to change into. Ted had meant to. He'd set them out so he'd remember. But Ted woke up late, and in his rush to make it to work on time, he'd forgotten to grab his button-up shirt and slacks and loafers. He'd be having this interview in his warehouse jumpsuit.

Brilliant.

"Ted!"

Teddy turned to find Harry waving him over to an open door.

"Hey, Harry," Ted smiled and embraced his godfather. "How are the kids?"

"Jamie and Al are causing trouble, and Lily gets a good laugh out of it all, so they're about the same."

Teddy grinned. "If I can get a job that doesn't require me working the dinner shift, I'll have to take them out for ice cream or something."

Harry opened the door wider and gestured Ted inside, "Let's see if we can't rid you of that dinner shift."

Teddy swallowed and stepped inside in the office building.

He'd met Ron a few times before. He knew that Ron had been at Harry and Ginny's wedding, but that was a long time ago and Ted had been four, or maybe he was five, he didn't remember. And Ron and his family had been at a few of the parties the Potters had hosted. But Teddy had never actually interacted with Ron more than to smile and say hello.

Now Teddy wished he'd taken more interest in his godmother's brother.

Ron stepped out of one of the offices and held out his hand.

"Ted! It's great to see you. I understand we might be able to help each other."

Ted smiled and shook his hand. "I'd like to hope so."

Harry clasped Ted on the shoulder. "Ted's looking to broaden his horizons."

"Come on in," Ron ushered them in.

Ted stepped in and took a look around. It was a small office, there wasn't a reception area, just two desks set up that faced the only, rather large, window, what looked like a supply closet on one end, and a bathroom on the other. There was also a small sink next to a fridge in the far-left corner, where a microwave sat on a card table and two folding chairs were tucked neatly against it.

Maybe this job wouldn't pay more than his current jobs…

"We're a small operation," Ron pulled a desk chair over to the card table and gestured to him and Harry to sit down in the folding chairs. "I don't know if you remember, Ted, but I own Bread & Butter, the cafe and bakery chain."

Ted nodded Ron on, but he honestly didn't remember that at all.

"And I realized a couple of years ago that a lot of the machines I was buying for our locations were expensive and subpar. So, I started looking for something better, and I finally worked with one of my favorite manufacturers to come up with something that worked the way I wanted it to. We saw an immediate improvement in our products at Bread & Butter and I arranged with the manufacturer to sell what we'd developed as the Bread & Butter line of industrial kitchen equipment."

"How is that going?" Teddy looked around again and Ron chuckled.

"It's going well, but it could be going better. I've been our main salesman, but I'm swamped with the bakery itself and coming up with new menu items and honestly, I'm not cut out for sales. I'm too attached to our line, and I need someone who can step in and take over sales. This little operation is simply a department of Bread & Butter but I've rented out this office space for it because we don't have space for it at the main bakery offices."

Teddy's mind started working very fast. "So, if I did well for you, there could be an opportunity to do more with Bread & Butter?"

"You mean like transfer to the marketing department?" Ron grinned, "Harry mentioned your degree is in marketing, but yes, I think that if I needed to expand or replace someone in marketing, I'd be more willing to move you over to the main building than hire someone new."

Teddy grinned back, "Alright, Ron, I think I'm interested.

The interview became a job training on the spot and Ted was almost ready to skive-off his dinner shift in exchange for spending more time working with Ron, but he needed to give his notice and he really should leave those jobs on good terms; they'd supported him through his years at university after all.

Ron clicked a few things on his phone as they finished up. "So, you'll be ready to start in one week then?"

Ted nodded, "Yeah, I'm only required to give the minimum with both of these jobs."

"Think you could stop by the main office in between your shifts this week and fill out the hiring forms?"

Teddy pulled out his phone to see his shift schedules. "Sure thing, boss."

"Great, I'll let you get to your dinner shift. And I'll let my niece know she can expect to have you here next week as well; she's off at a dental appointment this afternoon or you'd have met her today. She handles our website and coordinates deliveries." Ron stood up and shook Teddy's hand. "I'm looking forward to passing this all off to you."

Teddy laughed, "I'm looking forward to having just one job."

Harry followed him out of the building and hugged him. "Are you happy about this?"

"You know, I am," Ted felt a smile on his face. "This feels like the first step forward, you know? Thank you for setting this up for me. I keep forgetting that you never steer me wrong."

"You can take the kids out for ice cream or something to show your gratitude," Harry razzed him. "They miss you."

"The first paycheck I get from Ron will go to taking them out for some fun," Teddy promised.

"Good, now go serve people bad Italian food."

The dinner rush was intense, but after giving his notice, Teddy wasn't bothered by it in the slightest. There was finally a light at the end of the tunnel.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Teddy slung his backpack over his shoulder and stepped into the office building, his new job, maybe a career, lay just down the corridor.

He stood a little straighter and walked down to the door, inserting his key to unlock it, only to have it push open to the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen. She had blonde hair pinned up off her shoulders, revealing her porcelain skin along her neck and face. Ted thought he was floored at her profile, but then she turned to smile at him and her blue eyes froze him in place; he forgot how to breathe.

"Hi, you must be Ted, I'm Vic. I guess we're sharing the office now."

Ted blinked. He couldn't seem to get his brain to function.

"Er, right, yeah, I'm Ted." He almost grimaced at his response. "It's nice to meet you."

"I got here early to clear up Uncle Ron's desk for you. He left a bunch of things that he thought you'd need but I promise you won't." She closed a word document before standing up and offering her hand.

Teddy remembered how to human and moved into the office, sliding his keys back into his pocket, and shook Vic's hand. Her skin was amazingly soft and Ted immediately wanted to pull her back when she released this hand.

"I like the color." She smiled up at him.

"The color…?" Ted blinked.

Vic laughed, "Your hair, I like the turquoise."

Teddy felt like an idiot. "Oh! Right, er, thanks, my mum has hers pink."

Could he be any lamer right now?

"Wow! My mum would never dye her hair, and she'd probably have a heart attack if I dyed mine." Vic laughed and sat down at her desk.

Teddy followed suit, realizing that he had no idea what to do.

"Uncle Ron is supposed to be here at half eight to help get you set up, then you'll spend the day handing off all our customers, and get back here hopefully in time to clock out at five."

"Do we have a time clock?" Teddy looked around. He'd had to stamp in and out at both his warehouse job and his server job, but he hadn't expected it here.

Vic laughed at him, "You're joking right?"

Ted hoped he wasn't blushing and tried to own it.

"Oh no, I expect an establishment as posh as this one to give me an antique time stamp machine for me to put my time card into every day before having me descend into the coal mines of selling industrial kitchen mixers."

Vic laughed before grabbing a piece of paper from her desk drawer and a black marker.

"Antique Posh Time Stamp Machine," she said as she wrote it out on the paper. "There," she held it up for him. "Where would you like it to be?"

Teddy grinned; this was going to be the best job in the world.

"Oh, it can only be at the far end of the office. It has to be as far away from where the actual work gets done as possible or it isn't posh at all."

Vic snagged a few thumbtacks from her drawer and moved to where the supply closet was in the back corner before pinning the sign up on the wall next to the door.

"How's that?"

Ted smiled. "It's perfect."

Vic smiled and looked down at her hands for a moment before moving back to her desk.

"Ted!"

Teddy turned to see Ron walking into the office.

"Morning, boss," Ted tried to ignore the part of him that resented Ron for barging in on what felt like something special between him and Vic. He'd known the woman for less than five minutes. He had to get a grip.

"Hi, Uncle Ron, I thought you weren't going to be here for another half-hour or so."

"I had my first meeting rescheduled, so I'm here to get a head start with Ted. Vicky, Ted is Harry's godson, you might have met at one of their parties."

"You know Harry?" Teddy turned to look at Vic.

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, my dad is Aunt Ginny's oldest brother."

Ted blinked, she looked nothing like a Weasley. When Ron had said that his niece worked here, and then when Ted saw her, he assumed she must be a niece in the same way James, Sirius, and Peter were his Uncles.

"Well now that we know how we're all connected, Ted, I've got most of my clients ready to meet with us so I can pass them off to you this morning. Ready to go?" Ron spun his keys around his fingers.

Teddy looked back at Vic for a brief moment before nodding to Ron, "Let's get this show on the road."

Getting the clients handed off took the majority of the day, but Teddy loved it. Ron made a point of also taking Ted to the main office and introducing him to the teams there. Ted had learned about networking in several classes, but Ron showed him how it was really done. Everyone loved Ron, and Teddy honestly believed that Ron cared about everyone he introduced him to.

With how well the day had gone, as he walked back into his office building with Ron, Ted couldn't wait to see Vic again.

That is until Ron opened the door.

Vic was kissing another man.

"Vicky," Ron sighed, "please remember this is an office. I know you enjoy having Sean come pick you up, but HR would throw a fit if they knew you were snogging him on the clock."

Victoire blushed furiously and the man that stood next to her grinned. His black hair was cut short and he had his sunglasses on backward.

"Don't worry, Ron, I'm not scared of HR."

Ron raised an eyebrow at the man, "You should be, they can make me fire her."

Sean turned back to Vic, "I'll wait in the car."

He winked at Ron and Ted as he left.

Ted hated Sean.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Ron. I know we shouldn't have been kissing in here. He came to surprise me and I'd mentioned you were out showing Ted around and he took that to mean the rules were off." She trailed off and bit her lip.

"Vicky, I love you" Ron sighed, "but just, think about what your parents would say if you lost your job because of Sean."

Ted moved to his desk, not trusting himself to speak. Ron seemed to take the excuse to move on to a different topic when Ted powered on his laptop.

