#no this is not a set up for “make the MAP infuriating as hell” joke like im talking a rhythm game that does a DDLC

[scootatwoni]

i wish i knew a single thing about game development because MAN do i have ideas for a horror rhythm game

[moonlit-jeno]

Movie Night (m.)

Pairings: Lucas, Xiaojun, Hendery, Yangyang x Reader

Genre: SMUT, literally a pwp, fivesome??

Words: 3.2k

Summary: Maybe you don’t hate Lucas as much as you thought.

“I was sitting there.” True, Lucas had been sitting in the spot on the couch you are currently occupying. But then he’d gotten up to get a drink and left the space wide open, so you’re not going to move.

“Key word: was. Past tense. I’m sitting here now.” You smile brightly at him. He scoffs. “Look, there’s a spot on the floor over there.” You point with your foot to the area between the coffee table and the fireplace that clearly doesn’t offer enough room for his long limbs. Maybe it’s mean, but the two of you had never been particularly nice to each other.

He looks to the two boys sitting next to you on the couch with an expression that says can you believe this? Xiaojun merely shrugs while Hendery laughs, pointing to the floor. “She’s right, you know.”

Lucas gives them a hurt look before spinning around and dropping all 6 feet of himself on top of you. You grunt as all the air is knocked out of you, squirming under him. “Lucas, I can’t fucking- breathe, you asshole.” You slap his thigh and he shifts, scooting off your stomach so that he’s more on your thighs.

“Then give me my spot back.” He looks over his shoulder at you and raises his eyebrows. You shake your head. He shrugs and makes himself comfortable on your lap.

Yangyang, who had been dead to the world on the only chair in their living room, springs to life. “Okay, Kun’s taking too long, lets start the movie!” He ignores outraged cry of “I’m making you food, you heathen!” from the kitchen.

Despite how uncomfortable it should be to have Lucas on top of you, it’s strangely pleasant. At least you’re warm enough that you don’t have to argue over sharing the blanket with him. You can’t help but snort while you wonder just how long it’s been since you’ve had physical affection that you’re enjoying cuddling with Lucas. Because for a guy so warm and full of love, it seems that he’d forgotten to leave any space in his heart for you.

Not that you’ve made any room for him, either. He’s loud and annoying on his best days, and beyond infuriating on his worst. You doubt you could beat him in a fight but boy, does he make you want to try. You normally try to limit your aggressive comments for the sake of your friends, but he doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment.

“Stop breathing so loudly.” Lucas snarks, not even bothering to turn around. “It’s literally all I can hear.”

“I’m breathing normally! Maybe you’re just not used to hearing anything over your annoyingly loud mouth!” Yangyang shushes you from across the room and you bite your lip, clenching your jaw.

Slowly, you relax again. Your arms are laying awkwardly at your sides and you lift them up to rest on Lucas’s stomach, waiting for him to yell at you. He doesn’t say anything. Kun comes in at some point to say he’s going out to dinner with friends, pausing to give you and Lucas a strange look. You offer him a shrug,

The movie progresses uneventfully, with the exception of you wanting to strangle Lucas for every loud laugh he lets out. The onscreen jokes aren’t even funny. To be honest, the movies pretty terrible. Like the directors didn’t know what direction they wanted to go, so they just went everywhere. Example: the random sex scene that comes out of nowhere.

There’d been no set up for it, so none of you had time to prepare for it. And for such a terrible movie, the scene’s fucking hot. You feel much too warm and you have to resist the urge to push Lucas off of your lap to get some much needed air. Your palms stay on his stomach because you figure it’s more awkward to change positions than to pretend nothing’s happening. You can feel his breathing get heavier, more rapid, and you unthinkingly start stroking the smooth skin where his shirt had ridden up. You’d meant for it to be soothing, to calm him down a bit, but he jerks on top of you. Okay, maybe your thumb is a little close to his waist band.

His hand grabs your wrist and you expect him to pull your hand away. What you are not prepared for is for him to drag your hand even lower, resting it on top of his hardened cock. He lets go, then. Doesn’t force you to do anything, just lets you know that hey, this is a thing.

You swallow thickly, heart slamming in your chest, stomach jolting as electricity shoots down your spine. Lucas jerks on top of you when you squeeze him accidentally, and he leans back so that it’s your chest to his back, his head next to yours. Shooting a glance at Xiaojun to make sure he isn’t looking, you move your hand up his length. And keep moving it.

“Fuck, you’re big.” You gasp it without thinking, thought it’s quiet enough that only Lucas can hear it. His lips curl upwards but he doesn’t turn to look at you. A good thing, because you don’t want him to see how turned on you are just from palming him over his sweatpants.

You lightly run your hand up and down the length, taking your time, not applying too much pressure. Lucas looks like he’s caught somewhere between heaven and hell, your barely there touch driving him insane. A tight squeeze to his tip has his hips jerking up, a loud whine leaving him. You freeze, but none of the others even look up. Slowly, you resume your motions.

It doesn’t take you long to figure out how he works. He’s most sensitive at the tip, so that’s where you focus your efforts. It’s even better for you because you don’t have to strain your arm to reach. You build up a rhythm, rubbing two fingers around his head, squeezing every time he seems like he’s comfortable. He’s sagging against you at this point, and you can tell that all of his efforts are focused on staying still.

“Are you gonna come soon?” You ask him, pressing a wet kiss to his ear lobe. Lucas doesn’t answer, but you hope it’s a no because you’re having too much fun right now. He just groans softly, reaching for your hand and pulling it under his sweatpants.

The skin on skin contact is so much better. The flesh is hard and hot under your touch, the precum leaking from the tip making the glide easier. You run your hand over his whole length, mapping out his veins as you go, before returning to the head and repeating your motions from earlier.

You’re so turned on at this point that it almost hurts, the throbbing in your core painfully empty. Every rough breath that Lucas takes makes you leak more and more, and your panties are sticking uncomfortably to you. There’s a little dampness on your inner thighs and you’re worried that you’re dripping onto the couch. Lost in your thoughts, you don’t realize how tightly your gripping Lucas until his hand flings around for purchase, gripping onto your forearm tightly. His head is still thrown back, eyes squeezed tightly shut, teeth digging into his lower lip. You have the urge to destroy him.

Miraculously, none of the boys have noticed yet, too enraptured with what’s happening on screen. It’s thrilling, knowing that it would be so easy for them to look over and see what you’re doing. So easy to get caught. It’s not like either of you are being subtle. One look at Lucas’s face and it would be obvious somethings up. Not to mention you have your hand down his pants.

“Mhmm, your cock is so nice.” You kiss up his neck to his ear, pressing a kiss there. “So big, so thick. Would fill me up so nicely, wouldn’t you?” Lucas can’t say anything, knows he would blow it as soon as he opens his mouth. “And I feel so empty right now. I wish I was sitting on your lap instead.”

He shudders, trying so hard to compose himself. You stroke him lightly before giving a harsh squeeze. His thighs shake when you make a fist around him and rub your palm over the tip in quick circles. Lucas is definitely close.

“Such a nice cock, such a shame you don’t know how to use it.” Lucas stiffens at this, eyes opening to glare at you. You just smile, feeling a rush of power. “It just feels too good, doesn’t it? Having such a tight, wet pussy around you?“ You let your tongue drag along the side of his neck and his body thrashes at the image you paint for him. “It just feels too good, yeah? Can’t help but lose control.”

Lucas comes with a loud grunt, his whole body shaking as you stroke him through it. Come shoots up and stains his shirt, spills down over your hand and his sweatpants.

You wipe his come off on his thigh, stroking his stomach to cool him off as he comes down from his high. His breathing is still harsh and ragged and you press a kiss to the side of his neck.

There’s another moan and it takes a moment for you to realize that it didn’t come from Lucas. You glance over to find both Hendery and Xiaojun looking at you. Xiaojun looks very caught, with his legs pulling up to his chest to hide his tent. Hendery doesn’t seem to be as shy, his legs spread wide, boner on full display.

Hendery raises an eyebrow. “Okay, no. You’re not about to judge us for touching our own dick when you’ve just had your hand on Lucas’s dick for the past 30 minutes.”

“Congrats one lasting, by the way! I don’t think I could’ve done it.” Yangyang yells, giving Lucas a thumbs up.

Lucas just laughs. “Well, it wasn’t hard. Y/n sucks at handjobs.” You smack him, offended.

“Hey! I’m great at handjobs, asshole. You were literally a mess on top of me, don’t start.” You shove at Lucas until he’s off of you, though he doesn’t waste time before picking you up and sitting back down, this time with you on his lap.

“Prove it. Lets let the rest of them decide.” Lucas sounds smug, and you hate that tone of voice.

“Fine. Are you guys okay with it?” All three of them nod quickly, Hendery quick to add a “more than.”

You reach for Xiaojun first because he’s the one next to you. He bites his lip, letting his legs fall open for you. His eyelids flutter shut at the first touch of your hand over his pants and you smile to yourself. It’s cute.

“Are you really this hard from watching me jack of Xuxi?” Xiaojun groans, shaking his head, though his hips buck up when you slip your hand under his boxers.

“Oh come on, don’t lie. You were moaning and you weren’t even the one being touched.” Hendery points out, yelping when Xiaojun smacks him.

Xiaojun moans, soft and breathy, when you reach down to play with his balls. “Fine, yes, I- oh fuck, do that again. It’s just- you have nice hands.” He pants out, one hand reaching out to grip something. He ends up holding onto Hendery’s shoulder.

“Wow, Xiaojun, gonna come already?” Yangyang laughs, turned around in the chair to face you. Xiaojun doesn’t even bother to respond verbally, throwing up a weak middle finger instead.

You motion the youngest over. “Yangyang, you’re so far away. Come join the fun.” He takes a second to fix his boner situation before moving closer, settling on the arm rest next to Hendery.

Lucas is quiet for once, and it’s such a pleasant change that it doesn’t register that he’s being too quiet. Xiaojun is a moaning mess under your touch, and you’re so focused on making him feel good that you nearly vault yourself off of Lucas’s lap when he moves his hand to your pussy. He wastes no time slipping his hand under your loose shorts, rubbing you over the fabric of your panties. The pleasure it brings you has you moaning, hips rutting into his touch. A whine leaves you when he pulls his hand away, and it’s a smug look from him that snaps you out of your lustful haze.

“Baby wants my fingers that badly, huh?” Lucas sounds so cocky and it pisses you off, because yes, you do want his fingers that badly. They’re long and thick and you’ve been on edge for so long, all you want is to get off. You don’t respond, shifting all your attention to XIaojun, jerking him off pointedly. He cries out, slapping his hand over his mouth to muffle his moans as he comes, white spilling over your hand and his clothes. “Aww, don’t ignore me. I can feel how wet you are, baby.” “I don’t want your fingers, Lucas. I’ve been horny for like an hour- I would take anything at this point.” You let your eyes trail over his face. “You’re not special.” You wipe your cum-filled hand on his thigh, rolling your eyes at him.

“Fine, you could take anything? Ride my thigh, then.” He raises his eyebrows as if to say go on.

“I- what? I’m not going to do that.” You want to- God do you want to, but he’s so infuriating and you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

He flexes his thigh muscles, lifting his leg to press it into your core. “Come on, y/n. I know you want to.” You look over at the other three boys- XIaojun looks like he’s half asleep, though he has Yangyang on his lap and is holding on to him tightly. Hendery is sitting next to you, palming himself leisurely.

“Or I could eat you out.” Yangyang offers, head cocked to the side. “Doesn’t my tongue sound so much nicer than Lucas’s thigh? He hasn’t washed his pants in like a month.” “Yes I have!” Lucas shouts, too loud directly next to your ear. You flinch at the volume. They look ready to argue the topic further, but you interrupt them.

“Yangyang, c’mere.” He shoots Lucas a smug look, prying himself out of Xiaojun’s arms to sit on the carpet in front of your spread legs. Xiaojun whines and wraps himself around Hendery. “Let’s see you put that tongue to good use.”

Yangyang smiles at you, dropping a kiss to your inner thigh before pulling down your shorts. A gentle kiss is pressed to your clothed core before your panties are gone, too, and then it’s just Yangyang’s mouth on your bare pussy. He parts your folds with his thumbs, tongue delivering a broad lick up your slit. You whimper, shifting on Lucas’s lap.

