#i know this is highly unlikely given how she acted before but let me dream

[dirteater25]

Its such an intresting concept to think about how kotoko would react to mahirus death because imagine that one of the people who was deemed a "sinner" and you had to carry out your "duties" to serve justice sudently not only gets frogiven by the system you were acting out on (es' judgment) but calls you over while on her deathbed just to wish you a happy birthday and she says she has no grudge against you then the next thing you know she dies?

I hope t3 kotoko starts feeling at least some traces of guilt, i want to see her break character and realize thats not the way things should go and that shes more then just a weapon for a system that is flawed, and i hope mahirus death helps her realize that.

[harry-writings]

Bothered

- A blurb in which somebody flirts with Y/n for the first time, and Harry lets jealousy get the best of him

This is a little Drive Me Wild extra for all your valentine’s day needs!!! I hope you enjoy :) 

Masterlist

-

“Tequila, please. The best one you’ve got!”

Open bars at work parties are an absolute lifesaver.

Harry and Y/n have been nonstop on their feet since three, wearing their sunday best, talking to all the higher ups and other officials at the firm with as much professionalism as possible. And though it was certainly a nice break from the work setting, it was still a lot for the both of them to keep up with.

It’s nearly eleven now, the party near its end and the exhaustion finally settling in. But Y/n wouldn’t ever dream of passing up unlimited free drinks whenever offered (neither would Harry, but getting her home safe is his biggest priority). Besides, she needed to take the edge off, somehow.

The bartender smiles at her, his eyes looking at her up and down very briefly before making her drink.

She’s humming softly to herself, her fingers tapping against the bar, the palm of her other hand resting on the back of her neck and she looks around the venue, admiring the architecture and the chandeliers that hang from above her.

“How long have you been working for them?” The bartender asks as he slides the shotglass to her, to which Y/n smiles.

“Almost three years! It’s been really good to me so far. I must say, though, it gets a bit stressful and there are a handful of times we end up having to take our work home. But I’ve met some of the best people through the company, so I can’t complain much! Especially when this is the only job I’ve ever considered staying at for so long.”

When the bartender doesn’t answer, yet rather just stares at her with amusement and endearment in his eye, Y/n starts to get nervous.

She considers diverting her attention back to Harry and moving on with her night as if she hadn’t spoken a word at all, but she’s never been the kind of person to walk away from an uncomfortable silence. And most certainly, she has never found it in her will to escape somebody’s pressing and persistent stares.

All of it just makes her so anxious.

So, as an attempt to calm her nerves, Y/n throws her head back as she takes her shot of tequila, her nose scrunching and eyes squinting as it burns down her throat and settles in her chest.

“What about you? How long have you been working as a bartender? I’ve heard it’s a lot of work, remembering all the recipes and stuff. Whenever I went to university, I would go to bars and get drunk by myself and watch how fast all the bartenders made drinks. I found it mesmerising, really. Like an art, almost. A sport, too, I suppose, given how much you all have to think and act quickly yet unmistakably.”

Harry smiles softly to himself, a bittersweet feeling bubbling in his chest as he listens to her get caught up in her rambles.

She doesn’t do that much with him anymore, not in the way she used to. And it isn’t because she’s lost any trust in him, or because she loves him any less — rather, it’s because she trusts and loves him so much more that she doesn’t feel the need to fill any gaps or spaces between them anymore.

He doesn’t make her nervous.

She doesn’t need reassurance with him because she already knows how madly in love they are with one another and how they are undeniably bound to spend the rest of their lives together. The silences they share are comfortable for her, his simple presence enough to make her feel at ease and loved and respected without him having to constantly remind her.

And surely, Y/n still chews his ear off here and there, but he only ever wants more of her.

It’s a disease, his greed and longing for her. She is so enough yet so not enough at the same time, it kills him to think about it, but only in the best way possible.

But the smile and the admiration die down nearly instantly when Harry’s eyes catch the way the bartender looks at Y/n, and the way he straightens himself before her, and the way his bottom lip tucks between his teeth ever so slightly.

Harry crosses his arms at this, watching the way another man is drooling and fonding over his Y/n and not at all trying to hide it. And the sad part is that he can’t even blame him for it — how could he? He had done the very same thing for nearly two years straight.

So he suffers with it in silence.

“My goodness, I do love me a woman who can carry a conversation.”

Harry’s eyes squint over at him, his arms still crossed over his chest, his fingers twisting as he watches him blink flirtatiously at Y/n and the upward twitch of his lip whenever she flips her hair over her shoulder.

She only ever does that when she’s sweating, he knows this because she’s his girlfriend and he knows her more than he’s ever known himself. He also knows that Y/n thinks too lowly of herself to ever consider one’s kindness as flirting.

And though Harry wouldn’t dare to dream of changing anything about her, he does wish, just this once, that she’d see it.

Y/n blushes at his comment, but only because she doesn’t know what to say.

“Can I have another shot, please?” She asks as a form of distraction, but in such a sweet manner the bartender barely seems to notice. “I never get to go out to drink much nowadays, with work and all. So, I’m sorry if I order too much. Large groups of people aren’t really my thing. Not that I hate people, or anything. I guess they just make me nervous.”

And as the bartender pours her shot glass full of tequila, his eyes don’t make the slightest move to leave her. He’s gawking, looking smug as if he could ever stand a chance.

Y/n pretends not to notice.

“Look, I close down the bar in an hour. And since large groups of people aren’t really your thing, why don’t I take you somewhere nice —”

“Oh...”

“— just you and me, so I can have the chance to get to know you more? Maybe in more ways than one, if I’m lucky?”

Oh, fuck no.

Flirting is one thing, but listening as some stranger talks about wanting to have sex with his girlfriend is something entirely different. Especially when she hasn’t done anything other than be nice and considerate towards him.

He’s taking advantage of her kindness.

Harry can’t hold himself back anymore.

“Excuse me?”

And curse his fucking natural lack of emotion because it was supposed to sound threatening and protective, but rather, it must have come off the way any other customer were to grab a bartender’s attention because he looks over at him with a tight and strained smile, clearly laced with annoyance, with not a hint of suspicion.

“Yes, sir, what can I help you with?”

Harry clenches his jaw and nods his head, his gaze falling to the top of the bar as he tries — really, really tries — to keep himself together instead of knocking this poor bloke’s teeth in.

The urge is there, but he could never scare Y/n like that, or sacrifice his job for satisfaction’s sake — he was lucky he didn’t jeopardize it when he landed a solid right hook on his coworker a few months back. But to make such a rude, blunt, disrespectful comment to his girlfriend is too much for him to process.

But it’s not all anger. There’s something else there — something else brewing and swelling inside of him that’s never been there before. He can’t identify it no matter how hard he tries.

“It would help me tremendously, actually, if you were to stop asking to sleep with my girlfriend right in front of me.”

It’s silent for a moment, the air thick with tension as the bartender looks both between Harry and Y/n, Y/n and Harry. He looks weary of it, as if it were so impossible for her to ever be seen with somebody like him.

“You’re with him?” He asks Y/n, as if Harry’s word wasn’t enough and it nearly throws him off the deep end.

Y/n’s eyes blink with confusion and shock as she tries to adjust herself to her surroundings. Everything happened so quickly to her, she feels like she can’t keep up.

Harry senses this — he senses her uncertainty and uneasiness and takes notice in the way her fingers begin to grip at her shot glass a bit tighter. Confrontation and arguments are not Y/n’s strong suit and in the hands of either one, she is defenseless.

“Is my word not enough for you?”

The bartender lifts his hands up in defense, his eyebrows raised as if somehow proving a point he’s clearly been missing. “Can’t blame me for assuming she’s single, you’re sitting next to the prettiest girl on earth and you look like you couldn’t even be bothered.”

Harry’s hands turn to fists, his jaw clenching and eyebrows twitching as he hears him speak all the words he’d rather die than hear spoken again.

How a complete stranger can cut a wound so deep within him is unfathomable, but here he is, bleeding out with all his insecurities and flaws and weaknesses along with it. And it pains him. It hurts and if one more wrong word is spoken, he’ll fall victim to all the darkest parts of himself.

He can’t risk that, not around Y/n.

“I would highly suggest you stop talking now —”

“You aren’t even interested in her! I gave her more attention in the last ten minutes than you’ve given her all night!”

“Hey.” Y/n cuts in with pouted lips, her face fallen as her voice quivers at the argument brewing in front of her. “That’s not true. He — he’s been beside me all night. I thought it was — I thought it was obvious.”

“Doesn’t matter anymore. We’re going home.”

Harry’s tone is unlike anything she’s ever heard. It’s stern, harsh, laced with impatience as he stands from his barstool and scrambles to gather her belongings.

And Y/n’s at a loss, just standing against the bar helplessly, looking at Harry with tearful eyes and shaking lips. He has never been this angry at her before and she doesn’t know how to fix it. Talking was what got them into this mess, she’s sure talking won’t get themselves out of it.

But it doesn’t hurt to try.

“Wait, H. I’m sorry, I —”

“That’s enough, now. We’re making our last rounds and then we’re going straight home.”

That was the first time he’s ever interrupted her.

-

It isn’t until Harry starts the car that Y/n breaks the silence.

“H, I didn’t know he was going to ask me out on a date.” She speaks with a voice small and shoulders slumped as she tries desperately to fix all the trust she has broken. “I was just trying to be nice and —”

“Not now, Y/n, please.”

She realizes the severity of the situation when he doesn’t call her a pet name.

Her eyes fill with tears, fully aware that even when he was most upset with her, he never interrupted her while talking or avoided her gaze like it was the last thing he ever wanted to see. He’s doing both right now and to say that it hurt her is an understatement.

He’s sick of hearing me speak. He’s angry at me for talking too much to everybody and not noticing the consequences. He’s tired of listening to me make excuses for myself when I’m never going to change. He doesn’t want this anymore.

Her mind can’t help but to think such things, and though deep down in her heart she knows he’d never feel that way towards her, words of her past can’t help but torment her in the heat of this moment. Because this is so different than how it usually is with him, and it all started with her.

Harry can feel how much of a toll his words took on her, but he doesn’t know what to say. He is feeling so many things, and processing so much, he feels like he’s lost himself. All sense of everything else had left him the second the bartender spoke the words he always feared to hear.

You’re sitting next to the prettiest girl on earth and you look like you couldn’t even be bothered.

He knows it isn’t true, and he also knows she knows it isn’t true, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

To know other people see it that way devastates him. He doesn’t date Y/n to look uninterested in her, or bored of her, or tired to be with her — he dates Y/n because he wants to show her off, desires to make her and everybody else see how in love with her he is, to make it known she never has to walk this world alone.

To know he has failed to do that simply by being himself is a lot for him to take in.

He sighs, ripping off his glasses so his other hand can rub at his burning eyes before settling the both of them back on the steering wheel, his gaze still set on the windshield.

“I’m sorry for not letting you finish talking, twice now. It wasn’t right and I know what that does to you. And I’m not angry or upset with you, either. I’m just — I’m just not in the mood right now, alright? I need some time to think.”

Y/n nods, fearing that whatever words she chooses to speak will only make it worse.

Neither of them talk the rest of the way home, but that doesn’t mean Harry doesn’t reach his hand over to her thigh to squeeze at it three times, as if to tell her he loves her.

-

It isn’t until they make it into their bedroom that Harry starts to let it all out.

He’s pacing, his hands fidgeting with his clothes and running through his hair, his eyes wild but still refusing to look at her, muttering curses under his breath but nothing directly towards her just yet.

Y/n’s standing by the dresser, taking off her remaining jewelry and allowing him his time to dwell on his feelings. He needs this. She knows she’s the only person that he’ll ever show this kind of emotion to — he couldn't even show it to himself — so she listens, smiles sympathetically at him here and there, refusing to leave his side until this is all figured out.

He huffs before letting out a sickened laugh.

“Who the hell does he think he is? Telling me I’m not interested in you. I can’t be walking around kissing and hovering and touching all over you at a work party, I respect you too much. But he wouldn’t know a damn thing about that, would he?”

He throws his suit jacket down on the bed, only allowing himself one beat of a moment to shake his head before his hands start to fidget again, pacing around the foot of the bed to try and understand his primary emotion.

He feels a million and ten different emotions scrambling within him at once, he can’t make sense of them. Whether he’s angry, or sad, or hurt, or insecure, or humiliated… he doesn’t know. It all feels the same yet all feels so different. He is utterly lost in all of them.

“Then proceeds to have the nerve to say he’s given you more attention than I have. What the fuck does that even mean? All he does is serve you two drinks and speak one sentence. I give you all my time, all my company, all my attention, and somehow he thinks he’s better for you than me?”

And it hits her.

No wonder he’s been acting so different towards her and so quiet despite him not blaming her for what happened — he’s jealous, which is the exact reason he doesn’t have an understanding with it.

She’s his first girlfriend, and until now, there had never been any reason for him to feel this way.

But as sick and twisted as it sounds, Y/n’s heart warms at the thought of it. Because never once has someone ever had a problem with letting her go. Her loss never affected anybody around her, and so nobody had ever feared it.

To know that out of all people, it’s him who does, means everything to her.

She hums at him, an all too knowing smile on her face as she makes her way to her frantic lover, who stills when he notices her closeness.

Her hands rest at his chest, rubbing at it over his dress shirt, just the way he likes. It reminds him of the night of their first date — when she gave into her cravings and put her hands nearly everywhere they could touch — and so she always goes back to that very first moment.

It never fails him.

“It’s okay, lovebug.” Y/n smiles softly at him, her voice even more soft and tender than usual as she tries to get him to relax.

Her hands slither down the hem of his trousers, her fingers resting just above the swell of his bum and pulling him in closer to her. And he wraps his arms around her shoulders, a heavy sigh leaving his lips before bringing his chest toward her cheek for it to nest in.

“Don’t let somebody get the best of you. Especially when they don’t know anything about you or me or our relationship. We know what we are and what we have, it doesn’t matter what he thinks is better for me. I have what’s best. Forever.”

He sighs, the weight of the night lifting from him slightly, but not enough.

He rests his chin on the top of her head, his eyes on the verge of being soaked with tears. Because though he knows her words to be true, he just can’t seem to shake what’s rattling in his bones and picking at his skin.

He wants it all to be okay, and it almost is, just not fully. And it’s killing him from the inside out.

“It’s a new feeling for me.” Harry confesses sadly, trying to think of the right words to say to explain what’s burning in his chest. “It hurts me to feel it. I’m so comfortable and confident in you and yet somehow I can’t — I can’t stop thinking about you and that fucking bartender and him touching you and making you laugh and —”

“You’re jealous.”

She pulls away from him slightly, her eyes looking up at him softly and sympathetically. He gives into her gaze for only a beat longer before looking away from her again, unable to take it.

It all makes sense — the unfamiliar feelings, the scrambling of emotions, the sensitivity to the words that had been spoken about him. His relationship had been threatened for the first time since it started, how could he not be?

“Of course I’m jealous. Which is absolutely horrible because you look so pretty yet it hurts too much to look at you.”

She chuckles, a playful smirk on her face as she reaches her hands up to his cheeks. And she turns his head to the side, forcing his eyes to look into hers as she rubs her thumb along his cheekbones.

Even like this, he is the most perfect man she’s ever seen. She has loved this person longer than she has loved anything else, how he could ever feel jealous of anybody is absolutely beyond her. He is all she will ever need, and everything she will ever want.

He is the only person that has ever deserved her.

“Baby, you have nothing to be jealous of. I don’t think, since the moment I’ve laid eyes on you, I’ve ever bothered to look for anybody else.” His breath faults, then, his heart dropping as if it were falling in love all over again.

And just like that, the hurt is gone.

“I’m yours, H. I have always been yours.”

He wants her to keep going, so instead of answering, he taps the back of her thigh twice. He’s never done so outside of sex, but he needs her all over him, holding him, hanging onto him. He needs it now more than ever.

She giggles, understanding exactly what he wants before jumping up until her legs are wrapped around his waist and her arms are looped around his neck. He catches her instantly, snuggling his face into the crook of her neck and kissing at the exposed skin.

She loves how much her words have an affect on him.

“I love you so much. I always will. No matter how many sleazy men ask me to sleep with them.”

He whines, lifting his head from her shoulder before looking at her with sad eyes and pouted lips at the subtle reminder that somebody else thought of her that way. Only he has, only he can, it doesn’t matter the circumstance.

She’s his.

She smiles down at him with a small blush on her cheeks, her arms unwrapping from his neck so her hands can grip his face again.

“I sleep with you. Every night. In more ways than one.” She kisses at his lips. “Cause I’m lucky.”

And for the first time tonight, he smiles. And as if that wasn’t enough for her, he laughs too — quietly, breathlessly — his hands rubbing all along her lower back and her thighs.

“Hmm... I am lucky, aren’t I?” Harry hums in bliss, his eyes looking at her fondly as she hangs on his neck in their home and it doesn’t get better than this. She had a man practically drooling on her lap and yet she’s here, with him, loving him, choosing him, just like she always has. “I do have the prettiest girl in the world. And the sweetest. And the strongest.”

“Too bad you couldn’t be bothered.” She teases, a smirk on her lips before her tongue pokes out to run quickly against his closed lips.

He lets out an almost sinister laugh, rumbling so deep in his chest she somehow manages to feel it in her legs.

“Why don’t I show you how bothered I am?”

[moonbaby26]

Title: Growing Love

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: Story set nearer the Viking Age. You were a Greek sea goddess who crossed paths with the god of mischief. Continuation of previous chapter. Loki returns to Asgard and is confronted by his mother Frigga and her accurate suspicions on his newfound interest in Midgard. While you witness the completion of the building erected for you and Loki by the villagers, followed by his return back to you in the night.

Warnings: None this chapter. Just fluff! First Loki and his mental sparring with Frigga who loves him, and then some well deserved cuddling with you who is also starting to.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @rosaline-black , @lawfeys , @loveableasshole , @insanitybyanothername , @just-wordsandthoughts , @cringingmemeries

My Masterlist

——————————

A few days ago, Asgard

Loki emerged from the light, now back home before the bifrost immediately closed once more. The smug smile remained on his face as your last question still played through his mind. He knew that nickname he’d given you wouldn’t be something you’d let go of anytime soon. In fact, he counted on it. Something to distract and occupy you for the coming weeks until he could return.

It may be selfish of course. But if you were becoming stuck in his mind this often, he had to make sure he wasn’t the only one now having to suffer. Though there was something rewarding about getting to hide you away still. Even if he knew the arrangement in the village would come to light eventually, potentially making these trips to your realm far more problematic.

The sooner he could find an alternate route to Midgard to bypass the bifrost and Heimdall entirely, the better. He could not allow all his future ability to see you to become solely dependent on Odin’s whims.

Whatever the Allfather would think of these risks now being taken though, Loki truly did not care. But historically, whatever he’d most desired always ended up taken away from him in one way or another. Or even worse, absorbed into the limitless well of good fortune that seemed to follow Thor like a miasma. So he had to prepare for that, plan for it really.

Of course, you didn’t seem the type to fall apart so easily over just some long blonde hair and an oversized set of muscles. But Loki had lost count ages ago of how many times he’d still ended up with the short end of the stick whenever his brother had entered any situation. Parading you before Thor wan’t something he was willing to chance just yet either.

No, he had to consider both his father and brother now as threats to these new emotions he was still trying to define. It likely shouldn’t be so, but somehow it always was. They always got in his way.

And as Loki now strode forward, his appearance only shifted to that of a standard royal guard, wishing for a more discreet entrance back into the palace after so many hours away. He had let the adorations of those mortals delay him far more than expected.

But the feel of sitting at the head of that mead hall with you at his side had hit him in such a strange way as well. A fleeting taste which had caused him to linger even further there as he’d fantasized about sitting similarly content on Asgard’s throne one day.

That dream of seizing his birthright was nothing new of course, yet the difference was now the addition of you in that mental image. He wanted you there so suddenly, with loyalty and pride radiating from you for all the court to see. He needed you to want to be his, to be willing to do whatever necessary to defy Asgard’s enemies in his name.

And even now, those thoughts brought a flare of desire that he could not act on. Frustrating as it was, he knew he had to maintain some semblance of patience. Heimdall’s silent stare of judgement didn’t even rile him to speaking either as the still disguised Loki passed silently by the gatekeeper.

He was bold enough to change appearance right in front of Heimdall, yes. But he also knew that until he crossed the line of actually doing something which broke Asgardian law, Heimdall would still keep what he had seen to himself. Travel to Midgard was not yet forbidden after all.

But Heimdall’s current courtesy of silence would only go so far as to delay the inevitable. The clock was still ticking on this secret and Loki knew it.

And unlike Midgard that had still been fully night, dawn was now just breaking in Asgard as Loki made his way back into the palace. The sparse guards he did encounter, he only gave little mocking salutes to. Still in the guise of one of them as he’d mimicked their own protocols before he’d turned the corner into the next corridor and ended up at the massive doors to his own living quarters.

So close to being able to hide himself back away for a few moments before the palace fully awakened, he had just placed his palms on the ornate, golden door handles when a sudden sound made him still completely.

“Good morning, son.” The placid voice called to him from nothing as his mother Frigga only materialized directly behind him.

And there was just that smallest moment of fear inside him. Just the length of a heartbeat before he’d turned smoothly to face her, his own magic dissolving to remove his disguise as excuses bubbled readily to his mind.

Of course he was still in the same armor from all those hours before, the muck of that mortal village even still marring the soles of his boots as he offered her an easy smile. “Well...how long have you been waiting here, Mother?”

Yet she responded just as simply, a gentle look in her eyes. “Not long at all really. I suppose I have good timing.”

But he was still searching, examining her body language for any hint of her actual intention. How much did she know? “I suppose that you do. Have Father and dear brother yet returned triumphant from Alfheim then?” No, he doubted that. The halls would not be near as peaceful if so.

“No. They have not.” She only answered. “...But that is exactly why I thought you may wish to speak to me now while whatever we discuss can still be kept relatively private.”

And there it was. He felt that slight bit of tension in his chest as he weighed his options in quick succession. The foundation with you still wasn’t fully laid, he needed more time to secure things. Even though he trusted Frigga, she and the Allfather went hand in hand in the end. She would not lie to her husband if pressed.

And Odin may forbid this odd new relationship outright, fearing some insult to Poseidon no doubt. If that foreign, Olympian king fully knew that the Asgardian god of mischief was now digging his claws greedily into his youngest daughter without permission, it could easily become a full blown scandal.

Loki hadn’t even bothered to investigate if you were betrothed to anyone in your own kingdom or not either. He did not care. He was a prince and would take whatever he wanted.

Though he knew it better to reveal nothing of you to his own family just yet, he also knew that if he offered Frigga too little in return, she would only step up her efforts to investigate on her own. Motherly concern and all, endearing at times, highly troublesome at others. He’d let her feel as if she had pried a little out of him at least as he played along. “And what is it that we should need to discuss so privately, Mother?” Loki asked calmly at last.

Yet she only smiled, surprising him a little still as she took his arm. “Come. Walk with me. You needn’t play such games. A mother knows when her son is enamored.”

He scoffed, though still letting himself be led as they did begin to walk. The halls were still empty enough this early in the morning for their words to not be easily overheard. “Is that what you think this all about? I think you’re confusing me with that manchild of yours for once.”

“Loki,” Frigga only chided. “It is not weakness to admit such feelings. And yes, for your brother that is an all too frequent cycle. He is not yet mature enough for his relationships to be anything but passing frivolity. But you are different. Which is why it becomes all the more noticeable when it finally does happen. Do not waste breath to deny it.”

He raised his eyebrows, never missing when she did offer even the slightest criticism of Thor. But he was still quick to downplay her insinuation about your importance. “Yet you act as if it has never happened for me before. Just because I’ve been more focused on honing my sorcery skills the last several years, it doesn’t mean I haven’t had my share of frivolity as you call it, Mother.”

But Frigga just gave him a disapproving look then. “Do not be crude just to try and shorten this conversation. There is a clear difference between solely that kind of physical interaction you speak of, and this distraction that has now carried you back to Midgard more than three times now. And you know the significance of the number three in so many of the rituals and rights I have taught you, it-”

“No.” He cut in abruptly. That was the line. If she was trying to say this was already something now beyond his control, something fated, he fully rejected that notion. “I don’t follow the predetermined, Mother. And you know I never want to hear whatever future you’ve seen for me. I will make my own.”

But the queen of Asgard was not one to back down either, responding just as strongly, “And all a witch can see is the possible outcomes, not the one that will truly be. I would never curse you with the burden of such knowledge, even if I were sure. But don’t patronize me to act as if nothing has changed for you. I came here to offer you my help, Loki. If you ever wish to make whoever you have chosen legitimate in the Allfather’s eyes, to actually bring them here one day, you will not be able to do it alone. I hope you understand that.”

“Mother...” He couldn’t help but pause to look in her eyes again, as unexpected as that offer really was. Yet he so quickly grabbed onto the possible other meaning as well in her concern. “You say ‘legitimate’ almost as if I was considered the true heir again. After all, who the future king of Asgard could court would be awfully more important than whoever just a prince would choose, correct? Of course, I suppose a marriage that one day joined Asgard and Midgard would also be significantly more impressive politically than say Thor and Sif, or whoever the Hel he’s galavanting around with these nights...”

She gave him a little hit on the arm at that. Of course he knew she hated whenever he mocked whoever his brother’s current fancy was. But she still just continued. “What should be important to you is finding the person that makes you happy, regardless of their own station. That is the future I want for both my sons. Whichever of you should one day hold the throne.”

Of course she still refused to admit Father’s favoritism that Loki saw all too well. He straightened up a little, that real sincerity in him burning through then. “But it will be me, Mother. I will prove myself worthy to Father, worthy of the throne. One way or another.”

And he hated that sympathetic look in her eyes, even though the real warmth was still there as she answered. “And I still say you’ll be far happier when you focus on yourself rather than chasing the Allfather’s approval. He already loves you both, just as I do.”

That was all he could handle for now, as he took her hand gently, bowing to her slightly before he kissed it. “No, he does not love as unequivocally as you do, Mother. But I do thank you for that. I will consider your offer. Yet I think it is still too early just yet.”

And as he straightened back up, he could see she at least accepted this. She would not dig any further into his visits to Midgard just yet. But he’d only bought additional time for just so long he was sure.“I’m going back to my quarters for a brief rest now.” He told her. “But if you need me any further today, you will find me in the throne room. Where I belong.”

Until Odin and Thor returned from Alfheim, this would be his privilege. His days would be spent hearing any grievances of the kingdom, presiding over council meetings, casting decisions on any changes to security measures, and standing as the head of all the remaining soldiers here for Asgard’s defense.

But at night...at night he’d return to his chambers. And laying there alone, surely that would be when he’d pass the remaining time awake thinking of you. Thinking and hoping that those mortals would hurry up and complete that room and bed for you both.

Whatever they built would still not be to his standards he was sure. But until you could truly lay in his own bed beneath him in Asgard, he would have to accept the compromise of a little hovel of a den for you both in Midgard.

—————————-

Midgard, several weeks later

The days passed so slowly for you. You now divided your time between your normal duties monitoring the oceans, and taking that form of the osprey, flying to visit the little village in the north that Loki had claimed for you both.

Never before had you spent so much time around mortals to be honest. And at first you’d still taken every possible measure to remain hidden from their sight. But eventually, that effort grew too tiresome.

After a while, you didn’t stay so high in the trees any longer. Yourself curious to be true, and watching as step by step they’d raised the timbers to begin building that structure Loki had requested.

You still stayed just out of their reach surely, but you didn’t fly away anymore when you saw them take notice of you. They’d even greet you quite frequently now, just calling you that nickname Loki had given you which they thought your real name. Kærr.

Especially the children. Whenever they moved out into the forest to play or gather freshwater from the nearby stream you’d also now discovered, they always giggled and called to you as they ran along beneath.

You’d even noticed that they gradually seemed to stray farther and farther from the village than they had in the beginning. As if your presence alone gave them confidence of their safety. It was such an odd sense of responsibility. One you weren’t quite sure you were ready for just yet.

The days were growing shorter too, the nights far colder by the time they finally finished that building. And as Loki had suggested, it was still quite small. Like a one room cabin really. Though they’d made quite a show of asking for your approval on it, you didn’t know what you were supposed to really do. They seemed to take your silence as a positive at least before they’d left again saying you could now summon your “master” and they would leave him to his privacy in the new dwelling.

You’d still waited until it was late at night though, knowing most the mortals would now be sleeping before you’d finally landed, changing back to the form of a woman as you’d walked to take a closer look at the building in the dim moonlight.