"I've emailed you the leads I was working on before I hired you, Ted."

"Oh, excellent," Ted nodded as he followed the log-in instructions IT had left him with his laptop and dock set up. "I'll start on them tomorrow then."

"Perfect, and if you ever need anything, just give me a call. I'm not here at the office with you, but I'm always here if you need my help with any of this. I'm looking forward to growing this division and I'd love to see you pioneer it."

Ted smiled at Ron and he leaned back in his desk chair. "Thanks, Ron, I hope I can do you proud here."

"I'm sure you will." Ron grinned at him before looking behind him at Vic. He sighed and motioned towards the door. "Victoire, can I talk to you out in the hall?"

Victoire nodded and began to follow Ron to the door. She paused before turning back around. She closed a word document on her computer and shut it down before grabbing her purse. She gave Ted a small smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Right, tomorrow," her smile seemed to pull a smile out of him.

"Right," she bit her lip and then turned around to follow after Ron.

Teddy let out a long breath as the door closed behind Vic.

He was so screwed.

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 31: Jon

Fortunately for Jon’s nerves, Halloween week means Research is inundated with statements, mostly false ones, so the first week following Tim’s ill-advised adventure means they’re all helping out with disproving piles of utter nonsense, which in turn means none of his assistants putting themselves in harm’s way. They do get a live statement midway through the week, in the form of the exterminator who handled Jane Prentiss’ body, but as there’s nothing to really investigate regarding his statement, that’s harmless enough. Tim insists on sitting in on the statement, and against his better judgment, Jon agrees.

It’s probably a mistake, though, as over the course of the following week Tim begins having frequent headaches. They seem to pass quickly, at least at first, but they get progressively worse. Martin adds a box of ginger tea to their stash; Sasha keeps a giant bottle of paracetamol at her desk; Jon tries to reduce Tim’s workload as much as possible. Tim only accepts the first two. It worries Jon how hard Tim is throwing himself into the research, regardless of how much the others tell him he doesn’t have to make up for lost time. Even Jon Prime expresses concern, in a careful, hesitant way.

Martin Prime, on the other hand, is a lot less careful and a lot more blunt, telling Tim not to be a self-sacrificing idiot and to stop tearing himself apart trying to draw attention away from the others, because it won’t help anyone if he gets hurt, or worse. Tim laughs, but the look on his face and especially on Jon Prime’s face makes Jon hold onto Tim extra tightly that night.

In the long run, and even in the short run, it doesn’t help. Three weeks into November, Martin finds Tim crumpled in a ball on the floor in the depths of the shelves, clutching his temples and barely conscious. The mental image of Martin, pale and frightened, cradling Tim in his arms like an infant and striding across the Archives as if he weighs nothing isn’t going to leave Jon in a hurry. The doctor at the clinic can’t find any obvious cause for the headaches, but he recommends Tim go home and rest and Jon is only too happy to sign off on that.

He makes him stay home the next morning, too. Tim doesn’t argue, which tells Jon he probably really isn’t feeling all that great. He does promise to get rest, not strain his eyes, and definitely not go off on any unauthorized field trips—all of which Martin is very emphatic about. (Jon’s never actually seen Martin in full mother bear mode, and he decides it’s best for his sanity not to admit that he finds it weirdly attractive.) Martin makes him a cup of tea before they leave and reports, when he comes back to join Jon, that Tim’s fallen back asleep again.

The morning is fairly straightforward. Sasha and Martin work on their usual research work; Jon has a stack of statements to record. Mostly these days he only does the ones that are going to end up on the Discredited shelf, the ones he can record on his laptop, tending to leave the real ones for Jon Prime. Still, there are literally thousands of statements in the Archives, and Jon is prepared to bet even money that no more than ten percent of them are actually real. While that’s still probably enough to sustain both him and Jon Prime for the rest of their natural lives, even if they never get another live statement in, he does still have to record the others. He’d grumble about him and his stupid ideas if he didn’t now have seventeen months’ worth of examples of ideas far stupider than suggesting to his boss that he make audio recordings of the statements in the Archives, and not just his own.

Jon powers through about a dozen statements, narrating them into his laptop and supplementing with his team’s research. He’s just finishing a scathing indictment of a would-be writer who claims to have stayed in a cottage with a haunted lamp when the door cracks open and Martin pops his head in. He catches Jon’s eye and smiles, then waits until Jon signs off the recording before speaking. “Hey. Lunch?”

“Thank you, but I think I’ll do a couple more of these first.” Jon gestures to the rapidly-diminishing stack on the right side of his desk. “I’m on a roll.”

“Better than being on a sesame-seed bun. I’m going to call and check on Tim while I’m at it, unless you’d rather?”

“Go ahead. Ask him if he wants us to bring anything home tonight.” Jon offers Martin a smile. “Enjoy your lunch.”

Martin smiles back, his cheeks turning faintly pink. He nods and withdraws from Jon’s office.

Jon finishes two more digital statements and then pulls over the next one and begins to dictate it. Even before he gets done with the introduction, however, he can feel the static on his tongue and stops. Playback confirms his suspicion—this is a real one. Somehow, they missed it.

He skims the file. He remembers this one now—a claim of a still-living mummy in a tomb containing ancient dice and nothing else. Sasha, who, in her own words, “went through an Egyptology phase like every other girl in the nineties”, wrote out a list of every reason she could think of that the description of the tomb didn’t make sense. Even Tim’s charm wasn’t enough to get any help from the Egyptian government, and since all the names were fake except the statement giver’s, all Martin has been able to find out is that she’s currently training to be a teacher. Even with everything they know, it seems…unrealistic.

But as he flips a page over, it dislodges a sticky note from the back of the folder. Jon catches it as it flutters through the air. It’s Tim’s handwriting, and it glitters faintly, which makes Jon frown—not because he objects to glitter ink (although if they use it on anything official he doesn’t want to imagine what Elias will have to say), but because Tim’s only been using these pens for a couple of weeks, since he traded Charlie one of his old fountain pens for the pack. Which means Tim went back and added something recently.

Jon studies the note. The first words are scratched out, but the rest is easily legible: I think this one is real.

For a moment, Jon considers leaving the statement for Jon Prime to read, but he finds he can’t. Now that he’s started speaking it aloud, he has to finished. Damn it. With a sigh, he sets up the tape recorder, then checks to make sure his secondary recorder has a tape in it. He depresses the RECORD button on both and picks up the paper again.

“Statement of Donna Gwynne, regarding an unlicensed archaeological dig near the Red Sea in Egypt,” he begins.

He always sinks into the statements, at least when they’re real—which is good, because once he finishes, it’s hard for him to keep his contempt for Ms. Gwynne out of his voice as he dictates the results, such as they are, on the follow-up. Certainly he has no qualms admitting that he’s somewhat satisfied the woman is being forced into a job she’s stated repeatedly she hates the idea of.

“I feel anyone who brings me a statement about mummies deserves everything they get,” he concludes. “I’m just glad she doesn’t live in London. End recording.”

He presses the STOP button on both recorders, then hesitates. He started recording secondary back-up tapes after Michael’s visit, partly out of growing paranoia and partly so that he would have a record in case anything happened, and he’s never really stopped. He needs to let the others know about it, he just…hasn’t yet.

Sighing, he pops out the official tape and labels it, then sets it with the file before drawing the second recorder towards himself and pressing RECORD.

“Supplemental,” he says. “I’m…worried about Tim. His headaches have grown so severe over the last week that I actually had to make him stay home today. I’m sure they have something to do with these statements, with the research and all of it, but I don’t know how to prove it. And I don’t know why he’s looking into statements we’ve theoretically finished the research on. I’m…grateful, of course, that he spotted that this one was probably real, although I wish he’d left the note in a more obvious place, but I don’t know why he was even looking, let alone how he figured it out. There’s no supplemental research, no notes other than the single sticky note he put in the back. I can’t quite make out the first word, as it’s been heavily scratched out, except that it starts with a V or a W. The next two are also scratched out, but it’s a little easier to make out: The End, with a question mark. He wasn’t sure, but—of course, it’s fairly obvious. What else would mummies be? And there’s a parallel to—”

The door to his office opens abruptly, and a voice that does not belong to one of his assistants says, “Excuse me, do you have a moment?”

Jon almost topples his chair over backwards, despite the fact that the small part of his brain hanging onto rationality points out that an entity of fear likely wouldn’t be so (relatively) polite about interrupting him. A second later, the rest of his brain catches onto the magenta-tipped brown asymmetrical pixie cut, the string of black stars dangling from one ear, and the expression that manages to be somehow disdainful, sheepish, and concerned all at the same time.

“Miss King—uh—how did you get in here?” he manages, hoping he doesn’t sound like she almost gave him a heart attack.

“Sasha let me in.” Melanie King steps fully into his office and lets the door close behind her. “Are you all right?”

“Hmm? Sorry?” Jon tries to look nonchalant as he shuffles Ms. Gwynne’s statement to the bottom of the stack.

“You look like hell,” Melanie tells him.

“It’s been a rough few months.” Jon feels his old prickliness rising up in him, feels the need to puff up and bluster, but then he stops, collects himself, and really looks at Melanie. There’s a slump to her shoulders, a weariness in her bearing, and dark circles like bruises under her eyes, which look…well, haunted. “And if I look like hell, you must be in a far lower circle than I am. Are you all right?”

Melanie seems surprised that he asked, which, fair enough. “Fine. I—um—I actually need your help.”

Dread creeps up Jon’s spine, but all he says is, “Interesting.”

“All right, can you not be an arsehole about it?” Melanie snaps, visibly bristling. “I just need access to your library.”