“You taste good.” Yangyang says, pulling back to admire your pussy. “So wet, too. I bet you’re dying for some relief right now.” You’re not one to beg but you’re getting close to it. The frustration that comes with being on edge for so long has you close to tears, You nod slowly.

Yangyang doesn’t waste another second before diving in, eating you out like it’s his sole purpose in life. His tongue fucks in and out of your hole quickly, before moving up to flick at your clit. You can’t help but to moan loudly, squirming and bucking up into his mouth. Lucas wraps his arm around your waist to keep you still.

A soft groan reminds you of Hendery’s presence and you reach your hand out to grasp his cock. He lets you take over for him easily, sagging against the couch as you start up a quick rhythm. There’s none of the teasing you’d given the others- you’re much to scattered to do something like that.

“Oh fuck, just- just like that.” Yangyang hooks your legs over his shoulder and you use your ankles to pull him in closer. “Don’t stop.” He mumbles something into your core and the vibrations have you moaning.

Loud moans leave you, your arousal only fueled when you think about just how filthy this whole situation is. You’re jerking off your friend while being eaten out by your other friend, all while sitting on the lap of your enemy who you’d jerked off earlier. Oh yeah, and all while your other friend is passed out because you’d also jerked him off. You whimper and clench around air.

Lucas pulls your face towards him, attaching your lips with no warning. You let yourself melt into him, moaning as he licks past your lips, plays with your tongue. He sucks on the muscle and you feel yourself gush, melting against him. You chase his mouth when he pulls away, feeling absolutely shameless at this point. Lucas just laughs and attaches his mouth to your neck, sucking hickeys into the skin. You throw your head back against his shoulder and give into the dizzy pleasure that’s trying to consume you.

Hendery places his hand on top of yours and fucks up into your grip, his groans growing in volume until he comes with your name on his lips. He lets go of your hand, tilting your face towards him before sliding his fingers past your lips. You suck on them mindlessly, moaning at the saltiness of his come.

Yangyang does something fantastic with his tongue and you come like that, Hendery’s fingers in your mouth, Lucas’s lips on your neck, and Yangyang tongue deep in your pussy. It’s the ultimate bliss, and you let yourself float off to the stars as they work you through it with gentle touches. Xiaojun mumbles about how gorgeous you look, his eyes half open from exhaustion and lust.

Soft moans leave you as Lucas continues to mark up your neck, Yangyang looking up at you from between your legs as he runs his palms up and down your thighs.

You reach your hands out for him. “Come on, let me return the favor.”

Yangyang just shakes his head, laughing. “I’m okay.”

You furrow your eyebrows, about to ask why, when Hendery lets out a bark of laughter. “Wow, Yangyang, I can’t believe you came in your pants. What are you, fifteen?” They start arguing, poor Yangyang hiding his face in your thigh. You stroke his hair, letting your eyelids flutter shut as Lucas shuffles around, somehow cuddling you more aggressively. You pull Yangyang up onto the couch, and him and Hendery end their argument by cuddling. Yangyang’s half on top of you half on top of Hendery, Xiaojun’s still attached to Hendery’s back. It’s so utterly comfortable that you fall asleep without much thought.

(You’re waken up by Kun’s loud screaming when he comes back from dinner. He’s traumatized.)

[halothenthehorns]

THE DREAM

Before Harry could get started, Sirius turned pouting eyes on Lily, who was already excusing herself for the kitchen. She came back not too long later, with no food in sight.

"I set something to bake, it'll be done by the time we are with this chapter," she smiled pleasantly at the fact that she was clearly annoying Sirius. In truth, she'd made the heartiest meal she could think of, she still couldn't shake the image from her mind Sirius was losing weight by the minute.

Sirius didn't argue with her, but instead sat back in his seat with mutiny while Harry began.

Hermione was laying out the groundwork for the end results, ether Crouch attacked Krum, or someone attacked them both.

"So, I wonder what you guys are discussing." James chuckled in surprise.

"You know, I'm surprised at you though Harry," Remus turned to him. "Looking back, you sort of just ran off to do as you were told, didn't it occur to you to go to Hagrid first? He was closer?"*

Harry opened, then just as quickly closed his mouth, that was an obvious enough answer.

"Don't be like that Remus," Lily scolded at once with a sigh, "it's easy to think of those things after the fact, as you just did."

He shrugged in acknowledgment even if he was still puzzled at Harry for it. Clearly the act of doing what he was told by the Dursleys still hadn't really ever left him, or he trusted Dumbledore more than Hagrid, either way it was odd to him.

    Ron was insisting Crouch was the true criminal here, he'd sent Harry to get Dumbledore so he could run.

"While I'd love for him to get sent to a very certain place for pulling a stunt like that," Sirius declared with a nasty look in place, "it fails me to see why he'd do that. Why come all the way up to the school just to pull a stunt like that?"

"You got me," Lily sighed, "the whole situation feels like something out of a murder mystery novel, and I always hate reading those."

Harry disagreed, saying Crouch had looked too weak to be pulling stunts like that, then offering himself a Disapparition.

Hermione said, for the umpteenth time, you couldn't do that on Hogwarts grounds!

"You might have to say it a few more times, just to make sure he got it," James smirked at Harry's eye roll.

Ron tackled a new theory, that Krum attacked Crouch, and then stunned himself.

Remus burst out laughing at this level of enthusiasm from him trying to figure this out, and though he could poke many holes in that, he couldn't deny Ron's spirit.

Hermione's cool response was to remind that Crouch had just evaporated then?

"How come we're not speculating on this?" Sirius pouted, "I've got a few ideas-"

"No Sirius," Lily said at once. "I want as little to do with that man as possible, and having to listen to what happened to him might satisfy you, but it'll only infuriate me more having to hear his name."

"It really won't bother you to at least try to guess what happened?" Remus asked her in surprise.

"I honestly couldn't care less what did, no matter what it was." She stated in no uncertain terms. "If you two want to chat about it later, leave me out of it."

Sirius grumbled at her being a killjoy, but James more than agreed with his wife on this one and waved Harry on.

It was the crack of dawn, and the three of them had never gone to bed. Instead they were on their way up to the Owlery to send a note of all this to Sirius.

"About time," Sirius' pouting increased, he couldn't believe how long it took Harry to get around to that, he should have used his cloak and done it without Dumbledore's say so!

Everyone disagreed with Sirius about that though, now that Harry was one hundred percent away from that, they didn't want Sirius anywhere near it either.

They were all puffy-eyed from exhaustion having stayed up all night discussing the events.

"Of all the fun, late night conversations you could have been having," James groaned. Would it kill his son to have a fun conversation once in a while like a normal kid?

Hermione was coaching Harry to give them a full account one more time.

When Harry got the part about Crouch saying everything was all his fault, he'd even brought up his own son, Hermione agreed that was Crouch's fault.

Harry made a testy noise of agreement along with everyone else, no one was cutting Crouch any slack in here.

Ron asked for a recount of the You-Know-Who part.

Harry repeated all the mention was, that he was getting stronger.

"Because that's always encouraging," James moaned, letting his head fall back against the cushions as the mention of Voldemort always caused such a horrid stirring in him lately even more than it had before his adult son fell into his living room. Now all he could picture was someone who was once a brother making that possible, when Voldemort was the reason he couldn't be there for his son! How on earth had Pettigrew ever worked out that this was okay, that he could continue going along with it? He tried to force himself to keep listening in on Harry, those kinds of questions kept plaguing him in what little time he actually spent asleep, he refused to dwell on it longer than he could.

Ron tried to force some confidence into his voice that this was the speaking's of a madman

"Here's to hope!" Sirius mock raised a glass, which he honestly wished was filled right now.

but Harry corrected he'd spoken of Voldemort when he was in his saner moments. Ron winced as always at the use of the real name.

"You been saying that nearly four years and he still flinches?" Remus asked in surprise.

"As well as Hermione," Harry agreed.

"I wish you'd start referring to him as Riddle," James muttered sullenly, this wasn't helping him feel any better, but he'd never miss an opportunity to mock either. "Be a nice knock to his ego and something everyone might catch on."

Harry honestly never thought about why he hadn't, he supposed the Riddle he met down in the Chamber had just seemed like such a wholly other person it was hard to put that together with the monster who had murdered his parents and so calling him Voldemort somehow made that make more sense.

Harry bitterly put in that if Snape hadn't held him up, they could know what had really happened.

"I absolutely believe that," Sirius snarled.

"Still can't believe anyone so cruel can be allowed in the school," James agreed bitterly.

Lily was still more pissed than anything Snape even still had his job after what he'd done to Remus last year, but this more than anything should have gotten him sacked! What if someone had really been hurt, and he'd just stood in the way and taunted Harry? What teacher could actually get away with that even if they had the audacity to do it?

Harry mockingly quoted Snape as he'd told of what rubbish his story was, and Harry followed up with demanding why Snape hadn't just moved.

"The man would murder his own child if he thought it would upset you," Sirius barked.

Remus gave him a sideways look for that disgusting metaphor, but Sirius raised a brow back to emphasize he wasn't taking it back. Not like anyone would get near that slimy little thing anyways to make it true.

Ron speculated that what if he'd done it all on purpose, what if he'd actually gotten down to the Forest before Harry and Dumbledore had made it?

"I really don't see how," James's face puckered with thought. "Dumbledore appeared and you two made a straight beeline there. Unless he jumped out the window and flew..." he trailed off with a shake of his head, still admiring Ron for keeping at this.

Harry said it wasn't possible unless he could turn into a bat.

"Would not put that past him," Sirius huffed.

Ron muttered he would not put that past him.

Sirius beamed and even Remus chuckled a bit at that one.

Hermione voiced that they needed to go see Moody, to see if he'd found Crouch or anything after they'd all left.

Harry agreed it should have been easy for him if he had the Map.

"Ture that," James nodded along.

"Hey, you think that's how he knew to come down in the first place?" Remus' eyes lit with understanding. "He was lying about Snape telling him, I can't believe otherwise, but maybe he hasn't told Dumbledore about the Map and he made that up on the spot."

"Why wouldn't he tell Dumbledore about the map?" Lily asked in surprise.

"It's on loan from Harry," Sirius reminded forcefully, he'd give that old auror hell if anything was said otherwise, "it's not his to tell about, Moody's respecting that while he's using it."

Nobody disagreed with him, though Harry could still feel a little niggle in him telling him that wasn't really everything.

Ron reminded it only showed up to the school's boundaries, so if-

He was cut off by Hermione shushing him as two more voices approached talking about blackmail.

"What on earth are these folks up to?" James couldn't help but smile in surprise.

"You lot spent way too much time getting blackmail on everyone in the castle," Lily grumbled.

"We did no such thing," Sirius said at once on reflex.

"We were merely keeping an ear out for certain rumors," James added on from old habits, his eyes flickering to Remus and away, "and just happened to come across other things on the way."

All of the boys felt an odd twitch possess them as they realized who should have finished that old joke, what his line would have been less than a week ago and how much they'd all missed having him around. Remus didn't know how he felt about it, he didn't know how the other two would feel about it, but the nasty lingering silence had to feel worse than him finishing instead, "and we only put it to good use."

James ruffled up his hair in unease and Sirius quickly forced a smile that looked almost painful, and Harry quickly read past the moment.

The other told that they'd tried the polite way, now it was time to play dirty unless their blackmailed target wanted them to get the Ministry involved.

The three Marauders had gotten so distracted by their own problem they'd almost forgotten what had started the mess, and weren't nearly as entertained as they knew they should have been by listening to this.

The first was still insisting it was the act of blackmail!

The second was just saying how the complaining would stop once they're payoff came in, when Fred and George walked into view.

"You said what now?" Lily balked, finally dragging worried eyes off her husband to land on Harry.

Harry was blinking down at the pages in shock, some wire in his brain going crazy as he knew he was finally getting to the bottom of how odd Fred and George had been acting all year!

Either the boys were still distracted by their own problem and were only half listening, or too stunned to speak, Harry quickly read out the exchange to silence.

Both parties stayed frozen, until Ron and Fred spoke at once of what the other was doing here?