They’d built this also far enough from the village, here in the deeper woods that they could not stumble accidentally back upon it unless they really meant to. So you weren’t afraid of being seen as you’d walked the perimeter curiously.

It seemed sturdy enough. Quaint, but somehow inviting. And as you moved back towards the door, you realized they’d also listened to Loki’s criticism on their village’s carvings needing to be changed to reflect their new protector.

You couldn’t help but smile as you recognized well that likeness as you now ran your fingers across the rises and falls carved into the wood. The cape, the outlines of armor, the horned helmet...

But the real surprise was his pose, one arm bent, raised near level with his chest. And there perched upon that arm, was a bird of prey. You. Looking far more regal than you ever really had right to be you were sure.

There was a mix of mild embarrassment and a strange amusement that rose in you as you took the whole image in. It was quite possibly the only likeness anyone had ever made for you in the mortal realm. And paired with Loki no less.

Eros’ words carried on your heart still as you finally opened the door to venture inside. You knew Eros couldn’t be wrong, not on this subject. But it didn’t seem like it should be true either. How could you be falling in love when you didn’t even know the real meaning of the word? When you’d only had such fleeting meetings with this man?

The little bit of moonlight barely penetrated the inside of the dwelling and you just left the door open to not fully smother the light as you walked in onto the rough wooden floors. Though they’d laid down some rugs as well as your feet found them.

The furniture was sparse and simple, though maybe still the best of what they had to be truthful. A couple chairs, a small table, a chest for belongings, and of course a bed.

There were candles, but you had nothing to light them with as you now sat down on the empty bed. It was certainly a far cry from the large and extravagant bedding in your father’s palace.

But for someone who could just as easily sleep to the rocking of the waves or the silence of the deeper depths, a makeshift mattress stuffed with wool, moss, or who really knew what, really wasn’t a problem.

It was so quiet too. You laid down on your back, just to get the feeling of it as you stared up at the beams which arched into the ceiling. It reminded you most of the beams inside the hull of a ship, which was likely little coincidence. The ancestors of these people were all seafarers.

Idly, you wondered too if Loki had ever been to sea. You knew from those books you’d read that Asgard had waters of its own. But did he feel comfortable on the water? Did he ever sail? Did he swim? And maybe more importantly, would he ever swim with you?

You closed your eyes, thinking what it could be like to show him things he’d never seen before. Would he feel as good under the water as he did above it? Would he ever visit your own kingdom?

Of his own family, all you really knew was the tension and seeming competition between he and his brother. Would any of your own siblings be impressed by him though? Surprised surely. You’d never brought anyone to the palace before. Maybe one day...

————————————

You thought you were only dreaming. Because it wasn’t as if it hadn’t happened before. Especially in the long stretches between seeing one another. That scent of him, the feel of his cool skin against your own, albeit only making you feel heated as you breathed in deeper.

It wasn’t until you felt that lightest kiss on the back of your neck that your eyes fluttered open. Laying on your side on the bed, as your vision focused you noticed the door to the cabin was now closed. That and a single candle newly lit, flickering dimly on the small table just a few feet away.

You’d fallen asleep at some point. For how long was unclear. But you were absolutely no longer alone.

“Hello, Kærr.” Loki’s voice came in an almost taunting whisper, using that nickname again.

You were startled, but you didn’t hesitate, rolling over immediately to then be face to face with him in the shifting candlelight.

The glint of his teeth met you as he smiled in amusement. But whatever harsh words you may have thought he still deserved, they didn’t come as you’d also noticed his bare chest now nearly against you.

You had to glance down to realize he wasn’t nude however. But dressed solely in a dark pair of pants as he laid so closely beside you.

“You left the door open you know. I took it as an invitation.” He added, one hand now tracing idly down the side of your dress.

“How long have you been here?” You finally asked, but tellingly not pulling away at all as you let the small touches continue.

“Long enough to realize you’ll have me putting protection spells all around these walls if this is how deeply you really sleep, goddess. Imagine if I’d wanted to do more than kiss that pretty throat.”

You stared a moment. And yes, maybe you should have been embarrassed to be caught so defenseless. But in reality, what real enemies had you ever had? You didn’t live always keeping one eye over your shoulder. Yet...was he implying he would choose to protect you if it ever came to that?

You only shifted closer to him at those words rather than retort though, boldly laying your head against his chest then as you scooted down a little in the bed. You liked the way he tensed slightly too, seeming surprised before he just pulled the bed’s quilt up around you both.

The secure feeling as his arm tightened around you beneath the blanket was also very new. Both of you quiet until it was you who next broke the silence. “Will you stay tonight then?” You could have asked how he’d known you were here, how many times he’d been checking on you via Heimdall, but it really didn’t matter.

All you actually cared about in this moment was how long until you’d have to say goodbye to him again.

His tone seemed unusual, caught off guard still perhaps. But he answered simply. “If it’s what you want. Yes.”

Which likely meant that his father and brother had finally returned to Asgard you thought. But you didn’t want to talk about anyone else right now. This time was now just for the two of you.

“It is what I want.” You confirmed, though not looking up at him in the bed. But with your head still against his chest, you could just hear his own heartbeat. And you didn’t think it was only in your imagination that it quickened at those simple words.

But it was true. You may not understand or be able to express more than this right now. You didn’t know how to talk about love or deeper need. Yet you could be honest to say you wanted him to stay. You wanted him beside you for as long as he could be.

And he just held onto you, staying pressed together as if it should always be this way. But it had to mean something to him too you hoped. Because Loki didn’t seem at all the type of god to do anything if it didn’t fulfill some sort of need for himself as well.

No, you didn’t think he would stay just because you’d asked, unless he’d already wanted to. But you wouldn’t question it out loud, not now as you closed your eyes again.

It likely didn’t take you very long to fall back asleep either to the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat beneath your head. Yet even as you did you could also feel the rise and fall of his chest steadying out as his breathing relaxed in tandem.

If he did stay awake to watch you, it only would have been just barely as the two of you remained curled into one another beneath that blanket. He’d asked you once before, though under more lustful circumstances, if you could get used to being with him. You’d answered yes then, wanting the chance surely, but had he meant it in this way too when he’d asked?

Eros had given you the advice to see this through. He said it was the only way to know if your growing love might ever actually be returned by this god. And that was exactly what you were now going to do.

—————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

[majorsoapfan]

The Umbrella Academy Season 3 Episode Titles Analysis

Now that the episode titles for season 3 have dropped, I’ve spent the last few days wondering and theorizing just what they could mean. Most of what I’ve gotten so far rests on symbolism, headcanons, potential theories and a lot of googling, but we all need some way of staying sane until season three drops, right?

Now this is just what I’ve come up with so far, I could be massively wrong in all of these, but these are just my predictions based on what I know of the characters and plot so far, previous ways of naming episodes and the very little I know of the comics.

Meet The Family

Now this one is very self-explanatory and we’ll most likely get to know our birdies very well in this episode. We’ll probably be seeing a flashback to the Sparrows as children fighting crime - maybe already being better at it than their Umbrella counterparts were when they first started.

I’m hoping that we’’ll see another montage of introducing the siblings as adults like we saw in season one with our Umbrellas - which had been so helpful to me at the time as I had started watching the show about a week before season two dropped. I had known absolutely nothing about the show when I started, I had only clicked on it because Robert Sheeran was in the card as Klaus with his pink umbrella and I thought he was pretty. I became a massive fan all because I had thought Robert was pretty and I was bored.

So yeah, I loved the initial introduction montage of the siblings as it helped me figure out who was who quickly without wasting time. And I think that doing something similar for the Sparrows will also help give a better and quicker insight into their personalities and how they work when we see them in episode one.

The World’s Biggest Ball of Twine

If you google ‘ball of twine’ it does mention that this is an archetype for an odd roadside attraction. Now if we’re going literal here, there are plenty of such attractions in the States, including one of just this in Texas, where our dysfunctional family had been last season. Maybe an indication of a road trip or even them fleeing the Sparrows and New York in order to regroup and figure out their next step without the birds circling in?

Ball of twine can also mean wrapping really strongly around something, especially as the material mentioned is usually very strong and durable. A ball of wool isn’t the episode title after all. Now this could mean maybe a family or an emotional issue that is massively at play here. Or more likely, the Umbrella’s and more specifically Five, are trying to figure out their exact steps and actions in the 60′s and just how badly they changed the past and future, both in the general sense of the world and for their own personal lives.

Ball of Twine can also mean wrapping around something tightly, so maybe a trap is being put in place or enacted. Either for the Umbrellas by the Sparrows, or the Umbrellas are trying to lure their counterparts into a trap to regain the upper hand.

Pocket Full of Lightning

Now the first thing that comes to mind when I think of this title is something like this being described or mentioned regarding a character and their abilities. Now the characters that come to mind immediately when referenced to this are either Vanya or Christopher. Or maybe it may have something to do with a team-up, more than likely the Sparrows and what can happen when they team-up and combine their powers.

But lightning also has a lot of symbolism in many different societies and periods and in all honesty, I feel like I have to mention this. Symbolism includes but isn’t limited to: illumination, destruction, punishment, inspiration and revelations. Lightning is also highly associated with the King of the Greek Gods Zeus. Maybe Marcus or Reginald?

Marcus is after all described as a natural leader after all, gaining perhaps a Zeus like image in the public eye?

Whereas Reginald on the other hand would definitely see himself as being as King and acts like it at times, using his children as his soldiers to advance his agendas. Zeus isn’t a very kind or forgiving God either so unlike Marcus maybe this has something to do with the Hargreeves patriarch?

Kugeblitz

Thank you Tumblr for having already given me the definition for this episode title when I had first found out the episode titles so I know that it means a black hole formed from radiation.

Luther and Five when I think of this title in terms of its definition a kugeblitz has me thinking of both space and science, as both topics are highly associated with these characters. Black holes have ties to space which Five who’s powers are teleportation and Luther who spent four years up in space both have ties to a title like this.

But of course we can’t forget the actual alien in the family Reginald Hargreeves. A black hole could be a reference as to what happened to his original planet, or maybe signalling a potential threat later on in the season. Will it cause another apocalypse or a warning for an alien invasion perhaps?

But it also might have links to a well known Umbrella Academy villain, Dr Terminal. I haven’t read the comics so I will admit to a lack of knowledge on this villain although I will Google him later. But as the season will be focusing on the Sparrow Academy and potentially any previous villains, Dr Terminal seems to be the most well known in the fandom and thus the most likely to make an appearance, whether in flashbacks or in person. A few people here seem convinced that this episode title will have something to do with him in some form.

Kindest Cut

When I think of this episode title, my first thought goes of course, to Diego. People can often get cut with knives and they are of course Diego’s preferred weapon of choice.

Maybe however they are referring to another powered sibling and what harm their abilities can cause. Top contenders after Diego of course, are Vanya whose power we know can cut after seeing what she did to Allison at the end of ‘The Day that Was’ in a moment of anger.

But if we go with the Sparrows then Alphonso is at the top of my list. His character sheet is mentioned as him bearing the scars from his years of crime-fighting. His power is assumed to be the voodoo from the comics and if he can transfer the injuries he obtains or inflicts on himself to others, this may be what this title means.

But, and this theory I think is the one that I’m most obsessed with right now, is that the episode title could be an adaptation of the saying ‘unkindest cut’. The definition for this is ‘a cruel or devastating injury or insult inflicted on you by a supposed friend’. 

If we go by current timeline we’re in then my money is that Five may be joining the Sparrows either under duress or having worked out an agreement with Reginald that his siblings would be spared if he did. Only his family might not be aware of what Five has planned and agreed to and would only see the apparent betrayal of what they have all gone through together as a family. Of only seeing their brother join the team that probably want them dead.

But this betrayal may also be coming from the Sparrows and Sloane perhaps. Sloane is an inverse of Five in a sense in that while Five is driven by his desire to save his family, Sloane often feels like hers are holding her back from experiencing her dream of leaving. Maybe she betrays the Sparrows in some way by letting an opportunity to capture the Umbrellas flee or seeking them out as allies.

Marigold

According to what I can glean from the comics, marigold refers to the balls of light that eventually became the 43 super-powered children. So could we be getting an explanation as to how these supers came to be and why?

But like with episode three’s episode title, I can’t not mention the symbolism connected to this title. Marigolds often have conflicting symbolism today. In modern western society their bright colours often have them being associated with the sun and positive emotions and energy such as happiness, optimism and good luck. Not what I think the episode will be about.

But on the darker side of things, which is something that I do think has more ties into what to expect, is that they also refer to jealousy, grief, despair, mourning and cruelty. It is a flower associated with death and the Day of the Dead in Mexico and is said to offer protection from evil spirits. This connection with death is what I first thought of when I saw the episode title and the most obvious character associated with Death is none other than our ghost-boy Klaus Hargreeves.

Klaus as a character has a lot of ties to death naturally and I did see a post on here describing how Klaus will be entering the fourth stage of grief which is depression for both Ben and Dave during season three. This makes sense as they are now both gone in a way that not even his powers can reverse nor can he summon their spirits. Marigolds can often symbolize a despaired love and strong passion as well as well as pain and grief, so it could be a reference to Klaus’ depression over permanently losing both his closest brother and his love. But the main reason I do think that this episode does tie in heavily with Klaus is that it’s a mid season episode and so far that’s usually when Klaus undergoes most of his development. Maybe it’ll continue that way in season three.

Of course if Marigold will also represent a despaired love there are other options in the Umbrellas other than Klaus and Dave: Diego with both Eudora Patch (who is possibly still alive in this timeline) and Lila Pitts still bouncing around the timeline. Allison dealing with leaving her 60′s husband Raymond Chestnut and maybe trying to track down her ex Patrick to find out what happened to daughter Claire in this timeline and Vanya with love Sissy Cooper. Or maybe even Five and Dolores or possibly a love interest for Luther could be a reference to this title. 

Explaining how the Umbrella and Sparrows came to be wouldn’t take the whole episode giving us time for some potential (doomed) love.

Auf Wierdershen

This is very likely to be a Klaus focused episode, even if Marigold isn’t.

The episode title is German for goodbye and Klaus is the character most associated with Germany. Klaus is the only character to have spoken German during the shows events so far and his name is of German origin (interestingly enough, all of the male Sparrows bar Ben, have their names tied to Germanic origin. Meanwhile, Fei’s name is of Chinese origin, Jayme has both Spanish and Hebrew roots, while Sloane is derived from an Irish surname Ó Sluaghhadáin). Not only that but it is considered fanon that Klaus was born in Germany just like Diego and Vanya’s roots are considered to be Mexico and Russia respectively. 

Not only that but he literally has ‘goodbye’ tattooed on his hand.

‘Goodbye’ has many different interpretations for what this could mean especially if this is a Klaus centric episode like we are assuming. And like I mentionned above with Klaus going through the fourth stage of grief in season three, this might be the episode where he moves into the fifth and final stage: acceptance. Perhaps by having one last talk with Umbrella Ben in the afterlife or by trying to track down Dave after Vietnam and discovering he (seemingly - I do have hopes for Commission Dave later on) did live a long and happy life after the war. 

Mending fences with Ben and both getting the chance to air their genuine grievances with one another and mend their relationship from the horrific state it was in at the end of season two might help Klaus find closure. Klaus and Ben both love each other but they crossed a lot of lines and hurt each other deeply with their behaviours last season and they deserved the chance to try and fix the issues as well as say a proper goodbye to one another. This could give Klaus the opportunity to say just that as well as moving into accepting Ben’s death once and for all.

And when it comes to Dave, maybe just knowing that Dave moved on can help Klaus move from depression into acceptance. He was more than fine with stopping Dave from enlisting in the army during season two even knowing that it would mean that Dave would never meet or fall in love with Klaus. He was willing to sacrifice his chance at love with Dave if it meant that Dave would survive. Perhaps if he knew that Dave had been happy and safe in his later life he could then move on and say goodbye? 

And maybe by coming to terms with the departure of two of the biggest influences in his life, motivate Klaus to embrace a new outlook and control of his life and his powers?

Wedding At The End Of The World

This very clearly has ties to the very first episode of the show which is ‘We Only See Each Other At Weddings and Funerals’. Both have marriage and death connected in their titles. The characters that we know have been married so far out of our Hargreeves family so far is Reginald and Allison.

Reginald was married on his home planet when his wife died. Not a lot is known about her other than she was the original owner of Vanya’s violin in the original timeline. Maybe we’ll get information on her and just why Reginald left his home planet?

The next character married so far is Allison who so far has been married twice already (maybe they’re going three for three this time?). And judging by the episode title in season one, that event was the last time the Umbrella Hargreeves (bar Five) were all together as a family until they arrived for Reginald’s funeral. Maybe there’s a link there.

Or maybe this is referencing a whole other wedding that may be happening during the events of season three? I wouldn’t be surprised if Five reunites with Delores and decides just to get married to make it official. To paraphrase Klaus, it’s probably one of the healthiest relationships that family ever had regarding love.

Six Bells

Now this tile had me stumped for a good bit and it will probably make more sense when season three does drop and we watch the episodes, but for now I can just theories on it.

Bells have often been associated with religious services, which may tie in with the last episode, but can also be rung for important events or in deference of important people.

But what is really getting me is that the title is six bells and there are six Umbrellas left so far. Could the bells be in reference to something regarding them, some sort of trap perhaps? Which will definitely tie in in some way to the seasons finale:

Oblivion

Now like episode one this one seems fairly self-explanatory. This seems like Hotel Oblivion is finally coming into play here, meaning they are probably switching the order of stories from the comics. But the question is: if it is Hotel Oblivion, did the Umbrella’s enter the Hotel/prison out of free will or were they trapped here by the Sparrows? Anything goes at this point considering that it’s the last episode of the season.

But when it comes to the Hotel there are so many possibilities as to what happens here:

- Are all of the Umbrella’s trapped inside or did one escape and their other cell mate is a Sparrow perhaps (Sloane maybe for trying to leave the Sparrow Academy?)

- How will this set up the cliff-hanger for season four? Will all or some of the Umbrella Hargreeves be trapped in the hotel once the season ends and that helps set up the tension for the next season. Or maybe a break out of prisoners just like in the comics occurs and the Umbrella's are forced to deal with it?

-Where will this leave our Sparrows at the season end, because I know that we’re going to get attached (I know I will). Will some of them come with us into season four? Maybe they are split into two teams as the season ends, each containing a mixture of both Umbrella’s and Sparrows?

Well that’s all I have, maybe I’m right about some of it, maybe I’m all wrong, just need to wait until season three to find out.

[riversofmars]

Back to Halifax fam! Part three of four. Here comes the angst and a little bit of smut. Enjoy! Rated M (language and sex)

Home Is Not A Place - Part 3: The Mistake

“Caroline…“ Gillian whimpered, her voice far more shaky than Caroline would have expected.

“Yes?“ Caroline hummed against the soft skin at the base of her neck, delighting in the breathless moans and gasps her kisses drew out of her.

“Don’t stop…“ Gillian practically begged, as she arched her body against her.

“How could I…can’t keep my hands off you,“ Caroline growled, tracing lines down her body, to the waistband of her pants.

Gillian bucked her hips to meet her.

Caroline awoke with a start, disoriented, sweaty and frustratingly aroused. As her room slowly came into focus, she realised she had been dreaming. The body pressed to her belonged to her dog Ruth and she rolled away from her.

“For fuck’s sake, Caroline, get your shit together,“ she groaned to herself as she rubbed her face and threw her covers off. She was feeling far too hot, despite the bitter cold outside that the poorly glassed windows barely kept at bay.

Bloody Gillian Greenwood. Caroline stared up at the ceiling, trying to banish the image of Gillian from her mind. Gillian, stripped to her underwear, panting, holding her close… Caroline rubbed her face more firmly, just short of slapping herself. It wasn’t really Gillian’s fault, was it, that she was lying here thinking of her. The sheep farmer was completely oblivious to it, or so Caroline hoped. Gillian would hardly have got soaked in the rain on purpose, just to have an excuse to strip in the lounge, could she? That would imply that she knew of Caroline’s attraction for her. That was highly unlikely, as Caroline had always been careful not to let on too much. It would also imply that she wanted to encourage her for reasons of her own; and there could be no plausible explanation for that.

No, Caroline would have to accept that this was a very one-sided attraction and she would simply have to wait for it to pass.

And yet… Gillian had admitted to having been with a woman before. Why would she do that if not to drop a hint? Caroline implored herself to stop thinking about it. She couldn’t risk how well things were going, it would be ruinous and downright stupid.

No, Caroline would wait for this crush to pass and that was that. But how was she to do that with Gillian right there? Her witty snark, her heart-warming smile, and her great arse? Through no fault of her own, Caroline’s mind conjured up the image of Gillian bending over to rummage through the pile of washing… Caroline pressed her thighs together, her body tense with arousal from the dream she had just woken from.

Was it disrespectful of her to think about Gillian like this? It was becoming clear that she couldn’t stop her thoughts going there. Perhaps, playing it out in her mind would help her get over it, she mused. It would never happen anyway so what was the harm in it? Caroline’s mind was screaming with ludicrous justifications as to why it wasn’t bad to imagine shagging her step sister. The most convincing argument was - of course - that this was the privacy of her own mind. Gillian would never know, and Caroline knew she wouldn’t be able to go to sleep any time soon unless she did something about the state she was in.

Fuck it, she decided, and pushed her hand between her legs. She groaned, frustrated with herself over how wet she was. There was nothing for it, she pushed away her self-consciousness and instead imagined what the sheep farmer could be doing with that talkative mouth of hers. Perhaps she’d be quite eager to please her. She remembered the way she had looked at her during their “thank you“ dinner the other night, reminiscent of a puppy dog looking for praise… A nice way of saying “thank you“ would be on her knees between Caroline’s legs… Caroline bit back a moan as she imagined Gillian’s nails digging into her thighs.

Or maybe, given how headstrong Gillian was, she wouldn’t be submissive at all. Maybe she could have fucked Caroline on that very kitchen table, or the kitchen side, or the sofa, or the bloody wall, any wall, pushing her up against it and Caroline would only be wearing a skirt and…

“Fuck…Gillian…“ Caroline gasped as her fingers did the work she so badly wanted Gillian to do. She wished she could find out what it would be like, really like, to be with Gillian. It was a privilege far too many men had had for Caroline’s taste and she couldn’t believe the injustice of it. She knew she was worth a thousand Robbies, Pauls or Johns. She would not treat her the way they had, she would look after her, care for her, love her…

“You’ve got issues, Caroline, honestly…“ Caroline breathed into the darkness and wiped the sweat off her face.

——

“There you are.“

Gillian looked around when she heard Caroline’s voice. Her face brightened immediately.

“Storm’s cleared,“ she smiled and waved for Caroline to come and sit with her. She was perching on the wall outside the house, looking out onto the fields beyond. The sun was just coming up, it would be a clear day, apart from the fog that was coming up from the damp ground after yesterday’s storm. It was Sunday morning and everywhere around them was quiet still.

“I’m never gonna get used to this view,“ Caroline commented as she came to sit next to Gillian. She hugged her warm mug and pulled her coat tighter around her. It was very chilly, but Gillian didn’t seem to notice. She was drinking her own tea and smiled, looking out into the valley herself.

“Be a shame if you did,“ she chuckled into her drink.

“Is it bad that I’m dreading everyone coming home this afternoon?“ Caroline asked, after a moment of comfortable silence.

“Nah… I’ve been enjoying the peace and quiet too,“ Gillian admitted with a smirk. “Let’s enjoy it while it lasts…“

“We’ll have weekends like this more frequently once Ellie and Raff move out properly…“ Caroline mused and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She wanted to spend as much time alone with Gillian as she possibly could, but she was worried it would only make ignoring her feelings harder. Particularly when Gillian looked as peaceful and content as she did right now.

“Hm,“ Gillian hummed thoughtfully and Caroline frowned.

“What?“

“I just… I was just thinking, after all this… shit. Eddie and John. My numerous misadventures, Robbie! God, Robbie… and you losing Kate, that… after all this, we do deserve something nice, don’t we,“ Gillian didn’t look at her at first, she looked out into the valley, a soft smile playing on her lips that the morning sun lit beautifully.

“If there is any justice in the universe…“ Caroline mumbled, struck by how beautiful she looked in that moment. So utterly at peace and it defied her understanding that she played a part in that.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as settled and… happy… as this…“ Gillian confessed and looked at Caroline with a smile that made the headteacher’s heart nearly jump out of her chest.

“Me neither…“ Caroline admitted and it was true. Not even when she had been happy with John or in the short but lovely time she had had with Kate, had she felt so complete and content. It was that realisation that made her throw caution to the wind. Surely, Gillian wouldn’t be saying these things if there was no deeper meaning behind it all. Maybe she had been dropping hints on purpose all along… Caroline stopped thinking, she just leaned forward and kissed her.

For one beautiful moment, Caroline’s world shrunk to the feeling of Gillian’s soft lips against hers. It felt liberating and right and even better than she had imagined. At least until Gillian pushed her away.

“Caz! What are you…“ The sheep farmer exclaimed, eyes wide with shock. It was like a sobering slap in the face, only, a slap would have probably hurt less.

“I uh- I’m, oh my God, I’m so sorry, Gillian, I just… I got caught up in the moment and…“ Caroline stammered, disoriented, she struggled to grasp what was going on and she cursed herself for her lack of restraint. She had spent all of last night telling herself how she would never ever act on these feelings and here she was, ruining everything! She stared at Gillian who was at a loss for words herself, she had blushed deeply, tensed up, and wild panic was painted all over her face.

“I uh- I’m gonna just… sorry.“ She jumped off the wall and fled, rushing off to God knows where, around the corner of the barn. It took Caroline a good minute until she recovered from her shock and when she did, her emotions broke out of her. She chucked her mug across the yard and broke it on the barn door. That bloody barn. She imagined Eddie watching, laughing at her.

“Fuck,“ she groaned and buried her face in her hands. She took a deep breath. “Well done Caroline, really fucking well done, you just had to go and ruin everything, didn’t you…“ She looked out into her valley, her vision blurring with tears. She was not prepared to give up this new found happiness. She would have to find a way of making things right with Gillian. How could she have made such a crude lapse in judgement? Slowly, she slid down the wall and started gathering the broken china of the mug.

——

“You alright mum?“ Raff asked, eyeing his mother across the dinner table. The rest of the family had returned in the afternoon as predicted. First Raff and Ellie with the kids, then Greg had brought round Flora. Now, the kids had gone to bed and the grown-ups were having their tea and discussing how the house hunting was going. At least that’s what Raff and Ellie were trying to do but neither Gillian nor Caroline seemed to really be listening.

“Hm? What?“ Gillian looked up from her plate, confused.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet,“ Raff observed, exchanging a glance with his wife,who gave him a shrug.

“Maybe I was just thinking how I’m missing the f-bloody peace and quiet from before you all piled back in 'ere,“ Gillian snarked, far harsher than she probably meant to. Fortunately, they were all used to Gillian’s moods by now so Raff just turned to Caroline:

“Caroline, what’s wrong with me mum?“ He asked, as if she wasn’t even there, in response to which Gillian just chucked her cutlery onto her plate like a stroppy teenager.

“What’s wrong with her? Nothing’s wrong with her. Maybe she’d be better if you weren’t pestering her,“ Caroline’s response was snarky as well, she wanted to be left alone to her own thoughts, as she presumed Gillian did. They hadn’t spoken for most of the day and sitting next to each other at dinner now was harder than she would have imagined.

“Not you too,“ Raff groaned.

“You had a fight or summat?“ Ellie asked, looking between the two women.

“What would we possibly fight about?“ Caroline shot back, twirling her pasta around her fork.

“Would you like a list?" Ellie chuckled and Caroline shot her a look that would have shut up anyone.

“Everything’s perfectly fine, eat your tea,“ the headteacher instructed and Raff was quick to appease:

“It’s lovely, this, Caroline.“

“Thanks love.“ She managed a thin smile as they all returned their attention to their plates.

“I’m not feeling too good, I’m gonna get an early night,“ Gillian announced and got to her feet abruptly. “Can you check in on sheep later, Raff?“

“Sure.“ He nodded quickly and the sheep farmer practically fled the table. There was a moment of tense silence with only Gillian’s footsteps, rushing up the stairs to her bedroom.

“You not gonna go after her?“ Ellie asked once they heard a door slam upstairs.

“Why would I?“ Caroline asked, bewildered at the very suggestion.

“If something’s happened, you’re better off clearing it up sooner rather than later,“ Raff agreed with his wife.