“So talk to Diana. She runs the place,” Jon points out.

“Yeah, I don’t exactly have the academic credentials you guys demand, so apparently I need someone to vouch for me,” Melanie says. Jon sighs in annoyance, not at Melanie or her tone, but at the generations of stuffy, upper-class white men who equate university degrees with value. “And you’re basically the closest thing I have to a friend here.”

Jon can’t help but laugh at that. “We’ve spoken once, and we ended up screaming at each other—”

“Yes! And that’s more than I have with anyone else here.” Melanie tugs at her hair in frustration, hard enough that Jon’s afraid she might actually yank it out of her scalp by the roots. “Also, uh, Georgie actually has some nice things to say about you. That came as a surprise. You didn’t even tell me you knew her.”

It surprises Jon, too, enough that he blurts out the honest truth without thinking. “It was a long time ago—before she started doing What the Ghost. I didn’t think she would have anything nice to say about me, to be honest. We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”

Melanie hums skeptically at him. Jon almost tells her everything, but catches himself. “Look, what exactly do you need from us, anyway? Can’t your showbiz friends help you?”

“No,” Melanie snaps. “I’m, uh—most of them won’t talk to me anymore.”

“What happened? Did word get round you’d talked to us ‘credulous idiots’?”

“Not exactly. In my business, your reputation is all that you have. The industry is full of skeptics pretending to be believers pretending to be skeptics.”

Jon almost snipes at her that the word she wants is charlatans, but one look at her expression and his heart isn’t in it anymore. He thinks about the Primes’ description of her as an Archival assistant, the “painting” from Martin Prime’s statement about his journey back in time, the slightly wistful look in Jon Prime’s eye when he talked about her resignation. And then he looks at her now, determined and angry and despairing all at once, and he resolves, then and there, not to ever let her get to that point.

He’s the closest thing she has to a friend? Fair enough. They’re going to get closer to that even if he has to do all the work himself.

“And none of them are helpful,” he guesses.

Melanie starts to bristle at him, then sighs heavily. “Look, Ghost Hunt UK split up. I mean, not formally, but, you know, Pete was always a flake, and the others just…drifted away.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, as gently as he can. “I did notice you weren’t updating anymore.” It’s a bit of a white lie—the Primes told him that—but she doesn’t need to know, not now.

Melanie continues, rambling a bit about her attempts to get a new crew together, then her solo expeditions ending in disaster. Jon can’t help the noise of shock and concern that slips out of his throat when she mentions getting arrested; she evidently takes it as interest and gives him the whole story. “After that…”

“Your reputation went with it,” Jon concludes.

Melanie looks away. The set of her jaw suggests she’s trying to hang onto her resentment, but also trying not to cry. “Yes,” she says tightly. “Look, I have leads that I really need to follow up on, and as far as my colleagues are concerned these days, I’m the ghost.”

Jon nods. “All right. Come on, then.”

Melanie looks back at him, obviously startled. “What?”

“Come on,” Jon repeats. “I’ll take you up to the library and vouch for you. If all else fails, I can claim we’re borrowing you as an adjunct for a few weeks or something. U-unless you’d rather wait?”

“Oh,” Melanie says, sounding taken aback. “No, the sooner the better. I—just expected a bit more of a fight, to be honest.”

“Yes, well, I know what it’s like to be itching to follow up on a lead and have your every effort frustrated. And I believe I owe you for being…dismissive of you before.” Jon suddenly realizes he hasn’t turned off his tape recorder. “Uh, end supplemental.” He presses the STOP button and stows the recorder in his desk, then gestures for Melanie to head out of the office.

Martin is just hanging his jacket on the back of his chair when they emerge; he looks up and offers Jon a slight smile, which freezes when he sees Melanie. “Uh…heading to lunch?”

“Eventually, but I’m going to see if I can convince Diana to let Miss King here use the library,” Jon tells him. “Unless you’d rather.”

Martin laughs nervously. “That would have the opposite effect, trust me. Besides, I, uh, talked to Tim.”

Jon bites back the hot words he wants to unleash in Diana’s direction. “How is he?”

“Fine, he says, and I believe him, but he asked if I would—” Martin hesitates for no more than a split second, then flicks a finger very quickly in the direction of the trapdoor “—run something down for him?”

In other words, Tim has a question he thinks the Primes can answer. Jon nods slowly. “All right. Just be…cautious. I don’t want a repeat of last month’s incident.”

Martin shakes his head vigorously. “Nope. No incidents. Nope. I’ll be back up before you get back from lunch.”

“Right.” Jon offers Martin a warm smile, which Martin returns, before leading Melanie over to the stairs.

Melanie, for a wonder, stays silent until they’re back up on the main floor, then says, “Does ‘last month’s incident’ have anything to do with all those scars he’s got?”

Jon bristles at the implied criticism of Martin’s appearance. “Those are months old. Did you not see the worms when you were here last time? We had an…infestation. It came to a head a couple weeks after your last visit. He was badly injured.” His voice shakes slightly as he says it. Even close to seven months later, he still has trouble sometimes shaking the memories of the black terror of that night.

“I’m sorry.” Melanie actually seems to mean it. “He seems all right now, though.”

“As I said, it was some time ago and he’s had time to heal. Last month’s incident was…it didn’t leave physical scars, but one of my other assistants looked into something he oughtn’t have.” Jon pauses. They’re just rounding the landing towards the first floor—the library actually spans the entire height of the building, save the basement, but for reasons he’s never understood the only way in or out is in the middle—and it’s deserted this time of day. Sound has a way of carrying, but they should be safe enough here if he speaks honestly, as long as he keeps his voice down. “He ran into your Sarah Baldwin.”

Melanie stiffens, but when she speaks, she manages to sound derisive. “You were just looking into my statement?”

“I contacted you when we initially did the research,” Jon reminds her. She grunts, either in acknowledgment or impatience. “This was a completely unrelated incident. I told you, I owe you for being dismissive before. You were right.”

“I wish I was recording this.”

“All right, no need to be—” Jon checks his temper. “Look. She’s dangerous. Or at least she belongs to something dangerous. You were extremely lucky to walk away in one piece.”

Something in Melanie’s face shifts. “Related to…whatever was at the CMH?”

“I—I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think they’re separate, but…there were things we know now that we didn’t know then. We may have to revisit your case.”

“Just so you don’t ask me more questions. I’m still having nightmares about it.” Melanie shoots him a glare. “You’re in them now, too, so thanks for that.”

Jon winces. “Ah…yes. I didn’t know about that at the time, either. I suppose I owe you an apology.”

“What?”

“Look, do you want to do the library today, or come back to the Archives and interrogate me? I can explain more, but it’s not something I want to do on the stairwell,” Jon says impatiently. Elias Bouchard’s office is on the first floor as well, and the last thing he wants is Elias actually listening to this conversation.

Melanie stares at him for a minute, then sighs. “Library. The less I have to talk to you, the better.”

Which is fair enough, Jon supposes. “All right, then. This way.”

Rosie’s office, door open, is just at the top of the stairs; from the way she peers over her computer monitor at them, Jon guesses she at least heard their voices, if not what they were actually saying. Melanie glances over her shoulder as they pass. “Why is she staring at us?”

“That’s Rosie.” Just about anyone who has reason to pass her door calls her “Nosy Rosie”, actually, but Jon isn’t going to mention that in earshot; despite all appearances, he’s not a complete arse. “She’s Elias Bouchard’s personal assistant. It…behooves her to keep her finger on the Institute’s pulse, I suppose.”

“She’s a snoop, in other words.”

Jon can’t help a small, humorless chuckle. “Aren’t we all.”

Between the door to Elias’s office and the library, at the end of the corridor, there’s a room with an incredibly solid door, firmly shut. It’s one of only two interior doors original to the Institute, the other being the library’s, and as such it’s windowless. It’s also unlabeled. Melanie eyeballs it. “What’s in there?”

“Artifact Storage.”

“So…what, haunted dolls, cursed music boxes, weapons belonging to serial killers…”

Jon stops and shoots Melanie a look. She shrugs, completely unrepentant. “All right, so I’m curious. Sue me. Not like I’m going to ask to go in.”

“Good, because I wouldn’t let you,” Jon tells her firmly. “It’s not a museum. It’s more of a…science lab, I suppose. They keep artifacts in there, yes, but they also study them, attempt to replicate their effects or discover why they do things.”

“Hmm.” Melanie studies the door for a second. Jon’s about a step away from grabbing her by the elbow and dragging her away when she falls into step with him. “You go in there a lot, do you?”

“Not if I can help it.” Jon leads Melanie to the end of the hall and the ornate double doors of the library, then pushes one open and ushers her inside.

Melanie’s jaw drops, which is the usual reaction among employees seeing it for the first time, from what Jon’s been told and what little he’s experienced. Three stories high, with balconies ringing the upper two, it’s near floor-to-ceiling shelves, every one packed with books. Tables and chairs litter the ground floor, and here and there on the upper levels are smaller rooms for private study. A bored-looking junior clerk sits behind a curved, ornate wooden desk with her back to the dizzying drop, filing her nails; elsewhere, other library assistants sort, stack, and shelve books from carts and precarious stacks.

“I always thought it looked like the library from Beauty and the Beast,” Jon admits in a low voice. From the startled look Melanie shoots him, she was thinking the same thing. “Come on. I’ll try and track down Diana.”

“What can I do for you?”

Jon and Melanie both jump at the boisterous, barely-contained voice from behind them. Whirling around, Jon takes a deep, steadying breath. “Diana. I…didn’t see you there.”