"Oh lookie, now they're even mimicking each other in the books," Sirius said with a forced smile.

Harry and George responded in unison of sending a letter.

James honestly cracked a grin, egging Harry on and hoping this would continue.

While Hermione and Fred pointed out what time it was.

Now all five of them were giggling, there had never been a better timing for that release.

Fred broke the train first, forcing a smile and saying he wouldn't ask them, if they didn't ask.

He was holding a sealed letter, but whoever it was written for Harry didn't get a chance to read. Whether accidentally or not, George shifted just enough that the words were covered.

"On purpose," the other four said at once.

"Those boys have far too much experience by now to at least try otherwise," Lily told.

Fred tried to wave them out the door, but Ron asked who they were blackmailing?

"Blunt as a brick to the face," James beamed after his own laughing fit.

The twins smile vanished at once, before George played it off as a joke.

Ron insisted it hadn't sounded that way, then the twins exchanged a glance.

"These two are doing remarkably poor at this," Remus looked so disappointed.

"I know, you'd really think they'd learned diversionary tactics by now," Sirius nodded furiously, "change the topic to the most outlandish thing they can until they can slip away."

"You think that would work on their brother?" Lily asked, "Especially one as stubborn as Ron?"

"Worth a shot," James shrugged.

"Better than what they're doing, which is nothing," Remus agreed.

Fred abruptly switched to violence, telling Ron to let it go or he'd take his nose off.

"Oh, threats, that works much better," James rolled his eyes.

"Especially as we've never once seen them carry through on them," Sirius sighed in disappointment, he'd had such high hopes for these twins, yet they couldn't even evade their own brother.

"What are you lot trying to protect the twins for anyways," Harry grumbled in annoyance as a twitching continued just behind his eye. "You want to know what they're up to just as much as me."

"True," Lily instantly agreed.

"But we'd be remiss not to pass on our wisdom," James finished obviously.

Harry fought down the urge to point out the twins weren't here to be receiving this, nor did Harry have much use for it, but simply decided to ignore them.

Ron insisted this was his business if there was blackmail involved, this sounded like serious trouble.

"No one could be in as much trouble as I am," Sirius said instantly.

"That one was actually true," James nodded along, "I'm not even mad at you for that one."

"Miracles do happen," Remus smirked.

George insisted he'd been joking! Clearly thinking they'd argued long enough, he took the letter from his brother, tied it to the nearest owl, and told Ron he was starting to sound like Percy. If he kept acting this way, he was headed for a prefect.

The other's made noises of agitation that the twins were brushing this off, this really had carried on long enough it wasn't funny anymore and actually had verged into honest worry of what those two were up to. No one noticed a funny little smile on Harry's face for George's comment.

Ron snapped back that would never happen!

Harry couldn't stop a surprised bit of laughter even if he had no idea where it came from, though this did draw Remus' attention as he pouted, "and what's so funny? You going to stop hanging around Ron if he does become one?"

Harry rolled his eyes at the joke, shrugging and saying, "don't know, just imagining what the twins would really say if it did happen I guess."

George pitched the owl out of the tower as he concluded for Ron to stop poking his nose where it belonged then.

They left as quickly as they'd come.

Hermione whispered anyways if they could have any news to do with Crouch?

"Way," James drew the word out dramatically, "off topic. There's no way they should even have a clue Crouch was on school grounds unless you lot have mentioned it."

Harry shook his head no, it had gone without saying in his opinion that they hadn't exactly spread this story around.

"It does still boggle the mind what they are doing," Sirius sighed, "it's been going on for ages."

"And escalating," Lily agreed, fear still lacing her tones.

Harry said no at once, they'd never get into something so serious and not tell someone.

"Well of course you'd tell me," Sirius gave Harry as wide eyed a stare as he could, "why would you do anything else?"

It boggled all of their minds how Harry still laughed at this.

Ron didn't looked as convinced, sharing how they'd been going on about needing money for their joke shop, they'd talked about it all the time when, ah well-

Harry supplied for him, when he and Ron hadn't been talking.

"Much quieter and boring times," Harry added on when he saw how agitated they all got at the reminder. They'd clearly forgiven Ron for it, but it didn't stop them being annoyed when it was brought back up.

Hermione still wasn't convinced they'd go as far as blackmail.

Ron insisted they were really into this joke shop, whereas before Ron had just thought they were doing it to annoy their Mum.

"I never thought that for a second!" Sirius yelped indignantly.

They only had a year of school left and were really looking for some ways to make gold.

"But, they already have it, don't they?" James struggled to remember back, "I don't remember how much exactly, but they put a huge price up for that bet of the World Cup, and earned it back double. Bagman paid them back, so unless they've already wasted that away and are trying to get more..." he trailed off with a frown still in place.

"You think they're trying to blackmail Bagman?" Sirius asked in concern. "Trying to convince him to give them more so they can keep going?"

"It would explain why they keep hounding him as much as he is to Harry," Remus agreed uneasily.

Lily was biting at her lip, still wanting to believe the twins would never actually do this, but it was getting hard to come up with alternatives.

Harry was starting to look a little green around the edges, he was utterly convinced they were on the right track with this...but something was wrong, or backwards, or- he forced his mind to cut off before the ache in his head developed further.

Hermione still didn't think they'd do anything like break the law for gold.

None of them were any kind of happy that they couldn't one hundred percent say no to that. They wouldn't claim to know the twins well enough, and well, blackmail wasn't a happy start to the conversation.

Ron wasn't as convinced, saying they broke rules all the time.

"There's a difference between school rules and the actual law," Lily groaned, more for the Marauders benefit than anyone else's, who all blatantly ignored her.

Hermione insisted this was different! They could get a lot worse than detention for this! Maybe they should tell Percy-

"Ouch!" Sirius jumped like he'd been set aflame. "Merlin Hermione, have you no shame, setting those brothers against each other like that!"

"Leave the twins to do their own thing, and they're own consequences," Lily agreed, "Telling on them won't make anything better."

Harry was surprised at his mother actually agreeing with these boys, as often as she tried to scold them, but then he reflected how despite her disapproval of it, she hadn't gone and turned them in for their illegal animagus status either.

Ron told her she was mad telling Percy! He'd do a Crouch and turn them in.

"I, honestly think I believe that," James shivered, "and in no way want to dwell on it."

"Blackmail isn't bad enough to get you a stint in Azkaban," Lily barely got the word out without flushing in anger all over again and throwing a protective look to Sirius, "they'd be severely fined for it, maybe put on watch for a while to make sure they didn't try again."

"Moving on," Remus groaned, honestly still clinging to the hope that Percy wouldn't do any such thing at all.

There was a shifty silence for a moment before Ron insisted they go get breakfast.

Hermione tried to say they should go see Moody first, but Harry pointed out it would be bad to try at this hour, he'd probably attack them in his sleep.

"I believe that," Sirius instantly agreed, trying to force a smile in place at a topic switch. "Who wants to bet he's got his office booby trapped with trip wires to send people to Iceland if they so much as put a toe in there without his knowing."

"Stop exaggerating Sirius," Lily sighed, already growing weary of this chapter and looking forward to lunch just to get a momentary break from his commentary.

Instead he said they'd wait until their break.

History of Magic was usually torturously slow, but even though Harry kept checking Ron's watch to be sure, time seemed to move twice as slow as usual

"I'm sure Ron just loved sharing his arm with you all lesson," James chuckled.

All three of them were exhausted from their sleepless night and would have happily started snoozing,

"I see no reason why you didn't," Remus shrugged, "I know I was guilty of that on several occasions."

"And Binns never said a word, no matter how loud he snored," Sirius smirked.

even Hermione wasn't taking her usual notes, but was sitting with her head on her hand, gazing at Professor Binns with her eyes out of focus.

Sirius let out a wild gasp of shock, tearing the book away and holding it up to the light and declaring, "What nonsense is this! Say it ain't so, we've all been duped, there's no way this is real!"

Everyone was too busy laughing as Harry tried to wrestle the book back away with a grin in place to say anything.

When the bell did ring, they sprinted off to find Moody just leaving his office, and he looked in as bad a shape as them. His normal eye half sagging with sleep, giving his face an even more lopsided appearance than usual.

"I just realized, he literally always sleeps with one eye open," Remus raised a curious brow.

"He's an artist's nightmare to draw," Sirius chuckled, remembering a few of James rants when he tried to sketch someone and their eyes came out lopsided, "all those disproportionate features, no one would ever believe the drawing wasn't abstract."

James gave an agreeable laugh he didn't really feel, he was still very weirded out trying to picture the whole thing and had no want to take Sirius' joke as a challenge as he normally would have.

He stood back to let them into his empty classroom, limped in after them, and closed the door.

Harry called for his attention, and when Moody spotted them, he waited until the corridor was clear before inviting them inside.

"Well, we didn't transport to Iceland," Harry reminded Sirius.

"I said if you snuck in there," Sirius emphasized, "keep up Harry."

Harry asked if they'd found Crouch, and when receiving a no, asked if he'd used the Map?

Moody said of course he had, he'd summoned it to him on the grounds when Dumbledore sent him off looking.

"Well there goes our idea of how he even knew to come down," Remus groaned in frustration. "I can't believe he'd be so careless as to both be looking, and then not grabbing when he left. It's too much of an oversight to him."

"Maybe Harry will ask again how he knew to come down," Lily pacified.

Ron again suggested he Disapparated, only for Hermione to say in exasperation that wasn't possible!

Then she turned to Moody and said there are other ways he could have disappeared though.

Moody watched her steadily as he said she'd make quite the Auror,

"Nah, can't picture it," Sirius shook his head. "She still panics a little too easily."

"You're never going to let that troll thing go," Harry rolled his eyes at him.

"Or the Devil's Snare," James agreed.

with a mind like hers.

"I'll give that one though," Lily shook her head, "Hermione's going to go great places, wouldn't surprise me if she shot up the Ministry ladder faster than Percy, became the youngest head of whatever department she chose."

Harry had a kind smile in place, knowing he had no clue what the real answer was, but very assured his mother was right.

Hermione flushed with pleasure while Harry told Moody that the Map even showed those who were invisible, so Crouch must have left the grounds.

Hermione still questioned if he'd done it himself, or someone forced him to.

"He was acting to out of it for it to be the first, I can't believe anyone's that good an actor. I'm, going with the second?" Remus still managed to make it a question more than a statement, there was just too much weirdness around this and they had no clue what it could be connected to. Their top suspects would have been Snape or Karkaroff, but both had some pretty good alibis, so they had absolutely nothing to work with.

Ron gave the suggestion that someone could have pulled him onto a broom and flown away,

"Now that's a fair theory," James eyes lit with excitement. "Actually I quite like it, the more I'm thinking. Sneak attack on Krum who wouldn't have seen it coming, and the way Crouch was going on, did anyone else get the feeling he was being held against his will or something? I believe he mentioned the word escaped. This mystery person would have been pursuing him."

"So, who then?" Sirius insisted. "Must be a Death Eater," his face twitched with hatred but he kept going, "so is Voldemort still recruiting, and Crouch was one of his targets? Crouch would know where a ton of Death Eaters were, I'll bet he keeps a list of people he thinks are some and where they are from when they'd have gotten off at some point or another."

While this was looking promising, Harry was starting to feel a little sick to his stomach and didn't feel like indulging them as much as usual, so he asked if he could go on and they could keep speculating later.

looking hopefully at Moody as if he too wanted to be told he had the makings of an Auror.

"Poor Ron," James muttered absently.

Moody agreed they weren't ruling out a kidnaping.

Ron asked if it was possible he was somewhere in Hogsmeade?

"Don't go suggesting that!" James said so sharply it made everyone else jump. "Sirius is hanging around there, I don't want Moody anywhere closer to the area than he has to be."

"Alright, breathe Prongs," Sirius pacified at once, his eyes were still a little too dark. "You know Ron didn't mean anything by it, Moody doesn't know about Padfoot, and I want Crouch found, so it was sound enough."

James did not look appeased enough to take it back.

Moody agreed he could be anywhere that wasn't here.

Harry's stomach ache took a nasty turn, whether heading up or down he wasn't sure, but it didn't take much to figure out that meant something to him, something bad.