“She doesn’t want me talking to her,“ Caroline huffed, moving her pasta around the plate that she - despite going through some pain to make it - didn’t fancy at all.

“So something did happen!“ Raff exclaimed as if her statement was proof to that effect. “What’s she done? Did one of sheep get into the house again?“

“Nothing happened!“ Caroline shook her head. She wanted to laugh at how he naturally presumed it had been Gillian that was at fault. Nothing could be further from the truth but she couldn’t tell them what had happened. It would only make things worse. The best course of action would be to ignore it had ever happened. “Just give her some space,“ she advised, which was exactly what she planned on doing herself. With any luck, things wouldn’t be as tense tomorrow and they could forget about the whole thing.

——

Caroline was engrossed in a book when Gillian reappeared. Raff and Ellie were watching telly, while Caroline had retreated to the other sofa. For a moment, Gillian lingered at the top of the stairs, probably wondering if she dared be among them again, but as it turned out she had no intention of that anyway. She crossed the living room without a word and headed for the front door.

“Thought she said she were getting an early night…“ Ellie commented when the front door slammed shut.

“Caroline…“ Raff looked over to the headteacher. “If you won’t tell us what happened, can you at least…“ His voice was almost pleading and Caroline couldn’t refuse, not when she knew this was her fault. Perhaps talking it through would help…

“Alright…“ She closed her book, threw the blanket aside and got to her feet.

Caroline wrapped herself up warm and stepped out of the farm house. The night was clear as the day had been and yet, she couldn’t see Gillian anywhere, she seemed to have made good use of her head start. She pulled her coat tighter around herself and made her way down the path. The Landrover was still there so she couldn’t have gone far.

That’s when she heard her, her muffled voice and she spotted the flickering light of a torch in the barn. Reluctantly, self-consciously, Caroline stepped closer.

“I bet you’re fucking loving this, aren’t you.“ It was definitely Gillian’s voice, louder and more pronounced now and Caroline stopped by the door of the barn. It wasn’t entirely shut but it wasn’t open and inviting either. “I could be so happy if it wasn’t for everything you’ve done to me.“ Gillian’s voice was distraught, worked up and angry. Caroline knew who she was talking to. Part of Gillian still believed that Eddie was still, somehow, present in that barn where he had died. And it seemed like she was shouting at him now. “I could be whole and together and worth a bloody damn. You satisfied?“ She was yelling from inside and Caroline couldn’t bring herself to walk in. She didn’t want to intrude, it wouldn’t be fair. She really ought to head back inside, allow Gillian this moment of privacy to work through her feelings. “Even after all this time, I still can’t f-bloody get anything right!“ Her words didn’t quite make sense to Caroline, but she got the gist. “I deserve to be happy, I do! Even after what I did, I deserve to move on. You put me through hell and I came out the other side and I deserve something good to happen and I thought it had and now it’s all fucked up again!“ Caroline’s heart sank when Gillian’s voice broke with sobs. “So congrats, you’ve fucking done it again.“

Caroline didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t go in, it was too much, too personal. She felt guilty for even listening in, but the sound of Gillian crying broke her heart. She realised she had messed up big. Gillian had been happy and she had forced her out of her comfort zone to where she didn’t want to go. Of course she would blame Eddie for it, like she did with most things in her life when they went wrong. Like she had blamed the accidents that had happened to Robbie on him too… Caroline knew it was her fault this time though, Eddie was well and truly gone. The only hold he had in this world was the one he still had on Gillian and Caroline cursed him for it. She wished she could just be free of him. She wanted nothing more than for Gillian to be happy, she knew she had to find a way to make things right with her. Ignoring each other as they had done for the most part of the day, just wasn’t an option. She wanted to be content and happy like they had been the past month, she had to find a way of restoring that balance and reassure Gillian she had no expectations of her. She stepped away from the barn, heading back to the house, but it was too late.

“What’re you doing out 'ere?“ Gillian exclaimed and Caroline looked around.

“Just uh… Raff asked me to come look after you…“ she answered slowly, shifting uncomfortably. She should have left sooner.

“Raff can fuck off,“ Gillian huffed, locking the barn door behind her.

“He’s concerned about you, I am too…“ Caroline said slowly as she realised they were heading into a stand off. Gillian kept her distance, crossing her arms as well and staring her down with an uneasy air about her.

“Were you listening?“ Gillian’s voice swung between accusatory, distressed and insecure.

“No, I…“ Caroline broke off because the lie would be so incredibly hard to maintain. How was she supposed to pretend she didn’t know how distressed she was?

“Cause it’s none of your f-flipping business,“ Gillian snapped in an angry outburst that made Caroline flinch and feel all the more guilty.

“I know that…“ she said softly. “I just… are you okay?“ The bright moonlight illuminated the sheep farmer’s face just enough to reveal her damp cheeks and puffy eyes. Gillian must have noticed her staring because the response was quick and harsh:

“Do I fucking look okay to you?“

“No, that’s why…“ Caroline winced, struggling for the right thing to say. It was a minefield, one that she had set up for herself. No matter which way she turned, compassion, remorse, admitting to listening, pretending she didn’t know why she was upset, apologising for a mistake or admitting to the depth of her emotions and motivations… with Gillian every course of action could blow up in her face and make things even worse than they already were.

“Leave me alone, Caroline.“ Gillian seemed to think it best not to give her an opportunity at all. She strutted past her, back towards the farm house.

“Gillian…“ Caroline couldn’t let her go, she had to try something, anything, so she reached out, grabbed her arm to hold her back. Gillian’s reaction was more violent than she could have anticipated.

“Get your hands off me!“ The sheep farmer yelled and ripped her arm away, cradling it against her like she had been burnt, she stared at Caroline with a turmoil of emotions in her expressive eyes. Caroline’s heart sank, she crossed her arms again.

“I’m not gonna do anything, I got the message loud and clear…“ Caroline mumbled, self-consciously.

“Yeah, well- You better not,“ Gillian’s sharp reply drove the matter home and Caroline didn’t look up, not until the sheep farmer had disappeared inside the farm house.

The headteacher turned away and looked out into the valley. She felt numb.

[mosshead-lover]

The Act of LordE: Part-13

Crumpled Confessions

~ Bakugou & Izuku x Reader

Summary: [y/n] moves to her dream city having abundant hopes. Her encounter with Katsuki Bakugou, sends unsettling ripples through her life. Determined to earn an apology for her boyfriend, Izuku Midoriya, she gets into a game with Katsuki. Will the game remain a simple game even at the stake of her love life?

<<Previous

A/n: You will enjoy this better if you have read the previous parts before! ^^

Hope you peeps are keeping safe. Kacchan ended up cofessing over a written note? Lol don’t hate me.

- Bau

Part-1 | Part-2 | Part-3 | Part-4 | Part-5 | Part-6 | Part-7 | Part-8 | Part-9 | Part-10|Part-11| Part-12|

--Start--

Months passed. All of [y/n]'s attempts of reaching Izuku went in futile. It was highly unnatural of him. Izuku was anything but the person who didn't clarify differences. Eventually, [y/n] had given up. Her daily routine was mundane.

'Do what's needed for survival and spend the rest of the time locked up in the house.'

She didn't even try getting out of it cause she felt like she didn't deserve to be happy. Not after what she put Izuku through. Not after ruining their friendship for Katsuki and him. She felt responsible for making the very forgiving Izuku cold as Ice. She felt responsible for breaking down Katsuki's spirit. The tension between the two top rising heroes was not so subtle. Those who knew. Knew. Those who didn't; come up with a bunch of theories.

Izuku meant to avoid [y/n] only for a few days. He thought he deserved some time away. Some time alone to sort his thoughts and feelings before having a conversation with her. But, every morning, he woke up and thought,

'I need another day.'

He could never come to terms with reality or move on. His heart was stagnant.

Katsuki didn't speak much to Izuku since the day they had that long conversation. Unlike earlier, Nor Izuku showed any friendly gestures. Katsuki seemed not to care but was dying to know how things were between Deku and her. He wanted to know if everything was sorted. He needed to know if she was all right. He tried getting it out of Aya but, no luck. She refused to say anything and had snapped, saying he had gone too far this time. Kirishima was taken aback. His usual softspoken girlfriend snapped at his ever fierce best friend and, Kachan didn't utter a word.

One snowy evening...

"Katsuki!"

"Long time. How are you?"

Katsuki moved away from the door, letting go of the piece of paper in his pocket. He brought his hands together, rubbing to keep them warm.

"What are you doing here?"

"I am good too. Thanks for asking."

[y/n] unlocked the door and gestured him to get in. She set things down and poured herself a glass of water.

"Let me fix you up with a decaf."

Katsuki was already on the way to the kitchen.

"You look tired. Let me do it."

He didn't wait for the answer. When he turned back to make sure she wasn't following him in, he was assured with a smile. Not as bright as it used to be, but a smile regardless.

They drank their drinks in silence. Katsuki saw a pile of beer bottles lying in the corner and decided not to bring up alcohol although, he desperately needed some, to loosen up. It took Aya's constant questioning and nagging to finally break his shell and confess his love for [y/n]. Although he hated himself for it, he felt at ease after saying it out loud. It felt real. Aya promised to never bring it up. Yet, she kept hinting to him about what he should do next. He knew it too. He had to express his feelings somehow regardless of how [y/n] would take it. He had spent one whole week preparing his confession. Count less crumpled papers and countless discarded notes. He carefully wrote down every word of every sentence he was about to say. He had made enough mistakes of letting his arrogance get in the way. He wanted to do this right. This had to go well.

"So, how's college?" Katsuki finally broke the silence.

"It's good." [y/n] stuck to the mundane response. After few seconds of silence, She felt bad for being cold and continued the conversation.

"Does Lime Punch still serve lemonade to after every arrest?"

"He does!" Katsuki chucked and continued.

"He has improvised, says 'You have been served' as the cops drag the convict."

"Oh yes! I saw it on the TV. He might as well serve lemonade to the convict!"

[y/n] let out a gentle laugh.

"I wouldn't be surprised." Katsuki shrugged, smiling instinctively, absorbing the sound of her laughter.

Katsuki meant to cook something nice, but her fridge was empty. And in the bag, there was nothing except more beer and some instant ramen. They stuck to ramen. Contrary to Katsuki's expectations, [y/n] seemed to have moved on from the past, as she never mentioned the bet or the night. Yet, she was suffering, which made it even more difficult for him to do what he had come for.

It was time to leave. Katsuki was at door.

"Good night." [y/n] waved and pushed the door.

"WAIT!" Katshuki held the door halfway.

He reached his pocket and took out a crumpled paper.

"C..could you throw this away for me?"

Puzzled, [y/n] took it.

"You might wanna read it first."

[y/n] tilted her head, still confused.

"W..will you?" Katsuki's hand still firmly placed on the half-closed door, his gaze intense.

"Sure!" was [y/n]'s reply.

It took [y/n] a few sentences to get used to Katsuki's calligraphy. There were many strike throughs and additions. Some words rounded and some underlined. It was all jumbled, series of arrows serving as a guide to form an order. Neglecting all the chaos, [y/n] read.

———————————————————————

I hate you for appearing in front of me as the clock struck twelve. I hate myself for giving in to those stupid guys words and kissing you to prove something. I hate myself for thinking that I gained something from that when in reality, I had lost miserably. I kept trying to take it back, only to get down in a path of bad decisions streak. Now that I look back, I don't know what I was up to. I was trying to get you and pushing you away. It was bound to end in a disaster as it did. I hate that we can't start over. I hate it that a mere apology won't do anything. Regardless. I am going to.

In an attempt to win you, I have done things that only dragged all of us down. I regret it every day. I wasn't thinking straight. I ignited something that burned down happiness for you, Deku and me. I don't know how things are between you and him. I will not let go without a fight.

[first name] [last name], I am what they call heads over heels for you. If you are willing to give me a chance, join me at Tsukiji Bridge to watch the sunset on new year's eve.

<Say goodnight and leave>

———————————————————————-

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[lucywritesreid]

With Heaven Above You - Part 4

Summary: The team take a closer look at Reid’s findings to see if they can figure out where he might have been taken. Y/N feels tremendous guilt for putting him in this position, but finding something peculiar gives them their first clue…

Tags: @spacedikut @101donuts @rexorangecouny @l0ve-0f-my-life @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks @awkwardnesshabitat @liaabsurd @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.9k

Notes: Thank you so much again! Can’t believe all the nice comments I’ve had so far. Makes my heart swell 😊 

Between the team the photograph must’ve been analysed a few thousand times. Each member kept requesting to look at it, picking it up and studying it under various light sources across the BAU. You had only looked at it the once. That was enough. The truth was that they weren’t going to find what they were looking for from the photo. It was just you taking off your microphone after the press conference. So it was highly likely that the unsub had been there, watching. JJ was making multiple phone calls to try and find the details of everyone who had signed up to be there. The truth was more harrowing. You knew that a mere 30 seconds after that picture was taken, Spencer had come over and given you a hug. A moment that you believed at the time to be private. But he had seen it. He had seen your Spencer. And he had taken him.

It was well into the night before any of you started to leave. Everyone had been running around, making phone calls, printing things off, going through case files. But you had just been sat at Spencer’s desk, curled up in his chair. You desperately were trying to think about what you could do. It was Emily who startled you out of your dream state.

“Hey, y/n, come crash with me tonight, okay? You need to try and get some sleep.”

You wanted to protest but it was no use. “Yeah, sure thing Em. Can we stop over at mine and grab a couple of things first?”

She looked a little hesitant at first. “Um, sure. But only quickly.”

From that moment on you acted without thought. It was as if a robot had taken over your body, moving your legs, walking you to the car. You couldn’t think about anything as you did it.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get your things for you?” Emily’s voice made you jump. You hadn’t registered the entire car ride, and suddenly you were outside your apartment.

“No, but maybe come with me?” She nodded at the suggestion. You knew as soon as you walked in you were going to be wrapped up in all things him, and you weren’t sure if you could handle all the emotion.

Emily took your key from you and unlocked the door. She switched on the hall light and stepped into the apartment first, cautiously. You realised this wasn’t the first time Emily had walked into a home feeling unsettled, apprehensive. She knew just what it was like to come home and know that it wasn’t the way you left it. “I’m going to grab some of Reid’s case files to have a look at. You get what you need, take your time.”

“Thank you, Emily,” you tried to smile but your face couldn’t do it. You were so lucky to have such a wonderful friend, and one day you’d be able to show her just how much it meant to you. But not today.

You walked around uncertain, not sure what to look for. The sensible part of you was saying go pack a bag, get your things, and leave. You lingered in the living room for a few minutes, taking in all the things that reminded you of him. You saw the answering machine was flashing red. Was it really a good idea to check the message? It was probably something mundane, a cold caller. But there was a small possibility that it was him. Maybe an explanation? Your finger edged tentatively over the button. It took a few seconds before you pressed down and waited to hear what was coming next.

You’ve reached the home of Agent Y/F/N and Dr Spencer Reid, an all too familiar voice said, we can’t come to the phone right now because we’re probably fighting crime or playing chess. Leave a message after the beep!

What followed next was not what you expected. It was an almost silent message, but you could just about make out someone breathing. Some long, drawn out breathing. It lasted for about ten seconds and then the message cut out. Before you could call out a voice made you jump.

“When was that left?” Emily asked, suddenly behind you.

You squinted at the display on the machine. “This afternoon.”

“I’m going to forward this over to Garcia and see what she can get from it, you go and get the rest of your things.”

You nodded and walked into the bathroom. It was ridiculous to say that you could recognise Spencer’s breathing, but you were certain that wasn’t him on the tape. Which made it all the more unsettling as to who it actually was. Feeling tightness in your chest, you rushed over to the sink and turned on the cool water. You cupped your hands under the stream and splashed your face a few times, until the tight feeling went away. Get it together, y/n. You must do this. You need to focus.

After a few deep breaths you turned off the tap. You reached over to grab a towel from the radiator to dry your face when you saw a book lying on the bathroom floor. You crouched down to pick it up and admired it in your hands. The pages were all frayed and torn. It had been laid next to the radiator to dry after a night a few weeks ago.

“Hey! Y/N be careful, this is a first edition. I can’t take it back to the library covered in soap!”

“Listen Reid, you’re the one who decided to read during bath night. I can’t be liable for the damage that incurs.”

“Okay, fair point. But I thought you liked it when I read to you in Latin while you washed your hair? Weren’t you the one that said you wanted to learn a new language?”

“Yes Spence, a new language. A usable one. One that people still speak!”

“Statistically there are millions of people who can still read Latin. While it appears to be a dead language there is actually a large percentage of scholars and academics who use Latin in a variety of contexts… You always said you were interested in philosophy…”

“Yeah yeah, save me the lecture Dr Reid. You have until the bubbles run out to keep reading or else this book is going straight in the water…”

You were jolted out of your daydream by a knock on the door. “Y/N?” A concerned voice spoke up. “Are you okay in there?”

You quickly set the book back down and hurriedly grabbed your toothbrush and a hair tie. “Yeah Em, I’m coming now.” You made your way into the bedroom and grabbed a duffle bag. There was no thought to what you were packing, just random items that hopefully would make an outfit for the next day. You glanced over at Spencer’s pillow, his perfectly folded pyjamas, and decided to pack those as well.

It was truly painful to leave, but you knew it was for the best. By the time you made it to Emily’s it felt like it was almost morning. She poured you a large glass of wine and excused herself to go to bed, promising first that if you needed anything during the night to give her a call. You thanked her again and settled down on her sofa, wearing the buttoned-up pyjamas you’d taken from Spencer’s pillow. The glass of wine went down far too quickly, and you refilled it twice. Sleep was an impossibility at this point. You could already see morning light peaking through the gap in the curtains. That meant it wasn’t too long before you could go back to work and try and figure out what was next.

The truth was you already knew what you had to do. You were going to make another press conference, permission granted or not, and try and make yourself as appealing as possible. You were going to try and convince the career killer that the story would be far better if he took you as well as Reid. Imagine the headlines – two dead FBI agents, who were also in love! Caught in the crosshairs of the career killer! The best and most famous serial killer in the whole world! The papers would go wild for it. You knew deep down that the killer would, too. But it wasn’t going to play out that way. You were going to trade yourself for Spencer. Convince the killer it was you he really wanted. Tell him you’d give him whatever he wanted, help him put on a show. You’d let him kill you live on TV. You knew that you would do anything to get Spencer back.

You rehearsed your little inner monologue a few times. When you felt like you’d perfected it, you decided to try and think about something else for a few minutes. You remembered you’d taken the crossword puzzle book from Spencer’s desk. That would make a good distraction if he hadn’t finished them all already. You fumbled through the contents of your bag until you found it, along with a mechanical pencil. One of the corners had been turned over so you flicked the book open to that page.

Spencer had already started the crossword but hadn’t completed it. That confused you a little. It was very unlike him to leave a puzzle unfinished. You started to scan your eyes over the clues he had already filled in.

A six letter word for a season of the year synonymous with fall. Autumn. Easy. You glanced over to where Spencer had filled in the word. A-U-T-U-N-N. How had he managed to make that mistake? In all the years you knew him you hadn’t once seen a spelling error. You shrugged.

Next clue: Lion’s cry, four letters. Roar. Same again, you looked at where he’d filled it in. R-O-O-R. This couldn’t be a coincidence. You circled the incorrect letter, and the ‘n’ in autumn, and went back to the next clue.

A seven letter word for a pilot. Aviator. Spencer had filled in A-V-I-A-T-U-R. You circled the U.

Clearly reasoned, seven letters. Logical. Same spelling mistakes. L-O-J-I-C-A-L. That added a J.

Card game, five letters. Poker. P-O-K-A-R. A.

Woollen items, eight letters. Knitwear. K-N-T-T-W-E-A-R. T.

Organ of sight, 3 letters. Eye. E-Y-I. You circled and noted the I.

Desire to travel, ten letters. You had to look across at what Spencer had already written for this one. Wanderlust. But he’d spelt it W-A-N-D-E-L-R-U-S-T. Confused, you circled and noted the l and the R as they were both wrong.

He had only filled in one more clue. Calm-natured. Placid. But instead of a C, he’d written S. That left you with ten letters. You scrawled them down at the bottom of the page. N, O, U, J, A, T, I, L, R, S

N O U J A T I L R S.

What on Earth did that mean? You looked at it a few times through slightly blurry wine eyes. Why had he done this? You couldn’t quite understand what was going on. But there was something in you, a hunch, that he’d left this for you on purpose. Who else would piffle through his desk and take out a crossword book? There had to be some meaning to it. After exhausting yourself with possibilities, the tiredness took over, and you eventually fell asleep. You dreamt of those ten letters swirling around your head.

 End of part 4.

[thefirebreathingqueen]

Tis the damn season

a folk of the air fic based on tis the damn season by taylor swift. 

Summary: after years away from her quiet hometown, Jude returns for the weekend. Someone is still there, waiting for her (Jude x Cardan) All human AU

Snow drifted lazily through the sky as her legs took her on an all too familiar path, collecting in her hair. This path was one well-traveled, Jude remembered it from ditching class with Larkin and Liliver and early morning study seshes before exams. The path had hardly changed in the years she had been gone, the quiet little town she called home hardly changing either. Small, old houses still lined every street, decorated with bright, twinkling lights. Children chased each other through the snowbanks, throwing loose powder at each other with gloved hands. Memories of her and her sisters doing the same pushed to the front of her mind, memories of a life long abandoned.

Taryn would be home, she knew, Vivi might be. Jude hadn’t been back since graduation, not for holidays or birthdays or anything. If her family needed her, they would pop over to her apartment hundreds of miles away.

And yet, she was here. After nearly five years of absence.

With a chime of the bells on the back of the door, the door swung open, Jude hastily slipping inside.  Stopping the snow of her boots, she entered the room. Coffee assaulted her nose, freshly ground and made. Inhaling deeply, a small smile pricked at her lips, shoulders dropping she fell into the comforting warmth of the small café.

Plush armchairs sat scattered around, varying shades of reds, oranges, and greens, the colours rich and inviting. Tables and chairs were mingled with them too. The glow of the lights cast everything in a bright and warm hue. Making her way to the counter, she smiled at the barista. Fand, she remembered, only a year or so younger than herself. Footsteps sounded behind her as she ordered, light as a cat and barely audible. Moving to the side to wait for her coffee, Jude turned, catching a pair of dark eyes already fixed on hers. A familiar smirk danced across the mans even more familiar mouth.

“Cardan,” She said, keeping her voice stiff and polite. He nodded at Fand as she asked something about a usual, dark hairs stirring on his head. It was longer now, styled in a way that simultaneously looked like it took seconds and hours.

“Jude,” her name rolled of his tongue smoothly. Jude’s stomach fluttered at it, at the way his lips curved around her name. Like it fit perfectly in his mouth.

Cursing herself quietly, he moved to stand next to her waiting on his own cup.

“How’s the city?” he asks, leaning closer. It was small talk, but somehow it didn’t feel like small talk.

Small talk was boring, and absolutely nothing about Cardan was boring.

Black eyes bore into mine as he waited intently on her answer. Refusing to look away, she shrugged, “It’s okay.”

After a moment, “How’s the town.”

Cardan shrugs, “It’s okay.” He mirrors her, “Empty now.”

“Empty?” she can’t stop herself from asking. Curiosity fell on her, forcing the words out far quicker than she wished.

Noticing he smiled a bit, but his eyes were still melancholy, “We seem to be missing a fiery brunette with a tendency to threaten people. Have you seen her?”

Jude’s throat tightened, “I don’t think you’d want her back.”

Looking around he muttered, “I think we would.”

The Greenbriar’s had known Jude and her family for a long time, Cardan was in her and Taryn’s grade, Rhia used to babysit us, Dain had given Jude her very first job. The Greenbriar’s had been a part of this town for as long as it’s stood.

A cup landed on the counter, nearly black steaming liquid inside. Grasping the cup, careful not to burn her fingers, she moved to an olive green armchair in the corner. Barely two minutes had passed before an extravagantly dressed man sat across form me, his own mug full of some sugary smelling, light coloured, drink.

Looking at him expectantly, as she took a sip, she waited for him to begin.

He was off, acting so much like and unlike himself at the same moments. Who he had grown to be was a mystery Jude, their last interaction at eighteen as he begged her to stay and she refused, chasing her dreams outside of the bubble they had lived in.

Seeing him now a small bubble of regret bubbled in her stomach. Jude didn’t regret leaving, didn’t regret going to university and finding her job. But for just a moment, she looked at him and imagined what it would have been if she didn’t.

“How long are you staying?” Cardan asks, eyes barely meeting hers.

“Just for three days,”

He nods, “I can work with that.”

 Cardan had walked her home, standing beside her, arms gently brushing. Warmth pooled in her chest at it, at the feeling of him next to her again. They had stayed and talked about everything and nothing for nearly an hour before she looked at the watch on her wrist. Everyone should be at home by now, and the sun would no doubt begin to fall on the horizon soon.

At the gate out front her parents place, Jude turned, pulling the lapels of her coat tighter around her body. A larger hand slipped into hers, squeezing it gently.

“I’ve missed you, Jude.” His voice was quiet.

Without room for another word, he turned and continued his way down the road.

 Knuckles hitting the door, she waited for just a moment. Nerves spiked, choking her out slowly. Dark wood pulled open in front of her, light and warmth escaping quickly. In the doorway was a tall, slender woman. Features of her face sharp and angular. Before Jude could even open her mouth arms wrapped around her.

“What are you doing here?” Viviane asked, excitement lighting her face.

“Thought I’d come for a visit, if you’d all be okay with that?” Jude tapped her boots together nervously.

With a small shake of her head, she pulled Jude inside.

“Who’s at the door?” A dark head poked out of the doorway to the kitchen, long hair in perfect curls. Taryn’s face dropped in surprise; mouth agape as she stared.

“Jude’s here.” Vivi said plainly, pulling the coat from Jude’s shoulders and hanging it by the door.

Rushing over, her body collided with her twins, hair of the same exact hue mingling in their embrace.

“Come on, Dad, Mom, and Oak are going to be so happy to see you.”

 The next time Cardan appeared was in a sleek looking black car pulling up next to her as she walked off the large breakfast she had been stuffed with. The window closest to her rolled down. Hesitantly she leaned into the open space, her nose just reaching the interior of the car.

“My darling Jude,” a broad smile fell across his mouth, “Get in.”

After a moment of debate with herself and against her best judgement. She got in.

The town had hardly changed since she left, still trapped in its own bubble. Just like the café, they talked easily, slipping back into who they were in high school. Jude’s shoulders felt lighter than they had for a long time. They drove up and down every street, and then back again, filling their time like they did when they were teenagers.

Eventually they came to a stop, climbing out into the busy streets. A small store selling handmade novelties sat quietly. It was always the best place for buying presents, and despite the fact she had purchased a gift for everyone before she came, one name had been missing on her list.

Holding the door open for her, Cardan followed her inside, moving silently through the rows of shelves. Items crowded the space, each marked with a little twine and tape price tag. Scanning the shelves, Jude searched.

“Look at this,” Cardan muttered behind her, grabbing her hand to keep her from walking any farther forward. They still fit together perfectly, calluses and soft skin in the same places, slotting like the final pieces of a puzzle. He held a small charcoal grey box. Inside was a necklace, a simple chain with only one pendant. A silver dagger, highly detailed for its size.

“It’s beautiful,” escapes her lips. After a moment, he sets it down, pulling her along the isles, not dropping her hand.

After a moment she managed to snag something while he was off looking for last minute gifts for his brothers. A small bag slung off her wrist as he met with her at the front of the store, his own bag in his hand. Silently, he slipped his hand into hers ago. And surprising herself, Jude did not let go.

The third time Jude found Cardan was at night, right after Christmas dinner. Her family has already unwrapped their gifts, muttering apologies that Jude didn’t have any to unwrap. They had already sent them in the mail.

One final gift stayed heavy in her pocket.

The Greenbriar estate was the largest in town, built and added on over two centuries, maybe even more. It was light up, brilliant lights lining the doorways and rooftops.  For a moment she paused, debating on whether approaching was a good idea. Her chest tightened, unease settling in her bones.

“Looking for someone?” a playful voice reached her ears.

Turning quickly, and very nearly slipping on the ice, she found the source of her conflict standing right behind her, leaning against a tree lining the street.

“Indeed I am.”

“May I be of any service then, my darling?”

Jude’s heart sped at the nickname. Cardan looked unphased by their teenage term of endearment however.

Pulling the small box from her pocket, she held into him.