“That’s unusual.” Diana smiles—almost leers—down at Jon. In height and in breadth, she can give Martin a run for his money, and she towers over the two of them. Melanie nips smartly behind Jon, and he throws her a look. “What can I do for you? New assistant?”

“Ah—no. Diana Caxton, Melanie King.”

“The ghost hunter?” Diana raises one impeccably sculpted eyebrow almost into her hairline.

“Y-yes,” Melanie manages to choke out.

Jon takes a half-step back so he isn’t looking up Diana’s nose. “Miss King needs to use the library for some research. I know she’s not the…usual student type, but I’m willing to vouch for her seriousness, as well as her right to be here. I’m certain she will treat the books with the respect and care they deserve. And the subject matter, of course.”

Diana’s eyebrow raises higher. “You’re not going to put this in your show, are you?”

She says this at a normal volume, and a number of nearby heads snap towards them. Jon fights the instinctive urge to shrink into himself and hide. Melanie, on the other hand, folds her arms over her chest and manages to meet Diana’s eyes. “No, ma’am. I just need to follow up on some leads to make sure I’m informed enough on my end to go places safely.”

She’s lying. Jon knows intuitively she’s lying, but he keeps his face carefully blank. Diana studies Melanie from her great height, then finally nods. “Have to run it by Mr. Bouchard first, but I’m sure he’ll agree. I’ll have a ninety-day pass set up for you at the front desk. Come by tomorrow morning and we’ll get you started.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Oh, Jon,” Diana says as Jon starts to turn away and lead Melanie back to the front. “Do tell Martin hello, will you? I hope he brightens your Archives as much as he brightened our library. We miss his smiling face up here. Tell him he’s welcome any time.”

“I—of course,” Jon says, not sure what else to say.

Melanie waits until they hit the landing to ask in an undertone, “Is Martin the one who said—?”

“Yes,” Jon says shortly. He’s going to have a talk with Martin about his self-esteem issues, not that he can really be throwing stones. But Diana seemed to genuinely mean it.

He bids Melanie farewell at the front door, then ducks into the canteen to grab a sandwich before heading down to the Archives again. Sasha’s there, making herself a cup of tea. She looks up and smiles when she sees Jon, but her expression turns puzzled. “Hi. I thought you’d be at lunch with Martin or something.”

“He’s…running something down for Tim,” Jon says carefully. Worry churns at his gut.

Before Sasha can respond, though, the trapdoor opens and Martin comes out. His face is pale and he looks shaken, which doesn’t help Jon’s worry. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing. I don’t know.” Martin carefully shuts the door and comes back over. “Tell you later.”

They don’t say anything else about it. Not then. But at the end of the day when they lock up the Archives, Sasha loops one arm through Jon’s and the other through Martin’s. “Mind if I invite myself over?”

“Yes, we can’t stand you and we’re thoroughly glad to get rid of you at the end of the day,” Jon deadpans, eliciting a tiny smile out of her. “Thank God you don’t live with us or we’d be constantly miserable. Oh—Martin, I forgot to ask, did Tim want us to bring anything home?”

“He said he’d put in an order at that takeaway place for us to pick up on the way.” Martin’s voice is unusually soft, and it makes Jon’s worry compound.

Tim looks a lot better when they get in the door, white boxes in hand. He greets them with a smile, which vanishes instantly when he sees Martin. “Oh, God, what? What happened? What is it?”

Martin shrugs out of his jacket. “Well, I asked them.”

“And?” Tim prompts, voice full of dread.

Martin sighs. “And they didn’t know.”

Tim blinks. “What?”

“They didn’t know. Had no idea what I was talking about. I’ve never seen Jon Prime look that confused.” Martin reaches for Sasha’s jacket, but she takes his instead and hangs them both up. “They were considering coming over tonight, but Martin Prime thought you might want to talk to us first.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s…probably not a bad idea.” Tim runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

“Let’s eat. Then you can explain,” Sasha suggests.

Dinner is largely silent, except for the scrape of fork on plate. Jon does explain the purpose of Melanie’s visit to the others, and Martin frowns slightly when he repeats Diana’s words, but doesn’t say anything. Once they’ve all eaten and cleaned up, they head back into the living room to talk.

Tim sits on the edge of the loveseat, elbows resting on his thighs and hands clasped beneath his chin. “Where do we start?”

Sasha nudges Martin’s ankle with her foot. “What were you asking the Primes about?”

“Tim told me to ask them about ‘the color of fears’,” Martin replies. “They didn’t know what I meant. I didn’t know what I meant, except…” He looks up at Tim. “Except I think it has to do with your headaches.”

“It does,” Tim confirms. He takes a deep breath. “It’s…something I’ve been noticing lately. Since the Trophy Room, really. When I was there…when Daniel Rawlings looked me in the eye? His eyes were glowing. Like there was a light inside them. Right proper spooky. And when I got back to the Archives that day…I thought you’d put special bulbs in or something, at first, but I blinked and it went away. Then I was talking to you, Jon, and your eyes were glowing, too.”

“My what?” Jon touches the corner of his eye gingerly, like he can feel the luminescence.

Tim manages a small grin. “It’s not…it went away when I blinked, too, and I thought I was just imagining things. But it’s been getting…worse. Random flashes at first, but when the exterminator came in…he glowed for a second, too. After I sat in on that, it started getting stronger.”

“Hence the headaches,” Jon says. “Tim, why didn’t you—”

“I wasn’t sure. And…well, I wanted to experiment a bit. Because, see, here’s the thing. Rawlings’ eyes—when they glowed, they were this deep indigo, but the Archives, and your eyes and Sasha’s—and Martin’s lips once or twice—they glowed green. The exterminator was kind of green, too, but it was kind of a greenish-yellow, really, and the next day I—” Tim flushes and looks up at Martin. “I was watching you, and—your scars started glowing. Same color as the exterminator did, but your mouth was still the darker green, it’s how I could tell they were different colors. So…I started thinking, maybe that meant something?”

“Oh, God,” Martin says softly. “The marks.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking,” Tim says. “I—I’ve been sort of trying with some of the statements. It’s hard to see with them, really, because everything in the Archives glows green just about, and if I try too hard I get the headaches. But sometimes I could…pick out different colors in them, kind of. Sort of. Mostly. I-I thought maybe if I could look at them and see the fears’ marks…”

“You’d know which ones were real,” Jon completes. Tim nods. “You still shouldn’t have done that without telling us.”

“I know. Especially…well, I thought I could handle it. I’ve been getting better at only seeing them when I try to, and I thought I’d—give it a shot. I walked back into the shelves yesterday and just…let loose with my eyes. I tried to See what was on the couple of shelves nearest.” Tim sighs heavily. “But it was—it was overwhelming. There was just so much. It was like—like standing in the middle of a room made out of mirrors, and someone was shining all sorts of different colored lasers at them, and they were just bouncing off and refracting and amplifying and going everywhere. Like I was drowning in color, or like it was screaming at me. I can’t really explain it, but it was too much and, well, that’s when you found me.”

Martin exhales heavily. “Christ, Tim, that scared the hell out of me.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried that without warning you all. I-I really didn’t think it would be that bad.”

Jon bites his lip. “Is that how you knew—that statement, Ms. Gwynne’s, about the mummy?”

Sasha frowns. “The one that reads like the plot of a knockoff of a Brendan Fraser film?”

“Yes. I went to record it today and—it came out distorted. I didn’t see the note until after I realized it didn’t work on the laptop, but…Tim thought it might be real.”

Tim nods. “Yeah. I looked back over some of them. Started off with the ones we knew were real, and then I started looking at a couple that we weren’t sure of. That one…I wasn’t sure, but I think it’s the End?”

“Makes sense. Mummies. Death,” Martin murmurs.

“It was white. I mean—when I looked at it hard enough, it glowed white. Or at least I think it did,” Tim says. “Made the green kind of…pale, anyway. The other ones we’ve marked as being Terminus statements were the same color. But the problem is that the green of the Eye is so strong, it’s hard to really be sure what other colors there are, except if I’m looking at a person who’s been marked. That’s why I was asking about the color of fears. I-I was kind of hoping the Primes would be able to confirm what I’m thinking, but—”

“But they had no idea,” Martin completes. “Which means that, unless I just explained it very badly, Jon Prime can’t see those colors. Can’t see the marks.”

Jon rubs his temples. “I suppose it’s good to know that I don’t have to consider that, but…why? Why can you see the marks when the rest of us can’t?”

Sasha gets a faraway look in her eyes, and there’s a faint sound of static as she says, “Because that’s what’s important to Tim. Knowing when danger is coming, what danger is coming. You said yourself, Tim, you’re going to help and you’re going to do whatever you can to protect us. The Eye gave you the ability to Know what entities are around, or have got hold of someone or something, because it knows you’ll lean into that and use it for good as long as you can, up until it’s got a tight enough hold on you that you can’t get away, even if you want to.” She blinks hard, and the static fades as she puts a hand over her mouth. “Oh—oh, God, sorry, I—”

“It’s fine.” Tim manages a smile for her, but there’s a look of distress in his eyes. “It’s good to know.”

Jon’s distressed, too. “Tim you should have told us. Jon Prime’s been working with us on control, if we’d known you had powers already we’d have—he should be helping you, too. You can’t—” He takes a deep breath. “Promise me you won’t keep this sort of thing to yourself anymore.”

Tim reaches over and squeezes Jon’s hand. “I promise. No more unauthorized research, of any kind. I won’t even check books out of the library without telling you what I’m after first.”

“I appreciate that.” Jon smiles and squeezes Tim’s hand back. “Now then. Someone get a notebook and pen. We need to write down as much of this as we can.”