Moody switched then to telling he'd heard of their previous detective work, and he didn't want to hear of it this time. He and Dumbledore were working this, Harry needed to stay focused on his third task.

Harry asked what he meant.

"Do you have very many other numbered tasks we should be concerned about?" Lily asked in surprise.

"It kind of slipped my mind after the whole Crouch thing," Harry admitted sheepishly.

Then his mind caught up, and Harry realized he hadn't thought about that since he'd left the field with Krum.

"Honestly can't blame you though," James shrugged, "this was plenty distracting."

Moody told Harry that he'd heard of some of Potters previous exploits and this last task should be easy enough for him compared to those challenges about the Stone.

"I still swear on my wand that was too easy for a bunch of first years," Lily grumbled hatefully, that had been one of her first problems with Dumbledore, and it had only gotten worse.

"Moody's got a point though," Remus said fairly, "Harry does have some practice with this, this task sounds at least doable for him."

"Joyful," James deadpanned, "you'll excuse me if I'm not a bundle of glee he's still in there."

Remus rolled his eyes at them but stopped arguing.

Ron quickly said he and Hermione had helped him along.

"And there's that," Sirius nodded, "Harry did get help through the majority of those things, he really only caught that key from Flitwick."

"And stopped Voldemort," Harry reminded with some unease, the act of having second hand killed Quirrell still giving him nightmares sometimes.

"Not trying to forget that exactly," James promised, "but it's not exactly a fun reminder."

He pulled out his hip flask then and took a large swig of it as his magical eye kept on them.

Harry wondered why every time that hip flask was mentioned he felt his gut tightening up. Maybe he was regretting not having ever gotten one of his own?

Moody grinned at Ron, telling him to stick by that and Potter, could never have too many eyes on him.

"As normally I'm not out of their company," Harry rolled his eyes at this display of paranoia, "I don't see that being a problem."

Sirius sent their owl back the very next morning.

"So I'm guessing these caves are going to be a permanent thing," James was actually smiling in relief, while he'd been against the idea originally, he couldn't deny he liked the idea of Sirius' quick replies.

"Why did it still take you a whole day?" Remus asked in surprise, "should have been able to reply in hours."

"I'm probably not inside all that much," Sirius shrugged, he liked to imagine he was reliving old memories by snooping around Hogsmeade and the Forest.

Hermione only delayed his reading it by doing a quick search of her copy of the Daily Prophet and informing them there was no new information before Harry read out.

It did not start happy, with Sirius scolding Harry for going off with Krum.

"Wow Padfoot," James raised a brow at his friend that Sirius couldn't quite interpret. It made him uneasy, since he could usually read James in an instant and go along, but this time he honestly wasn't sure if he was being mocked, or if James was being jealous again that he was scolding Harry.

Sirius opened, then closed his mouth since he wasn't sure which way he was supposed to be talking, but Harry had mostly ignored the pair, reading on with an agitated look in place for how this had started.

He wanted a swear by return of this owl Harry would not be going out at night again.

"Yes sir," Harry told him tartly, some residual shock that anyone even cared that much to tell him to do otherwise not putting enough force behind the sarcasm.

Sirius was starting to look flustered now, he wasn't used to being so wrong-footed and now both of them were giving him a spin.

There was somebody at Hogwarts trying to hurt Harry, and it was obvious someone stopped Crouch from seeing Dumbledore feet away from Harry, he could have been killed.

"Aww," Lily couldn't help but coo, clearly fixing to follow that up with a thank you for Sirius acting like an adult, while Remus pantomimed while she wasn't looking about him being whipped; clearly getting his revenge for all the times Sirius had teased him of this advice previously.

"I'm going to strangle the lot of you!" Sirius threatened as he hit his wits end.

Harry's name had not been in that Goblet by accident, someone was trying to hurt him and this task was their last chance. Stay in the company of Ron and Hermione, and do not leave Gryffindor Tower after hours. Stay focused on the third task and start practicing Stunning and Disarming jinxes, as well as hexes. Keep his nose out of whatever Crouch was doing and keep his head down. He'd be waiting for that promise of not going out.

He didn't even sign off as Snuffles, but Sirius.

Harry finished and looked up at his Godfather expectantly, though Sirius had no clue what he was wanting. "What? You waiting for me to apologize? That was sound advice."

"You just agreed with me at the end of the last chapter Hagrid was overreacting," Harry rolled his eyes at him, "I figured you'd do it again for yourself."

"I'll apologize when you admit you weren't thinking," Sirius shot back. "It was foolhardy even if Krum wasn't the problem, you haven't once this year actually acted like your life's been threatened."

"That's rich coming from you," Harry scowled back, "since you won't admit for a second how stupid and dangerous it is to even be in the country."

"I'm getting scared," Lily whispered to Remus as the two kept sniping at each other.

"Harry's certainly growing more and more outspoken about being told what to do the longer this drags on," Remus nodded along, grimacing slightly as he reminded, "but to be fair, no one's ever really earned the right to tell him what to do. Aside from the teachers at Hogwarts, Harry's never exactly had a good role model for authority, Sirius included."

It hurt in the worst way for the mother to be reminded of this, but she conceded the point.

James had been watching on in honest bemusement as Harry and Sirius kept trying to tell each other what idiots the other was being, but finally he cut in, "alright, you're both idiots, can we move on."

"Hey!" Harry and Sirius yelped at the same time, but then they exchanged a grin for that and Harry decided to let it go.

Harry was instantly insulted that Sirius was telling him off for being out of bounds after everything he'd ever done.

Harry gave Sirius an extra look that his point had been said twice, which Sirius acknowledge in the most adult way possible, sticking his tongue out at him and muttering petulantly about how different that was.

Hermione reminded he was just worried, and Harry needed to listen to him.

Harry insisted no one had tried to attack him all year, no one had done anything.

"Which, if you think about it, is the weird part," Remus acknowledged.

He winced when he got some nasty looks for that, but Harry defended, "well he is right. So far it's just been the dragon and some grindylows. So unless someone is hoping I'd gone out with these tasks, it's not exactly been that bad." He finished with an absent minded frown on his face he didn't even seem to realize was there for his own saying this.

He did not get any pleased responses from anyone for pointing this out, nor did he himself feel much better for the reminder. Something about this third task, it was going to be a big game changer, the closer it got the more sure he was of that.

Hermione pointed out the Goblet of Fire, someone had put his name in there for a reason and maybe they'd just been biding their time till now.

They all shivered at that, Harry hardest of all as he heard some color of truth in what she'd said.

Harry insisted that even if Sirius was right,

"I can see how well you took to Snuffles," Sirius gave a half hearted smirk.

Harry did give a sheepish shrug for that, admitting he had been terrible about that one, Hermione and Ron were much better at remembering.

and the person who attacked attacked Crouch and Krum had been right by him, then clearly Harry wasn't the target. They'd waited until he'd left to do anything.

"I think that's giving the kidnappers too much credit," James shuddered at the thought. "They must have just caught up at the best opportune time when you weren't there."

"Still," Remus sighed, "the timing of it all really isn't feeling much better."

Hermione shot back they couldn't make it look like accidental murder in front of the forest.

"She's just sunshine and rainbows lately," Lily scowled in response to that statement.

Harry insisted it could have been done, someone could have made it look like he and Krum and dulled to death.

"You are making some great points," Sirius acknowledged, the only apology Harry was going to get for that letter.

Hermione was getting desperate as she agreed she didn't understand this, but Moody and Sirius were right,

"No one sticks with Snuffles for long," Remus forced a laugh.

"That's your fault Moony," Sirius smirked, "you need to come up with more obscure nicknames."

he needed to be prepared for this last task. And he needed to send that letter to Sirius promising he wasn't going to be sneaking around.

"Pretty sure that owl's flown off by now," James shrugged, "so you've already not done as told, and you'll have to grab a new one."

"You're just full of helpful advice," Harry grumbled.

The Hogwarts grounds never looked more inviting than when Harry had to stay indoors.

Harry looked all the more disgruntled at this happening to him at the end of the semester, again! He wanted to ask Sirius if he was happy with himself this time, but that comment just felt too vicious, he didn't want to bring up last year.

For the next few days he spent all of his free time either in the library with Hermione and Ron,

"At some point, I think you three forgot you were Gryffindor's," Remus looked on in pity for Harry, "and you're trying to convince Pince to let you start a new house in the library."

"You're certainly in there enough," James sighed.

looking up spells they could practice in empty classrooms.

Harry was practicing his Stunning Spell.

"You would think it would be easier than Petrificus Totalus," Harry sighed, "the body seizes up and then falls, Stupify just makes you fall on the spot."

"It takes much longer to wear off without Innervate though, so there's more power behind a Stunners magic," Remus told. "Petrificus Totalus will wear off in half the time."

"Trust him on this," Sirius muttered in disgust, "takes nearly an hour for a stunner to go away."

Harry sadly remembered Sirius telling him about the time Snape had managed to stun him and leave him behind a broom shed, so he didn't question the experience.

The trouble was that practicing it involved certain sacrifices on Ron and Hermione's part.

"Those poor kids," Lily winced in pity.

"There's really no other way to learn though," Remus shrugged without remorse, "sadly they just don't know about embedding cushioning charms on the floor for this particular lesson."

"There's no better way than to practice on a moving target," James agreed.

Ron suggested trying this on Mrs. Norris,

"I would not recommend it," Sirius said instantly. "Filch will know, and he will not wait for permission to gut you."

"Speaking from more experience?" Harry asked wearily.

"Thankfully not me," Sirius said with the height of innocence, "but I did hear a rumor of some Hufflepuff taking revenge on Filch out on his cat, poor kid was never seen alive again."

Harry had no clue how much truth was being put in this, but he was laughing at Sirius again and he didn't want to ask.

after his fifth time in a row landing on the floor. If they didn't want to use the cat, then Harry could at least try Dobby, he'd do it happily.

"Now why didn't I think of that?" Sirius theatrically clapped his forehead, "do you realize how much better I could have felt any number of times if I'd just summoned Kreacher to me and cursed him!"

"Let's just be thankful it never occurred to you," Remus said quickly as Lily gave him a nasty look for that.

He insisted he wasn't complaining,

"Well offering up alternatives isn't complaining per say," James agreed.

while rubbing at his side.

"But honestly I don't blame Ron for complaining," James smiled sadly, "at least he's being a trooper and allowing it to be done to him, I think that involves a little moaning when he lands."

Hermione pointed out he kept missing the pillows she'd laid out for him to land on. He should try falling backwards.

"Did she just try to tell a stunned person where to fall?" Lily giggled in surprise. "I don't think even Hermione could manage that."

Ron told her to take a try and see how she did.

Hermione decided it was time Harry moved on from that spell.

Causing them all to laugh, clearly Hermione wasn't up to taking her own advice.

There was no point practicing Disarming, he'd been able to do that one for a while.

"Always with impressive results," the boys laughter doubled even more as Lily said that, though taking a minute for her to realize the last time Harry had done that, and admitted a bit of a giggle escaped her as well.

Instead she wanted to try out this Impediment Curse, which slowed things down.

"I enjoyed the recreational uses of that spell," Sirius got a lazy grin. "It's the best thing to throw something at someone, using the Impediment Curse on it, and watch them freak out and dive for cover as something went towards them in slow motion."

"Thankfully that joke did wear off fast enough," James chuckled.

"But the looks on their faces were priceless," Remus snickered.

The bell rang before they could try, and Hermione promised to see them at dinner as she ran for her Arithmancy class while the boys went for Divination.

No one exactly looked excited for this, but they were hoping for a few more laughs to crop up so no one protested either. Harry was the only one who didn't seem to be looking forward to this, the ghost of his scar prickling across his forehead as foreboding as it could get.

The sun was still gleaming in the sky as they went up the spiral stairs, and Ron groaned how hot it was going to be in the room, Trelawney never put out that fire.

"Ergh," they winced in sympathy for that heat stroke waiting to happen.

Ron was right, the room was a sauna with the thick curtains and the fireplace crackling as high as ever. Harry took his usual seat next to the shadows and pried open a window while the teacher wasn't watching so that a nice breeze could at least blow in on him.

"There's my ingenuity shining through," James beamed at his son.