“For me?” his dark rows raised, looking more unsettled than he had any other time this weekend.

“For you.”

Gently, he pulls the small box from my hands, popping open the lid.

“Are you proposing darling? I must admit that is one hell of a gift.”

Jude’s cheeks burned as blood rushed to them, “No I just know how you never go anywhere without them.”

Nestled on the black satin was a silver ring, one thick band. Scales were etched all around it, the head of the snake swallowing the tail.

Pulling it out, he slipped it on, fitting it perfectly on his middle finger. Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear he whispered, “Thank you, I love it.”

Throwing all her judgement and reservations aside, Jude’s palms brushed against his cheeks, pulling his face to hers.

Cardan responded quickly, entangling his fingers in her hair, grasping right at the base of her neck.

“What are we doing?” he asks between kisses, lips sliding over each other’s.

“This,” she answers, “Just for the weekend.”

The last time she saw Cardan was when her car was loaded with her suitcase and she was idling outside the driver’s door. Waiting for something she didn’t want to admit to.

She had already said her goodbyes to her family inside, hugs and tears shed from all of them with promises of visiting more often.

As he always does, Cardan rounds the corner, already walking toward her.

Jude’s heart thumps in her chest, she had done this once, she could do it again.

Standing close, voice small and steady, he asks, “There’s nothing I could say to get you to stay is there?”

Shaking her head slightly, voice thick she whispers back, “No.”

Cardan nods, looking much like the eighteen year old she had left the last time.

Soft lips meet hers, slowly. A finale.

A goodbye.

Without wasting anymore words, he steps back, giving her room to slip into the driver’s seat. Moving forward she refuses to look in the rearview mirror and the man she is leaving behind.

As she drives along the busy highway and the town shrinks behind her, Jude pretends she doesn’t feel her heart shattering in her chest.

Back home, she had unpacked her bags, throwing a load of laundry in and beginning to dust every available surface in her house. Anything to keep her busy, her mind away from the images of dark eyes, long ring covered fingers, soft pink lips.

Finally, she collapses against the couch, a thin sheen of sweat coating her body.

A knock sounds against her door. Moving quickly, she pulls it open. Her whole body stutters as she takes in the image on the other side.

Leaning against her doorframe casually, Cardan smiles, “Hey.”

A/N: so its been awhile. I’m not sure the last time i even wrote and i think this SUCKS but im trying to get back into it. The characters both seem pretty ooc to me so sorry bout that but im trying to get back into the grove of things. 

[funkymbtifiction]

How I Write, How I Dream: ESTP Edition

Mod: An ESTP asked permission to submit this, since she noticed I do not have an ESTP ‘How I write stories’ description in the archive to match this series. What follows is in her own words.

ESTP: How I Write, How I Dream

So this submission is like 6+ years late topically, I think, but it’s an understatement to say I get side-tracked easily. First I had to be self-aware enough to actually determine my type with confidence, and then I had to remember to write this up. Hopefully it’s an edition that’s better late than never – in any case, I thought it might be fun to contribute, given the frequent lack of Se-dom voices in things like this.

I’m aware that I might be in a comparatively small group as a regular ESTP writer, let alone one familiar with personality typology, but I wrote my first short story at nine for a 4th grade assignment, and then my first full story/intended book when I was eleven, (both of which I immediately proceeded to act out on the playground), so it’s sort of always been a part of my normal retinue of hobbies/coping mechanisms/diversions/distractions. Usually I find that I write the most when I’m bored or otherwise dissatisfied with my real life – sort of using it to spice things up with more exciting events, even if they’re regrettably fictional. I also suspect that I use writing to experience all the interesting things I find myself unable to physically do, at least for the moment – not unlike what your ISTP contributor described. I think sometimes that I use it to subconsciously work through certain concepts, too, until I understand them holistically. It’s like it gives me a way to actually engage and interact with a philosophical concept through tangible expression – through embedding it into [fictional] human behavior. Like how I understand the nuances of the concept of apostasy better for having walked through the plot of Silence (2016) with Scorsese than I would have if it was still just a definition in a theology textbook. Application helps me. (I also had a counselor a while back who told me that I used my writing to work through the emotions I hate to process in real life, but I was never wholly convinced of that or the connection of my plots to my real life events, so jury’s out, I guess.)

When I was a kid, I liked to read a fair-ish amount. Spies were oftentimes my favorite topic, but I also wanted eagerly to be one and owned probably every kid spy gadget ever manufactured for sale at the Spy Museum in D.C., to which I dragged my parents practically every weekend so I could crawl through air vents, etc. However, my favorite children’s series of all was actually the Ingo series by the late Helen Dunmore, which provided me with exciting, nature-based, and [mostly] emotionally satisfying adventures in my lifelong favorite unpredictable environment – underwater. (I also dragged my parents constantly to our local aquarium.) As I got older, the frequency of my reading dropped, and I now find myself usually pulled more towards nonfiction.

[Note – I just realized a lifelong quirk with me and books. I’m sort of ridiculously set on *seeing* the books I own. I mean, I know what I own, but I still constantly get out every book I own on a particular topic just to see them all at once. It makes the knowledge more cohesive for me to concentrate it visually, I guess. Even just the covers. Anyway.]

My writing habits are kind of awful – in that, like alluded to above, I pretty much only write when I either a) am seized by a great idea, or else b) have nothing better to do. I have little ambition to actually publish or anything like that, regardless of encouragement, and I prefer to think of my writing as just a diversion, an amusement for myself alone (though I do crave minimal approval, as I do in anything). In any case, as soon as the pressure of a schedule is attached to my writing, it drains of all joy for me. Much like your ISTP contributor described, I think I hover somewhere between plotter and pantser, depending on the story. Too much planning leads to my feeling like I have no incentive to actually write it, as I’ve already experienced it, and too little leaves me spinning aimlessly with no real direction. I write both prose and screenplays, and the rule seems to hold true for both, overall. Also, whenever I have a problem in my plotting or characters or whatever, I find that I have to step away, go be busy with something else, sometimes for a long while, and when I come back everything just falls into place. I guess unconscious Ti and/or Ni finding solutions? I’m not totally sure how/why that happens.

As my inclusion of screenplay format may suggest, I experience my stories in an incredibly visual way. I think sometimes that my narratives come across very much like movies, with all the requisite limitations and usual lack of character introspection. I feel like I pretty much focus on the observable actions of my characters – I find describing any kind of extended rumination highly unnatural, at least most of the time. Even my planning is highly visual. I have a tendency to graph, chart, draw, and plaster my options all over the walls. It’s ridiculous sometimes, but in many cases I just have to be able to see them all next to each other, even if there’s no other information provided. Like my books, mentioned earlier. It helps clarify my plot choices in my mind. It’s also a quirk/weakness of mine that I am often entirely dependent on outside images for descriptions. I need to find a real person, place, or thing to base my fictional ones on physically if I hope to have any kind of concrete knowledge to allow description. Again, it helps solidify them/it in my mind.

I have another weakness in my writing that often results in much incredulous laughter – I’m often entirely blind to any hidden meaning or symbolism in my own writing. I might get the vaguest sense of something being a good line, but be unsure why until my ISFJ friend starts praising my deep, archetypal references and crafting – and then staring at me when I clearly have no idea what she means. It’s happened several times by this point, and though it makes me laugh, I’ll just blame it on the subconscious inferior Ni. I pretty much never have any kind of goal of being symbolic or laden with deep meaning. If I were ever to try that, I think it would massively stress me out.

In terms of editors, beta readers, or whatever else we want to call those who give solicited criticism – that’s just what I need/want. Criticism. For the most part, I’m incredibly thick-skinned about my writing and would be absolutely fine if someone told me that it was utterly terrible and the whole thing needed revising down to the very concept. That may be because I think many of my concepts are lackluster to start with. But nothing frustrates me so quickly as readers unwilling to actually [and harshly] criticize. I always tell them that I want him/her to rip it to shreds. I mean, that’s the only way it’ll get better. (I’ve made mistakes before by assuming that other writers feel this way, too – my sister did not appreciate my input.)

I write almost exclusively dramas these days, I guess, though of varying subtypes. (I also maintain the availability/ready accessibility of about 10+ stories at any given time of active writing. I bounce between them sometimes based on what I’m feeling like at the moment or what I have a new thought about.) I have a sort of historical drama thing that takes place in the 1680s, a modern drama prompted by a premise of genetic engineering, a Most Dangerous Game kind of hunting/weapons thing, a detective story in the immediate aftermath of WWII, a classic deserted island story, a thing involving the phenomenon of stigmata… the list goes on and shifts constantly.

However, while I’ve typically enjoyed writing, here’s the omnipresent rub – engaging with it for any great amount of time makes me really unhealthy emotionally. I’m pretty sure that after like two or three days primarily working on a story without other overriding priorities, or like six or seven with those scattered distractions, (at best), I’m plummeting straight down to my inferior functions. My historical stories do this even more quickly, because they oftentimes seem to require more mental effort. I get super irritable, drown in self-loathing, start to think that everything real that I want is never going to happen – it’s really not good. The fact of the matter is that while writing is a fun diversion oftentimes, I go insane doing it for too long, because I need to get out and engage. (Thanks to my pesky Se-dom, daring to ask for more than just incessant fidgeting.)

When I do write, however, I’m known for my in-depth research, my character-driven plots, lines some people in my life seem to think are witty or something, and emotional depth, believe it or not. I’ve been complimented on it, as well as my tendency to accurately portray mental/emotional illness. I don’t know. I’ve never thought I was overly talented at such things, but then again, I never paid much attention. Even this write-up has been hard – analyzing my writing like this. It’s not a strength of mine to scrutinize my own habits.

After all, I’m busy – I have to go blast Maroon 5 as I jump off a 20-foot wall yelling, “Parkour!”

I am an ESTP, remember? ;-)

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- THE SLUG CLUB

James took the book from Lily, their hands lingering for an extra second on each other. It didn't seem possible, but somehow every new year of their sons school added an extra layer of worry, and this one was no better. With only more worrisome details for whatever the Death Eaters were planning, the parents terror could only grow when Harry would figure it out.

For now though, they could at least hope the rest of his stay at the Burrow and his soon train ride held no excitement, so James still continued with high spirits.

Harry spent a lot of the last week of the holidays pondering the meaning of Malfoy's behavior in Knockturn Alley. What disturbed him most was the satisfied look on Malfoy's face as he had left the shop. Nothing that made Malfoy look that happy could be good news.

"I entirely agree," Sirius couldn't help but dejectedly say, there wasn't much of a funny spin he could put on that.

To his slight annoyance, however, neither Ron nor Hermione seemed quite as curious about Malfoy's activities as he was;

"They what?" They all demanded, sure they'd heard wrong.

"Let him finish," Harry soothed, though the look on his face showed it wasn't going to end much better.

or at least, they seemed to get bored of discussing it after a few days.

"It is now a good thing Molly never let them join the Order," Remus rolled his eyes. "After the third meeting they'd probably stop attending."

"Be fair, they don't know what we know, which is there is something going on," Lily halfheartedly defended. "They just know that for the past five years Malfoy's been a rotten child, they've just witnessed one of his acts this time."

"They should have believed me when I said it was something more, how else was I supposed to figure out what Malfoy was up to if I couldn't bounce ideas off of them," Harry huffed.

  Hermione impatiently agreed as much when he brought it up again. She was sitting on the windowsill in Fred and George's room with her feet up on one of the cardboard boxes and had only grudgingly looked up from her new copy of Advanced Rune Translation.

"I'm still amazed you can accomplish that at all," James smirked.

"Why would she even bring that in there and expect to get any work done?" Sirius agreed.

Reminding there could be any number of things they just didn't know about.

Ron suggested Malfoy could have broken his Hand of Glory.*

"When on Earth did Malfoy have that?" Sirius demanded, clearly thinking he'd missed something.

"I told Ron Malfoy took an interest to it the first time I was in there, maybe Ron thought I meant his dad did buy it," Harry offered, though they'd never actually seen him use it in school.

Harry repeated Malfoy's instructions of keeping ‘that one' safe, making it seem Malfoy had a broken set of something. When neither of his friends responded to him again pointing this out, Harry insisted with his dad in Azkaban, Malfoy would want revenge.

"I can't see even Borgin and Burkes having anything to help with that though," Remus disagreed. "Revenge against who? Azkaban? The Ministry? You?"

"I would have said the first seemed the most likely, what with the 'it's never been done before' bit Narcissa offered, but just last year there were massive breakouts, so that doesn't seem the problem," Sirius sighed.

"Voldemort's gotten others into Hogwarts if he was the target, and Malfoy's also a student, so that shouldn't be it either," Lily agreed while trying not to bite at her lip.

"And I can not for the life of me imagine what a sixteen year old could do against the Ministry of Magic, even they're not that incompetent," James sighed.

"You're missing the part where this was originally Voldemort's idea," Harry insisted as he felt sure they were missing the mark on all accounts.

"Yet Malfoy's clearly pleased to go along with whatever it is, not just following orders, so it must be something he'd be for as well. Revenge is the best we've got to go on as far as motive," Lily patiently reminded.

Harry couldn't help smiling at them, they'd already offered more for his idea than his two friends, and it felt nice to not be so dismissed.

Ron was baffled what Malfoy could do about any revenge, and Harry agreed in frustration he didn't know, he was clearly up to something serious.

Sirius look muddled, like he wasn't sure what the response he was supposed to give for that was. His preferred joke was most certainly in poor taste, but it would be crass of him not to do it at this point!

Then he saw Harry look to him, almost genuinely concerned at even the hint of a pause, so Sirius finished as if there hadn't been one, "I wish I could still help out with this pup."

Lily gave the obligatory groan and Remus made to flick him in the ear, but all of them had an almost relieved look about them. At least they didn't look like they were counting down how many times he had left to do that.

His father was a Death Eater and-

Harry broke off, his eyes fixed on the window behind Hermione, his mouth open. A startling thought had just occurred to him.

"And that is?" James encouraged when Harry got a rather dissatisfied look on his face for this thought occurring to him now.

"That Malfoy's a Death Eater," he sighed.

There was a pitying little pause at the look of resignation on his face while Sirius nodded slowly.

"Guess you already put that together from what Narcissa said. I wish it was more surprising, or rare honestly, for that megalomaniac to be using anyone and everyone he wants." It was an even more depressing realization his own little brother was hardly older than this Malfoy kid when he'd suffered a similar fate, and likely as undo-able a task from what they'd heard. Sirius couldn't come up with another reason for why he'd desert his lifelong dream other than getting a job he couldn't handle.

Hermione anxiously demanded what was wrong, Ron nervously asking if it was his scar.

"Can't even blame him, after last year, that's the first thing I would have thought to," Remus sighed.

Harry slowly said aloud his idea Malfoy was a Death Eater.

"Actually, why would you have put that together considering you didn't know what we did," James couldn't help but jump at this leap.

"You guys just agreed it isn't so crazy," Harry said defensively at once.

"Because we know it's true," James agreed, "but you haven't exactly seen a lot of experience with it, or had it confirmed before that. You were just chatting about his dad and what he could be up to."

Harry just huffed and muttered, but waved his dad on, knowing he'd have to explain himself to his friends in a few moments already like he'd already been doing all summer.

There was a silence; then Ron erupted in laughter, reminding Harry he was only sixteen, You-Know-Who would have to be crazy.

"Age has never been a factor for him, it's what you can do for him," Sirius scowled.

Hermione agreed it was highly unlikely, where had he come up with that?

Harry reminded how in Madam Malkin's he hadn't let her touch his arm, he must have been branded with the Dark Mark.

"I, didn't even notice that," Lily's brows shot up in surprise, before she corrected, "though joining the Death Eaters doesn't automatically mean you got a Dark Mark. I'd think that was only for those he's marked as worthy, not of every single one."

Harry chose not to argue back since she didn't call him crazy outright for it.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, clearly unconvinced, while Harry went on Malfoy had shown Borgin something, and it seriously scared Borgin.

"I could scare the pants off of him without pants!" Sirius agreed without the hesitation this time, but as his friends winced slightly and Harry gave a softer laugh than usual, he needlessly pointed out, "You keep invoking my name, I can tell how much you'd been missing me."

Harry grinned at him again, though he'd willingly admit he'd have liked to have his godfathers opinion on this at the time as much as anything.

It was the Mark, he knew it. He was showing Borgin who he was dealing with, they saw how seriously Borgin took him!

"He'd treat him nothing like me!" Sirius insisted while Remus flicked his ear again.

"To Harry's credit, Malfoy did show him something and he seemed much more likely to back down," James agreed with that logic, never not astounded how his son so easily put such things together they'd only given passing thoughts to.

Ron and Hermione exchanged another look.

Annoyed, but absolutely convinced he was right,

"It's not usual you've got to deal with that with Hermione and Ron," Remus sighed, already exhausted by this ongoing argument he could feel brewing.

Harry snatched up a pile of filthy Quidditch robes and left the room; Mrs. Weasley had been urging them for days not to leave their washing and packing until the last moment. On the landing he bumped into Ginny, who was returning to her room carrying a pile of freshly laundered clothes.

She warned him to be careful in the kitchen, there was an excess of Phlegm around.

"What a kind warning," Sirius couldn't help but snicker.

Harry smiled and thanked her, promising he wouldn't slip in it.

Sure enough, when he entered the kitchen it was to find Fleur sitting at the kitchen table, in full flow about plans for her wedding to Bill, while Mrs. Weasley kept watch over a pile of self-peeling sprouts, looking bad-tempered.

Fleur was explaining more wedding plans. They'd narrowed it down to two bridesmaids,

"Who were the other options besides the two sisters?" James wondered at that.

"Hopefully not past girlfriends of Bill's, that wouldn't do him any favors," Sirius smirked.

"Sirius, I'm advising you I don't care how far in advance, don't ever bring that up in your own wedding, it will get you cursed," Lily promised, wanting to smack him herself for the stupid suggestion no matter how much he was joking.

"Padfoot seems to have an unfortunate ability to attract violent women," James pleasantly noted.

"I imagine they were far less violent before they met him," Remus rolled his eyes. "Lily's the only exception I've met."

and their dresses would be pale gold, Ginny would look horrible in pink of course.

"Why?" Harry asked in confusion, thinking Ginny wouldn't look horrible in any color she chose.

"I'm not going to let Lily explain that, no one else cares," Sirius loudly said.

She scowled at him even more than before, honestly wanting to smack him herself now just for thinking she would, she hadn't really a care for that sort of thing.

"You're only proving Prongs' point," Remus happily reminded him while James ignored them anyways.

Mrs. Weasley loudly interrupted at the sight of Harry to explain they'd be getting Ministry cars to the train again tomorrow and Aurors at the station. Harry asked if it was Tonks again, to which Molly explained Arthur said she was already positioned somewhere else.

Fleur inserted Tonks had let herself go, while gazing into her own reflection in the back of a spoon.

"You really can't blame those girls, thinking her so vain, when every time she's been mentioned this summer she's talking about herself and doing that," Lily sighed.

Mrs. Weasley tartly cut in Harry should have himself ready, no one needed the usual last minute scramble.

Indeed, their departure the following morning was smoother than usual. The Ministry cars glided up to the front of the Burrow to find them waiting, trunks packed; Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, safely enclosed in his traveling basket; and Hedwig; Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon; and Ginny's new purple Pygmy Puff, Arnold, in cages.

"The Weasley's really do have the most interesting names for things," Remus cocked his head to the side, thinking Arnold the most mundane thing that could be given to a purple ball of fluff.

"Remember Ginny named Pig to, so as of now it's all her fault, and she seems to have no consistency on how wild they get," Sirius chuckled.

Fleur gave him a double kiss goodbye. Ron hurried forward, looking hopeful, but Ginny stuck out her foot and Ron fell, sprawling in the dust at Fleur's feet.

"What a lovely sister," James noted.

"Growing happier by the moment I never used to have one," Sirius agreed, making Lily flush in surprise and decide not to put extra salt on his plate at lunch, for now.

Furious, red-faced, and dirt-spattered, he hurried into the car without saying good-bye.

There was no cheerful Hagrid waiting for them at King's Cross Station. Instead, two grim-faced, bearded Aurors in dark Muggle suits moved forward the moment the cars stopped and, flanking the party, marched them into the station without speaking.

"There is such a thing as taking your job-" Remus cut himself off with a nasty look at Sirius, who looked disappointed his friend hadn't slipped up.

Mrs. Weasley, seemed a little flustered by this austere efficiency.

"I can't really blame her, it just sounds odd to need security for the short walk it is onto the platform," James agreed.

An Auror even tried to guide Harry straight through the barrier by his arm before Harry snapped he could walk on his own as he jerked his arm away.

"So ungrateful for someone trying to hold your hand," Sirius nodded.

He pushed his trolley directly at the solid barrier, ignoring his silent companion, and found himself, a second later, standing on platform nine and three-quarters, where the scarlet Hogwarts Express stood belching steam over the crowd.

Harry really couldn't help a nostalgic smile as that image lingered in his mind, and he really did wonder for a moment why he'd feel like it would be so long before he saw it again. He still had another school year left of course to be missing such a thing.

Hermione and the Weasleys joined him within seconds. Without waiting to consult his grim-faced Auror, Harry motioned to Ron and Hermione to follow him up the platform, looking for an empty compartment. Hermione reminded they couldn't they had to go check in as Prefects.

Harry admitted he'd forgotten.

"Poor thing is probably going to forget that next year as well, it is odd to get used to," Sirius sighed, it had always thrown him off when Moony did it, and then Prongs as well in their last year.

Mrs. Weasley was hugging everyone goodbye, before Harry made the impulse decision to ask Mr. Weasley for a quick word.

"Well this is bringing back an unpleasant flashback," James grumbled, but tried to ignore Sirius shifting in unease as well for the reminder of when this had last happened.

Mr. Weasley, who looked slightly surprised, followed Harry out of earshot of the others nevertheless.

Harry had thought it through carefully and come to the conclusion that, if he was to tell anyone, Mr. Weasley was the right person; firstly, because he worked at the Ministry and was therefore in the best position to make further investigations, and secondly, because he thought that there was not too much risk of Mr. Weasley exploding with anger.

"Well you're certainly not wrong on either account," Sirius burst out with surprised laughter.

James couldn't get the same enthusiasm for realizing what Harry was going to tell him, it was too depressing to once again here his son turning to someone else who should have been him.

He could see Mrs. Weasley and the grim-faced Auror casting the pair of them suspicious looks as they moved away.

Mr. Weasley interrupted Harry's starting by asking if he was finally going to learn where they'd really disappeared to when they were supposed to be in the back of the shop.

"I'm not really surprised they didn't fall for that," Sirius agreed.

Harry was surprised he knew otherwise,

"I'm more shocked than anything Harry thought they did," Remus snorted.

but Arthur interrupted to remind he was the same man who had raised Fred and George.

"He's got you there," James agreed.

Harry admitted to that, and Arthur said he was ready to hear the worst.

"Oh don't say that, he'll actually be getting it," Lily sighed.

Harry again tried to explain they'd seen Malfoy and decided to follow him under the Cloak- Arthur again interrupted to ask if there had been an actual reason, or just a whim?

"Honestly the second," Sirius pointed out while Harry tried to scowl at him without admitting he was right.

Harry insisted he'd done so because he thought Malfoy was up to something, and then explained the rest. Arthur took it in silence, contemplated for a moment, before saying slowly he doubted You-Know-Who would allow a sixteen year old-

"I'm almost glad that's not as common place in their time," Lily blinked in surprise for that response from him.

"Voldemort also doesn't have the swollen ranks he does in this time," James reminded pityingly. "Now he's got massive followers every which way, from all we've seen though, he really may not have more than his circle. I can almost see where Arthur's coming from."

Harry at least felt better hearing that explained, but it didn't make him feel better everyone kept calling this such a crazy idea when he knew he was right.

Harry shot back no one really knew what Voldemort would do.

Mr. Weasley slowly explained that when Lucius had been arrested, his mansion had been searched, and the Malfoys had been stripped of everything that could be dangerous.

Harry insisted they must have missed something, and Arthur agreed in a tone that implied he was only humoring Harry now.

Harry's scowl increased, this was as maddening as last year! Hadn't he proved himself more than a paranoid child! He should be taken seriously about this!

"Relax Harry," James tried to sooth with a look Harry couldn't quite identify with. "You've come to him with a hunch, and he's at least listening to you. Come back again with a bit more proof, which I know you'll get during your year, and I know you'll get something done."

Harry did relax just a bit, hoping he was right, and missing his dad's smile increasing.

There was a whistle behind them; nearly everyone had boarded the train and the doors were closing.

Harry hurried to the train as it began chugging along, while Mrs. Weasley called after them he was coming to their house for Christmas, the train began picking up speed as she continued, moving along with it, for them all to be good, the train was rounding the bend now as she nearly jogged to keep up with her final warning to stay safe!

Sirius honestly wanted to laugh at the woman again, but the look on Lily's face promised he wouldn't be allowed without getting an earful. She was grateful someone was still looking after her boy.

Harry waved until the train had turned a corner and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were lost to view, then turned to see where the others had got to. He supposed Ron and Hermione were cloistered in the prefects' carriage, but Ginny was a little way along the corridor, chatting to some friends. He made his way toward her, dragging his trunk.

People stared shamelessly as he approached. They even pressed their faces against the windows of their compartments to get a look at him.

"Suppose you should be grateful they're not all following you around like Collin was yet," Remus sighed.

He had expected an upswing in the amount of gaping and gawping he would have to endure this term after all the "Chosen One" rumors in the Daily Prophet, but he did not enjoy the sensation of standing in a very bright spotlight. He tapped Ginny on the shoulder, asking if she'd like to find a compartment.

She returned she had to find Dean, but she'd see him later.

"Ouch, getting dismissed all over the place this year," James winced.

"What a sight to behold, little Ginny dismissing the Great Chosen One," Sirius agreed.

Harry found their teasing only mildly less annoying than the staring and chose to ignore them just as well.

He felt a strange twinge of annoyance as she walked away, her long red hair dancing behind her; he had become so used to her presence over the summer that he had almost forgotten that Ginny did not hang around with him, Ron, and Hermione while at school.

"Was she really around that much? You hardly mentioned her more than normal," Lily asked in surprise.

Harry chose not to answer, still in a clear bad mood for the gawkers it seemed.

Then he blinked and looked around: He was surrounded by mesmerized girls until a voice behind him called for his attention and Harry turned in relife to find Neville,

Sirius inhaled deeply, and this time Remus swooped in and jammed his finger into Sirius' ear, causing him to yelp in protest but thankfully not again be able to shout about one of Harry's friends showing up. Sirius rubbed at his ear and called Moony a killjoy, who decided he'd rather be that than Sirius, killer of ears.

with Luna right behind him.

"Luna's back," Sirius said pointedly to Remus, though thankfully he kept it at a decent volume, his hand still protectively on his ear.

"Thank you Sirius, that's quite interesting to know," Remus gently pandered now that he wasn't shouting it.

Harry greeted them gratefully, asking how their summer had gone. She replied very well, already clutching a copy of the Quibbler which promised a free pair of Spectrespecs inside. Harry asked their magazine was still going well, having a fondness for it after giving an interview last year.

"To Rita Skeeter though, we just can't forget that part," James wrinkled his nose at the reminder.

"Worth it," Harry shrugged, it had done him much more good than harm for once.

Luna happily agreed circulation was still up.

Harry offered they should go find seats, and the three of them set off along the train through hordes of silently staring students. At last they found an empty compartment, and Harry hurried inside gratefully.

Neville told they were even being stared at, because they'd been with him.

"Congratulations, they're getting what Ron always wanted," Lily rolled her eyes.

"Hope they enjoy it," Harry sighed.

Harry reminded they were staring because they'd also been at the Ministry, the Daily Prophet had made that clear.

Neville had thought his Gran would be mad about that publicity, but she'd been really pleased, saying at long lost he was living up to his dad.

All five of them made agitated faces at that, honestly wishing Neville would stop being compared to his parents as much as Harry wished the same of late.

She'd already bought him a new wand. He pulled it out and showed it to Harry, proclaiming it as Cherry and unicorn, one of the last Ollivander had sold, as he'd vanished the next day.

"Blimey, Neville's already getting some better luck for his life," Remus winced for the reminder.

Then he shouted for Trevor to get back here.

"Glad to know at least that toad won't let a joke die," Sirius chuckled.

And he dived under the seat to retrieve his toad as it made one of its frequent bids for freedom.

Luna asked, while detaching a pair of psychedelic spectacles from the middle of The Quibbler, if the D. A. meetings would continue this year.