[loveactualharry]

The Shamrock of the Sea [A Niall Horan short fiction.]

Good evening lovely people. I haven't been able to post anything decent on here for a while, and I know many of you are still waiting for part 3 of "December, 1997" - I'll be quick on that : it's coming next week.

Meanwhile, you might or might not be interested in a little Niall thing!

I originally wrote it for a friend, but I thought It'd be nice to share. So, here it's Part 1 of The Shamrock and The Sea.

Overview: Niall is the only son of a wealthy Irish family in 1897. He sails to New York to negotiate a business on behalf of his father. But The Shamrock has a different fate for him in mind.

Facts: Harry has a part in it as well!

--------——-------------------------------

24th July 1897

“Lily. For you, again.”

Her colleague had panted, throwing the umpteenth letter on her bed. She swiftly lifted up, sitting on the slender, uncomfortable mattress. Her fingers unfolded that paper, slightly wrinkly and rough. The words gathered in the middle of the page, written in a neat, clean handwriting. She noticed how the letters slightly leaned towards the right angle: the author of those verses had to have been lefthanded, she figured.

“One more? Jesus, it’s the sixth in five days.” Sarah remarked, absentmindedly tying the back of her apron.

“I know! Lily, are you sure you don’t know who sent them?” Selene asked with hands on her hips, squinting her eyes. Sarah darted at her, then turned around rolling her eyes. She did not like the questioning tone she always put out. And anyway, she was the last person in the position of questioning her colleagues, especially after Sarah had caught her sneaking out of his cabin. She twitched nervously at the mere thought.

Lily, however, failed to catch the jealousy displayed in the eyes of her best friend, still too caught up in her own thoughts to even care.

“I told you both, and a million times: I have no idea. I don’t know who sent them. Maybe…maybe it’s just a mistake.” She tried to convince herself, getting up and rubbing her palms on the wrinkly surface of her work uniform.

“Or maybe it’s a secret admirer.” Sarah winked at her with a silly face, “A secret admirer who is also a poet. Wait, maybe he is rich! Maybe it’s Lord Styles!” she battled her eyelashes, looking up with a dreamy face, before curling her lips and darting her eyes towards her friend, tapping her foot. “Are you fucking Lord Styles? You’d better not, or I’ll-”

Lily let out a puffed laugh, placing her hands on Sarah’s shoulders. She adjusted her long, silky hair, shaking her head. “I am not doing anything with Lord Styles. First off, he is way too out of our league, and second, I could never do this to you.”

They both tried to look serious but burst out in a loud laugh.

Selena looked at them from afar, hands still on her hips.

“Shut up, you are going to get us all in trouble. We’d better get to work.”

Sarah rolled her eyes again, sneaking out of her friend’s hug to follow the other girl outside.

“Yes, miss. But seriously, Lily, try to find out who this secret admirer is. Maybe one of the musicians?” she hinted.

“I think we are setting out hopes too high. For what we knew, it could be some kind of joke.”

She lowered her eyes, looking at the words inked on the paper one last time.

“You, that's what I've been missing,

Was tangled up and twisted

Now all the clouds been lifted

Lately, my heart's been so empty.”

Her heart still beat in the hope that it would be no joke.

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

Dublin, 14th July 1897

HORAN, NIALL JAMES.

The name was inked on that yellowish piece of paper. He read it one last time, then raised his blue, wide eyes. Niall was still amazed at that monumental, imponent structure in front of him. His gaze run on the long, majestic right broadside of the ship. Not far away from him, the long cue on the third-class passenger’s footbridge disgorged in a chaotic mass of unhealthy-looking and dirty men, women and children, gathering upon each other, pushing and shouting phrases in Gaelic.

“Come on, son, let’s move forward.”

His father grabbed his arm, dragging him around, in the that multitude of souls, looking for some sort of salvation on that ship. “The Shamrock of The Sea”, they had called it, in the hope that it would cast the light of good luck upon those travelling on it to the new world. Niall had heard many times his father ramble about how he knew the lord who had funded the construction of the Shamrock, but he had never paid much attention to that. He had never been fond of business and funding, and he had a relative interest in the world of major buyers and sellers. He knew, though, that the trip to America would be a lifechanging path for him, and he was grateful that his father had put enough expectations on him to give him the opportunity to go and negotiate a business on his behalf. New York was waiting for him, and he was excited. Yet, much as he loved his hometown and his country, he wished he didn’t have to come back to Ireland.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, my baby? You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

His mother stopped to wipe a few tears away from her cheeks. She hadn’t stopped crying ever since they had left Mullingar a few days before. Niall found it sweet and heart-breaking at the same time. Mr. Horan senior asked two of their servants to load his son’s trunk and all his belonging up on board. The boy cupped his mother’s cheeks, looking at Maura with a half-smile.

“I’m alright, ma. I’ll do what I have to do and…I’ll be right back to you sooner that you think. Stop crying for me, will ya, ma?”

The lady smiled through her whimpers and nodded. He held her close in one last, long hug.

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

18th July 1897

Niall had spent the first few days wandering around, exploring all the salons, hallways and decks he had access to. Of course, travelling as a first-class passenger had its advantages. Nobody would pay much attention to him wandering around every part of the ship. He liked to look at the other people around him though. He fancied reading and collecting the multitude of emotions displayed on everyone’s face. Most of the passengers were rich, wealthy people, happy to be there, excited about their new adventure and all the comforts that would accompany them to the new world. He could recognize them. Not only by the clear expensiveness of their clothing and shiny jewels, but also because they wore proud smiles on their lips. The men often gathered around the counter of the bar for a sip of whiskey, or they would play cards, setting their bets higher and higher each time. Niall liked to play bets with himself, too. For example, he enjoyed betting on who would have lost at least half of their fortune before even getting to America. One of his favourites to bet on was Lord Styles. He was rich, extremely rich, apparently. And he would walk around the salons with a proud smile on his lips and, very often, more than one woman behind him. He had heard stories about him: he was, apparently, the most coveted bachelor of the whole Cheshire county. And nobody knew why. Niall liked to take the piss out of him, and he didn’t like him very much.

Sometimes, he liked to wander along the lower decks of the ship, and once he had even reached the stern, where the third-class passengers where hoarded. In was different, down there. Hidden in their cheap cabins, mother would try to soften the cry of their many children, shrieking out of fear and hunger. Some young men would whimper, facing the parapet running along the back deck, looking back and thinking about the mother and lovers they had left behind. Niall wondered which storied they carried along. He wanted to ask, sometimes. But he knew the wound of leaving their motherland behind was still too fresh, and scars were still wide open and too delicate.

His trip from Mullingar to Dublin had been long and exhausting, and over the past few nights he still hadn’t been able to adjust to his new bed, losing more sleep than he should have. His sunken eyes and his slightly unshaved face made him look older than he actually was, and he knew he needed some rest. After all, it would be a long trip to New York, and most of the times he preferred staying up at night to write or play his beloved fiddle. So, after lunch he found his way through the decks and staircases, to the cabin 402. He let his gaze travel up to the golden number on the black wooden door, then opened it, still holding the case of his fiddle in one hand. He rarely left it behind and found some kind of comfort in carrying it around with him.

The girl in the room flinched, then turned around as the key clicked in the lock. Niall stepped in, and there she was. She had dark, brown hair, which were thin and shiny. He couldn’t see her eyes, though. He put his fiddle on the freshly made bed, furrowing his thick, ash-blond eyebrows as he slowly walked towards her.

“Good afternoon, Sir. My apologies, I was just bringing fresh towels for you.”

She performed a quick, small bow in front of him. Then, she left with a fleeting glance. Niall noticed how her big brown eyes had rested upon his face for a little longer, before she stormed out of the cabin. He felt his throat go dry for a couple seconds, standing like frozen on the spot. He was normally not an impulsive man, usually very calm and thoughtful. But there was no hesitation in his steps, which led him out of that cabin, after grabbing the pile of white towels she had just left inside. His deep, blue irises squinted, looking around the corridor till he spotted her.

“Excuse me?” he called.

The brown-eyed girl turned around in his direction, still holding one hand on the handle of the wooden trolley she was pushing around on the mahogany wooden floor.

Niall straightened his back as he walked towards her in long strides. There they were face to face again. Now he could see. She looked younger than him, a couple years maybe, he guessed. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and she carried no ring on her left hand.

“Yes, sir?” she patiently said, bringing Niall back to reality. She was staring at him, now. He had wide, deep, baby-blue eyes. His hair, she thought, resembled a dense honeypot, fluffy and perfectly combed. His cheeks were slightly puffy, making him look younger than he actually was, in contrast with the shallow shade of beard. He had thin lips, and a lovely dimple rested beneath his chin.

“Aye, I…I need to have my towels changed.” He demanded. Then mentally cursed himself.

She furrowed her brows in confusion, taking one step back.

“My apologies, Sir, but I brought laundry-fresh ones no more than one minute ago.”

Niall tapped his foot on the floor, following an irregular rhythm.

“I know, I saw you. I just don’t think they are clean and fresh enough.” He stated, handing her the pile of cloths.

She slightly parted her lips, but bit her tongue right after, taking a new pile from the trolley.

“As you command, sir.” She answered, handing the fresher towels to the man, never breaking eye contact, till she once again bowed before him and went back her own way.

“Many thanks, miss…”

His eyes were quick enough to shoot a glance at the silver name badge on her chest. He stood there, watching her walk away, holding the new towels in his right hand, before heading back to cabin number 402. He locked the door, frantically opening his large, black trunk, searching for ink and paper. Niall sat on the floor, writing her name on that page. Lily.