"Yes," Lily rolled her eyes at him, "I'm so sure only you could have the power of knowledge in opening a window on a hot day."

"Don't be jealous our son got everything from me," James teased back.

Trelawney called attention as she took her seat, saying today they would be focusing on the planet Mars.

"Ah the Roman god of war," Sirius rolled his eyes, "I'm not surprised that would be her second favorite one."

She pulled a planetarium up for all to see, and while she began dissecting the planets orbits in conjunction with each other, Harry felt his eyes drifting shut, the breeze blowing clean air into his face as an insect hummed somewhere nearby.

Harry wasn't remotely feeling sleepy now, on the contrary as some deep sense of warning was trying to go off in his head so loud, though he had no clue what the connection could be. Surely not to a bug, or even dozing off in class like he was clearly doing.

He was riding on the back of an eagle owl, soaring through the clear blue sky,

"Finally it sounds like one of your dreams is something normal," James smiled. "I can't count the number of times I've dreamed of flying, though normally for me it's on a broom, not a bird."

"I think he's subconsciously missing Buckbeak," Sirius chuckled.

Everyone was laughing happily around Harry, it was such a wonderful sound to him. Even after these days he spent with them, it was still always a happy feeling to realize he was just sitting around and listening to his family laugh...so why was he getting such a bad feeling about having to keep going?

He was going through the window of an ivy swarmed house, and landing in a high backed chair.

The longer Harry read, the tighter his voice was getting, like someone was slowly strangling him while he forced this out. The laughter had already died out, but no one bothered to interrupt him to ask why as they must be about to get an answer.

Two shapes were moving, one on the floor, the other writhing on the floor. It was a squat man with watery eyes and a pointed nose.

The growl that erupted from everyone was not unexpected the moment the description registered, and though Harry felt like he was reading past a nail spike driving through his brain as this was being returned to him, he was suddenly very grateful he was the one to be reading this. No one liked to hear more mention of this rat after all, but at least Harry could pretend to force past it without threatening murder every other word.

He was wheezing and sobbing on the hearth rug. . .

James wished this feeling would go away, this bleeding conflict he felt whenever he heard of Peter like this like he had the first time. He didn't know why the rat was acting like that, but he knew with everything in him he deserved it for giving him up, for causing his death and Lily's and what should have been Harry's. He wanted to just feel that murder pulsing through him, rather than anything else...

A voice like pure ice spoke of Wormtail's luck, how fortunate he was his blunder had been fixed and he was dead.

Harry was entirely concerned when no one in here rhetorically asked who that 'he' could be, but that was the kind of reaction mentioning this betrayer wrought in them, nowhere near their normal personalities.

The shadow on the floor gasped its pleasure for the news, and how sorry he still was for it all.

James felt like he was the only one paying attention to the actual words rather than the festering thoughts everyone else was harboring at the mention of him, so he was certain he was the only one trying to figure out what exactly he'd done to be apologizing for, not that he cared one bit, it could only be good news for them.

The cold voice continued ignoring him, instead telling Nagini she was out of luck, she would not be eating Wormtail,

"Here I am again, pitying a snake."

Harry never would have believed that was Sirius if he hadn't been keeping an uneasy eye on him.

but there was still Harry Potter.

Harry looked flummoxed that his being fed to a snake was part of any plan, but even if someone did want to voice their outrage at it, he was reading too fast to let them.

The snakes tongue flicked in the direction of the voice as it continued addressing Wormtail.

In between her mental tirade of wanting to rip every last one of his remaining fingers off, Lily was still trying to understand why Voldemort called him that. Her mind must have been working on it in her recess while she tried to ignore it, because now the only idea she could offer up was Voldemort using that as a derogatory on the rat. What had once been an affectionate nickname given to him by his friends for his rat animal was now being turned on its head by the very man he'd served those friends up to, the rat status still stood but now in the darkest way possible.

Saying he would be given one more reminder of his blunder.

Wormtail begged for mercy even as the shout of Crucio rang.

Sirius should have been far more concerned that he didn't feel a damn thing except disappointment that wasn't him using that curse. Crucio wasn't even the beginning of what he owed that rat, twelve years in Azkaban for starters, then he'd work his way up to other tortures from there.

Wormtail was screaming, every nerve in his body alight with pain, and Harry was screaming just as loud through the fire in his forehead,

If anything could snap them back to the actual purpose of this story rather than sucking on revenge, it was Harry, and him reading in a tight pain laced voice as he remembered this set all of them back on the opposite edge of how they felt for the rat.

he had to stop, or Voldemort would hear him.**

Harry was surprised when the walls didn't shake with them, they were all trembling by the end though for all very different reasons. Too many emotions raining too high to deeply question what needed to be asked, number one of which was: why was Harry still seeing this!? They'd by no means forgotten the first time, but as no new information had arisen from anyone regarding this, they had nothing new to go on, and too much of a chance of it dissolving into another break out attempt in their temper if they tried to dissect it.

Someone was shouting his name, and Harry came back to himself on Trelawney's floor, his hands covering his face as tears burned his eyes from the pain of his scar.

Harry was making sure to breathe slowly through his nose, concentrating on every word so that he wouldn't be thinking on that pain that he could all too vividly remember now. It helped nothing when he glanced up and saw all the scared white faces around him for what this could mean.

The whole class was hovering over him, Ron right by his head as he whispered if Harry was alright?

"Oh he's just spiffing, and you?" Remus got out, surprised when he tasted copper in his mouth after swallowing, he must have bitten his tongue at some point to stop himself screaming in outrage.

Trelawney told Ron of course he wasn't, while looking excitedly down at Harry.

Lily found something to break her temper on, and it wasn't pretty. "Are you kidding me? Is there not one bloody useful teacher in that school! First Snape now her, what in Merlin's sack is wrong with these people! He was on the floor, in pain, and she's excited! I swear if a student didn't take the initiative to run off to get Madam Pomfrey I'm going to curse every last one of them!"

In retrospect that was way too harsh for her, they knew if this had happened in say McGonagall's class or basically any other teacher except these two it would have gotten the proper response of the adult making sure Harry was okay, but no one could blame her heaving chest and wild eyed outrage.

Harry honestly felt in fear for his life if he actually tried to keep going while she was still like this, all for letting her get it all out now, but she seemed to have at least temporarily restrained herself and sat a look on him that said in no uncertain terms for him to keep going.

She demanded what Harry had been seeing, a premonition?

"And this is why no one was disagreeing with you Lily," James looked just as outraged as his wife at this lack of concern for their son, but he was more quietly scheming in the back of his head what exactly he planned to do to Trelawney as payback.

Harry instantly lied it was nothing while struggling to his feet, flinching at every shadow and sure he could still hear Voldemort uttering that curse.

Harry couldn't suppress another shiver for that, that terrible voice still echoing in the back of his mind. Thankfully no corner of this room was shadowed, the warm lights and cozy fireplace in exact opposite of Trelawney's eerie room, and he was surrounded on all sides feeling very safe.

Trelawney insisted it had been something, he'd been holding his scar, and insisted she had experience with this.

"You have as much experience as Lockhart you-" Remus forcibly cut himself off before he went on his own Lily like tangent which still wouldn't resolve anything.

Harry glared at her as he said he was going to the hospital wing for a headache.

"If only that's what it had been," Harry whispered to himself, as sickly looking as everyone else in fear and worry of what all this could mean for him.

Trelawney began to refuse, saying if he left the confines of her clairvoyant powers he'd lose his stimulated and extraordinary moment.

Lily looked ready to incite murder any second, her wand even appeared and she was glaring at every exit clearly wanting to take Trelawney's head off for actually putting her baby's pain on the powers of that bleeding room!

If he left now he may not get another opportunity to see-

"Then by all means, please leave Harry," Sirius ground out, at least mocking Trelawney felt better than thinking of rats.

Harry snapped he wasn't seeing anything but a headache cure, and left with a quick muttered goodbye to Ron.

Trelawney watched him go with a look saying she'd just been denied a treat.

Lily had to concentrate on each one of her fingers not to perform a strangling motion as she heard that, but at least he was finally leaving.

Harry did not go for Madam Pomfrey, instead his feet doing as Sirius had told,

Harry released a breathy laugh he didn't really feel, but any release would be savored as he picked back up his earlier argument with his godfather. "See Sirius, I do listen to some of your advice."

"Oh sure, when it involves Dumbledore," he said back, flipping his hair over his shoulder dramatically but there was still too much anger in his gray eyes for all the recent rat mentions lately for the joke to really be there.

and go tell Dumbledore. This time had been as vivid as the one in Privet Drive.

"Gathered that bit," James groaned, ruffling up his own hair in unease, the longer they sat and thought about it, the more worry they gained with no new ideas, but at least some of the blood lust was being forcibly pounded away as Harry got farther away from mentions of who all had been in the dream again.

He kept replaying the events over in his mind so as not to forget the details, how Voldemort had accused Wormtail of a blunder,

Nope, there it was! Harry was going to keep thinking on it until he got it all out to Dumbledore as well, so he decided now he may as well start trying to remove his finger nails, it would hurt less. The only coherent thought he had left was his prayer Harry wouldn't pass this along to Sirius again, the reaction he could have still terrified him as much as what was happening to Harry. He didn't need Sirius going off on a murder rampage and getting caught, that had to be his next step from going back to Harry's side from that first dream. Then again, Harry hadn't mentioned the rat in his first later, so there was still some hope he wouldn't this time, it wouldn't do Sirius any more good than it was them.

but Voldemort had received good new that someone was dead, and Wormtail was not going to be fed to the snake, that would be Harry.

Hearing it all a second time didn't make any of that more bearable, or comprehensible, if possible it was actually getting worse with Harry's rendition. Now they didn't have anger to cling onto while listening, now they were just a bubbling, twisting mess of worry of how much pain Harry had to go through to get to the age he was at now.

Harry had walked right past the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office without noticing.

Remus forced out a laugh he didn't really feel, but at this point any actual noise besides Harry forcing himself to read through pain was a kindness.

Only when he traced back did he remember that he didn't know the password.

"Oh yeah," they all muttered, having been so lost in their own thoughts they hadn't recognized this problem either. Now what was Harry going to do?

"I swear if Snape shows up again, I'm getting a shovel and digging my way to his useless arse, the magic keeping me in here be damned," James vowed on the spot.

"You could always try what you were going to last time, go to the staff room and tell an actual useful teacher it's an emergency and need to talk to Dumbledore," Remus offered. "I'm sure they'd give you the password."

Harry gave a listless shrug, he had no clue what he was going to do, but managed a brave smile for all of them at even pretending at a joke and normal conversation again...at least he hoped his dad was joking.

He still tried sherbet lemon.

"T for effort," Sirius scolded, "you already knew that wouldn't work."

"Sirius, don't call my son a troll," Lily instantly snapped.

Sirius rolled his eyes at her.

Instead he started trying others, like Licorice Wand and Fizzing Whizbee,

"Upgraded to an A for this though," Remus smiled, "he knows Dumbledore has a sweet tooth, and going off the previous password is taking a good guess it could be more candy."

"He's most likely not wrong," James forced some tension out of his shoulders to try and smile along. It didn't at all work, but he no longer looked like he was sitting on Hickory anymore. "All the times we were there, it was some form of this."

Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans? Oh wait, he didn't like those.

"Who knows, maybe he's found one not earwax flavored since then," Sirius did his very best at a sincere tone, almost getting there.

When none of that worked, Harry told it was an emergency, but still the gargoyle didn't move.

"I'd be more concerned if it did move," Lily sighed.

Harry kicked it, achieving nothing but an excruciating pain in his big toe.

"Did you at least feel better?" James actually did manage a genuine laugh for that one.

Harry ignored the, in his opinion, stupid question.

Now shouting Chocolate Frog and standing on one leg.

"Is this a new game?" Sirius found honest laughter bubbling in his chest, though he wasn't surprised. If anything could make him smile again, it would be his godson. "Hop on one foot and shout treats until you run out, I like this."

Harry tried to keep being angry with them for laughing like this when he knew in the book he was still upset over what he'd seen, but he recognized as well as them that getting angry wasn't helping a thing, at least smiling gave the feeling that everything would turn out okay.