"That's actually a good question I hadn't thought of," Lily agreed at once.

"Won't need to will we, unless we actually manage to get another teacher like Umbridge who refuses to teach us," Harry shrugged, very much hoping his luck wasn't that awful.

"Well yes, but who says you can't still use it to help along students. The classes in general are still majorly behind on most basic curses, as was apparent by Fred and George," Remus reminded.

"Plus study groups actually make doing work more bearable," James agreed.

Harry was a bit surprised they were all so encouraging of an idea that hadn't even crossed his mind, and honestly regret just a bit not continuing with it. Though he wasn't sure how it would have even been possible, considering his Quidditch practices and upcoming lessons with Dumbledore would honestly make his schedule as hectic as last year.

Neville thumped his head under the seat, coming out with a bit of fluff in place with disappointment on his face, saying he'd liked the D. A. He'd learned loads.

Luna serenely agreed it had been like having friends.

"Well that was depressing," Sirius said with chipper what everyone was thinking.

"Surely she has friends," Lily tried at once to say positively as if to the girl herself. "She's been known to hang around with Ginny."

"She said friends plural though, making me wonder how many others besides Ginny," Remus muttered.

This was one of those uncomfortable things Luna often said and which made Harry feel a squirming mixture of pity and embarrassment.

"She's rather good at that, I should be taking notes," James agreed.

Before he could respond, however, there was a disturbance outside their compartment door; a group of fourth-year girls was whispering and giggling together on the other side of the glass, all telling each other to go ask him!

One of them, a bold-looking girl with large dark eyes, a prominent chin, and long black hair pushed her way through the door. She introduced herself as Romilda Vane, and offered he

could come sit with them! She finished in a stage whisper, her eyes on Neville's bum again poking out of the seats and Luna in her psychedelic glasses.

"Romilda clearly has no sense of fun at all, not immediately asking what was going on in there," Sirius scoffed.

"Why would they think Harry would want to sit with them anyways," James scowled. "Who wants to sits with brats two years below them."

Lily honestly wanted to tell James he was being a brat by saying that, but she couldn't disagree with him either.

Harry coldly returned those were his friends, and after an awkward pause, she said okay and left.

"Hopefully that taught her right quick about opening her mouth," Remus rolled his eyes. Confidence could be as much a hindrance if not used correctly, which he'd had seven years to watch.

Luna once again displayed her knack of embarrassing honesty by stating people expected him to have cooler friends.

"Who says they're not cool, I'd hang out with them," Sirius scoffed.

"Harry did," James reminded with a chuckle, thinking this wasn't far off from how his last year had started. If Neville's plant spit up on everyone again and Cho came around it would get eerie.

"I learned my lesson," Harry said smoothly.

Harry at once said they were cool! They hadn't been at the Ministry with him.

Luna beamed at him, telling that was very nice to say, before going to her magazine.

Neville quietly reminded they hadn't faced him though, coming back out with his toad in hand. His Gran kept going on about how that Harry Potter had more backbone than all the Ministry of Magic put together.

"Well that's true," James puffed up his chest with pride.

She'd give anything to have Harry as a grandson.

Sirius made a deep snarling noise, well to aware of the feeling your parent wished to replace you, and wouldn't wish that on anyone else! His noise of disgust was echoed throughout the room, Lily couldn't keep going for a moment she was so depressed anyone could think that about themselves!

Harry laughed uncomfortably and changed the subject to OWL results as soon as he could.

James made a little noise of sympathy for Harry though, he had heard Sirius say much the same and had just as quickly himself diverted the topic, there just wasn't much you could say to that.

While Neville recited his grades and wondered aloud whether he would be allowed to take a Transfiguration NEWT, with only an "Acceptable,"

"Highly doubt it," Remus frowned, mind still lingering on other things.

"Did he at once tell you that? Surely he mentioned his better grades," Lily tried to cajole out something positive of that.

Harry distractedly said no, but he hadn't been listening in great detail to what Neville had been saying either.

Harry watched him without really listening.

Neville's childhood had been blighted by Voldemort just as much as Harry's had, but Neville had no idea how close he had come to having Harry's destiny.

None of them had forgotten this, but they'd been happily side stepping that in the hopes it wouldn't bog Harry down. Clearly it was going to now though.

The prophecy could have referred to either of them, yet, for his own inscrutable reasons, Voldemort had chosen to believe that Harry was the one meant.

Had Voldemort chosen Neville, it would be Neville sitting opposite Harry bearing the lightning-shaped scar and the weight of the prophecy. ... Or would it? Would Neville's mother have died to save him, as Lily had died for Harry? Surely she would. . . . But what if she had been unable to stand between her son and Voldemort? Would there then have been no "Chosen One" at all? An empty seat where Neville now sat and a scarless Harry who would have been kissed goodbye by his own mother, not Ron's?

Lily was near tears by the end of this, and James wasn't feeling much better. Their conviction to change this path Harry had been on suddenly put a cold spin on in it like they'd never have believed. What if they did stop this from happening to their family? Could they still guarantee the same for Neville, put this fate on someone else? Were they condemning another child to this life just to save theirs?

James refused to let himself linger on that, he'd find a way to save his family, Neville, the whole bloody world if he had to! He wasn't going to let this happen again, and he wouldn't hear a thing about it otherwise!

Neville noticed Harry's distraction and asked what was wrong, and Luna inserted she thought there was a Wrackspurt going around.

"Didn't she already mention those?" James demanded with more force than the question called for.

"Not that I've heard, unless you're thinking of the Nargles that were never explained," Remus said lightly.

James hardly heard him any more than he'd realized he'd asked a question.

Then she explained Wrackspurts were invisible, they floated into your ears and made your brain go fuzzy.

"Who knew there was an actual reason for the way Sirius was," Lily halfheartedly poked fun. It really was impossible to get on with just twenty minutes without something depressing dragging them all down of late, even the thought of trying to preserve their own future was doing it now.

Sirius was so distracted he didn't even have a response for her.

She flapped her hands at thin air, as though beating off large invisible moths. Harry and Neville caught each other's eyes and hastily began to talk of Quidditch.

"Which Harry is Captain of!" James burst so loud it was as if he was actively trying to see how loud he could say it.

Harry managed a half-hearted laugh for him, and James kept listening feeling just a bit better he'd managed to shout about something good again.

The weather beyond the train windows was as patchy as it had been all summer; they passed through stretches of the chilling mist, then out into weak, clear sunlight. It was during one of the clear spells, when the sun was visible almost directly overhead, that Ron and Hermione entered the compartment at last.

After greeting them, Ron delivered the news that Malfoy wasn't doing prefect duty.

"He what!" Harry wasn't the only one to shout in surprise, but did keep going, "I didn't even know you could do that."

"I've only known one to," Remus frowned uneasily, "and she had Maledictus, though I don't know what kind. Could barely keep up in the corridors she was so sickly, she certainly didn't want the extra Prefect duties."

Harry had no clue what that was, though understood enough by that to understand it was a sickness you wouldn't want, so instead keep going with determination, "this is proof then! Malfoy is up to something! There's no way he'd give up that power otherwise," he finished with his fist in his hand to prove his point.

"Calm down Harry, nobody in here disagreed with you," Lily half scolded why he was being so adamant about this.

"Right, sorry," he muttered, backing down at once but that triumphant look lingered and James kept going despite his friends still muttering curiously if there could be something else going on.

Harry sat up straight, interested. It was not like Malfoy to pass up the chance to demonstrate his power as prefect, which he had happily abused all the previous year. Harry asked what Malfoy had done when he'd been seen, and Ron said the usual, before demonstrating a rude hand gesture. It wasn't like him, well that was, he did the hand gesture again,

"Was that really necessary, I'm sure we got that all on our own." Lily rolled her eyes.

"He's had his fingers threatened for months, let him enjoy his free range," Sirius chuckled while wagging his own.

but why wasn't he out there bullying first years again.

Harry agreed it was odd, his mind was racing. Didn't this look as though Malfoy had more important things on his mind than bullying younger students?

Hermione pointed out he'd probably preferred the Inquisitorial Squad, and Prefect seemed a bit tame in comparison.

"Not really that crazy," James agreed. "It's almost like he's been demoted after abusing so much power."

Harry looked offended, like he thought he was being dismissed, but forced himself not to snap at him. He was being crazy, they knew something was going on, he didn't need to go shouting at everyone like they were his friends trying to tell him otherwise.

Harry began to disagree before he could expound on his theory, the compartment door slid open again and a breathless third-year girl stepped inside.

"What were you going to say?" Sirius asked.

"Exactly that, I think he's got better things to do this year," Harry sighed, already feeling he had no care for what was fixing to happen and would much rather focus on what he'd been interrupted on. "I was still debating how much farther I was going to keep going though. I trust Neville and Luna of course, but wasn't sure if I was going to tell them what I saw on holiday yet."

"I don't see why not, they know about as much as you do on Malfoy's front, and since you're own friends are driving you nuts, I'm sure at least Luna would have indulged hearing you talk about it," James pointed out.

Harry nodded his agreement, now looking even more agitated by whatever this interruption was.

She was holding out two scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon for Neville and Harry. Perplexed, they both took the scroll addressed to each of them and the girl stumbled back out of the compartment.

Ron asked what it was, and Harry explained it as an invitation, not inserting, from Slughorn.

Neville nervously asked why he was invited, as if expecting detention.

"Neville's clearly a name in this future, if to a lesser degree than Harry without all the press. I'm sure Slughorn's heard of his parents anyways," Lily said without surprise.

"Why was Slughorn on the train though?" Harry demanded, he'd been right to be annoyed by this, it seemed pointless already.

"He does it every few years or so, scope out new students and invite the older ones in early, a way to reconnect over the summer before school even kicks in," Lily shrugged.

Harry said no idea, which was not entirely true, though he had no proof yet that his hunch was correct.

"Hasn't seemed to stop you yet," Sirius chucked.

He took the opportunity to ask Neville to come with him under the Cloak, so they could spy on the Slytherin Compartment on the way there.

"I completely forgot now Luna and Neville know about your cloak, as well as Ginny if she didn't before," James blinked in surprise.

"Least Neville's getting a new experience out of this," Sirius grinned.

This idea, however, came to nothing: The corridors, which were packed with people on the lookout for the lunch trolley, were impossible to negotiate while wearing the cloak. Harry stowed it regretfully back in his bag, reflecting that it would have been nice to wear it just to avoid all the staring, which seemed to have increased in intensity even since he had last walked down the train. Every now and then, students would hurtle out of their compartments to get a better look at him. The exception was Cho Chang, who darted into her compartment when she saw Harry coming.

"No love loss there eh?" James couldn't help but tease.

Harry didn't even change colors for this, just shrugged while his mind lingered on other things.

As Harry passed the window, he saw her deep in determined conversation with her friend Marietta, who was wearing a very thick layer of makeup that did not entirely obscure the odd formation of pimples still etched across her face.

Lily couldn't help but frown severely for that. "Honestly, was Hermione's curse permanent? That's well going beyond what the girl deserved, making the decision she did. Did she really ruin another girl's life with that?"

"I really don't think so, it was fading, slowly," Harry shrugged. "Certainly at the end of last year even that wouldn't have hidden it as well, so I'm positive given another month it'll be gone."

Lily still looked a bit tart, but couldn't hold it onto her forever so long as Hermione hadn't. 

Smirking slightly, Harry pushed on.

When they reached compartment C, they saw at once that they were not Slughorn's only invitees, although judging by the enthusiasm of Slughorn's welcome, Harry was the most warmly anticipated.

Slughorn jumped right to his feet, his velvet-covered belly seemed to fill all the remaining space in the compartment. His shiny bald head and great silvery mustache gleamed as brightly in the sunlight as the golden buttons on his waistcoat.

His reaction to Neville was just as cordial if less bouncy.

They didn't need to ask how Harry felt about this, his unimpressed look spoke volumes. He'd no more cottoned onto all Slughorn could offer from Dumbledore's and their own explanations than decided he wanted to master potions.

Neville nodded, looking scared. At a gesture from Slughorn, they sat down opposite each other in the only two empty seats, which were nearest the door. Harry glanced around at their fellow guests. He recognized a Slytherin from their year, a tall black boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes; there were also two seventh-year boys Harry did not know and, squashed in the corner beside Slughorn and looking as though she was not entirely sure how she had got there, Ginny.

"Ouch, how'd Ginny end up in there and not Ron?" Sirius asked.

"I've no idea, but she doesn't seem any more pleased with it than I was," Harry said with a bit of sympathy, wishing he could swap places with Slughorn to at least let Ginny breath a bit.

Slughorn began introducing everyone for those who needed them, starting with Blaise Zabini in their year, of Slytherin.

Zabini did not make any sign of recognition or greeting, nor did Harry or Neville: Gryffindor and Slytherin students loathed each other on principle.

Lily clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes while the boys grinned.

Then there was Cormac McLaggen, perhaps they'd crossed paths already.

Harry then imitated his mother, rolling his eyes heavily and not at all enjoying the sensation telling him he'd rather forget this one all over again.

McLaggen, a large, wiry-haired youth, raised a hand, and Harry and Neville nodded back at him.

That was Marcus Belby who was thin and nervous-looking, gave a strained smile while Slughorn finished they both knew this charming young lady.

Ginny grimaced at Harry and Neville from behind Slughorn's back.

"As welcome a greeting as Zambini's from that," Remus snickered

He had them all sit down and offered them food he'd brought along, the trolley's tendency to stock licorice wands wasn't good for a poor old mans digestive.

"Considering the man's favorite treat is Crystallized Pineapple, I wouldn't hold him to that," Lily said with the same old indulgence she'd used for seven years when speaking to Slughorn. She couldn't believe how much she was enjoying hearing about him again interacting with a new round of students, she felt like she could have been in there chatting along with the whole thing. It was all too easy to picture the man wagging his finger in reprove at her for giving that away already.

Belby accepted what looked like half a cold pheasant from Slughorn, who began asking him about his Uncle Damocles, who'd gained an Order of Merlin. Did he see much of him?

Unfortunately, Belby had just taken a large mouthful of pheasant; in his haste to answer Slughorn he swallowed too fast, turned purple, and began to choke.

Slughorn calmly vanished it with the spell Anapneo, pointing his wand at Belby, whose airway seemed to clear at once.

Belby gasped, his eyes streaming, not much of him.

Slughorn agreed he was a busy man, what with inventing the Wolfsbane Potion.

"Well this conversation just got a lot more interesting," James muttered while Remus shifted around, not sure how to feel about that being brought up again. Considering it had last been spoken of ruining Sirius' life because of him, not ecstatic, but if he could actually find a way to make that a routine part of his life...

Belby, seemed afraid to take another bite of pheasant until he was sure that Slughorn had finished with him and halfheartedly agreed.

"Frightening the kid into not eating, this man really knows how to push buttons," Sirius huffed.

He admitted his didn't get on with his uncle very well, so he really didn't see him at all.

His voice trailed away as Slughorn gave him a cold smile and turned to McLaggen instead.

"And that's Belby gone from the group," James mimed pointing his wand at nothing and blowing it away.

"Because he doesn't keep in contact with an Uncle? He might still be really good at something even so," Harry defended.

"Doesn't have many proper connections though, to get him many places," Lily reminded. "Or he's not yet realized he should be mentioning those."

Slughorn turned towards Cormac then, saying he knew he spent time with his Uncle Tiberius because he'd seen a picture of the two hunting nogtails on his desk in Norfolk.

"Fascinating creatures, I think they should be studied much more than they're given the chance," Remus began babbling at once with a sad little frown that hunting them was such a popular sport.

"You can only run one off with a pure white hound, and they're known to curse the farm they locate to by suckling on a mother pig, but I'd love to see more studies of the extent-"

"Just remember if you bring one of those home, I can't run it off," Sirius rolled his eyes before waving James on while Remus continued muttering to himself.

McLaggen at once agreed that had been great fun, Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour had come along as well, before he'd become Minister of course.

Slughorn beamed he knew them as well.

"I think McLaggen just became his new poster child," James scrunched up his face at this kid somehow managing all that, though trying hard not to yet judge him as pompous as the rest of the Slug Club ended up being. Lily of course never went the same way, so he was trying to be mature here.

now offering around a small tray of pies; somehow, Belby was missed out.

Harry huffed and muttered he wished he'd noticed that before he'd swallowed his own.

It was as Harry had suspected. Everyone here seemed to have been invited because they were connected to somebody well-known or influential, except Ginny.

"I'd consider Arthur well-known and influential from what little we've been able to hear about his life," Lily rolled her eyes.

"Maybe Slughorn recognizes he made a mistake missing him and won't do it again with the first female Weasley in seven generations," Remus shrugged.

Zabini, who was interrogated after McLaggen, turned out to have a famously beautiful witch for a mother (from what Harry could make out, she had been married seven times, each of her husbands dying mysteriously and leaving her mounds of gold).

"Right," Sirius grumbled while making a face.

It was Neville's turn next: This was a very uncomfortable ten minutes, for Neville's parents, well-known Aurors, had been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange and a couple of Death Eater cronies. At the end of Neville's interview, Harry had the impression that Slughorn was reserving judgment on Neville, yet to see whether he had any of his parents' flair.

All five of them were shifting uncomfortably by the end of this, all knowing Neville didn't need anyone's validation to know how good he was without his parents constantly being brought up, and wished the world would realize that same as Harry.

Slughorn shifted towards Harry last with the air of a compere introducing his star act. He contemplated Harry for a moment as though he was a particularly large and succulent piece of pheasant,

"Lovely mental image," James' scowl increased, he could still distaste Slughorn even while cheering in the background better this than hearing Snape again.

and began with his title of him being the Chosen One.

Harry said nothing. Belby, McLaggen, and Zabini were all staring at him.

When Harry didn't respond Slughorn kept going, saying there had been rumors for years about him, that terrible night, word already was out how extraordinary he was.

Zabini gave a tiny little cough that was clearly supposed to indicate amused skepticism.

"I don't need a Slytherin in the conversation to know when I've heard such loaded dung thank you!" Sirius snapped.

Harry tried for an awkward laugh that couldn't get through, no matter how many times this was mentioned it just wasn't easy to hear.

An angry voice burst out from behind Slughorn, telling Zabini he was so talented with his posing!

Slughorn chuckled comfortably, looking around at Ginny, who was glaring at Zabini around Slughorn's great belly.

"Ginny really is just growing better with every mention," Sirius smirked, cackles smoothing at once at least someone in there would keep them on their toes.

He warned Blaise should be careful, he'd caught this young lady performing quite the Bat-Bogey hex. She wasn't to be crossed.

"Concurred," James needlessly agreed while Harry smirked without surprise.

Zabini merely looked contemptuous.

Slughorn went right back to Harry, open endedly saying the Prophet had been saying a lot, though it was known to make a few mistakes,

"Tiny, minuscule ones, wouldn't even notice them, why bother," Remus snipped for this being so dismissed.

but there was no doubt he'd been in the thick of it all with the disturbance at the Ministry.

Harry, who could not see any way out of this without flatly lying, nodded but still said nothing. Slughorn beamed at him, calling him modest, but there was no need to downplay the sensational stories, of a fabled prophecy even-

Neville interrupted to say that had been smashed, no one had heard it.

"Thank Merlin for Neville," Lily sighed in relief, she'd hug him right now for getting Harry out of that no matter how unentinally.

Ginny agreed at once, the Prophet was just making up things as usual with that Chosen One nonsense.

Slughorn seemed undeterred, looking to both of them with just as much interest they'd been there to. Both of them sat clam-like before his encouraging smile.

"Not going to get a great story out of this one," Sirius sneered.

"Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll forget our invitation along with Belby's," Harry said dully without any real hope.

Finally he agreed how things could get away from people, why Gweong Jones, of the Holyhead Harpies, had just been telling him-

Harry's good mood swung back at once though, for no reason he could tell, he could just imagine for some reason at least Ginny got a kick out of that conversation.

He meandered off into a long-winded reminiscence, but Harry had the distinct impression that Slughorn had not finished with him, and that he had not been convinced by Neville and Ginny.

"A crying shame, I know I'm done with having him around," Sirius mocked with a smirk at Harry.

"Thank's Sirius, it's about time," Harry smiled.

The afternoon wore on with more anecdotes about illustrious wizards Slughorn had taught, all of whom had been delighted to join what he called the "Slug Club" at Hogwarts.

"Really couldn't have picked a worse name," Remus crinkled up his nose.

"Don't know what you're talking about, it speaks volumes about it's members already, certainly the head fat slimy git," James happily tuned Lily in to many of their jokes growing up with this. She merely rolled her eyes and ignored them.

Harry could not wait to leave, but couldn't see how to do so politely.

"I'm starting to regret the fact you even have manners sometimes," Sirius sighed, he knew he'd walked out of there long before this part with Prongs right behind him.

Finally the train emerged from yet another long misty stretch into a red sunset, and Slughorn looked around, blinking in the twilight. Amazed it was sunset, he set them all free, though gave McLaggen in particular the invite to come see him soon for a book on nogtails he'd mentioned. Everyone else except Belby were departed by name.

As he pushed past Harry into the darkening corridor, Zabini shot him a filthy look that Harry returned with interest. He, Ginny, and Neville followed Zabini back along the train.

Neville sighed gratefully that was over, what a strange man.

Harry agreed while asking Ginny how she'd wound up in there.

Ginny shrugged he'd seen her hex Zacharias Smith.

All of them whooped with further laughter, that story just got ten times better.

They remembered that idiot Hufflepuff from the D. A.

"Hard to forget someone with a nose up his own arse," Sirius agreed.

He'd kept on and on asking about what happened at the Ministry and in the end he annoyed her so much she hexed him.

"Perfectly reasonable," James agreed.

When Slughorn came in she'd thought she was going to get detention, but he just thought it was a really good hex and invited her to lunch! Mad, eh?

"Best reason he's ever invited anyone to those things!" Remus disagreed.

Harry loudly said it was better than being invited along because of a famous mother, his eyes still on Zabini's back.

"I'm glad you agree Harry," Sirius said with such enthusiasm he didn't even take his crack at pointing out the two had essentially said the same thing.

Then he stopped, an idea occurring to him, a reckless but potentially wonderful idea...

"You seem to get those a lot," Lily sighed.

"I blame you," James happily told his wife. "Whenever I got them, a corridor just got filled with all the suits of armor in the castle. Whenever you got them, you put yourself in the hospital wing for a potion experiment, so it's really all you he gets it from."

"I resent that," she halfheartedly defended, "I never went about spying on anyone for fun, that was far more up your alley!"

"Fine then, he gets it from both of you being insane," Sirius happily inserted. James seemed satisfied enough to go onto the actual idea while Lily made a face at him.

In a minute's time, Zabini was going to reenter the Slytherin sixth-year compartment and Malfoy would be sitting there,

"Why on Earth would you think that?" Remus blinked in surprise. "Does he hang around with Malfoy often? You well know the students don't get their own compartments by grade and house."

"I saw them all in there all the other years, they tended to band together," Harry defended. "Sorry I've never mentioned it before."*

thinking himself unheard by anybody except fellow Slytherins... If Harry could only enter, unseen, behind him, what might he not see or hear?

"Them all congratulating themselves for being part of the an elite human species. Idiots." Sirius told Harry in disbelief.

"Or something like what Malfoy's up to," Harry said pointedly.

"Narcissa made it clear this was top secret information, Bellatrix was surprised when Snape knew," Lily reminded. "So Malfoy's not likely to be blabbing it around."

"I didn't know that at the time," Harry reminded. "I just wanted proof of what he was doing."

"You might get something then, you are fairly good at picking up on details," James went on curiously.

True, there was little of the journey left, Hogsmeade Station had to be less than half an hour away, judging by the wildness of the scenery flashing by the windows, but nobody else seemed prepared to take Harry's suspicions seriously,

Sirius at once insisted, "I'm telling you, I'd totally believe you!"

"I know Sirius," Harry said quietly, trying to force a laugh again, but now all the more determined he could pull off something he was sure the Marauders would approve of, no matter how much they thought it a goofy idea at the beginning.

so it was down to him to prove it.

Quickly telling the other two he'd catch up later, he slipped on the Cloak and hurried away before either could ask why. Darting after Zabini as quietly as possible, though the rattling of the train made such caution almost pointless, the corridors were almost completely empty now. Nearly everyone had returned to their carriages to change into their school robes and pack up their possessions. Though he was as close as he could get to Zabini without touching him, Harry was not quick enough to slip into the compartment when Zabini opened the door. Zabini was already sliding it shut when Harry hastily stuck out his foot to prevent it closing.

He angrily began smashing the door repeatedly on Harry's foot.

Harry let out a hiss of breath in remembered pain, shifting his foot uncomfortably, and ignoring the almost pitying look of those around him. He didn't want to hear what better idea they would have come up with to avoid that happening, but Sirius gave it anyways. "It's too bad you didn't bring an extendable ear with you, or even just manage to leave a crack in the door they wouldn't have noticed. Then you could have stayed on the outside and avoided this problem of actually slipping in."

"You lot just come up with the best strategies sitting around comfortably in here," Harry grumbled, though admittedly he was just as sure they would have come up with that on the spot, they'd trained their minds to think up such on the spot lies and solutions, as they so constantly reminded him.

Harry seized the door and pushed it open, hard; Zabini, still clinging on to the handle, toppled over sideways into Gregory Goyle's lap, and in the ensuing ruckus, Harry darted into the compartment, leapt onto Zabini's temporarily empty seat, and hoisted himself up into the luggage rack. It was fortunate that Goyle and Zabini were snarling at each other, drawing all eyes onto them, for Harry was quite sure his feet and ankles had been revealed as the cloak had flapped around them; indeed, for one horrible moment he thought he saw Malfoy's eyes follow his trainer as it whipped upward out of sight. But then Goyle slammed the door shut and flung Zabini off him; Zabini collapsed into his own seat looking ruffled, Vincent Crabbe returned to his comic, and Malfoy, sniggering, lay back down across two seats with his head in Pansy Parkinsons lap.

"That right there was almost worth the price you going in," Sirius laughed heartily, imaging all those dumbfounded expressions for this happening.

"I'm now regretting not pulling more stunts on the train like doors randomly opening, would have been a kick," James agreed.

"Best we didn't, wouldn't want the trolley lady giving us hell if she caught us," Remus pointed out. "She might have withheld snacks from us," he finished with a horrified look.

"I wouldn't put it past her to tell McGonagall though, so I guess it's best," Sirius sighed.

Harry lay curled uncomfortably under the cloak to ensure that every inch of him remained hidden, and watched Pansy stroke the sleek blond hair off Malfoy's forehead, smirking as she did so, as though anyone would have loved to have been in her place.

Lily in particular had a crude look on her face, that sounded like a punishment, pampering such a toerag.

The lanterns swinging from the carriage ceiling cast a bright light over the scene: Harry could read every word of Crabbe's comic directly below him.

Malfoy casually asked of Zabini what Slughorn had wanted, and while still glowering at Goyle he answered their new teacher was just trying to make up with well-connected people. Not that he'd managed to find many.

Malfoy was clearly displeased with that information, demanding who all had been invited?

"Not him? Oh, the horror!" Sirius managed a simpering impression of a teenage girl.

"The horrifying part is, he might have actually got one the year before his father lost so much favor," James crinkled his face in disgust.

McLaggen from Gryffindor, Zabini began listing off,

"I didn't realize he was a Gryffindor," Lily said in surprise.

"Shows how much Harry pays attention to even his fellow students in his house," James shrugged without much concern, though there hadn't yet been anything wrong with him, it was still annoying he'd been a prime example of everything wrong with that Club.

-Malfoy agreed he had a big Uncle in the Ministry-

Belby, from Ravenclaw, Zabini continued-

Pansy referred to him as a prat.

"Been liking him more and more lately on principle," Remus rolled his eyes.

Zabini finished with the last three Gryffindors.

Malfoy sat up very suddenly, knocking Pansy's hand aside, demanding Longbottom had been invited!

"I really am glad Neville outranks me on the scale of his outrage," Harry shook his head.

Zabini indifferently agreed he assumed so, since he'd been there.

Malfoy demanded what about Longbottom had Slughorn interested?

Zabini shrugged.

Malfoy went on to sneer about Potter, that was obvious, him being the Chosen One.

Then Harry sighed without surprise that had come soon after. He'd have to be sure to mention to Neville he wasn't in fact the person Malfoy hated most though, perhaps he'd get lucky and Neville would put Malfoy in a dress and feathered hat for him next.

That Weasley girl though, what was so special about her?