[candideangel]

Island Survival Mode (Prologue)

For @meepsthemiqo‘s Castaway AU/Survival Special small mentions of @whitherliliesbloom and @windup-dragoon (no need for a connection story I thought it would be fun to mention)

If there was one thing Angelique enjoyed waking to, it was the sight of her still sleeping love, listening while a soft purr came from his chest while his breathing came out slow and even, watching his ears flick a little to the slightest of sound while his crimson eyes opened once a morning sunbeam finally struck his lids. What she didn’t expect to wake up to was a set of beady black eyes staring at her as she came around and lifted her cheek from the sand that was sticking to her cheek. Once she focused, the usually composed bard let out a shriek of surprise just as claws made to snap at her nose and made her scuttle back and the crab that had been going by went along its merry way like it won. Little bastard.

Shifting her weight, Angelique would get a good look at her surroundings...all behind she could see ocean, clear and blue, and serene if one discounted the splintered debris that littered its surface; though some had washed up on the shore along with other various amounts of luggage that had sprung free from its casings. Groaning she held the side of her head, recalling that this trip was meant for her and her friends, an ocean fishing voyage to get away from the stresses that had become their daily lives. However, a storm had blown the ship from course and barrelled into a reef of jagged rocks and rough waves. “So much for smooth sailing…” she muttered under her breath as she looked ahead, trees and greenery were in the epicenter, and sand seemed to stretch for malms around...and who knew how the island was structured. 

“Thank the Twelve, you’re safe!” the male voice greeting her attention made her whip around to see G’raha Tia, soaking from head to foot, most of the shirt he had worn torn up. In a quick clip he would be by her side, helping her up to her feet. “I was worried for a moment when I couldn’t find you right away when I came around, feared you were still in the water.” That explained much, she was damp, but not soaking. G’raha’s fingers would gently push back her bangs and despite the salt taste would lightly press a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m happy you’re safe too, Raha.” she gave him a small smile and looked around them. “Though I can’t say the same for some of the items here. Safe to say that you also haven’t the slightest idea of where we are either?” the Bard’s question was given a shake of his head in response and then game the agreement that they would start to dig through to see if they could find anything that washed up that could be useful. Angelique had been born in the Shroud, knowing how to survive with a knife if she could find one while G’raha Tia had been in a Miqo’te tribe before he left for Baldesion, he still had some base instincts despite his scholarly self. 

G’raha had thought he had found a book safe from the ocean’s treacherous grip, but when he opened he let out a quiet whine of dismay, the pages had been soaked and the ink had run off leaving everything rather hard to discern. “Sodding...maybe next time we take a trip, we walk, or take chocobo!” He muttered tail flicking with irritation. He loved books and it was always a shame when something bad happened to ones even he didn’t own. “Any luck on your end?” he called over to Angelique who had flipped over a crate meeting eye to eye with the crab again, flicking it away with a loose plank before she pulled something out that had been buried under the sand. It was a sheath for a small blade...and looked surprisingly ornate. The bard would eye the gold handle and feel the jewels that were covering it, it was an expensive piece. Walking over G’raha rose an eyebrow, “That must’ve been a special commission on transport. Looks expensive as the Hells…”

Angelique nodded as she lightly tugged the hilt and the blade hit the sunlight nearly blinding them in the process, it was sharp and finely polished. “Well whoever did commission it, maybe we’ll pay the armorsmith back. Because something like this will come in handy...for wherever we are.” While there was a strap missing she would slide it into the loop of her breeches for now. G’raha was still looking around for anything else of use, but there seemed to be nothing, and anything of more value they knew they would have to start around the forest edge to find.

“By the way...Angelique, do you remember who else was on board for this excursion?” G’raha asked as he would nudge a bit of driftwood with his foot, picking it up and rolling it between his fingers.

Angelique rose an eyebrow, that was a silly question wasn’t it? “I mean, there was Kirishimi, Illya, Alphinaud, and Hi...en….” she trailed off...realization hitting her like a stampede of wild animals. “Oh, shite! Hien!?” Panic filled her green eyes as she raised her voice, only getting an answering echo back with her question, “Alphinaud?!” again she tried to call and was answered more of the same and her heart started to pound. Just as she tried calling again, but a hand covered her mouth quickly to stifle anymore shouts from coming out.

“Have you gone mad?!” G’raha hissed softly, “If you start shouting like that Gods know what you’ll attract. It could be a tribe of Miqo’te, probably feral who have had no contact with other people, a beast, or something.” He muttered, but letting go of her mouth had been a mistake because the bard turned quickly on her heel and grabbed the front of his shirt.

“I don’t think you understand G’raha. I love you, but you’re daft right now. What will happen if we can’t find Lord Hien?! He’s the prince and heir of Doma! And Alphinaud? I may as well kiss my life goodbye for not bringing him back because I’m pretty sure Alisaie will have me to the sword! If we can’t find them we’re doomed! Hells we’re doomed here because we have no idea where we are and if there’s any possibility of being rescued!” Her voice raised, starting to become rather hysterical, which was rare much less a first as she continued to ramble on and on about possibilities of being killed or dying out here. Honestly, G’raha didn’t expect her to be the one to panic first.

Taking a deep breath he would clasp her shoulders and squeeze them, “Angelique, that’s enough, panicking is only going to make it worse.” He worked to reassure, rubbing his thumbs along the exposed skin of what had once been a delicate cotton shirt to relax in. “I know you’re worried about them, but for the moment we have to worry about getting ourselves supplied and ready, if there’s something we both know it’s survival…” he smiled a little bit, “We’re going to be fine, and I’m certain they will too. We will find them. Okay?” He asked, lowering his voice and made full eye contact, he could see her lips tremble slightly for just a moment, but then she nodded in response. “That’s the Angelique I know.” G’raha smiled and gave her another light kiss against her cheek, “Now, let’s go get ourselves started with some shelter and possibly anything to eat tonight.” 

Angelique nodded, replying with her ascent before the two would start by looking around the border of the tree line. G’raha was right, they had to think of themselves at least for the possibly first day...then worry about the others. Hopefully Alphinaud in all his...less than prime swimming prowess ended up washing ashore somewhere around here and she trusted Hien to be fine too.

After all, how much trouble could four people end up getting themselves into?

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Ancient Soul

Time Travel, Quirkless, Feudal Japan AU

“Your soul does not belong here.” Those were words you never thought that you would hear. Now, thrown into the past in feudal Japan, you must find a way to survive, all while struggling to avoid the growing feelings for one hot-headed war general. War, romance, death and love drive you forward, to find the place where your soul truly belongs.

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Want to start from be beginning? Check the Ancient Soul tag. New chapters released every Wednesday as long as schedule permits.

Genre: Romance / Angst Story Rating: Explicit | Adult Themes, Sex, Death, Depictions of Violence, Alcohol

Chapter 10: Soft on You

Chapter Rating: Teen | Cursing Words:  2756

The feeling of Bakugou’s eyes on you was something that you had difficulty ignoring. You knew that he was watching you closely for any signs that you were about to totally bullshit your way through your next prediction, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, you had no idea what happened at this particular skirmish, yet you were having difficulty admitting such a thing to him. The past couple of months that you had been his “strategy assistant”, or whatever you were called, had gone by swimmingly. Nothing you said had been wrong and everything had gone just as you predicted, so the fact that you were drawing a blank on this one battle was eating at you viciously. More than worrying that he may no longer believe you, you didn’t want to disappoint him. 

You had grown to love the feeling of being praised by him and by anyone else who found your predictions to be helpful. Seeing Bakugou or whoever was sent out to battle return victorious filled your heart with joy, and you dreaded how he may react if you had no suggestions or information for him. What if that was a battle they ended up losing? Surely it would look bad on you, as if you were trying to sabotage them or something similar. What you could do was alluding you completely, and you were feeling very much helpless at this point. Making something up was out of the question, as your conscience couldn’t handle such a thing. So, the truth was the only option. Or, as close to the truth as you could get in your current predicament. 

“I’m sorry, but I’m just not seeing anything for this…” Shaking your head, you sat up from leaning over a map, having difficulty looking at the ever-vigilant man beside you. “It’s… Blurry.” 

“Blurry. Hm.” Bakugou tapped his finger on the map his other hand on his chin as he thought. “Must not be very impactful, then. Isn’t that what you said?” 

Nodding, you glanced up at him, though your felt a heat rise in your cheeks as you caught his gaze. “Yes, though I can’t say for sure. I know I’ve done really well up until now, I’m sorry--” 

“Don’t apologize.” Bakugou began to fold up the map, seemingly not upset at all with your inability to assist him this time around. “As you know, we take your suggestions seriously, but we don’t base our entire strategy around them. That would be foolish.” 

At this point, you learned not to take things that he said to heart. He was a rough man, with very little sense of sympathy or gentleness. You didn’t mind that. In fact, you quite liked it, as it made the moments when he was kind to you all the more special. You liked that he was brutally honest, that he shared the majority of his thoughts and opinions with you without restraint. There were hints of his more tender side shown to you every so often, with a hand to assist you up off the floor or even bringing you a lunch that he prepared himself. Often, you could have sworn that he was even flirting with you, but due to your nature, you had built up this wall around yourself that prevented anyone from coming inside. That included Bakugou, though he had similar defenses built around his own mind. 

You thought that, perhaps, it was just like yours. Getting close to people wasn’t easy for you, as you had a deep fear of rejection and abandonment. It wasn’t something you could really describe with words, but the thought of letting someone in only to have them hurt you deeply was a horrifying thought. Not just a thought, but an experience that you never wanted to relive. Still, this man had an… energy to him. Just being beside him made you feel comfortable, safe and content in this world that you hardly knew. Over the half a year that you had been here, he had taught you so much, even if he called you stupid every time you did something wrong. You were a quick learner, however, and impressed him more than you annoyed him, which was a plus in your mind. 