At last shouting Cockroach Cluster in anger, and the gargoyle sprang aside.

"Cockroach Cluster?" Remus crinkled his nose in disgust. "Really Dumbledore?"

"I've heard they actually taste rather like crispy chocolates," Lily offered with her own look of concern at this, she'd never believed the friend that had tried to convince her of this.

"I can't believe he went with that over the Beans!" Sirius gasped.

"I guess anyone who eats Peppermint Humbug has this kind of strange taste," Harry shrugged.

"At least it wasn't Jelly Slugs," James smirked, "I'm still hoping Dumbledore remembers that one personally."

"I do not want to know," Lily groaned at once. Harry was still too distracted thinking about his dream and what all it could mean for him to be to invested in asking for now.

Harry looked at the opening in surprise, admitting he'd been joking.

"Well don't tell it that!" Sirius said mock frantically.

Still he went inside and traveled up to the headmaster's office, but when he got near he heard voices and hesitated.

"You seem to do that quite a lot for someone who insists he's not a snooper," Remus snorted in surprise.

Harry was finally distracted from his own problem by that, looking up at Remus with the widest most innocent eyes he had.

Remus snorted again and shook his head in disbelief, jabbing a thumb at Sirius and saying, "try looking at me with literal puppy eyes and get back to me on that one."

Sirius cracked up laughing so hard he nearly missed Harry pouting but moving on.

The voice inside was telling Dumbledore he saw no connections, it was Fudge.

"Oh, because he's always a joy to have around," Lily said in contempt, not one of them forgetting how last year he'd happily sanctioned Sirius getting Kissed!

Sirius was too busy suppressing his giggles that Remus had admitted out loud that had worked to garner the hatred he should have felt.

He was still insisting that while Bertha was missing, it didn't mean foul play.

"I swear his head is as empty as the Shrieking Shack," James scowled. "What person actually goes missing this long without not being declared dead? It's been what, almost a year now?"

It was their insight that they knew she was dead, but James's logic was still sound that no one would have argued with him otherwise.

There was just no way it had anything to do with Crouch.

They all sat in puzzlement on that for a second, Lily saying slowly, "yes, alright, I can kind of put together how Dumbledore would think that. Harry did verbatim what Crouch had been rambling on about, and he did mention Bertha, but I still can't see how Crouch knew anything."

"Maybe Dumbledore sees a more clear line connection than just the passing along information Harry got?" Remus tried with no honest belief.

Moody's voice spoke up what he thought the Minister thought happened to Crouch?

Fudge said he had two ideas,

"Oh I'm going to love hearing this," James sneered.

the first was that Crouch had cracked and gone wandering off.

"If that is option one, I am terrified for my sanity what option two is," Lily looked dumbstruck anyone could reach that conclusion in these circumstances. Surely Dumbledore had given Harry's account of the matter, no one could be so stupid and blind as to draw that kind of conclusion from it!

Dumbledore simply answered he wandered extremely quickly then.

"Still got to love how Dumbledore kindly points out how dumb the people around him are," Sirius muttered to himself.

Fudge said he'd reserve judgement on the second idea until he saw the place for himself.

"What does that even mean?" Remus asked in surprise. "It was on the edge of the Forest, why do you need to be there to declare anything of it."

"I don't see why we're hearing his opinion on it at all," James's scowl kept deepening the longer this guy was around, "since I hold its weight on the same level as dragon dung."

Confirming this had happened right around the Beauxbatons carriage? Reminding Dumbledore of what she was.

"He did not!" Harry heard everyone bark in outrage. The way his lip curled in protest of having said that however left no one in doubts. No one currently liked Maxime for what she'd done to Hagrid, in all honesty they still blamed her for it even being out, but no one was accusing her of pulling this simply because she was like Hagrid! And the worst part was, no one had any doubts if Fudge was saying this about her, he could be thinking about Hagrid as well!

Dumbledore quietly returned he found her an able headmistress, and an excellent dancer.

"Thank you for that useful information," Remus muttered sullenly, wishing Dumbledore would take that a little more offensively like they had.

Fudge was getting angry now, saying Dumbledore may be acting a little blind for his trust in Hagrid. They didn't all turn out harmless, and Hagrid didn't even sound that with all his monsters.

"That's it, where's the nearest tiny box, I'm cramming his arse in it," Sirius followed that up with a few more swears just as the timer went off from the kitchen.

Lily was saved from having to listen to the rest no matter how much she agreed by going to let dinner cool, by the time she came back all of the boys were still in a temper like her for the slur of a comment but at least willing to let Harry finish as he fingered the last page.

Dumbledore forcefully replied he did not suspect either of them, and in fact flipped back on Fudge perhaps he was the one being blinded by prejudice.

"Least Dumbledore's saying that much," Remus muttered as he poked at a hole in his sleeve, his mind was starting to get a bit stung around the edges his old headmaster wasn't being a bit more vocally against this.

Moody suggested they wrap this up, and while Fudge agreed he wanted a look around the grounds, Moody instead pointed out that Potter must want a word because he was outside the door.

"Got to love Moody must have known he was there the whole time and waited this long to say something," James said.

"Chapter's over," Harry sighed as he gave the book an unfriendly toss onto the table and being the first to exit the room.

HPHPHPHP

Update on Cursed Child: If my review wasn't enough for you guys, I found a guy who emulates everything I ever could think to say. Mine is really puny small in comparison, and I can't disagree with a single thing he says. I left a lot out of mine, but he covers the whole thing! It's funny, go watch!

The Script for Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - The Dom Reviews

*nahte123456 pointed this out, and yeah, it's a really good point.

**If anybody remembers my rant from the second chapter about how much it bothered me they never explained these third person dreams Harry has, I thank you all for all the suggestions you gave, but I'm still not sold on why it happens. Just because Voldemort doesn't have his normal body shouldn't disrupt the horcrux connection that allows Harry to see inside Voldemort's mind of the body he's in, not from the window's perspective. This isn't from Nagini ...it's just information insert. I do acknowledge that it could well be Harry seeing through Voldemort and we're just getting the outside perspective, JK has done this in the past by switching between characters like in Harry's first Quidditch match, and that's basically the only running thing I can go with, but it still annoys me to no end it's never acknowledged in that way, it's just there.

[aster-aspera]

Oleander

Prompt was given to me by @skylarstarlight so blame her for all the angst

Relationship: Logince

Warnings: Major character death, injury, blood, betrayal, angst, technically unsympathetic roman ig? Im going to put that warning here in any case, unhappy ending

If you enjoyed please reblog <3

Roman watched Logan from the back of the tent, admiring the sharp slant of his shoulders, the way his long, curly hair cascaded down his shoulders and unveiled the soft brown skin at the back of his neck. He’d been at it for hours, poring over maps with that concentrated furrow grifted into his face, occasionally bringing up a hand to brush some stray locks out of his face, before he turned all his attention back to the mess of papers on the large hardwood table. 

Roman was technically here to stop him from working, to drag him away from staring at how badly they were losing for just a few minutes and get him to eat some dinner. And those plans were definitely still on Roman’s to-do list, but for just a moment, he let himself stare at the other. They didn’t often get quiet moments in the midst of all the chaos that surrounded them. An advisor always flurrying around Roman, a commander pestering Logan about battle plans or food supplies. Roman wanted to save this little bubble of silence for as long as it could last.

“Are you going to continue to stand there growing mushrooms or are you going to speak?” Logan piped up with a soft chuckle, apparently tired of being stared at. 

“My apologies love, I was just admiring your beauty.”

Logan gave him a tight smile. “I’m sure you have better things to do than simply watch me.”

“Nope,” Roman said brightly, wrapping his arms around Logan enthusiastically and tucking his chin over his shoulder. “Never a wrong time for that.”

Logan sighed but begrudgingly gave into the hold, placing his hands over Roman’s where they were tightly wrapped around his stomach. 

“You should eat,” Roman murmured softly as he swayed them both from side to side. Logan hummed noncommittally. “I have work,” he deflected.

“And you’re of no use to us if you pass out from hunger.”

Logan buried his head in Roman’s shoulder. “It’s not like anyone thinks I’m useful either way,” he mumbled.

Roman looked up at Logan, dislodging his head from his shoulder. “Hey now,” he said firmly, “No one thinks that. You’re really smart and you’ve helped us so much.” 

Logan didn't meet his eyes. “We should eat,” he said shortly, “I need to finish organising these supply runs.”

Roman chewed his lip uncertainly as Logan pulled away from him and headed out the tent towards the campfire, the embers dancing up to the sky in dizzying spirals. 

~

Roman paced from one side of the tent to the other, periodically pushing open the flap to gaze out at the midnight quiet camp. An occasional guard strolled passed, bowing to him before he waved them off impatiently. He huffed and flopped down on the bed, watching the faint luminance of the moon filter through the thick tent fabric. 

He jerked up at the rustling of the tent flap and relief brightened his mood as he saw Logan make his way in. The relief was quickly doused with ice cold dread at the way Logan looked, hair a ragged mess, circles under his eyes so dark they could rival Virgil, bruises and scrapes littering his long limbs. 

“Where the hell were you?” Roman burst out, concern and worry and bittersweet relief forming a toxic mixture in the back of his throat. 

Logan’s expression shuttered close and he drew his arms around himself defensively. “Leading your army, that’s what I was doing,” he hissed out.

“No you weren’t! You disobeyed orders again, you put yourself and our soldiers in danger.”

Logan looked past Roman, his expression blank and unreadable. “Of course, and the people we tried to help, what about them?”

Roman sighed in frustration, running his hand through his hair. “I know Lo, I know it sucks, but people are always going to get hurt. And you can’t just run out there and pretend you know better than everyone else.”

“Do you think,” Logan murmured softly, eyes still glued to where a patch of crass crept in under the walls of the tent, “that maybe we’re not the ones in the right here?” 

Roman stiffened. “I’m trying to protect my kingdom. Don’t you dare try and tell me that's wrong.”

Logan finally looked back at him, those deep, night dark eyes staring into him. “How many people have been killed in your meaningless quest of stubborness and glory, how many more people are going to lose their homes and their children? That’s your kingdom, not those spoiled nobles in their pretty palaces.”

“And what do you suggest I do then?” Roman hissed back venomously, “Just let those invaders in? So that they can lock us up in cells or behead us? Is that really what you want?”

“Maybe it is,” Logan whispered, mournful eyes boring into Roman’s. He turned on his heels and walked out the tent, coat flaring behind him, hair spilling past his shoulders like the pitch black river of Styx.

It was the last time they were together in their shared tent. An abrupt end to the cold nights they spent curled up so tight together they could barely breathe. An abrupt ending to the lazy mornings when Logan would card a hand through Roman’s hair as he read, and Roman would sleep as long as he possibly could. An abrupt end to Logan pressing kisses all over Roman’s body and telling him he was beautiful. 

Roman tried not to stare at his slender hands as they pointed out places on maps. Tried not to quail under that sharp, piercing gaze as it swept over him, barely giving him a second glance before he snapped out an order that ended up ignored. They had all noticed Logan wasn’t in good graces with the prince anymore and it seemed all they had been waiting for to right out shun and scorn him.

Every day, Roman could see the lines in Logan’s shoulder tense more, his face harden and the curious gleam to his eyes dull. 

Roman turned away every time, too much of a coward to face him.

And one day, he didn’t see him at all. Not at the meetings, not anywhere in the camp. He asked around, trying not to appear as worried as he was and the others just shrugged, refusing to meet his eye.

His bed was stripped bare from the tent he had been sharing with others, all his possessions presumably packed away and taken with him. 

Roman tried not to show his worries. Logan was a grown man after all, and he had made his position here perfectly clear. He could handle himself. 

But it didn’t stop Roman from missing his eyes and his careful touch and soothing voice. He wished things had gone differently, but he knew that one fight was merely the match that lit the fuse already soaked in kerosine. Merely the spark to set off the feelings Logan had been hiding away for so long. 

And after seeing how the others treated him, Roman couldn’t really fault him for it.