Pansy pointed out a lot of boys liked her, obviously watching Malfoy for a reaction.

Harry felt his blood start boiling at once at the idea, that was ridiculous! Of course Ginny was good looking, but surely Pansy was just being her usual pugnacious self!

Even Blaise had mentioned how good-looking she was, and they all knew how hard he was to please.

"Her exact sentiments as well I'm sure," Sirius rolled his eyes while Lily giggled a bit at the expression on her sons face, he looked far more agitated by this than she would have thought. He really must have grown fond of her over the summer.

Zabini coldly replied he wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor no matter what she looked like.

"Well at least he won't turn out like his mother," Remus snarked.

Pansy looked pleased. Malfoy sank back across her lap and allowed her to resume the stroking of his hair.

"Allowed her," James couldn't help but repeat that like speaking of curdled milk, it really was odd to think of Malfoy having a girlfriend.

Malfoy decided he didn't think much of Slughorn's taste in all, a shame, as his father had spoken of him highly in his old days. Slughorn probably just hadn't heard he was on the train-

Zabini cut in to point out Slughorn didn't seem to have an interest in Death Eaters, Nott hadn't gotten an invitation either.

"The one good thing that man has going for him," Sirius sighed.

"As if they need a way to make more connections," James agreed solemnly.

Malfoy looked angry, but forced out a singularly humorless laugh. Deciding who cared then, he was just some stupid teacher.

Remus went wide eyed in mock concern. "Of course! Now next time, try backtracking before you go out of your way to show how much you care, it'll come off much better."

"Why couldn't you be on the train again Moony," Sirius muttered.

Malfoy yawned ostentatiously before declaring he might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what did it matter.

"Considering I already had my fingers crossed he wouldn't be there this year, I refuse to get my hopes up again," James grumbled.

Pansy indignantly demanded what he meant by that, ceasing grooming Malfoy at once.

He just smirked when he told he'd soon be moving on to bigger and better things.

Harry perked up with interest in the conversation again, easily distracted from picturing Ginny releasing a few more Bat-Bogey Hexes in this compartment again. This was exactly what he'd been in there to hear!

Crouched in the luggage rack under his cloak, Harry's heart began to race. What would Ron and Hermione say about this?

"Probably dismiss it again," Harry pessimistically answered himself.

"They haven't dismissed anything love," Lily patiently corrected, clearly determined to stop him griping about this. "They just need more to go on than you. It's not that they don't believe you, they know you're right, they're just not as convinced it's as terrible as you seem to think."

Harry looked simmered at least, though not at all comforted he hadn't found himself as wrong as he found her right.

Crabbe and Goyle were gawping at Malfoy; apparently they had had no inkling of any plans to move on to bigger and better things. Even Zabini had allowed a look of curiosity to mar his haughty features.

"Praise Merlin!" Sirius mock raised a glass.

"I'm not thankful we don't have to hear about him more, as if we needed to hear of more smug expressions," Remus told him with an obvious look Sirius happily ignored.

Pansy resumed the slow stroking of Malfoy's hair, looking dumbfounded.

Clearly enjoying the attention, Malfoy continued his mother wanted him to complete his education, but did the Dark Lord care about N. E. W. T. grades? Of course not, it was about service and devotion that mattered when the time came.

"I really hate it when he's not wrong," James sighed.

"At least he's right in all the wrong ways," Sirius said with mock chipper.

Zabini scathingly returned Malfoy thought himself a fully qualified wizard to be doing anything like that.

Malfoy returned maybe the job he was going for didn't require a fully qualified adult.

James hadn't meant for his voice to go so quiet at the end, but he certainly hadn't been expecting Malfoy to bring up something so casually that had reduced his mother to tears and pleading.

Narcissa hadn't been joking when she'd said Malfoy was eager to be doing this. Maybe not anytime soon, but even then Malfoy was impling whatever this job was wasn't far off in the future.

Crabbe and Goyle were both sitting with their mouths open like gargoyles. Pansy was gazing down at Malfoy as though she had never seen anything so awe inspiring.

The moment was broken by Sirius snorting viciously and snapping, "here I thought she'd get that expression any time she tried to look in a mirror without breaking one!"

"Those poor deluded kids have no idea what they're hearing," Lily gave a resounded agreement.

Malfoy then chose to change the subject by pointing out he could see the castle in the distance, and got up to get his robes.

Harry was so busy staring at Malfoy, he did not notice Goyle reaching up for his trunk; as he swung it down, it hit Harry hard on the side of the head. He let out an involuntary gasp of pain, and Malfoy looked up at the luggage rack, frowning.

"Uhoh," all five of them muttered in unease. Harry was pinned with five against one, that wouldn't be a friendly fight even with his slight advantage of getting the first surprise attack in.

Harry was not afraid of Malfoy, but he still did not much like the idea of being discovered hiding under his Invisibility Cloak by a group of unfriendly Slytherins. Eyes still watering and head still throbbing, he drew his wand, careful not to disarrange the cloak, and waited, breath held. To his relief, Malfoy seemed to decide that he had imagined the noise; he pulled on his robes like the others, locked his trunk, and as the train slowed to a jerky crawl, fastened a thick new traveling cloak round his neck.

Harry could see the corridors filling up again and hoped that Hermione and Ron would take his things out onto the platform for him;

"I have no doubt they'll grab Hedwig for you," Lily distractedly agreed, wishing he'd get out of there already, but knowing he had to wait anyways for them all to leave. It was only a slight relief Malfoy hadn't noticed anything, but they were all acutely aware now how much trouble Harry could have potentially gotten himself into, and it wasn't much fun now.

he was stuck where he was until the compartment had quite emptied. At last, with a final lurch, the train came to a complete halt. Goyle threw the door open and muscled his way out into a crowd of second years, punching them aside;

"It's good to know they really are as terrible as the one they follow around," James rolled his eyes.

Crabbe and Zabini followed, but Malfoy had to wave Pansy out, saying he wanted to check on something.

Pansy left. Now Harry and Malfoy were alone in the compartment. People were filing past, descending onto the dark platform. Malfoy moved over to the compartment door and let down the blinds, so that people in the corridor beyond could not peer in. He then bent down over his trunk and opened it again.

The others perked up with interest at once, thinking that would have been worth it if they could know something so early of what Malfoy was up to, while Harry sank back uneasily in his seat, not at all getting a good feeling about this.

Harry peered down over the edge of the luggage rack, his heart pumping a little faster. What had Malfoy wanted to hide from Pansy? Was he about to see the mysterious broken object it was so important to mend?

He was not expecting the spell Petrificus Totalus to be shot right at him.**

Sirius was so surprised a spell had come out of James' mouth he accidentally drew his wand and shot a hex right back at him, causing the book to sail away along with his glasses.

"Really Sirius? Was that necessary?" Remus asked him as James scowled and summoned them back.

"You were just as thrown by that as I was!" Sirius defended.

"Least I didn't try to throw him across the room for it," Remus rolled his eyes.

Lily had yelped in surprise and tried to jump away from James, they'd all startled hard at a spell of all things coming out of his mouth!

"Bloody hell, I take it back!" James groaned as he gazed at that and back to his son, unphased by his best mate, eyes only on his kid. "Don't you ever do this again without backup!"

Harry just nodded with a resigned expression in place, he wasn't looking forward to the shock wearing off and all of them realizing he'd just been bested by Malfoy!

Without warning, Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry, who was instantly paralyzed. As though in slow motion, he toppled out of the luggage rack and fell, with an agonizing, floor-shaking crash, at Malfoy's feet, the Invisibility Cloak trapped beneath him, his whole body revealed with his legs still curled absurdly into the cramped kneeling position. He couldn't move a muscle; he could only gaze up at Malfoy, who smiled broadly.

Lily groaned and put her face in her hands, while the boys as well looked miserable for how this was going to go. Harry would be lucky to leave with tentacles on his face, for all the revenge Malfoy could give of the past few train rides.

Malfoy jubilantly declared he'd known as much, he'd heard Goyle's trunk hit him and seen his shoes when he'd come in.

"Pity he's really not as stupid as he looks," Sirius ground out, clutching his wand tight and wishing more every second he could retaliate in some way against someone who deserved it.

He continued Potter hadn't heard anything he cared about, but just for good measure, he stamped hard on Harry's face. Harry felt his nose break; blood spurted everywhere.***

Harry couldn't help but cover his nose now, his face still leary of what was to come next, while James hissed in outrage for an extra moment before noticing this part was almost done. He couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

That was for his father. Malfoy dragged the cloak out from under Harry's immobilized body and threw it over him, deciding no one would be looking for him until he was back in London. Guess he wouldn't be seeing him around.

And taking care to tread on Harry's fingers, Malfoy left the compartment.

Not, most definitely not!

"Of all the cowardly, black-hearted things to do!" Sirius snarled in outrage. "He's just going to leave you there!"

"I- what's going to happen to me!" Harry demanded in a panic. It had certainly been funny enough to do the same to Malfoy back at Nine and Three-Quarters the past two years, but not at Hogsmeade station!

"I, honestly have no clue, never tried," James groaned as he passed Sirius the book, no one looking forward to finding out.

HPHPHP

*The Hand of Glory and this are both guilty of just randomly inserting things that apparently should have been common knowledge. Zabini hangs around Malfoy though he's never been mentioned since his sorting, Malfoy just apparently has a hand of Glory though it was mentioned all of one time in book two Malfoy certainly didn't own. I feel like this was one of those moments JK just made up something on the spot and obviously by this point didn't have a chance to go back and put in, leaving me unable to help noticing both of these would very obviously be important later. One out of two was.

** I think JK meant Stupify, as that one paralyzes you the way you are, where as Petrificus Totalus has all your limbs snapping together before you do the same.

***Four people to do with that Prophecy have their noses broken. Voldemort doesn't have one, Neville got his broken last year in the Department of Mysteries, Dumbledore by Aberforth all those years ago, and now Harry here. If something had happened to Trelawney's nose, I would have thought it was some curse of Prophecy type thing for this to happen.

[theriverpersonshadow]

Lamia Drama/Deltarune Semi-Crack Fic

The not-awaited, not asked for Lamia Drama X Deltarune crackfic that absolutely no one wanted, but might now find they want!

I played Deltarune Chapter 2 and just decide to write some silliness for fun. This is extremely non-canon to everything involved. Spoilers (kinda but not really) for DeltaRune Chapter 2.

Warnings for swearing, an extremely brief moment of existential dread, and one sexual joke.

As always, the species of lamia I use come from @vex-bittys

If this is your cup of tea, maybe buy me a Kofi?

           Susie stared up at the sign in front of them. “Kris. This…. Is this a fucking pet shop???” Susie said. The sign said “Caring Coils” and had a picture of someone part skeleton, part snake.

           “No! It’s a spring shop!” Lancer said. What else could “Coils” mean?

           “U-Um… I… I don’t know where this building came from???” Ralsei said. As far as he was aware, they had seen neither snakes nor springs on their journey, but apparently this was in Castle Town now! Somehow!

           Kris walked in. It was surprisingly bright for something in the Dark World, eerily similar to what it’d be like in the light world, but given that the main inhabitants seemed to be the apparent offspring of Jockington and Sans, just… What was even happening here.

           “Are these, like, half skeleton, half snake?” Susie said, walking up and knocking on the glass holding the Mamba. A dozen or so snakes suddenly tackled the glass, hissing at her. “Okay, not gonna lie, that’s kinda cool. You think they bite?”

           Kris just stared at the sign on the glass enclosure saying “Please Ask Before Handling – We Bite – Highly Venomous” until Susie got the hint.

           Regardless, Susie hummed, seriously contemplating sticking her entire hand in there anyways. “Hey. Hey Noelle, you dare me?”

           “SUSIE NO!”

           “C’mon, does venom even work on monsters?”

           “Hah! Clearly you know nothing. Monsters do not have blood and nerves to shut down the same way humans do,” Berdly said, strolling over to the Mamba enclosure. “They don’t even look that tough. Look! They’re worm- AAAAAAAAAAAA;LKJSDFLK;JDFA!” He had stuck his hand in there and immediately gotten himself bitten by like 13 Mamba. He flapped his wings, running around the room and sending bitty Mamba flying absolutely everywhere. Tiny battle cries filled the room as they chased after Berdly.

           “Um… Kris? Should we help him?” Ralsei said, watching the chaos.

           Kris answered No, deciding to instead head into the back. Unlike the skeletal-snakes who were snake sized in the front, this area seemed inhabited by skeleton-sized skele-snakes. Kind of. Most were shorter than Kris, except one Cobra who zipped directly by them with a weaponized mop in hand. Kris peaked back – looks like the cobra dude was mopping up the little skelesnakes. Cool, that’s been settled.

           They got a few odd looks as they browsed the area. It had snake things, and child things. Presumably for snake children, which most of these seemed to be. If not for the supplies and price tags, it’d be easy to mistake this place for an orphanage – which Kris could understand, who would want a Sans X Jockington baby?

           Oh hey, that one might be an adult. A particularly grumpy looking  skele-snake looked them up and down, them immediately flipped them off, “Oh great, I thought I was done with human shit. Or whatever the fuck you are.”

           Kris flipped him off back. What meaningful dialogue.

             Meanwhile, Ralsei was trying to figure out what he should do. In the few seconds Kris had left, Suzy had broken another enclosure completely and even more snakes were running around, not at all helped by Lancer and Rouxls mistaking the new lightners(?) for worms and trying to eat them. Berdly had been swiftly knocked out by the tiny swarm.

           Thankfully, something answered Ralsei’s prayers. He didn’t expect his newly found angel to be a 12-foot-something long version of the things causing chaos, but he literally started mopping up the little ones and depositing them into boxes. As soon as that was done, he gave them all an exhausted, withering stare, “Why. Just… why.”

           “Worms are tasty!” chirped Lancer.

           “These are not worms, we’re lamia,” the new person said. He sighed, straightening himself, “Where are my manners. I’m Nikolai. Apparently the rest of the staff disappeared, somehow, and I have no idea where we are, so forgive me if I’m a bit… in need of several of wines.” His “staff” uniform had been replaced by gold and white robes… and a small golden nametag declaring him “staff”.

           Rouxls pushed himself to the front. “I sympathizeth with thee mostly fullily, thine fellow worker of high class and generallyeth most terrifying stature.”

           “… I think I’m having a stroke,” Nikolai said.

           “Hey Yooooo. I Heard Someone Was Wanting Wine (alcoholic)? I Have Some Battery Acid Right Here!” the Queen said, holding her glass cup of battery acid. It exploded in her hand. “Oops Lol (amused)”

           “… I… I give up,” Nikolai said, laying his head on a table. Several of the bitties were chirping and giving praises, trying to tell him not to give up, but the Mamba were also trying to knock the box they’d been placed in off the shelf by all ramming the side of it at once. The chaos refused to be contained any longer.

           Ralsei looked at Nikolai sympathetically, going over and patting his back, “H-Hey, it’s okay! I’m sure between the two of us and Kris we can keep… order… Oh dear.” Everyone had scattered. It seemed that only The Queen, the unconscious Berdly, and Noelle remained in the room with them.

             The Queen looked into the bitty Papython tank. “Hey Is That You Trousle?”

           Trousle looked up at this new lady with the cool glasses, nodding.

           “Sorry You Came Eleventh In The Dragon Cards The Deckening Mini-Tournament Game But Dang Getting That Much Out Of Like A Billion People (Exaggeration) Is Dang (Damn) Impressive!” The Queen said.

           Trousle’s eyes widened, how did she know that?

           “Oh Yeah And Here Is This (based on search history: Sexy Dom Bitties).” It was a small domino with Mettaton legs sticking out from it.

           Trousle was silently screaming, but being him had the perk that he didn’t have to hold in his screams! They were silent by default. So he was just screaming and completely blush-colored in the face.

           “Oh And Emo Thrash Metal (based on search history: Emo Thrash Metal).” She deposited a small broken chunk of the Thrash Machine that had thrashed her giant robot’s ass which was inexplicably wearing eyeliner and had “it’s not a phase mom!” written on it.

           Meanwhile, Susie had joined Kris in flipping off Hux, and then Liam came.

           “Tch. I don’t know what you troglodytes think you’re doing, but we’re closed. Get out,” Liam hissed, putting himself between Hux and the intruders. They were not closed, but could you really be “open” when you had accidentally planeshifted to another dimension without the majority of your staff?

           “Yeah! Fuck off!” Hux hissed, throwing a double birdy.

           “YOU GUYS WANNA GO?!” Susie yelled, foaming at the mouth and drawing her axe. Liam looked injured, but if he was going to go around picking fights, she wasn’t going to stop him!

           “Oh please,” Liam said, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, smirking far too smugly. “I would obviously win.”

           “OH IT IS ON!” Susie said, surging forwards. She and Liam both turned out to be too adept at dodging for this to go much of anywhere, and Hux and Kris just spent the fight insulting each other even after Susie and Liam got so mutually carried away they left the battlefield.

           Lancer had found some new kind of paradise: a plastic hammock full of dubious, blueberry snot flavored salsa! He paid no mind to the other person using the weird spa, just jumping in and plopping into the vat of goo.

           Oozy blinked owlishly at Lancer, then started laughing, “Kid? Kid, what are you doing?”

           “I’m claiming this spa as mine, you minty fresh bundle of mouthwash.”

           “Um… This… is my bed?”

           “No it’s not! This is a hammock, not a bed!”

           “… can’t argue with that logic,” Oozy said, shrugging. He wrapped lightly around Lancer, purring. That said, he couldn’t quite resist the urge to tease, “Wow, easiest snack ever.”

           “Thanks!” Lancer chirped.

           Rouxls Kaard then skidded down the hallways without ever adjusting his Trademark Pose, “HALT WORMTH! THEE SHALSTH NOTS EAT MINE PRINCETH.”

           Oozy, being a little shit, looked Rouxls in the eye as he lightly pressed his teeth to the back of Lancer’s head and audibly said, “Nom.”

           “NOOOOO! UNHAND HIM, THINE UNCLEANETHEST OF HEATHENS!”

           “Naaaah.”

           “I’m slimy!” Lancer chirped.

           Meeeeeeanwhile, Keith was laughing maniacally in a mix of sheer disbelief and genuine amusement as he dodged kicks from a living checkers piece, a small army of Pawns at his side. Too bad they weren’t from the same game.

             Some of the Queen’s butlers helped Nikolai and Noelle clean up the storefront from the burst of chaos (and Berdly). They still weren’t sure how they got there, but y’know what, even Nikolai cannot contain this, so he lets the kids who are old enough play around the area with some supervision.

           The Mamba immediately flock to the Dojo, Liam leading the charge, to prove their superiority over all. Berdly gets his ass beat there again. There are Papython in the bakery and Kings in the café, and, well, just lamia generally everywhere.

           A lot of the younger ones flock to Seam. Every child’s dream come true: a giant plush toy that can actually talk to you and he’s kind of just a big fluffy grandpa!!!

             Eventually just Kris and Hux are left inside, locked in a battle of wills and insults.

           “Like you’d even know what it’s like to not have fucking control of shit! To always be told what to do and what to be, and if you can’t, no one gives a fuck about you!”

           Kris: Act:

           Understand.

           They understand, they understand far too well.

           …

           Kris: Act:

           Kidnap.

           The snake boy is going home with them now. He screams, but he does not get a say in this. Bye.

[ayankun]

WandaVision episode 6

FIRST OFF

Whenever I go back to pause things for clues, and find exactly what I’m looking for, I don’t feel justified, I feel that much more insane:

It’s really hard to make out, but I had an alright look at it on my folks’ QLED, and it’s definitely a flying saucer doing an alien abduction on what looks to be a person inside an old CRT TV (with some kind of robot head/boombox on top???)  There are secret aliens in this show, you guys, the facts don’t lie.

HmmmMMMM I wonder if Agnes is as innocent as she looks:

Also, I didn’t see that she was wearing the brooch in this ep, and I was majorly disappointed in that.

Two things here:

No, that’s not a twins joke.

Another Moonmen Confirmed

I know green is his color or whatever, but that hat is literally 10 years ahead of its time

Also, I took the playing-DDR-at-home scenario at face value, and only on the first rewatch did I realize it was a very pointed turn-of-the-century reference.  I am an Old.

There’s a good, subtle Rule of Threes in this ep.  The Setup:

The Sokovian Halloween flashback works on so many levels.  It’s so funny:

The fact that they went trick-or-treating at all

The “speaking Sokovian”

The treat being a fish

They have to share the fish

The concept that this event gave them an infectious disease

“You probably suppressed a lot of the trauma” -- it’s a good sitcom joke but.  the trauma is the joke.  The joke IS THE TRAUMA!!!

Elizabeth Olson is a dream with all her wonderful faces she has this ep.

Vision’s unsettling passive-aggression-sitcom-cooperation whiplash is WOW, consider me unsettled!!!!!!  “Be. Good.”  UGH.

(Just noticed one here, but there are a number of continuity errors in this episode, enough to be distracting later on, and is this a deliberate choice?  Please let it be deliberate.  I didn’t watch a whole lot of Malcolm in the Middle, is it known for its continuity errors?

)

“It’s their first Halloween.” LOLOLOL they are TEN YEARS OLD and this is their FIRST halloween I LOVE IT

DOUBLE RED HERRING CONFIRRRRRRRRMED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Agent Jimmy Woo accidentally identifying himself as the sassy best friend added 20 years to my life.

Found.  FOUND.  Not “created,” “manifested,” “willed into being using my insane witch powers.”  Third Party Confirmed.

I like that it’s the 90s and we can swear on TV now.  “Hell” “kick-ass” “damn it” “fu---dge”

I think the most biting part of Vision finding the whacked out folks is that the soundtrack just kind of ... ignores that anything’s wrong.  Yeah, it’s kinda-spooky Halloween music, but it’s still 100% in-world kinda-spooky-sitcom-Halloween-episode music. 

OKAY LET’S TALK ABOUT THE AD:

As a 90s child, let me tell you, this is a blisteringly accurate representation of children’s marketing from the period.  The shark is wearing sunglasses AND he has a surfboard!!!  And he’s selling you yogurt of all things!!!!!  This is the supreme distillation of what being a child in the 90s was like.

How disappointed I am that they went with crab instead of lobster.

Heard it through the grapevine that this is a representative of Wanda’s imprisonment on the Raft.  That happened in Civil War, right?  So the next ad is The Snap?  We’re running out of iconic decades, too. so, hold on, new thought.

90s: Civil War

00s: Infinity War

10s?????: Endgame???? or?????????

??: Whatever happened between Endgame and WandaVision, given that the ads are stepping forward through Wanda’s IRL life events!!

I don’t want to know how many episodes are planned/announced, but I don’t know what to expect from the format after they run out of decades from which to draw.  Maybe there are only one or possibly two “sitcom” episodes left.  Maybe after that it just breaks down and they can pick and choose from the worlds/styles we’ve already established.  That’d be p neat.  A very unique kind of chaos.

god she’s so cute

Okay, somebody explain to me Pietro.  I honestly walked away from last week thinking he was just some townsperson chump, but then I was reminded that this is the Quicksilver actor from all those X-Mans movies I never watched, soooo people are saying Multiverse Confirmed?  But, if this is X-Mans’ Pietro, then why did he die the same as MCU Pietro?  Or is he literally MCU!Pietro’s corpse, given that he looked all dead same as when she saw Vision’s corpse?  If MCU!Pietro, then why different face???

????????????????

Also I found him highly suspicious, what with all the questions he was asking.  But the only sort of person who would truly want to know the answers to those questions would be someone who already had them ... so I think he was just asking on behalf of the audience, and the delivery was all wonked out.

Rule of Threes - The Reference:

Ok, real talk, whenever computers/networks/data/encryption/servers/mainframes et al come up in mainstream media, I just look away.  I don’t need the kind of psychic damage that comes with such egregious mishandling of the topic.

That being said, does Hayward having eyes through the barrier mean that he could possibly be involved in getting it set up?  Because look.  If Hayward-after-Hayward’s-Villianous-Ends is one antagonizing force, then is there really room for the Third Party (Confirmed) antagonizing force that’s lurking in the negative space silhouette of the Inciting Incident?  With Wanda as the Red Herring antagonizing force, that’s just.  There’s just too many villains, alright?  We gotta start merging these plotlines.

(then again, when I just said “eyes” I realize probably understanding the true nature of his new secret “CATARACT” project will clear a lot of things up.  I’ll wait for enlightenment)

Agnes’ license plate in this episode is 0A1-B2C, which I think is a reference to the way reality is getting pared down to bare bones at the edge of town.  Note that this is not the same license plate number as seen last ep.

ALSO, I drove home behind a NJ plate just an hour ago, and was staring at it for a long time, trying to fit it into the puzzle before A) realizing that this was Real Life and not part of the show and B) WTF is a NJ plate doing in front of me in California.  In any case, I can confirm that NJ plates do not appear to have this number-letter repeating format.

So let’s talk Agnes.

Demonstrated knowledge of the situation in ways others haven’t (”There’s the star of the show” “kids, you can’t control ‘em”)

Shows up when needed most (explained as being Wanda’s doing, but is it)

When Wanda was having her babies, though, who was trustworthy enough to be summoned?  Was it Agnes?

Wanted to babysit REAL BAD

Was in the opening credits framed possessively with the twins

Doesn’t appear to have an IRL identity according to Jimmy’s crime board

Keeps talking about her husband but we’ve never seen him.  Highly unlikely that he’s real

Was the one to find Sparky “dead” - internet thinks she was lying to Wanda about how or possibly if he was dead (I’m trying not to read the theories, so idk exactly what the angle is there)

In an episode where everyone is wearing their original comic outfits, Agnes is dressed as (and laughs like!) a witch

She name-drops Wanda as the one controlling everyone; Norm (or the guy playing Norm) only said “she” and “her” -- meaning Agnes?

Naughty

So we’re 99% sure Agnes is Agatha Harkness, right?  I never read no comics, so I’m taking the internet’s word for it, but from what I can tell, I think we must be right.  If that’s the case, then I’m thinking it’s not impossible for her to be pulling some strings around here (giving Wanda a justification for her “that wasn’t me” doorbell ring, for example, and pulling a double red herring on the fact that she shows up whenever the narrative Wanda her nefarious scheme calls for it).

To devil’s advocate myself, though, we also have Monica’s word that it was Wanda in her mind, lessening the impact of Agnes falsely confirming what Norm only implied.  Also she’d have to be acting for Vision’s sake (and ours) and, if so, then what did Vision’s brain-touch really do, and how did she know he’d find her there, and what did she intend as the result of that interaction etc etc.

If Wanda’s (or Wanda + Third Party Confirmed (Agnes??)’s) powers aren’t enough to sustain the simulation of life on the edges of town, how much worse is it going to be now that there is even more area to try to control???

I don’t know if this is strictly an intended read, but the idea of Halloween as a fun, scares-for-entertainment’s sake type holiday, the rounding off the edges of concepts like “skeletons and ghosts are what people are after they die, let’s decorate the town with them and have a good time” kind of is a haunting parallel to the nature of Wanda (et al) covering up the horrible truth of the situation with this happy-go-lucky sitcom glamour.

How much does one hate seeing Vision giving his life for the greater good (the greater good) for the second time?  In other news, I think I’m seeing some specifically Mind Stone type energy-colors coming off of him, and very little Wanda type energy-colors.  Third Party Confirmed.

Also, I was thinking from last week that perhaps Hayward’s Villainous Ends included capturing the reanimated Vision to be one of those Sentient Weapons his organization is all about, but I Do Not Think his reaction to seeing that sought-after prize disintegrate in front of his eyes really matches up with that theory.  Again, will be patiently waiting for Jimmy to check his email to see what CATARACT is all about!

Rule of Threes - The Payoff:

Also, anyone ID the movie playing in the background?

Ok, final thought.  I watched this about four times today, and on the big-ass TV at my parents’ house finally paused and got up close to see what that white shape is in the reflection.  Thought it might be a skull, but, it’s worse.

These caps do not contain enough data to verify my claim, but I PROMISE YOU it’s a TV

A square old thing with a round screen and antenna on top. 

I SWEAR to you, when I looked into the TV, into Wanda’s eyes, only to see the reflection of a TV, of her looking at me looking at her I had a visceral fear reaction.  Like.  LEGIT nauseous skin crawl.

(All the other episodes have ended with our POV as the fourth wall, from the general (or exact!!!) position their household TV is known to be.)

This is my favorite show Of All Time.

[rachetmath]

What would it be like if rwbyjnor met the dutch, revy and rock

I don't understand the specifics of this request so I'll do this in the best way I can. This going to be long so be ready.