It would be easier, you thought, for him to accept your mistakes if you could just… tell him the full truth. If you could just tell him that you were from the future, where people drove cars and talked to each other from all the way across the world. He would surely think you’re crazy if you even attempted it, though he seemed to find your oddities more interesting and amusing rather than scary in some way. He enjoyed your phrases and words that were commonplace in your time, but had yet to be created in this era. In particular, he loved the word ‘fuck’ and all its variations, though you had yet to really teach him what it meant. The thought embarrassed you greatly, so instead of the definition, you just told him how to use it properly and… sparingly. He didn’t really listen to you on the sparingly part, since no one else really knew what it meant, he used it as he pleased. 

Besides the fact that it was hilarious, it was also cute, to see his smug grin any time he told Kaminari to ‘fuck off’. His yellow haired subordinate begged both you and Bakugou to know what the word meant, but it seemed that you shared a very similar sense of humor with Bakugou. The confusion was funny to you, and though you felt bad at first, there wasn’t any harm in it that you could recognize. If Bakugou didn’t know those words, he would just tell Kaminari in his own just as crude way. That, and you didn’t really want to change the course of time and linguistics all that much by spreading your phrases across the country. One man was enough, and since it was your favorite man of this time period, you didn’t mind it all that much. 

“I’m kind of glad you don’t take what I say all that seriously… I mean, I’m happy you listen to me, but it makes me feel better that you’re not completely counting on me. That could end up a disaster.” You gave him a smile, moving some of your hair back behind your ear. “I think that your tactics for this particular situation are perfect, though. I’m learning a lot about these things from you.” 

Bakugou nodded, taking a moment to stand and walk the map to its regular resting place, inside of a small cabinet along with other documents. “You’re learning very quickly. At least, you retain information well. That’s a good quality to have. It could help you survive out here for sure.” 

With a small sigh, you gave a shrug, eyes on his bare feet as he came back towards the low table you were still sitting at. “I guess so. Though, I don’t have to learn much being cooped up in this palace all the time.” 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Coming to stand beside you, Bakugou held out a hand, which you took to use his assistance up off the floor. “In this palace is the safest place you could be. Out there is nothing but death.” 

After standing, you fixed your clothing back into place a bit, smoothing out the fabric around your hips. “I mean, that is true. But it would be nice to at least get to go out to town occasionally. I haven’t stepped foot outside of the palace since I got here.” 

“Again, why would you want to leave? You have your pond with Sushi, your books, your paper and ink to keep you occupied. By now you’ve made friends to visit when you’re able.” 

“I know, and I really am grateful for all these things, but…” Feeling your chest grow tight in nervousness of admitting the truth to him, you fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, not wanting to offend him or belittle his generosity in any way. “I still feel like… I’m nothing but a prisoner. I’ve been here almost seven months, and I’ve done nothing but show my support and loyalty. I had just hoped that… that perhaps by now, I’d be more accepted into the clan.”

Bakugou stood in front of you for a moment, his presence silent and tense. You could tell just by the way he didn’t move or say a word that your confession had upset him, but in what way? When he was angry, he lashed out with words and angry body language, so it wasn’t that. This seemed more like… he was contemplating his own choices on how you had been treated thus far. 

“You have done well. But there is still something about you that my Lord is having difficulty trusting, so he cannot accept you, no matter how… others may feel. I cannot allow you full freedom without his consent.” 

Your stomach bubbling with that dreadful feeling of rejection, all you could do was give a small nod, knowing that anything else you had to say wouldn’t change your situation. 

“But…” 

Confused, your gaze was pulled off the floor to look up at Bakugou’s face, instantly feeling your cheeks flush with heat at the calm expression on his face. Sly smirk crossing his lips, you immediately knew that he had noticed your blush, though you didn’t have a chance to hide it before he spoke again. 

“That doesn’t mean you can’t go into town with a chaperone.” With a gesture to the door, arm outstretched, Bakugou took a step back to allow you room. “Let’s go.” 

“‘L-let’s’?” You made your way towards the exit, even though your legs felt like jelly. “You’re taking me into town? Right now?” This was beyond anything that you had expected from Bakugou of all people. He wasn’t one to enjoy going out into public to begin with, so for him to willingly take you into town himself was intensely shocking. Had something you said struck a guilty chord? Was he doing this because he pitied you or because he wanted to cheer you up? Was this like… a date?

No, no! Don’t think things like that! This isn’t a date! It’s not!

“You’re the one complaining that you don’t get to go out. If you don’t want to--” 

“N-no, I want to!” You stopped for a moment, turning to look up at him in worry. You didn’t want him to change his mind. This opportunity was something that you couldn’t let slip through your fingers, no matter how embarrassing or frustrating it may be. Bakugou, this brute of a man, was stopping any plans he had for the day just to take you into town. It made you excited, nervous and… happy. 

In truth, although your attitude was pleasant and as content as possible, it had been a very long time since you could consider yourself truly happy. Even before you were sent to this world, your life was void of that lightness in your chest, that fluttering in your stomach that spread warmth through every inch of your body. But this… this simple action Bakugou had decided to make was filling you with a happiness you had nearly forgotten. 

“Good,” Bakugou huffed with an annoyed scowl on his face, sliding the door shut behind him as he joined you outside. “Because I won’t be offering to do this again. You’d better enjoy it!” 

Unable to resist the small smile on your lips, you followed him as he made his way towards the stables, finding it difficult to pull your eyes off a particular spot between his shoulder blades. “I’m sure it will be wonderful.” 

“More like a pain in the ass. You keep your name and anything about you to yourself, understand? There will be people who will want to pry and be curious about why you are with me.” 

“What will you tell them?” 

“That it’s none of their fucking business.” Bakugou snarled at you over his shoulder, though you couldn’t resist giggling at his use for the modern curse. “Shut up! Why do you always laugh when I say that word?!” 

“It’s nothing!” You smiled up at him, walking a bit faster so you were beside him instead of behind. “It’s just so silly to hear you say that when you don’t know what it means.” 

“Then tell me what it means! I don’t care if it’s offensive, I want to know!” 

Tapping your finger to your chin, you hummed out in thought, wondering if it was worth it. He would surely get embarrassed if you told him, so you didn’t want to ruin your chances of getting to leave the castle. “Okay, I will tell you. But not until we get to town.” 

“Excuse me?! You don’t get to make the rules around here, Demon. I command you to tell me!” 

“And I promise that I will,” You smiled up at him, bringing a frustrated and flushed expression to his face that you couldn’t quite understand. “But not until we get to town. Deal?” 

“Tch, fine! I’ll hold you to that…” Nearly pouting, Bakugou turned his glare back in front of him, shoving his arms into the adjacent sleeves. Placing your own back behind your back, you peeled your eyes off his cute expression to instead watch your feet as you walked. Your wooden geta sandals clacked against the pristine flooring with each step, as did Bakugou’s, but you found it to be a pleasant sound. At the moment, the paired resonating noise represented a companionship, one which you hadn’t expected to bloom. And yet, your closeness to this ruthless and hot-headed man had blossomed into more than just a professional relationship based around occupational necessity. 

Bakugou was your friend… and your crush. That only made it harder for you to not think that this was something more than him just doing a favor for you. You wanted it to be more, for there to be some other motive that was driving him. Although there may have been a hint here and there as you both made your way to the stables, there was nothing definitive. 

His ears and cheeks flushing could be from the heat. 

Right? 

His sideways glances and wandering gaze could just be him watching you for any mischief. 

Right? 

His gentle touch and lingering hands as he put you up onto Yonaka’s back were just him helping you out and supporting you. 

Right? 

His arm around your waist as he settled in behind you was just to make sure you were body steady and comfortable. 

Right? 

That’s all it was. There was nothing deeper about any of his interactions with you, now or from the moment you had met him. You were just a woman that he used for his own gain and he had no romantic feelings for you whatsoever. 

“Maybe while we’re down there, you can pick some clothes for yourself, so you don’t wear the same rags every day. And some pork noodles sound good, there’s a place in the center of town that sells it with their own special sake that will probably ruin you.” Bakugou spoke calmly as Yonaka lumbered his way out of the castle gates, waiting until you were out of earshot of the guards so no one else caught wind of what was going on. “I hate town, but it will be good to get away.” 

Feeling heat rush to your cheeks, you kept your eyes on Yonaka’s ears, which twitched and twisted at the sound of Bakugou’s voice and the chirping birds in the trees. “I-I don’t have any money…” 

“Who said you needed it?” 

Clutching onto the pommel of the saddle tightly, you suddenly found it difficult to breathe, a tightness in your chest constricting your lungs and throat. If only you could tell him that a man taking a woman to buy clothes and dinner during your time meant something more than just a simple favor. In your mind, all you could think of was the possibility that he was doing this in pursuit of something more. 

But he couldn’t be. You absolutely could not fall for this man, and he couldn’t be falling for you. It just wasn’t something that could happen. 

Right?

“Ah, okay… Well, thank you, Bakugou. I look forward to it.” 

“Katsuki. Call me Katsuki.”

[pitviperofdoom]

Have some more AA dӕmons! Kudos to you if you can guess what Miles’ dӕmon is.

---

“You look nervous,” Maya remarks in the defendant’s lobby. “Should I be nervous, too?”

“What, nervous? Nah. I’ve got this handled.” It’s a little bit honest and a little bit not; he has a few angles he can maybe work, depending on how—how the prosecution decides to play things. He’s a little less blind than he was going into Larry’s trial. Things can only improve from here.