Roman slipped out of the camp, as the heavy monsoon rains gentled into a soft drizzle, the warmth of the afternoon turning the night foggy. Logan’s letter sat tucked in his pocket, held near to his heart, which was beating in a mixture of hope and apprehension. It had been four months, four months since Logan had stormed out of their tent, leaving Roman with an empty bed and an empty heart. He walked silently through the forest, the occasional leaf crunching underfoot as around him the canopy rustled from the rain it caught. He followed the familiar path from memory alone, a soft smile curling his lips as he remembered sneaking out at midnight to go watch the stars with Logan. 

He stepped into that familiar clearing, looking up at the sky in hopes he would spot some of the stars Logan had pointed out for him, but all he saw were the thick grey clouds. His eyes drifted down and he saw Logan, standing in the middle of the clearing, one single lantern casting a circle of light around him, his hair misted with rain. He brushed his glasses dry with the sleeves of his coat and placed them back on his nose. 

Roman walked up to him, unsure why Logan had asked him to come here and scared of what he would say. Logan watched him come, face blank and expressionless.

“Roman,” he greeted, and where once his name had sounded warm and fond on those lips, it now sounded cool and cordial.

“Logan,” Roman replied, and he couldn’t hide the hope in his voice, the hope that this would be an apology, that everything could go back to the way it had been.

“I’m here with an offer,” Logan said, his words formal and serious, so unlike the nicknames and jokes they used to share. “The people are tired of the war. It has only brought them pain and loss. I ask you to end it, give in now and you shall not be harmed. You and your court shall be safe and more capable rulers shall take over the kingdom.”

Roman’s heart froze at those words, uttered so matter of fact. As if the years of his life, the effort and pain he had put into winning this war and keeping his kingdom safe meant nothing. As if he was the one in the wrong here.

He had come here to hear Logan’s apology. He had expected him to admit how much he missed him and that he was wrong and then he would have taken Logan into his arms and everything could have been right again. 

But no, here he stood, resolute, so self assured and infuriating. 

A breeze blew past and the lapels of Logan’s coat lifted, revealing the crest proudly emblazoned on the flags of their enemies, the crest that Roman had been taught to hate. Fury filled him at the sight.

“You’re with them,” he growled, grabbing the coat and displaying the crest for all the world to see. The forest around them didn’t seem impressed. 

“I’m on the side with the least blood on their hands,” Logan said calmly, pushing his glasses further up his nose, “Which you have never been.”

Roman shook his head. “You’re working with the enemy. I trusted you!” His fist tightened on the thick wool fabric.

“Roman please,” Logan said softly, emotion filtering into his voice for the first time, “You’ve been taught by everyone around you that this is what you have to do, that this is your birthright, but they’re wrong. You can choose your own destiny.”

He drew himself up to his full height, looming over Roman. “Take the offer and we can leave this kingdom together. We can build our own life.”

Roman shook his head. “No,” he choked out as tears welled up in his eyes, “No! you’re just… You’re trying to trick me. You never loved me or you wouldn’t do this.”

“Roman,” Logan said gently, cloying sympathy in his voice and Roman could only feel that burning, corrosive rage in his gut, his mouth tasted sour and he could barely see through his anger. Logan gasped suddenly and stumbled back a few steps, his eyes widening in shock and betrayal.

Roman let go of his coat and looked down, his mind registering the ornate handle of a familiar knife, and blood pooling on the navy vest. He looked up, mouth opening and closing mutely, as if Logan could explain. As if he could tell him why there was a knife in Logan’s gut. Why was it his knife. Plunged in so deep only the hilt still showed.

“No,” Roman whispered as Logan sank to the ground, a high keen tearing itself from his lips.  

He breathed in raggedly, hands curling on the forest floor, dirt staining those slender hands. He looked up at Roman, eyes pleading, scared. 

“Please,” he choked and Roman backed away as he reached out a hand to him, reaching for anything that could save him. Blood pooled around his body, the heavy wool of his coat darkening almost imperceptibly as the leaves around him turned red. “Roman,” he rasped and Roman had never heard Logan sound afraid like that.

He kneeled down, dirt muddying his pants and reached out to take Logan’s hand. He pulled away at how cold his skin was. 

“You betrayed me,” he whispered and Logan only continued breathing those ragged, gasping breaths, eyes staring into the middle distance. “It’s not my fault,” he said, because it couldn’t be. Logan was wrong. Logan had betrayed him.

But then why did it hurt so much?

“You never loved me!” Roman burst out. “Come on, just say something! Don’t just lie there!” He yelled because Logan was never this quiet. He always had something smart and stuck up to say. 

“Say something,” Roman pleaded and Logan shuddered, eyes glazed over as they stared up at the sky. 

Roman looked up, to a sky as dark and cloudy as Logan’s eyes. A sky that once was filled with stars and was now flat and empty.

“Logan?” he whispered softly, reaching out to take his hand. Logan didn’t react, he just stared up at that empty sky and Roman felt an ache spread in his chest as he curled his fingers around Logan’s palm, brushing off the dirt.

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

SKIN DEEP—a fic

So Rainbow had a pretty funny exchange on Twitter yesterday about the Watford crew and teenage acne, and in particular if Baz would have acne. Which she said he most certainly would. So, being me, I had to go write a fic about it. Because I have no chill and even less self control. So here is a slightly crack-y fic, set at pre-canon era Watford, as hormones start to surge and Simon becomes pimple obsessed.

Screen shots of Rainbow’s tweets at the end of this post, to prove this lunacy had a real life prompt.

Simon and Baz fourth year, as the ravages of adolescence commence. Pimples, blemishes and spots. Questionable concoctions. The roots of Baz’s immaculate skin care regimen. Some things even a vampire can’t avoid.

Skin Deep

Year Four

Simon

I’m just about to splash water on my face when I notice them in the mirror. I mean, I’ve been expecting this to happen. I saw the older boys go all spotty at the homes. There’s no way I’d be lucky enough to be spared.

But fuck it all. I’ve got one on the side of my nose, two on my chin and one right between my eyebrows. How did I get all these pimples in one night?

I’m half tempted to think Baz spelled me. But that’s not his style, he doesn’t sneak about doing something like this, even though he’s a prick and a plotter. No, he did things like this when we were first years, but now when Baz spells me he wants everyone to know what he’s done.

Makes a production of it, the wanker.

Like when he knocks my boater off. Spells my shoes untied during class, so I trip when I stand up. Or seals the lid on the butter dish at breakfast.

If Baz was going to spell me spotty he’d do it in on a Monday, right before class, when everyone would notice. Not in our room, on a Saturday morning, when we’ve got nothing to do and nowhere to go.

He’s still asleep so if he did do it, it must have been in the night and really what would be the bloody point of that?

I have to reluctantly admit it’s probably not him this time. It’s me. I was just hoping this particular stage of puberty would just pass me by.

The other milestones have been coming one right after another though, so I guess I’m not that lucky.

I’ve got hair in more places now.

And I grew three inches this summer (Baz grew four, the tosser, so he’s still taller than me).

He’s taller but it’s like he fits in his body. Glides when he walks. Smooth as silk on the pitch. Bloody infuriating, is what it is.

I feel like a marionette on a string, my arms and legs all out of sync, knocking into furniture and tripping over my own feet, even when my shoes are tied.

And my voice has been doing that stupid thing where it gets all deep mid-sentence, and then it goes up so high I sound like Madame Bellamy. It’s bloody awful. Baz always gives me shit about it --“going to break into song for us, Snow?”

He’s such a prick.

I lean in closer to the mirror. The ones on my chin are small. It’s the nose one that’s a disaster.

No help for it. I’ll ask Penny if there’s a spell at breakfast. Though I doubt there is, seeing as Agatha’s been spotty for weeks and I know she’d use a spell, if there was one. Penny says Agatha spells her hair to be that straight and shine like it does. I wasn’t sure I believed her but some days it’s got a bit of an uneven wave to it so I wonder if Penny may be right.

*******

“No, Simon, there isn’t a spell.” Penny is using her patient voice with me, which means she thinks my question is unbearably stupid. She leans across the table to peer at me over her glasses. “You’ve hardly got any.”

“I might only have four now. But just you wait. They’re bound to get worse. With my luck I’ll be covered in them.”

“You don’t know that. And even if they do get worse it’s human nature! The universal teen experience!”

I groan.

“It won’t be that bad, Simon. Besides everyone’s spotty.”

“Baz isn’t spotty.”

She rolls her eyes. “Not Baz again, please.”

“Have you seen him, Penny?”

“I see him every day, Simon.”

“Yes, but have you really looked?”

“Obviously not as intently as you.”

“I live with him!”

I get another eye roll.

“He’s not got one spot! I tell you, it’s proof he’s a vampire. You can’t go through normal adolescence and be as pristine as all that.”

“Everyone goes through puberty at different times. He’s probably not at that stage yet.”

“He’s taller than me!”

“He’s always been taller than you.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“It’s not like he has any control over that, Simon. It’s genetics.”

I know that. I know height isn’t something that you can magick. But it just doesn’t seem fair that each time I grow enough to catch up to him, he grows too.

He did it last summer. Did it again this summer. Even grew over the Christmas holiday this year, the jammy bastard.

And now I’m sprouting pimples right and left and he’s across the dining hall with his flawless, pearly grey skin. Not a spot to be seen.

Typical.

****

I can tell I’ve got more when I wake up. Bloody hell. The old ones dry up and get crusty and new ones take their place.

My face feels heavier this morning. I grimace and I know there’s one on the side of my nose again. It pinches when my cheeks move so it must be massive. And the one on my chin itches— it’s probably grown overnight, red and welted around that nasty white center. I can’t even imagine what my forehead looks like.

I’ve tried everything.

Washing my face twice a day.

Alcohol to try to dry them out (didn’t do a thing, except make my skin all flaky so I looked like I had dandruff and the pox).

I borrowed some ointment off of Gareth. (He’s worse off than me, the poor sod, just a face full of them.) (Which should have tipped me off that whatever he was using wasn’t working.) (Got an earful from Penny about that.)

I had some sort of allergic reaction when I used his, so my face was itching, red even in the areas between the spots, and felt like it was on fucking fire.

Practically scrubbed my face off trying to wash it away.

Of course, Baz walked in right as I came out of the en suite. Did a double take at the sight of me, the wanker, then raised that eyebrow of his and curled his lip up in a sneer. Leaned forward and studied me for a moment. My face got even hotter. I don’t like it when he stares at me like that, all intense and focused. Like he’s plotting the best way to end me without triggering the Anathema. Makes my stomach twist, it does.

Made me wish my wand wasn’t half way across the room.

But I know Baz won’t risk the Anathema. He’s never done anything remotely threatening in our room. (It’s another story out of our room.)

He’d crossed his arms over his chest after he was done inspecting me and smirked, the tosser. “You know, Snow, between the excessive quantity of moles, infinite number of freckles, and extraordinary collection of pimples you have on your face, I don’t think I can actually see anything resembling skin anymore.”

He’s going to make me trigger the Anathema one of these days.

I ended up having to see the nurse for it, when I couldn’t stop scratching at my face. She rolls her eyes almost as much as Penny. It’s not like I can help being there so often. I’ve got missions. Important work for the Mage. It’s what I do.

She’d shaken her head at me and cast some spell that made the itching go away but didn’t do a thing for the bloody spots. Looked bored and put upon even doing that, she did.

This teen experience is a bloody nuisance.

I’m more and more convinced Baz is a vampire. The entire class looks poxed except for him. Like we’re in the middle of a plague while he’s all alabaster skin, unblemished and smooth, immaculate and bloody flawless.

Perfect, just like he always is.

Wanker.

Baz

Snow is an absolute spotted mess. It was entertaining at first, to watch him peer at himself in the mirror, hear the muttered curses as he would catch sight of each new blemish.

But I’m actually finding myself almost feeling sorry for him now.

Almost.

He’s standing at his mirror, turning his face this way and that, grumbling to himself as he inspects his reflection.

It’s something he does on a daily basis since his skin condition deteriorated so precipitously. I should probably stop needling him about it.

But I won’t because he actually seems quite bothered by it. Can’t let him think I’m going soft.

I wasn’t joking the other night, when I mocked him. I don’t think he has a span of skin left that doesn’t have some manner of spot or blotch or freckle on it. At least he’s stopped with the alcohol washes. He was shedding more than a snake when he was doing that, leaving errant flakes of skin all over the bathroom sink.