Rwby x Black lagoon

Black Lagoon crosses to Remnant:

Revy and Dutch along with team RWBY, Ren and Nora are fight a bunch of Beowolves while Jaune and Rock are fighting side by side with mostly Jaune doing most of the work while Rock provides a view tips and assisting mostly with what he can find.

Revy: So, let me get this straight you fight shit heads freaks of nature like these like every single day?

Ruby: Yep.

Dutch: And all of you have a very specific weapon that you customize yourselves to be it a blade and firearm?

Ren: Precisely.

Benny: And you have unnatural and natural resources like dust and with highly advanced technology?

Weiss: Yes.

Dutch: And you can use all that as well as this thing called aura along with a semblance?

Nora: Yeah, semblances are like a superpower.

Revy: How super?

Yang: Universal.

Revy: Well-

Revy looks to see Ruby turn her weapon from a sniper rifle to a scythe.

Revy: Dutch, can we stay here?

Dutch: HELL NO!!! Look, I hate to say this, but I much prefer seeing crazy psychos, and bullets fly than this horror fest. Plus, I may not be father but ya'll parents let you do this every day, they are very stupid and irresponsible.

Yang: Hey we're trained for this. Well except one.

Revy: Yeah that guy with Rock over there. He is doing fine but I can tell he's not all your levels. How did even survive let only get into your school?

Ruby: That we don't know or bother asking as long he works.

Revy: Well I can say that it's stupid but I still I wonder how he got in.

*Jaune and Rock side*

Rock: So, let’s get this straight. Your father never bothered to train you and no combat school was willing to accept you, so your best method was to cheat?

Jaune: Yeah, I know, I'm a complete fool.

Rock: I mean if you were willing to work hard to get there despite the risk, I say, you sir have my respect.

Jaune: But I am an idiot, I mean, I lost the only girl you who believed in me.

Rock: Jaune, let me give you a piece of advice. Get over yourself! If you still have even just one friend in this crazy messed up world then you're okay. Trust me, I know a little on how you feel. I mean look me compared to the others, do I look like I'm a mercenary?

Jaune: Why do hang out with them anyways?

Rock: Like you with your friends, mines, I guess appreciate my abilities. Look let's talk about this another time and try to survive this freak show.

Jaune: Deal.

RWBY and JNRO crosses to Black Lagoons:

Team RWBY and JNPR are fighting a mafia group along with Revy and Dutch. Ruby armed with a handgun, an old scythe and sniper with a bayonet, Weiss with a rapier and little knifes, Blake with a handgun and a katana, Yang with a shotgun and iron brazed knuckles, Jaune with an military armed shield, sword and rifle(Dutch taught him how to use it. Surprised it took him a week.) Nora with a grenade launcher, Ren dual wielding pistols and knives and Oscar with a pipe.

Revy: Holy crap, you brats are good even without your powers or usual weapons.

Ruby: We adapt.

Nora: Seriously, you guys do stuff like this every day?

Dutch: For the right price, yes. But yeah, you kids on a natural.

Yang: By the way, thanks for teaching Jaune how to use a gun.

Dutch: Thank Rock for making him listen, he said he wouldn't last long if he didn't. But in all seriously the guy learns quick, I mean, it took him a week to learn how you use that rifle.

Ren: A week! We need to start teaching him and make sure he brings one more often.

Nora: Might makes things easier from here on.

Jaune: Can all of stop talking and focus! We'll talk when we're done. Oscar, hurry up.

Oscar: Oh, I'm sorry but fighting with a pipe is hard!

Jaune: Why didn't you bring a sword!

Oscar: I will not kill!

After a crazy battle, the group along with Rock and Benny celebrated their victory at the bar. While the girls, as well as Ren and Oscar was living it up with Revy, Benny and Dutch, at the front bar Jaune and Rock were talking after Rock told him a stories about how his employers sold him out, the hell he endured in his stay Roanaper, Yukio, and his old client Garcia.

{Rock's side}

Jaune: Damn.

Rock: Yeah.

Jaune: Well, you did what you had to.

Rock: But I didn't have to. I should've walk away and not attached. I'm supposed to be the good guy, Jaune. But this city, I feel like it's eating me alive. All these mafia bosses, war criminals and shit... it's all just getting to me. You know.

Jaune: Yeah, I understand, but what are going to do about it? you made the choice to stay and you got live with it. I mean, hearing all the crap you've done, I somewhat envy you.

Rock: What do you mean?

Jaune: When Chang said pull out, you went in. Every time something bad happens you try to be the good guy and make things better. True it fails at times and from the look of this city, you'll have no choice but to throw righteousness away to survive.  But in my opinion, you still at least stand as the hero of the story.

Rock: *laugh* How so!? Come on tell me, how can I, a piece of under burying shit can possible still be a hero to you. The worthless knight, who can barely fight and couldn't save his partner!?

Jaune: Exactly. Most people survive based on luck.  You on the other hand survived not just on what you know but what learn in return. The world's a crazy place, and most of time you don't know where you'll end up. However, you still have control of what you do next. Your still able to keep people alive. You still do your job. You still try to be nice and maintain some level of morality even if it may never be enough or get you killed. So, trust me when I say this, you have done all what you could. Hell, I barely can do anything.

Rock: Shut up. When it comes down to it your friends are as crazy and trigger happy as Revy. They need somebody like you who can keep them alive. Just keep trying to do right by them and for yourself. Trust me, you can talk down to yourself all you want. But it doesn't change the fact that your alive, you made mistakes and you change. Promise you won't go down how I did, because believe me once you go too far in the darkness you may never come back from it. Or at least not be the same person you were before.  

Jaune: Yeah. Plus, that Revy woman, I think you can trust her to help you back up or shoot you down when you have gone too far.

Rock: Really? How come?

Jaune: She talks about you all the time when she's drunk. She saves you even when you deserve to die for being stupid. And finally, she hasn't killed you yet despite the many times you've pissed her off.

Rock: Speaking of women, which one of those lovely ladies is your girlfriend?

Jaune: Funny I was about ask you the same between Revy and the blonde, named, Eda.

Rock: *laughing* To the C.M.F.?

Jaune:  To the C.M.F *Shared a toast with Rock and started drinking*

{Revy Side}

Ruby: So, Revy?

Revy: What is it little red?

Ruby: Are you and Rock dating?

Revy: *cracks glass cup while blushing* W-w-WHAT!? NO!! Of course not. Why the hell would you ask that?

Nora: You look at him a lot.

Blake: You talk to him the most.

Yang: An unlike most, you call him your partner.

Revy: Well yeah cause he's useful. That’s all. Nothing special.

Weiss: Really, cause when you got drunk last time, we asked you about him, you got an attitude and started talking crazy.

Revy: Oh.

Yang: So how-

Revy: We started off at the wrong foot and we're just making up as we go.

Yang: Well that's great and-

Revy: Can't say the same thing for you guys and your friend Jaune, though.

Nora: Pardon?

Revy: I'm just saying, don't think you know everything about your friend, hell I don't think he cares about any of you.

Blake: *angry glare* What makes you say that?

Revy: Well let’s be clear here. Jaune was loser with dreams, he was willing to make those dreams a reality, no matter the price he didn't know he'll have to pay. And guess what, the debt was do and it caused Pyrrha her life.

Yang: Maybe so but-

Revy: And before you all start giving him praise for what he accomplished, let me ask you something. How did he feel afterwards? I mean, losing the only person to ever provide with some sort of love and respect, a family that never believed in once in his life, I say the kid must been a loser for a long time. And if him and his Sapphron were the only two to ever bother to leave the nest, then that proves that the rest of his siblings are just good for nothing nobodies who scared of the world, or just found more meaning in their lives without having to leave the comfort of their home. Face it, like Rock, your friend got something to prove and he's willing to do whatever it takes to prove himself to everyone. Even if it causes him his life and his humanity.

Ruby: No. No, we won't-

Revy: And what are you people going to do? Hold his hand? Give him those morally great speeches of yours? Pathetic. Just like your friend Pyrrha who died a meaningless death for worthless, foolish old man, who could barely do the job he's was given by god himself.

RWBYN: *angry at Revy comment but grows to accept it*

Ren was about to start threatening however Dutch stops him by reestablishing that one shot can turn the bar into a war zone and showing Ren that Revy always has her trigger finger ready. So, Ren does nothing.

Revy: Face it, you guys aren't capable of saving him. But what do I know, I'm no hero nor do I want to be? The only guy I seem to care about is changing and I don't know how he's going to turn out. To think that I might have to shoot him down someday. But fuck it, that’s just of missed up every world is.

Dutch: Wow Revy you changed.

Revy: What?

Benny: You act less bitchy than you were before and now you’re a little more open with others. Rock must have touched your heart.

Revy: Shut up, Benny. *looking red all over her face*

Everyone laughs at her embarrassment.

Revy: Oh, shut the fuck up you cunts! Hm. Anyways which one you are dating that knight in shining armor anyways since you're all worried about him?

Nora: I already got a boyfriend.

Revy: You mean twinkle toes right there. Mr. Emmo.

Nora: You must want to fight.

Revy: Anyone?

RWBY: Nope.

Revy: *makes a call*

Eda: Hey bitch, what do want?

Revy: Hey Eda do you like blondes? Because I got an average looking-

Eda barges in with her short green skirt and pink top shirt on. She looks at Revy, knowing what she wants, Revy points to Jaune with Rock and Eda makes her. She walks with hips swaying from side to side and sit between Rock and Jaune.

Rock: *surprised* Eda, what are doing here? When you did you get here?

Eda: Oh, Rock honey, I’m just taking advantage of my opportunities. *Sees Jaune staring in amazement. She smiles* Say, I heard rumors about you and your blonde friend right here and was wondering if you two would have some-

Revy and Weiss both break their glasses and make their way over.

Revy and Weiss: STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM YOU CUNT!!!

Revy surprised how Weiss and she were in complete sink and while she smug, Weiss was embarrassed.

Revy: Oh, so you like him like that.

Weiss: *grabs Jaune by the arm and pulls him away* EVERYONE! WE ARE LEAVING!

Jaune: But Weiss I finally found someone I can talk!

Weiss: YOU’LL PLENTY OF PEOPLE TO TALK TO ONCE WE GET HOME!!

Jaune: But Weiss- damn it, later Rock. See you someday.

Rock: God speed brother and remember everything I told you.

Jaune: You as well and good luck.

A bright light was opened and just like that the kids disappeared. Back to their universe. Revy and Rock were smiling but Rock, remembering what Jaune said about trust, ask Revy

Rock: Revy?

Revy: What up, partner?

Rock: Let’s say, I things took too far and made an enemy of someone who would want me killed. Will you be there to kill me instead? Even if you were paid to do so, will be there to stop me?

Revy: *smiles but then covers Rocks eyes so he never sees it* Of course. I got you into this, so you’re my responsibility. Partner.

Rock: *smiles* Thanks.

[totallyjazzed]

Analysing Copaganda (or "I watched seven seasons of Brooklyn 99 so you don't have to")

Introduction:

Several months ago my parents approached me asking if I wanted to watch Brooklyn 99, not knowing anything about it, my first instinct was to say no, but then I thought it would be interesting, to watch it and write a proper analysis for exactly what makes it propaganda and why it gives liberals brain worms. If you've spent any amount of time engaging with politics online for the last few years, you've likely already heard of Brooklyn 99. It's a sitcom written by Michael Schur, who previously wrote The Office (I'll get to that later), Parks & Recreation, and The Good Place. The show follows the lives of a squad of police detectives in Brooklyn and the wacky hijinks they get up to.

Brooklyn 99 has become famous, or arguably infamous, on Tumblr (and potentially other social media websites too) for being used as a "retort" to anti-cop sentiments (namely ACAB and any variation thereof), mainly taking the form of "the only good cop is Raymond Holt". In this essay (to use a funny Tumblr meme phrase) I will provide a brief overview of the show and the main characters, and analyse how the show, and each character individually, is pro-cop propaganda (copaganda).

The Show:

Brooklyn 99 is The Office, at least from what I understand about The Office. It’s a sitcom based in a workplace in which characters often pull pranks on each other and have wacky adventures pertaining to their job. The main thing that sets it apart from The Office is that the workplace in question is a police station, this makes it a cop show too. However, unlike more “classic” cop shows like CSI, Law & Order, The Wire, and so on, B99 doesn’t seek to glorify it’s characters as action heroes, but rather paint them as normal people living normal lives. This is far more insidious than the picture of the gnarled man of action who doesn’t play by the book, and by making the characters relatable the show gives viewers people to project onto, making them more vulnerable to the propaganda of the show.

Occasionally, in a break from the antics of Relatable Immature Prankster Archetype and Funny Overly Attached Best Friend Archetype, the show will attempt to say something about racism, or homophobia, or misogyny, or something like that, and while it usually feels well-meaning it often falls flat as it’s a watered-down safe-for-TV version of whatever the issue du jour is. 

In S4E16 (“Moo Moo”), Terry is harassed by a racist cop while he doesn’t have his badge, and is almost arrested until he manages to prove his cop status, the rest of the episode revolves around how racism is bad and that one singular racist cop is a problem, in the end Terry submits a complaint to the NYPD higher-ups and gets his job application denied, and the racist cop gets away with a slap on the wrist. Throughout the show, Captain Holt tells stories about how he suffered from racism and homophobia, and still does. Transphobia is mentioned once (presumably for brownie points) in a throwaway line about Ace Ventura.

At the end of Season 4, Jake and Rosa are framed for a series of bank robberies and sent to prison, and the first two episodes of Season 5 work to show that prison is bad and prisoners are mistreated, they also make abundantly clear that everyone in prison is a menace and deserves to be there (Jake’s cellmate is a literal cannibal and he’s shown to be one of the nice inmates), once the duo are released from jail, there are a few lines here and there about how prison is bad, but they’re only throwaways used to serve as one-off jokes and never again used as an actual critique of the prison system.

Police Brutality is never mentioned, the closest it comes to bringing it up is in S1E19 (“Tactical Village”), where Rosa is introduced to a sonic-blast weapon and aims it as Charles, this is clearly supposed to be a very harmful piece of equipment, but it's only appearance is treated as a joke.

There are also recurring gags about Defense Lawyers being “the enemy” because they only defend guilty parties (the show heavily implies that none of the squad has ever arrested the wrong person), which meshes with the harmful stereotype in cop shows of only guilty people saying for a lawyer or a warrant or whatever, which has been documented before by others.

The Characters:

Jake Peralta (played by Andy Samberg) is the Relatable Immature Prankster Archetype I mentioned before, he’s the office funnyman and usually responsible for the majority of the goings-on and goings-wrong in the show, while he does mature and evolve through the show he never grows out of this character. He’s the closest the show gets to the “gnarled man of action who doesn’t play by the book” character I mentioned before, not because he is that character but because he wants to be, his favourite movie is Die Hard and it’s the reason he joined the police, so he could be like the cool bruce willis man. He’s also the most unlawful character on the show, in S1E7 (“48 Hours”), he arrests a man with no evidence and the squad is essentially locked down until evidence can be found, in the end it turns out the man is guilty. Jake is scolded for this, not for essentially breaking the law, but for wasting everyone’s time when they had much better things to do that night. Jake’s character is propaganda because he’s the zany relatable one with a heart of gold.

Amy Santiago (played by Melissa Fumero) is the overly-organised hyper-nerd archetype, in direct opposition to Jake. Her dream is to be the NYPD’s youngest female captain, and she’s very “I want to keep the people safe” in her approach to policing. In S3E3 (“Boyle’s Hunch”), she is used as the face of the NYPD’s poster campaign, only to have her image vandalised, which is painted by the show as being very bad and sad. Amy’s character is propaganda because she’s the uptight peacekeeper who sticks to the rules.

Charles Boyle (played by Joe Lo Truglio) is the Funny Overly Attached Best Friend Archetype I mentioned before, often depicted as bumbling and naive, he’s an incredibly competent detective, arguably more so than Jake. He’s usually polite and friendly, and has moments of childishness that compliment Jake’s character. Charles’ character is propaganda because he’s the nice guy who just wants what’s best for everyone.

Raymond Holt (played by Andre Braugher) is probably the character most people are aware of, he’s a somewhat stuck-up man who embodies a lot of the same characteristics as Amy, he’s highly-educated, incredibly smart and quick-witted, and emotionally restrained. Originally presented as an outsider, being the new guy to the pre-existing friendgroup, he learns to relax and let go over the course of the show, and acts almost as a father figure to the other characters, primarily Jake and Amy. Raymond’s character is propaganda because he’s a black gay cop.

Rosa Diaz (played by Stephanie Beatriz) is tough, aloof, and often scary in the eyes of the other characters, she is shown to have problems with engaging with people socially, particularly romantically, and while her exterior is rough as uncaring, she’s shown to be fiercely loyal and have some not-so-tough secrets. In Season 5 she comes out to the squad as Bisexual. Rosa’s character is propaganda because she’s the no-nonsense tough cop who secretly has a heart of gold.

Terry Jeffords (played by Terry Crews) is a kind and caring man with a firm-but-fair attitude, acting as Holt’s second-in-command he also acts as a father figure to the other characters, he has two (eventually three) children which he is often seen gushing about. He is the most mature of the group, on-par with Holt in some respects but sometimes more so, refusing to take part in hijinks to focus on his job. Terry’s character is propaganda because he’s the physically strong and imposing, yet kind cop who just wants to provide for his family.

Michael Hitchcock (played by Dirk Blocker) and Norm Scully (played by Joel McKinnon Miller) are an inseparable pair of bumbling, lazy, oafs. Scully is fat, lazy, and old, Hitchcock is lecherous, lazy, and old. They’re propaganda because they’re the lazy incompetent cop archetype.

There are plenty of minor recurring characters, as well as Gina Linetti, a main character who left after Season 6, however as she’s a liaison and not a cop I won’t be analysing her in detail.

There’s a lot more I could have mentioned here, from the dirty cop that sense Jake and Rosa to jail, or the police commissioner who wants to spy on everyone’s phones all at once, Holt even says the line “I don’t want to live in a Police State”, but I’ve left them out for the sake of brevity.

Conclusion:

Brooklyn 99 is copaganda to it’s very core, this much everyone already knows, but unlike serious cop dramas and high-stakes high-action cop shows, Brooklyn 99 offers viewers an escape to a world where the police are the force for good that people want them to be. The premise of “The Office but police” suckers people in with nostalgia for the late 2000s/early 2010s back when things were “good”. Given Michael Schur’s previous work I imagine he and the other writers didn’t explicitly set out to make copaganda, but it’s undeniable that this is what was achieved. And now with the political climate being what it is and the threat of a potential Season 8 addressing this year’s BLM protests, it’s now more important than ever to be able to identify and root out police propaganda, no matter how unassuming, no matter the source.

[kenzieam]

Save My Life - Chapter Two

@jewels2876​ @moonbeambucky @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​ @iammarylastar​@captstefanbrandt​ @badassbaker​ @pinknerdpanda​

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

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Warnings: Definitely M. Language, violence, adult situations, graphic mentions of horrible things, traumatic death and descriptions.

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!!!!!TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!!! I ain’t playing, this story is coal-black.

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Paramedic Bucky Barnes has seen it all and it’s definitely taken a toll on his mind and body, witnessing senseless death, all but wading through it at times as he is the first responder to so many ghastly accidents and mishaps. The widow of one of his former patients haunts him long after his brief, chaotic contact with her and destiny conspires to cross their paths again. Can the broken man and grieving woman find peace together?

Feedback is life, y’all.

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Although Steve threatened to tell somebody, he never did or maybe the department was so hard up for good paramedics that the fact that one of their own shot up heroin wasn’t a concern until it actually started affecting his work. Despite his growing addition, Bucky was still one of the best medics in the city, if only for the fact that he got so personally invested in his patients, doing all he could, to his own detriment, to help them.

It had been a bad week, and Bucky missed the next meeting. He couldn’t have handled the let-down at not seeing her again, and instead drank himself unconscious, because he was out of H and his dealer wouldn’t answer and he at least respected himself enough still to not inject illicit drugs from a random stranger.

Lev had attended however and felt a strange dissatisfaction at not seeing him. It was balm to her wounded soul, to have someone seeming to look for her, to make the effort to talk. Apart from Wanda, her friends had drifted away after Clint, uncomfortable with her persistent levels of anguish.

Had she pushed him away too? Was her pervasive sorrow a physical cloud around her that he’d given up on trying to push through?

She told herself scornfully that she thought about this man, little better than a stranger, far too much.

He didn’t need her bullshit weighing him down, not when he seemed to carry enough on his broad shoulders. It was highly unlikely he thought about her to the extent she found herself imagining him, wondering about him and his life, what he chose to surround himself with, his family, what had led him into such a taxing profession. He had begun to infiltrate her dreams, guilty musings of what lay beneath his clothes, clothes that stretched so finely over such luscious and defined musculature.

Was he a snuggler, would he lay beside her after they’d made love, gazing at her tenderly and stroking a large hand so gently across her skin? Clint had and she’d enjoyed those moments more than the physical release sometimes, that deep connection.

What would it feel like to rest her head on such a powerful chest? How safe would it make her feel again to be cradled by arms like his?

She couldn’t find out, it was all too soon, and she’d had her happily ever after, it had just been taken from her early.

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Despite himself, Bucky couldn’t stop and, although he just knew he’d be gut-kicked again because she wouldn’t be there; he attended the next meeting, arriving early because the dark thoughts had started swarming his brain, hungering for the oblivion H promised and he needed the distraction of others around him, the multitude of voices that rose and fell with the waves of sorrow they floated on.

She arrived late, as if she’d decided not to come but then relented at the last moment, sneaking furtively in through the double-doors just as one of the regulars stood to recount her week, how she’d managed not to cry at seeing the building where her son used to work, but losing it that night when she’d seen his picture on her mantle again. A few heads turned her way as she winced, struggling to help the heavy doors to close without their customary slam and Bucky felt a surge of heat under his skin.

She was even more beautiful than the last time he’d seen her if that were possible. Her hair and eyes were shades rarely seen, a vibrant auburn and trapped-galaxy-amethyst; eternal, unending pain darkening her irises to bruises in her flawless face. Hidden under a flowing sundress were the promise of sweet curves, a woman’s body he could bury himself inside and feel peace, serenity like he’d never experienced, passion like he’d never encountered.

He’d never even touched the woman, but his body wanted her, his soul knew the home it had never managed to find before.

She took one of the empty seats partway across the circle from him and he watched her from under a heavy brow, fighting an incongruous grin when she sat so carefully, wincing again as she expected the old chair to creak, her silent sigh of relief when it didn’t.

She fiddled idly with a tissue as she listened, not because she was bored by any means, but to distract her from the tugging of agony the other’s stories started in her, the memories their words dredged up and Bucky had to ball his fists to hold back from standing, yanking the weaselly man out of his chair beside her and taking his seat, then draw her to him, crush away her sadness because the sight of it slayed him, gouged deep in his jaded and exhausted heart; wringing blood from the nearly dry stone.

After a few other people, Lev was asked if she’d like to speak and she nodded quietly, seeming to collect herself before beginning. Her voice started low and hesitant and Bucky strained to hear her, but as the words left her mouth, drawing some of the pain with them, she began to speak louder, even managing to lift her head and meet other’s sympathetic gazes.

“I met my husband, Clint, in university. My roommate was his sister, so we saw a lot of each other and, while I hated him at first, he grew on me.” She gave a half-hearted smirk, twisting the tissue tighter. “He could be such a goof-ball but… at the same time, so caring. Everyone’s big brother. He saved me once when some guy slipped something in my drink, not enough to knock me out, but I wasn’t in any frame of mind to help myself, and he sat up with me all night, making sure I was okay, until morning.” She shook her head ruefully. “His girlfriend at the time wasn’t happy but he didn’t care, said he couldn’t let anything happen to one of his friends.” She pulled distractedly at a cuticle, exhaled a shuddery breath. “We started dating in junior year and that was it, I’d found my soulmate.” She sniffed, wiped at her nose, keeping her head lowered now as she continued.

“The morning he-” she choked on a sob but regained her voice, “the morning he… died we’d laid in bed and talked. Clint wanted to try for a baby, and I told him we’d talk about it more that night, but he kept pushing and I got mad, said some things I wish I hadn’t, like it was real easy to want kids when it’s not like you’re going to help out with them after; it was just bullshit, I was scared and acted like a total bitch and he left for work early, pissed off. I felt bad after and called him to ask if he’d meet for lunch… I wanted to apologize.” She exhaled tremulously, wiped at her eyes. “He worked across the street from the diner I chose, and I was…. standing there out front, waiting for him. And suddenly none of it mattered anymore; he saw me waiting and gave me this beautiful little smile and that was it, I was willing to do anything for him.” She paused and when she spoke again, her voice struggled to remain steady. “He stepped off the curb to cross the street and… he was so busy staring at me he didn’t… see the bus…”

Bucky winced, despite himself. He’d known the facts of the accident, but not the story behind it.

“I ran to him, screaming and there was so much blood…. God, so much blood.” She wiped her eyes, shook her head slightly. “There was nothing anyone could do, I watched him die and I knew it was my fault.” She lifted her face, opened red-rimmed eyes to the beamed ceiling as tears coursed down her pale cheeks and swallowed, then closed her eyes again, sagging slightly with what looked like relief. Raw relief at having laid bare the pain and shame, drawing the wound and letting it drain.

“Thank you,” Tony whispered quietly from across the circle, fresh tears in his own eyes.

Lev nodded in reply, lowering her head again, the tissue now rags in her fingers. She remained silent the rest of the meeting but seemed more settled than she had before. She listened, nodding in sympathy and commiseration as others told their stories, crying when they cried, smiled at the good memories.

Bucky found himself lost in watching her, everything around him fading away. He couldn’t begin to explain the effect she had on him, the way his soul just seemed to take a deep breath around her, even as his blood ran hot and fast with desire. He wanted to surround her, to capture her and make her his, feel her writhe beneath and on top of him, explode so sweetly around him and know that he was there, he would always be there, for her. But more importantly, more urgent than the physical connection, he just wanted her, his rock and purpose by his side, in this plane and the next.

The meeting ended with a few soft words from Tony and Bucky shook himself awake, flushing guiltily at the direction of his thoughts. He’d barely even spoke to the woman, yet he had already pledged his heart, his whole being, to her.

He glanced around, looking, and spotted Lev a dozen feet away, nodding and even offering a smile to another woman as they spoke in a loose group. There was an easiness about her now, a sense of relief and clarity; she’d shed a burden tonight and her beauty was indescribable to him.

Bucky hovered nearby before joining the group and Lev offered him a tentative smile, something sparking in her eyes, not quite an invitation, but definitely not rejection.

After a time, Lev bid goodbye to the group and drifted away, engaging in brief exchanges with others as she made her way to the door. There was as definite lightness to the meeting today, as if everyone were experiencing some relief from their grief. Eventually, Lev made it outside and Bucky fell in step beside her, offering a nervous smile when she glanced up at him.

“How are you?” She asked quietly, then stopped and extended her hand. “I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced, I’m Lev. Levka Riel.”

Bucky fumbled for a moment before extending his hand. “James Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky.”

Lev raised a brow in question and Bucky chuckled quietly. “My middle name’s Buchanan.” He hesitated. “I thought…. Your husband’s last name was Barton….” He trailed off uncomfortably, wishing he could take back the last few moments, cursing himself for spoiling so spectacularly whatever olive branch she had been trying to extend his way.

Her eyes dropped a moment before she answered. “Maiden name. It didn’t make much sense anymore to keep Barton anymore, with Clint gone….” She shifted uncomfortably, as if she’d been given a hard time for her decision and expected the same derision from him.

He hurried to assuage her guilt. “Your first name is so unique; I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”

Some life again in her eyes, a smile of appreciation. “It’s Russian, my mother is enamoured with the Romanov dynasty but ‘Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna’ or ‘Czarina’ were a little too on the nose.”

Bucky snorted a laugh, shaking his head.

Lev smiled in return, and Bucky felt his laugh die in his throat.

“God, do you know how beautiful you are?” His traitorous tongue asked, and he immediately reddened, looking away, approximately two sec0nds from running and finding a dark corner to pound his head against something.

Lev breathed a laugh, shaking her head and it was suddenly important to Bucky that she realize he wasn’t just talking out of his ass.

“No, I mean it.” He stopped; they’d reached her car anyway in the dark corner of the parking lot, and he’d have to speak to her about that, he’d been on enough calls where the victim was a woman who’d been caught in a location just like this and paid for it with either her life or her sanity. “You are… stunning.”