Never mind that he had Mia with him then, standing there behind the bench as a lifeline. Never mind that he has no assistance, no co-council, no one but his dӕmon at his side, and she’s just as uncertain as he is. Never mind the prosecutor that they’re up against.

It feels as if his heart dips into his stomach. Miles. They’re going to see Miles and—

Edgeworth, he corrects himself. Prosecutor Edgeworth. And if no one knows we’ve met, then I shouldn’t know his dӕmon’s name.

When the time comes, they file into the courtroom. Maya and her dӕmon—Zechariah, as they’ve learned—take their place near the bailiff. Phoenix focuses on the defense’s bench and nothing else until he finally reaches it. Once he’s there and there’s no more excuse not to, he turns—

He’s imagined this day for four years now, ever since he made the jump to law school. It’s surreal to finally be here, and so soon. He's still fresh out of the bar exam, the ink is barely dry on his diploma, and there is Miles Edgeworth, the Demon Prosecutor, looking at him coolly from the opposite end of the courtroom.

His old friend turns away to organize a few papers, probably documented evidence, and Phoenix’s eyes are drawn to his dӕmon instead. The last time he saw her, she was still changing shape.

Pictures in articles don’t do her justice. She looks like a cat in all of them, just a normal house cat at Miles—at Edgeworth’s feet. But now, Phoenix looks at her and genuinely can’t tell.

Seated on the smooth wooden surface, Edgeworth’s dӕmon watches Phoenix with cool, almost regal disdain. He wonders if she’s some kind of wild cat from Africa or South America, because she’s tall and long-bodied with golden spotted fur, like something that stepped off the savannah and into the courtroom. Phoenix feels like he’s taking a stare-down from a sphinx.

Beside him, Dawn’s stance is a bit clumsier. She’s too short to see over the bench comfortably but too big to sit on it the way Edgeworth’s dӕmon is doing, so instead she’s on her hind legs with her paws up on the bench so that she can watch the proceedings from a decent angle. It probably looks ridiculous to the people in the gallery behind them, but Phoenix can’t bring himself to care about their opinion right now.

He sees when their dӕmons’ eyes meet, even feels the jolt through his bond with Dawn. The held gaze only lasts a moment before Edgeworth’s dӕmon looks away. It’s not submission; Phoenix follows her gaze straight to where Maya Fey is standing.

Phoenix is almost distracted enough to miss the judge’s words, but Edgeworth jars him from his thoughts with nothing but his voice. “The prosecution is ready, Your Honor.” His dӕmon watches Maya Fey and her raven like she’s ready to pounce.

He swallows hard, and curls his fingers into Dawn’s fur.

“The defense is ready, Your Honor.”

(He’s not.)

***

Phoenix is half in a daze when he staggers out of the courtroom. There was no last-minute catch that could prove Maya’s innocence in a day, like he did for Larry. At the very least he won her a reprieve, and himself h one extra day to find more evidence. For now, they have a few minutes in the defendant’s lobby before Maya is taken back to detention. She watches him with stars in her eyes, and if he didn’t know better he would easily mistake her for a normal teenager.

“You were incredible,” she says. “Is this what your courts are always like? Mia explained how they worked, and she said it was exciting sometimes, but that—it was like a battle, but with words thrown instead of spells and arrows!”

“It—I wasn’t—” Phoenix splutters. Next to him, Dawn prances a little from foot to foot at the praise. “I mean! I did tell you I’d prove your innocence. Which I… sort of haven’t done yet. I couldn’t get enough information in time.”

She grins at him, dimpling. “Is that supposed to impress me less? You went into it unarmed and you still held your own! Is there anything more I can do to help you?”

“Not unless you’ve remembered anything else?”

Her enthusiasm deflates, just a little. “No,” she admits. “And I’m trying, believe me! I’ve been going over everything from even two weeks back, but I can’t think of anything that might help. Mia was… secretive. I got the feeling that she didn’t want me too closely involved in what she was doing. Sometimes she would ask me to hold things for her, like she was going to do with that clock. But she hardly ever told me why.”

She looks so dejected that Phoenix regrets asking. “It’s alright,” he assures her. “I have some leads. One or two, but they’re good. Worst case scenario, I can delay sentencing one more day. But Edgeworth is… tough.” Frustration bubbles up, threatening to overflow. “He’s got a reputation for always getting the guilty verdict, and…”

“We weren’t expecting to face them so soon,” Dawn admits.

Zechariah shifts his weight on Maya’s shoulder and makes a soft, thoughtful noise. “She has the look of a hunter,” he says. “She never took her eyes off of us for the entire trial.”

“She—oh, you mean his dӕmon,” Phoenix says.

Maya looks thoughtful. “She had an interesting shape,” she says. “A cat, but not the kind of cat I usually see in humans. She almost looked like one of those African wildcats. A cheetah? No, she was too small for that. Maybe a serval, or a caracal?”

“Caracals don’t have spots,” says  Zechariah. “And servals have shorter tails, don’t they?”

“Right, right.”

“She was a little small, too.”

Suddenly, Phoenix’s throat feels altogether too tight. A memory is dragged to the front of his mind, only two days old, of standing in this very lobby and listening to Mia talk about Dawn’s shape.

“Do you guys know a lot about dӕmons?” Dawn asks.

“Sort of.” Maya smiles again. “They’re so interesting! You can tell so much about a person by the shape of their dӕmon! And human dӕmons come in so many different types, mammals and reptiles and insects and amphibians and even fish, of all things! Can you imagine having your dӕmon settle as a fish?”

“I’ve… never really thought about it?”

“Though, some people don’t seem to appreciate it when we ask questions…” Maya frowns, cheeks puffing slightly as if she’s remembering an embarrassing moment.

Phoenix is about to reply when the past crashes over him in an ice-cold wave.

It’s not just two-day-old memories anymore. For a split second he’s nine again, he’s a shy skinny fourth-grader with band-aids on his elbows, and if he looks over his shoulder he’ll see his friend standing there, he’ll see Dawn shifting shape again, tackling another dӕmon her size in rough-and-tumble play—

The moment passes, but the feeling of desperate longing stays. It’s not his, he realizes; he’s feeling it from Dawn.

A painful tug in his chest makes him turn around. His dӕmon is moving away, ears pricked toward something he can’t see as she steps toward the limits of their bond. Phoenix leaves Maya’s side and catches a handful of the fur on the scruff of his dӕmon’s neck. “Dawnie, where are you going—?”

She startles in his grip. “I—” She hesitates, looking back at him and then forward again, to the hallway that leads around to the other courtrooms. “I—she was there, Phoenix, I just saw her.”

“Dawn—”

“I mean, I didn’t see her, but I smelled her, and—I didn’t notice in the courtroom, but Phoenix, she smells the same, it was exactly the same as before, I just know it, I’d know her anywhere—” “Dawnie, so what if you did?” he mutters to her. She’s still pulling slightly against his grip. “We’re still in the courthouse and she’s a prosecutor’s dӕmon, she’s probably walked all over these halls. Of course you smelled her.”

“I just…” Dawn whines plaintively. “I could’ve sworn she was there.”

It twists at his heart to hear her talk like that. She’s not saying anything he doesn’t already feel. But… “We’ll see them again tomorrow, remember? The trial’s not over. Just—hold it together, okay?”

“It’s not the same.” Dawn still watches the corridor, tail drooping down and around until the tip of it curls between her hind legs. “They’re so far away, Phoenix.”

“I know,” he says. “I know, okay? We’ll reach them. But we knew it was gonna take time. We’re ahead of schedule, if you think about it. We never thought we’d see them again this fast.”

“I wish it was faster,” his dӕmon whispers.

“Yeah,” he says. “Me too. C’mon, you’re making Maya worried.”

At this, she shakes herself and turns her back on the far hallway. She doesn’t want to, but he’s right; Maya’s watching them with a curious look on her face, like she’s trying to put together a picture and figure out if she has all the pieces at the same time.

“Sorry about that,” Phoenix says. “But anyway—this is good. I got us another day, and a few things to look into.”

Maya nods. “Mia was right,” she says.

That catches him off guard. “A-about what?”

She smiles at him, bright with hope. “You have the soul of a protector.”

***

“What kept you?” Miles asks, when she finally catches up to him.

“Nothing much. Just satisfying some curiosity.”

“What could you possibly be curious about?”

Her ears flick backward in annoyance. “You know what.” Infuriatingly, he pretends not to know what she’s talking about. “She almost saw me.”

Miles refuses to rise to the bait. “Lovely. Perhaps their situational awareness has improved in the last however many years.”

“Fifteen,” she says, as if he doesn’t know perfectly well how many.

He sighs. “Is there a point you’re trying to make?”

“I suppose not. It’s just… odd, seeing them here.” She pauses, twitching the tip of her tail. “I mean, who would have thought?”

“Wright’s career choices have nothing to do with us, so I don’t see any point in speculating.”

To her relief, he means it. The thoughts and worries that he pushes away always end up plaguing her. At the moment, however, Phoenix Wright is a low-level concern at best.

“He employs Mia Fey’s tactics,” she says after a moment. “And not as well as she did, either. Tomorrow shouldn’t be hard to get through.”

“Obviously.” He sighs, more irritated than anything else. “The sooner this is over, the better.”

It feels so desperately wrong, seeing them there. The defense’s bench is the last place Phoenix Wright and his dӕmon belong. Perhaps, by soundly defeating them tomorrow, they’ll knock some sense into their heads.

But it makes no difference in the end. Their only goal is the guilty verdict, no matter who happens to be standing in their way.