“And you are smooth, Mr. Barnes.”

He huffed in frustration, shaking his head. She was missing his point, whether deliberate or honest and it was suddenly vitally important that she realize he was sincere. He reached out, grabbing her upper arm in a move that, while not rough, was surprising to them both and Lev’s eyes widened, flicking from his hand to his face again and he dropped his hand hurriedly, rubbing his palms hard against his jean-clad thighs.

“I’m sorry,” he babbled, feeling the situation begin to spin out of control. A crazy, desperate part of him wanted to run, run away and hide in his apartment, cook a spoon and find a vein and dive into temporary abyss, while another part of him was desperate to draw her to him and hold her, kiss her and murmur his love to her until she believed it too.

He was fucked up. He’d watched this woman’s husband die, washed the man’s blood from his hands, filled out the report detailing his gruesome demise and restocked the supplies used to try and save him. A large majority of the screams he heard in his nightmares were this woman’s desperate pleas to that dead man to stay with her, even as his life drained away and streamed onto the floor of the Bucky’s ambulance, as his hands had crushed his chest trying to resuscitate him.

Lev eyed him silently, watching all this in his eyes and he saw sympathy there, a, if not commiseration because she’d never worked as a first responder before, then at least an empathy for what horrors she was capable of imaging he’d seen. Her eyes dropped to his mouth and she licked her lips, a clear invitation from her body even if her mind hadn’t yet caught up.

By now, only a few inches separated them and Bucky closed them, feeling the magnet in his chest drawing to hers and she lifted her head, eyes fluttering shut as he lowered his, their lips crushing together in a desperate, heated kiss.

A bolt shot through him and he groaned, blinking torpidly, blood rushing through his veins loud enough to block sound, when she pulled away suddenly. His eyes opened, awash in confusion, for his body was racing in one direction at a thousand miles an hour, leaving his brain in the dust and, based on the struggle on Lev’s face, she was fighting the same war.

For the space of a heartbeat, she simply gazed at him and then, before either could collect themselves enough to speak, Lev launched herself forward, lips locking on his again, fingers curling into the front of his shirt.

A bomb went off in Bucky’s body and, looking back later, he wouldn’t be able to explain what exactly was running through his head and that was most likely the problem, the way his mind just seemed to shut off around her.

Frantic sounds of need escaped them, lips crushing together with bruising force, tongues tangling and sweeping against each other. Lev’s deft fingers yanked deliberately at his jeans, his belt buckle clanking, button popping, the zipper a sharp rasp and he groaned sharply as she reached inside, cupping his raging-hard cock, half-hard throughout most of the meeting already, giving it a squeeze through his boxers.

Her dress was no barrier as his hands reached under, finding silky underwear and a growl of pure masculine hunger tore from his chest as he felt her soaked beneath his touch, her folds slippery and wet as he brushed them with his fingertips.

“Fuck-” he managed to mumble as she pressed against him, widening her legs, rocking her hips against his hand.

“Please,” she moaned, but what was she pleading for?

He pulled his mouth away from hers, panting through parted lips, eyes black with desire. “Please what, baby?”

“Fuck me, make me feel good again.” She whispered, fingertips trailing fire along his jawline, a heartbreaking mix of desire and sorrow in her eyes.

Bucky couldn’t fight it, a stronger man may have been able to resist and they’d both probably regret this in the morning, but right now, he didn’t care, he couldn’t and didn’t want to stop.

With a sharp yank, he ripped his jeans down his hips enough to free himself then grabbed the back of Lev’s thighs, lifting her to wrap her legs around his hips. His cockhead, slick with precum, prodded at her centre for a second and then he drove forwards, filling her with one push, dropping his head back with a roar as ecstasy beyond his wildest dreams crashed around him. Lev arched, trapped between Bucky and the driver’s door of her vehicle, crying out as he impaled her, at the sweet stretch and burn, the utter heaven that followed.

This, this was what she needed, right now.

Her legs tightened around his hips, urging him to move and he dropped his head, crushing their mouths together again as he started to thrust, hips snapping sharply. Lev moaned, hands reaching up to clasp at his face, curl into his hair, pulling it from the messy bun, scratching at his scalp and he growled against her mouth, nipping her bottom lip. One hand gripped her hip, rocking and driving her body in time with his thrusts while his other hand wrapped around her throat, holding her in place as he kissed her, devouring her mouth, literally feasting on her taste.

It was a hard, brutal, desperate fucking, too frantic to be tender and slow, too fevered and eager. They’d both been starved too long, were ravenous for sensation and release, meeting with the mutual goal of experiencing even just a few moments of peace and bliss in their dark lives.

Bucky pulled back a hairsbreadth, searching for Lev’s eyes, finding matching hunger and fire, his body incinerated at her expression.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Fucking take it, take my cock.” The filthy words fell unheeded from his mouth. He wasn’t usually a dirty talker, preferring to listen to what he was bringing out in his partner instead but something about Lev loosened his restraint and he felt his blood raging, racing fire through his veins as she responded, moaning and clenching around him.

“B- Bucky-” his name devolved into an incoherent groan, her eyes rolling closed as her thighs started to shake, trembling around his hips. He drove into her with everything he had, throwing his fuck into her like it was essential for both their lives and maybe it was, for Lev took it with a hunger like he’d never seen before, a need that rivaled and maybe surpassed his own. “I’m gonna-” she broke off with a whine.

“Come for me,” Bucky grunted, his world narrowed down to this moment. He wanted, he needed to feel Lev around him, her walls shiver and grip him as she succumbed, he needed to feel her bliss before he could surrender to his own. “Give it to me, let me feel you-” his voice cracked as she climaxed, muffling her cry against his sweat-slicked shoulder, squeezing him like the sweetest vice and he couldn’t hold back anymore, his thrusts growing sloppy as he let the tsunami she created crash over him.

Dropping his face into her throat he let go, roaring as the most powerful and visceral release he’d ever experienced tore through him. His hips drove forwards, compelled by some animal instinct to press his pulsing seed as deep into her body as he could; his cock throbbing almost painfully as rope after rope of thick cum exploded from him and he decided in that moment that if this was his end, if his heart was going to give out from the exertion, then what a way to go, embracing his personal heaven.

Finally, his orgasm crested, the drop leaving his legs weak and shaking. He sagged forwards, bowing into Lev, pressing her harder into her vehicle behind her and she clung just as desperately back, trembling with aftershocks. Her walls still cradled him, still pulsed faintly and he relished the visceral connection, wanted to stay joined inside her forever but, slowly, their surroundings reappeared, bleeding back into his tunnel vision and he glanced around furtively.

A half-block down, on the steps of the gym, stood a few others from the meeting, they congregated in a loose circle, music playing from the beat-up old tape-deck inside, talking and hadn’t seemed to have noticed them yet, but that could change in an instant.

Reluctantly, already missing her, Bucky withdrew from her body, letting her legs drop gently to the ground and pulling her dress down to cover her; at some point, he’d torn her panties from her body and he stuffed them, sticky in his hand, into his pocket absently as he tucked himself gingerly back into his jeans, the zipper’s rasp loud in the sudden quiet.

Lev moaned almost inaudibly, leaning into his chest before jolting, lifting her head with huge eyes as reality reasserted itself.

“Lev,” Bucky began, not sure what he was going to say. For a few minutes they’d both been under a spell, both given into their baser instincts and while he didn’t regret it, if it was going to scare her away then he wished he’d at least been able to exercise some goddamn restraint. “Wait-”

She glanced at him, a myriad of emotions in her eyes. Chief among them was realization, fear and guilt. Although she hadn’t truly, in her mind she’d just betrayed her husband and Bucky felt a pang of agony when her beautiful violet eyes shuttered right in front of him, her walls slamming down.

He took a compulsive step back as she threw open the door but reached for her, her name falling like a plea from his lips and, for a second, her eyes answered him and he saw the struggle but then she was screeching away, the door slamming with finality.

It was fortunate that Bucky didn’t have a shift the next day, for he woke sometime in the late afternoon, sore and bruised, bloody in a half-dozen places and syringes scattered across the floor. The last twenty hours were gone.

The last thing he remembered was pausing in his search for a vein to take a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle as Ramirez thumped in the background.

For a while he lay there, face-down on his dingy carpet, waiting for all the various aches and discomfort in his body to coalesce into one big knot of pain he could focus on to push away and bereted himself for his actions. Around him, his playlist had gone full circle, working its way through his whole library while he’d lain there senseless, and a ghastly appropriate live version of ‘Comfortably Numb’, complete with the haunting sound of the crowd singing along, floated ethereally through the heavy air.

What the fuck had he been thinking? What the hell had he done?

The fact that Lev had been just as eager as him was no excuse. Vulnerable from the meeting, she’d not been in the right frame of mind, indeed, hadn’t been since her husbands’ bloody death, to make any type of informed decision.

He’d taken advantage of her, let his own needs and desires overpower him and he hated himself, more so than usual.

What’s worse, he’d fucked her raw. No condom and he’d come deep inside her, felt his seed pulsing thickly against her womb, seen it glistening and trickling down her inner thighs as he’d pulled her skirt back down.

It had been the best orgasm, the best experience of his life, almost painful in its intensity, seemingly never-ending until he’d been drained and empty, and he regretted it to the very core of his soul.

He would never forgive himself if his own hunger, his weakness, had just driven her away forever.

The phone broke into his obsessing, a bracing, glaring sound that made his eyes squeeze shut against the headache it instantly produced and he groaned, lifting his head painfully to find it. Inching forwards he managed to snag it, pressed it to his ear.

“Where the fuck have you been?!” Steve snarled. “I have been trying to get a hold of you all day, I was this close to calling it in!”

Bucky winced, both the words and the vitriol behind them, and at the meaning. He knew as well as anyone, was called out to these types of situations regularly, what would eventually happen to him if he continued down this road. Did he want to leave that for Steve to find? His only true friend in this fucked up world?

“I fucked up,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I… I fucked up, man.”

“What happened?” Steve’s voice went instantly clinical, ready for triage.

“Lev-”

“Who?? What did you do?” An edge now, a warning.

“The girl.”

“Goddammit Buck. What did you do?!”

Pulling himself up into a seated position, hunched into a painful ball, Bucky whispered his sins.

For a long time, there was silence on the other end, then a heavy exhale.

“This is not okay, James. You need help.”

“I know-”

“She wasn’t in her right mind, that was rape-”

“No!”

“It might has well have been! Do you think she’d have done that if she were thinking clear? Goddammit, James. This is bad. I’m coming over there-”

“No.”

“James-”

“No! Just give me some time…. We go way back man; I’ve covered for you-”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah, fuck me.” Bucky agreed tiredly.

Steve took a deep, heaving sigh, exhaling heavily. His voice cracked as he continued. “You don’t want me helping you, fine. But get your shit together and don’t show up for work until you do. I can’t keep covering for you like that, Fury’s already asking questions.”

“I know-”

“Then stop the fucking dope!”

“You make it sound so simple,” Bucky snapped irritably.

“You shouldn’t have started that shit!” Steve threw back. He exhaled, realizing this was going nowhere and no longer having the strength. “Listen man, Nat’s pregnant.”

“What?”

“Nat. I was going to tell you on our next shift. She’s going to have a baby and I need you there with me, man. I’m scared shitless and I need my brother at my side, but not if you’re going to be fucked up, I won’t have that shit near my kid.”

Bucky exhaled long and hard, letting his hand and the receiver fall into his lap. Once upon a time, he’d wanted that too, a family and while his heart swelled with happiness for his friend, he wondered if he’d just destroyed his last chance at the same.

After a long, painful beat he lifted the phone again. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Buck?” Steve instantly sounded wary.

“I’m fine, just… I have a lot to work through.”

Steve hesitated, clearly debating.

“I’m not leaving yet, buddy.” Bucky tried for light, but the words fell flat.

“Don’t leave ever,” Steve retorted. “I love you, you asshole.”

“Love you too, brother.”

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Bucky stopped and took stock of his surroundings. He walked now, a lot, and let his mind wander as he did.

Four days ago, he’d set the phone down after talking with Steve and cried, hard enough that he’d lost his breath and ended up gasping and heaving on the floor, clawing at his throat for air and, when both his lungs and his tears had finally given up, he’d lain there for a while, trying to work through his next steps.

Finally, he’d sat up and phoned Fury, his boss.

“What?” Fury was an abrupt man, hard to read and even harder to like, but he got the job done.

“It’s Barnes.”

“And? I ain’t got all day, man.”

He took a deep breath, but if he didn’t have the sack to tell his boss, how would he have the balls to fight his demons? “I gotta take some time off, I’m… I’m not feeling good.”

“Yeah? I’ve been noticing you’re looking a little off.” The dry implication in the man’s voice was almost suffocating. He knew, of course he’d known, how had Bucky deluded himself into thinking he’d been hiding it?

“I just need some time-”

“Save it Barnes. You got two weeks. When you get back, I want you healthy, you hear?” The emphasis on the word ‘healthy’ hinted at a lot more than just Bucky’s physical wellbeing.

“I will.”

“Prove it.” Fury barked, then paused, his voice softening slightly, something Bucky wouldn’t have believed if he wasn’t literally hearing it with his own ears. “I mean it, James. Get yourself healthy. You’re a hell of a paramedic and I’d hate to lose you. You and Rogers are my best team.”

Sudden emotion socked Bucky in the guts, somehow hearing his hard-edged boss, the original iron-willed asshole himself, say that hit him harder than anything else so far.

“I will, Sir.”

“Good.” Fury hung up abruptly, reassuring Bucky with the familiarity.

Now, he walked, he ran, he read books, he worked out; hell, he’d even dusted off his old guitar and started playing again, picking the strings haltingly as his fingers slowly woke back up to the beat. Anything to keep his mind off the drugs and his solitude.

He wanted Lev and he had nothing to offer her if he was just a worthless junkie. He wanted, no… he needed to be clean.

Only then could he try.

The coffee shop in front of him looked good enough, and Bucky was thirsty, in the mood for maybe an iced coffee. The bell above the door tinkled as he stepped in, and the delicious aroma of roasting beans and vanilla hit him, even stirring the beginnings of hunger in his belly. A few customers stood in front of him and he shuffled into line slowly, never totally comfortable in his large skin, always almost tentative in his movements, lest he hurt someone.

That was why heroin was so compelling to him, the oblivion, the chance to let go of all the worries he held, no clutched, so frantically, his nerves raw and drum-tight, afraid to let go lest the fallout was too much to bear.

His inner arm itched, and he scratched absently, then pulled back in shame. Normally so careful, and almost unparalleled in his field for his skill, the man that could find an IV on even the most difficult cases, he’d screwed up the last time, chosen a thick, inviting vein in his elbow, when he’d been so distraught over his and Lev’s frantic union after the meeting, and fucked up, blowing the site and making a visible track mark. It itched like mad now, thankfully healing, but scratching at it, even absently, would make the evidence of his weakness that much more visible.

“Bucky?”

He whirled at the sound, breath locking in his chest.

She took a step back, eyes widening before relaxing again, lifting her gaze to meet his, those one-in-a-million violet eyes drawing him in even as he desperately clawed back.

“Lev-” He fought to keep a steady voice, almost succeeded, sure she could hear his heart pounding, his blood roaring through his veins. “I-”

“How are you?” She forged ahead, a faint pink coloring her cheeks.

He froze for a beat, confused. He’d violated her, he’d taken advantage and stolen something from her he still wasn’t sure she’d willingly given, and she was asking him how he was doing?

“Help you?” The barista called and Bucky winced, torn between two points.

Lev nodded encouragingly at the woman then, seeing Bucky still struggling, stepped beside him. “Green tea with lemon and…” she trailed off, turning to regard Bucky with a raised brow, a gentle, encouraging smile on her face.

His mind a chaotic whir, he babbled something that sounded like an order then reached on autopilot for his wallet.

“I’ve got it.” Lev said softly, her hand resting briefly on his, sending a jolt up his arm. “Find a table? We can talk.”

Feeling like he was watching the scene unfold from a distance, Bucky glanced around, noting with the beginnings of panic that no tables were free.

“Outside looks nice.” Lev offered kindly and he nodded almost frantically, rushing out to secure a spot.

Spots danced in his eyes as he sat and he took deep, almost panicked breaths, gripping the edge of the table. The certainty that Lev was here to publicly crucify him, announce his sins towards her to all gathered around and let the crowd mete out the appropriate punishment was fading quickly and he winced at the tentative hope that bloomed in its place.

An emotion so strong it cut through his chaotic thoughts like a blade hit him as she reached the table and he raised hesitant eyes to gaze at her, melting under the gentle smile she offered as she set a cup in front of him then sat across, waiting, giving him time to speak first.

“Lev, I’m so sorry-” he began, already babbling, falling silent when Lev lifted her hand to stop him.

“Don’t.” She murmured. Her cheeks were darkening again. “What happened was…. a surprise. But not… that.”

He winced, shamed that the idea had ever tainted her beautiful mind. Had she struggled with it? Lain curled on her floor playing their rough coupling over and over in her head, trying to chew it down into a manageable bite to swallow? Had her calm words for him now been born from a crucible of shame and pain and sorrow, a by-product of a mind that had been so traumatised in the past that something as horrific as his actions could be dismissed in a manner so calmly?

“Stop it.” She ordered softly, startling him out of his tailspin. “I can see what you’re thinking, and it’s not good.”

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again to contain the whimper that threatened to escape.

“Yes, at first I was shocked.” She continued, reaching to rest her hand gently on his. He stared at it avidly, breath picking up again. “But at myself, and my response.” She squeezed his hand, encouraging him to look up and Bucky did, feeling the sudden warmth of her gentle smile. “I hardly acted like the grieving widow, jumping on another man like that-”

“But I-”

“You didn’t.” Her voice sharpened. “You didn’t force me. I could have stopped you; I believe you would have stopped if I’d asked, but I didn’t want you to.”

His heart thudded painfully in his chest, and Bucky stared at Lev, hardly believing what he was hearing.

“I wanted it, Bucky.” She continued, voice soft and somewhat timid with shame. “I wanted it and I wanted you and for a few minutes I felt good again; so how can it be bad?”

He fumbled to respond, falling silent again when Lev continued.

“I’m sorry, for leaving like that. I can’t imagine what you thought.”

Feeling like he’d been kicked in the guts, Bucky struggled for words. “Lev, I… I hurt you.”

“No. I hurt myself, I hurt my vision of myself as the perfect widow, grieving her dead husband for the rest of her lonely life. But I don’t regret you.” Her eyes lifted, locking on him. Finally, her lips quirked into a grin. “We probably could have chosen a better place-”

Bucky snorted a laugh, half-crazed and half-relieved.

“But I’d like to see you again and see where this goes. For the first time since Clint died, I’ve actually wanted something else besides getting him back. You… you do something to me, Bucky. You calm something in me and it’s a welcome reprieve from the last year and a half of hell.”

God, did he understand that. Lev was the one thing that made his chaotic mind rest, softened and relaxed his jagged soul, quieted the ghosts that haunted him constantly.

Words still failed him however but, thankfully, Lev seemed able to read his mind.

“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” She asked, the tentative smile on her face kryptonite to his soul.

He would kill for her, he realized. She was his all and for a man so swayed and ruled by his emotions and desires, that could be the end, for both of them.

But he was too weak to fight the pull. “I’d love that.” He replied, his voice hoarse.

[beautifully-tuan]

for my dream - 1

Masterlist

Mark Tuan x Reader arranged marriaged!au, angst, eventual fluff Warnings : one or two curse words and Mark has a girlfriend lol Word count : 1980

Requested by anon :)

 As expected, when Mark’s parents announced that he would have to marry you, he thought it was a joke. Well, actually, not entirely. Part of him already had a weird feeling from the moment he stepped into the living room. The atmosphere was heavy, and everyone was looking at everything except him. The tension was palpable, and he knew something was off. But his parents’ demand was way beyond what he could’ve imagined.

 At first, he laughed. Then, seeing his parents’ dead serious expressions, he began to panic. He protested, obviously. Accepting wasn’t even an option to him. He’s in a relationship, he has plans, he’s not ready for marriage, and even if he was, it should be his decision to take, not anybody else’s. He explained all of that the best he could, not too angrily, although he was infuriated. He explained that there was no way in hell he was going to marry you. He was convinced that there was nothing his parents could say or do that could change his mind, which is normal. An arranged marriage is not and will never be acceptable in any family, except that Mark’s family isn’t any family, and he’s about to remember it the hard way.

 His father starts by saying that you, the woman he would have to marry, didn’t hesitate a single second before accepting. That’s no surprise to Mark, considering this company is your entire life. Of course you would accept. What’s a marriage compared to an empire, right? To you, he’s just a puppet, another echelon for you to climb so you can make it to the top. That’s why, despite you and Mark’s parents being the closest of friends, he’s never been close to you. On the opposite of you, he’s a simple man, with simple dreams and simple plans. He couldn’t care less about money, business and all those things you’d sacrifice your life for. He just wants to make music. He wants a home and a family, he wants love, and you want power. Just for that, he couldn’t even imagine being friends with someone like you. And now they want to two of you to get married. And you didn’t even hesitate a second before accepting.

 Marks defends himself, tells his father that he is not you. And he is right: no matter how hard his parents tried to get him involved into the family business, unlike you, this company has never meant anything to him. He even dropped out of college just so he wouldn’t have anything to do with it. At that time, his parents weren’t happy with him, of course, but they understood. They let him live his simple life, away from their home, pursuing his dreams. And now he is asked to give all that up. But then his father starts talking about being grateful, and that’s when Mark’s determination to win this argument starts fleeting. His father reminds him of the sacrifices he made just so he could make his son happy. He reminds him how hard he’s worked, how hard he’s tried, how patient and understanding he’s been when Mark refused to get the education he deserved... And Mark can’t talk back because he’s right. His father has done more than enough for him. And for the only, the only thing he asks in return... can he really refuse? Sure, he can. We’re talking about marriage after all, nothing can justify such an important choice being taken away from someone.

 - “That’s not... I can’t...”

 And that’s when his mother opens her mouth to speak:

 -“ We’re not asking you to love her. A blank commitment, a white lie. A façade. That’s all we ask from you.”

 This is unexpected. Of all people, Mark has always admired his mother the most. He shares common values with her, and she’s by far the most upright person he has ever known, even more than his father who is already hard to top on that part. The fact that she’s crying and begging his son to marry a woman against his will is disappointing in some way, but Mark knows she wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t necessary.

 - “You just have to marry her, and that’s it. It doesn’t have to mean anything. If you refuse, things will only get worse. It’ll start with losing the acts of the company, and next will be our power to make decisions. Then we’re going to lose money, and we’ll end up losing everything. Your father will lose everything he has worked so hard to build. So will Y/N’s family. This is not just about you or us, Mark. Other people are concerned-”

 - “But that’s not right!” Mark yells. “Why can’t you understand? You can’t ask me to do this! This is so unfair, I should get to choose, I should have a say on this! I shouldn’t even have to explain myself!”

 - “You’re given a choice, Mark.”

 Something in his father’s tone hints that this conversation is coming to an end.

 - “You can choose not to do it. You can choose to refuse and continue being the selfish little kid you’ve always been. But if you do, we’re gonna need to save money. We won’t be able to afford you and your lifestyle anymore.”

 - “What’s that supposed to mean?” Mark asks, although he already knows the answer.

 - “That means you won’t get anything from us again if you refuse. Understand that? Nothing.”

Mark was right: as soon as those words leave his father’s mouth, the conversation is over. Without another word, he storms out of the house, not even sparing a glance at his crying mother. He can’t believe his parents really thought they could buy his obedience with their money. He’s not an object. He has a job, he can live for himself. He doesn’t need them to “afford him and his lifestyle”. In fact, there’s a satisfying aspect to this situation: it’ll be his chance to finally break free from his parent’s grip, his chance to finally do what he wants without any restrictions. He won’t owe them anymore.

 As he drives back to his apartment, he grabs his phone and calls the only person he can turn to at the moment. She picks up quickly, and it doesn’t take long for her to understand that the situation is critical. She arrives in no time, expecting the worst, but somehow managing to stay calm and collected. If she crumbles, Mark will crumble too, and she knows that better than anyone. She lays next to him and he tells her everything, from start to end, including how angry he feels and how much he opposes to his parents’ plans, expecting her to agree with him. He genuinely believes this horrible day is over now that he’s finally next to the only person who truly matters. Little does he know...

 - “Do it” she says.

 Once again, Mark thinks it’s a joke. Once again, he laughs, but it’s different from the first time at his parents’ house. It’s a laugh that’s tainted with deception, caused by a strong and deep sensation of deja-vu.

 - “You did not say what I think you just said.”

 At this point, he just wants to understand why everyone seems to go against him and his freedom of choice. He doesn’t want to fight anymore, especially not with her. Anyone but her.

 - “You heard me” she says, too calmly for Mark’s liking.

 He turns to her with pleading eyes.

 - “You think I’m crazy, right?” she asks with a little laugh of her own. “But I’m serious. You should do it.”

 - “No I shouldn’t. And I won’t. Do you realize-”

 - “I do. I realize how difficult this must be for you. It is for me too. But I really think you should do it.”

 Mark truly can’t believe what he’s hearing. He lifts himself on his elbow to look down at her dead in the eye.

 - “There are other ways around this. Listen Jess, you need to trust me on this. I have a job, I can earn money, and I have you. We have each other, right?”

 He grabs her hand, holding onto what’s left of his own conviction. She closes her eyes and slowly shakes her head. How is she going to tell him? How is she going to tell him that yes, he has a job, but soon enough it will no longer suffice? Without his parents’ help, he can barely pay his rent, feed himself, afford gas for his car. He doesn’t seem to realize, but Mark is still highly dependent to his parents’ money. And once that stops, he’s going to start depending on himself, and on her. Having each other is oh such a beautiful concept, but will that be enough? Especially for people like her and Mark? She’s not stupid, she’s been in the music field for years. A sound engineer at a music bar and an underground singer who’s still studying cannot afford a household. It will work on the first months. Both of them will be great at making concessions, but then reality will take over. All this motivation will turn into bitterness, and Mark’s bitterness will be directed towards her. He’s going to look at her and wonder if she was ever the right decision. And there is nothing in this world that could hurt her more than watching Mark hate her more and more each day.

 - “You need to do what’s best for you, Mark.”

 Mark can literally feel his strength leaving his body from her words.

 - “What’s with everyone thinking they know what’s best for me?”

 - “You’re gonna do it Mark. You’re gonna marry her.”

 - “Nonsense.”

 - “You said it yourself. Nobody’s asking you to love that girl. You just have to marry her, for everyone’s sake, including yours.”

 - “Fucking nonsense.”

 She sighs and gets off the bed.

 - “You know, it’s just my opinion, but you really should do it, considering you won’t even have to worry about me anymore.”

 Mark sits up and looks at her, alarmed.

 - “What do you mean?”

 Gathering whatever strength she has left, she inhales and says:

 - “I’m leaving, Mark. For the States. Next week.”

 Discouraged, unable to argue, he doesn’t say anything.

 - “I received a mail from a guy whose label is seated in California. He went to one of my concerts, and he wants to sign me in. This a once-in-a-lifetime chance for me, Mark”

 The rest of the night goes by in a flash. Protests, at first, and then arguments, all of that leading to a long and meaningful discussion, and, finally, goodbyes are said as the sun starts to rise. Of course, Jessica leaving for the US isn’t a lie. Except she’s not obligated to leave next week. She had planned to tell Mark first, and then give him some time to prepare himself before leaving. But that, of course, she didn’t tell him. Because now she has to leave and he has to do what’s best for him, although he may not understand just yet.

 After she’s gone, Mark spends the entire day in his apartment, stuck in a state between sleep and thought. It’s only late in the evening that he finally decides to pick up his phone and call his parents. He exposes his opinions – which haven’t changed since last night – without trying to contain his anger this time. After that, he exposes his conditions – no love, no real commitment, “no fucking grandchildren” – and they don’t argue. At the end of the phone call, it takes him another hour or two before realizing what he just did. Although, twenty-four hours ago, he couldn’t even imagine doing so, he just accepted to marry you.

Part 2

a/n : so this was the first part of the "for my dream” series. this part is more centered on Mark and his perception of the events. part two will be different, and will (hopefully) be posted this weekend. i struggled to write this so i hope you enjoyed x) please keep in mind that english is not my mother tongue so i apologize for any mistakes. thanks again to the anon who requested this! feel free to leave any comments or remarks, they're very much appreciated.