Disgusting.

Whatever he’s doing certainly isn’t making anything better. Making it a far sight worse by my estimation.

He’s literally a textbook illustration of acne vulgaris. The full range: from red and bumpy spots, to glaring pustules, to crusted over, scabby craters.

More like a walking dermatologic visual in actuality. You could slap a label on him: progressive stages of teenage acne and the entire range of pigmented facial anomalies.

Although they weren’t really anomalies before the acne got to Snow. His moles and freckles just seem to fit with his tawny skin—vast arrays of constellations scattered across his face, mapping out patterns against the smoothness of his complexion.

I don’t know what I’m thinking. What absolute nonsense. Snow’s freckles are a travesty.

And he’s anything but smooth complexioned. He’s more of a lunar landscape than Shakespeare’s damask’d roses.

I can’t be arsed to mess with him now though. I’m too comfortable under my blankets.

It’s far too early for anyone to be up, but Snow’s probably readying himself to head off on one of the Mage’s blasted missions again. Despite the fact that it’s a Sunday morning and by all accounts he should be doing what the rest of us are—having a lazy lie-in.

I watch him from under half-lidded eyes, the blankets pulled up to cover the bottom half of my face. He growls one last time, savages his curls in an attempt to tame them, and then charges out the door. It slams shut behind him, further proof that Snow has no regard for the niceties of sharing a room.

Thanks to all his thumping about, I’m now wide awake. I try to go back to sleep, try to will myself into a drowsy oblivion, but that ship has sailed. No Sunday lie-in for me and I lay the blame directly on Snow.

I stay under the covers for a bit longer, dreading the chilly walk to the en suite, but eventually my need to piss outweighs the comfort of the bed.

It’s not until I’m washing my hands and happen to glance up at the mirror that I notice.

There’s a pimple on my nose. Not just on my nose—at the very tip of it. Right in the fucking center of my face. If it were anywhere else—my forehead or my cheeks, for example—I’d have some chance of hiding it. But this. I can’t hide this.

And I can’t hide the one on my chin either. Bloody hell.

I shouldn’t even have pimples. I should by all rights be immune to this. I don’t get sick, I’m not prey to infections—how the bloody hell have I ended up with acne, for Crowley’s sake? It should be one of the perks of being undead—imperviousness to the ravages of teenage skin eruptions.

For half a minute I wonder if Snow has spelled me, in retribution for my insensitive commentary on his facial imperfections. But there is no possible way Snow could have managed a spell this precise, this nuanced. I’d be covered in boils, like Job himself, if Snow had attempted to pox me.

That’s not to say that this is acceptable. It most assuredly is not. And there’s no bloody spell for it. Dev’s been spotty since last year and he and Niall have yet to find anything that does more than slightly diminish the redness.

It’s fine. This is fine.

It’s not fine.

I need to call home and talk to Daphne. Surely she’ll have some advice for me.

Simon

The sunlight filtering through the window wakes me up. I’m still knackered from yesterday. Didn’t get back until well after midnight and I’ve got class in just a bit. I stretch and groan as my shoulder pops. I wrenched it trying to free my sword from that basilisk’s skull last night. I roll my neck and pull myself to a seated position.

Baz is already up. The door to the en suite’s closed but I don’t hear the water running.

My stomach growls. I’ll have time for seconds if I get to breakfast early enough. I’m just about ready to head down there when Baz comes out of the bathroom, steam drifting behind him and bringing the scent of his shampoo with it. It’s some posh brand, in sleek, artistically shaped bottles.

Penny says it smells like cedar and bergamot. I’m not sure what cedar and bergamot smell like. All I know is that the scent is unfairly pleasant.

Unlike Baz, who isn’t pleasant at all.

He looks murderous at the moment, eyebrows lowered, eyes narrowed. He’s an arse in general but more so in the mornings. He’d sleep late if he had the chance—he’s rarely out of bed before nine on weekends, the tosser, not unless he’s got exams to study for or an away match.

I’m trying to stay out of his way as I leave but I make for the door right as he crosses the room to his wardrobe and we do this awkward half step to avoid each other.

And that’s when I see it.

He’s got a pimple on his nose. Right at the tip of it, where it comes to a bit of a point. It’s nothing compared to any of mine. I’d hardly notice it on anyone else but this is Baz.

It’s stark against his pale skin, raised and just slightly reddened.

Fuck. He’s got one on his chin as well. Two, actually.

Baz has spots.

Trivial and hardly noticeable ones, but still.

I open my mouth to say something then think better of it and hightail it down to breakfast.

I still can’t quite believe it.

Baz has spots.

Penny is disappointingly unimpressed by this unexpected and highly irregular development.

“Simon, we all have spots. This is not some earth-shattering revelation. It’s puberty. A normal part of human development. We’ve been over this.”

“No, but this is Baz. Baz, Penny. He’s not human.”

Penny rolls her eyes again. She rolls her eyes rather a lot, I’m thinking. “He is if he has spots, Simon. I’d say this disproves your vampire hypothesis for good.”

“Maybe vampires aren’t immune to acne.”

“Simon.”

“Maybe it’s some plot. He probably magicked them up himself, the scheming prick.”

“You’re relentless! First you’re outraged that he doesn’t have spots, now you’re complaining that he does! For Merlin’s sake, Baz has finally shown himself to be as imperfect as the rest of us, so let it go, Simon.”

“He’s not imperfect. Far from it. Even his pimples are impeccable—small, unobtrusive, uh . . . restrained.”

Penny stands up, takes her plate and glares at me over the top of her glasses. “That’s enough, Simon. You’re being absurd. No one has perfect pimples.” She stomps across the hall to deposit her dishes, turning back to give me a disapproving look.

I scowl at her. Baz walks in as Penny goes out.

She’s wrong this time. Penny’s not wrong about much, but she’s wrong about this.

Baz’s pimples are fucking perfect.

It’s so fucking unfair.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23383057

[vampirrediaries]

Enemies Of The State : Dark!Klaroline {17}

summary:

This fiction follows the events of just how Klaus Mikaelson and Caroline Forbes lost everything that tied them to their humanity, leading them into something neither of them can come back from.

—————

{10 years ago}

Klaus Mikaelson had no idea what he was supposed to do. For the first time in his one thousand years, he was void.

Caroline Forbes had the ascendent, and he had no idea what she was going to do with it. Other than releasing hell on earth, what other motive could there be? It was for this reason that Klaus went mad with rage once again.

“Look for yourself!” He screamed, breaking into old furniture that remained in the room. “It’s gone. It’s bloody gone!”

The group had gathered outside during the rampage caused by the Hybrid. Furniture flew through the brick walls as if they were made of nothing, sounds of pure rage and annoyance filling up the old room.

Kol knew how big of a deal this had been for his family throughout the years. That piece of metal was the key to freeing a sociopathic siphoner, and it was very noticeably gone.

“Let’s not be rash,” The younger Original calmy approached his brother. “Caroline couldn’t free Malachai if she tried. She needs a Bennett witch.”

“Amelia is a Bennett witch!” Klaus growled, packing back and forth. “The same incessant witch who betrayed us by not lifting the link on Katerina!”

“How on earth would Caroline know who Amelia is?” Kol furrowed his brows. “I mean, it’s ridiculous!”

“How did she know about the ascendent?” Bonnie intervened, an uneasy look on her face. “Chances are, she would know about my little relative living in New Orleans.”

Stefan stepped forward, obviously distressed.

“I don’t understand what Caroline would want with Kai,” He looked at Klaus with a pointed stare. “She’s an emotionless vampire, who’s only desire should be going on a killing spree, not caring about siphoners.”

“The only thing that comes to my mind is Katherine.” Elena crosses her arms, stepping beside Bonnie. “And she’s dead.”

——————

“Katherine is looking everywhere for you.”

Kai Parker sat in the lawn chair, not giving any signs of shock or happiness at the fact that he was seeing other living people since 1994. In fact, he ate his pork rinds as if it were another sunday afternoon, looking at Caroline with raised eyebrows.

“Oh yeah, Kitty Kat! Isn’t she like, evil?”

He doesn’t exactly look like a psycho, Caroline thought. He was a little shorter than her, and was probably her age. Who everyone was so afraid of, looked like a normal teenager. It was probably what made him so terrifying, coming out of nowhere and killing a supernatural with a simple touch, would be such a simple task for him.

“You can say that,” Caroline stood awkwardly, eyeing him. “Which is probably why we should get going.”

Kai stood up, that creepy smile still on his face. “Lead the way, Blondie.”

Caroline highly doubted that Kai Parker was the answer to all of Katherine’s problems, walking out of the store with a bottle in one hand, and an awfully chatty siphoner in the other ear.

“Man, i cant wait to watch baywatch again. You like life guards, like hot ones?”

“Not that i care or anything” Caroline rolls her eyes as she walks. “But apparently you have something that Katherine wants, and i’m sorta...not seeing it.”

Kai feigns hurt, placing his hand over his heart. “Ouch, blondie. Nobody’s ever downplayed me before. I like it! Something new!”

The pair reach the parking lot, and Caroline calls out Katherine’s name loudly, knowing her supernatural hearing would pick it up.

“I don’t know much about vampires. Is it true you guys are like, blood sucking rippers?” Kai asks, leaning against the pole casually.

God, he is insufferable.

“Only the best of us are,” Caroline smiles sarcastically. “Mind telling me what you have that is so valuable?”

“Klaus is afraid of him, which is why i’m interested.”

Katherine Pierce stood behind the pair as if she’d appeared out of nowhere. She eyes Kai with a pointed gaze, looking him up and down.

“You must be the doppelgänger!” Kai approaches the Petrova. “Man it’s good to be in the presence of the Katerina Petrova. Tell me, is Klaus as cool as he is in the books?”

“He’s great,” Caroline smirks. “Unless you like being chased to your death for five hundred years.”

“I think i do.”

“Hello?” Katherine impatiently calls out. “Are we gonna discuss the terms of our arrangements or what?”

“Wow, straight to business,” Kai crosses his arms, and all traces of joking seemingly leaves his face in an instant. “You set me free, i help you with your little Klaus problem. Deal?”

“Define help,” Katherine raises her eyebrows. “Because for five hundred years i haven’t got my freedom, even Klaus promised to give it to me, I still got stuck with a link. I had to manipulate another Original for it to be broken.”

“I’ll either kill the guy, or threaten to wreak havoc on vampire’s. All that good stuff.”

It all made sense now. Katherine just wanted her freedom.

He’s our ticket to freedom, cupcake.

Kai Parker was a siphoner, meaning he can only get his power from something that already has magic. Vampire’s have witch magic, meaning he could quite possibly erase the population of with a mere touch of an Original. He could kill them.

“So this was all because you wanted your freedom from Klaus?” Caroline wondered. “All this trouble-”

“My freedom is the only thing i want, Caroline” Katherine cut her off, looking at Kai. “This kid our only chance, because like it or not, we’re in this together. If you go down, I go down with you.”

She had a point. Caroline gave away the ‘you’re in this alone’ initiative as soon as she agreed to go with the doppelgänger, and as much as she wanted out of this situation, she knew that she’d get tracked down easily. Caroline needed Kai as well, no matter how much she hated to admit.

“All good?” The siphoner rubbed his palms together. Katherine nodded slightly, and with that being done, she called out Amelia Bennett’s name.

“Amelia! You can let us out now!”

Caroline looked at Kai Parker, who had excitement written all over his face

“Ready to go?” She asked, ready for the overwhelming force that would soon knock them out. He grinned.

“You have no idea, Blondie.”

——————

“Bon, tell me you can do another tracking spell.”

Stefan looked at the witch with hopeful eyes, but was immediately let down when he saw her defeated expression.

“She must’ve had something hex my spell. The only place the map would lead to is here.”

Klaus flashed out of the house, still red hot. He wouldn’t ever find Caroline, and after making the horrible mistake of underestimating just how precise she could be, he could only pray. Kai Parker wouldn’t serve her any use, so what on earth could she want with the ascendent? It infuriated him to an extent.

“You do understand what we need to do now,”

Kol Mikaelson followed his brother outside, leaning against the door as he waited patiently for him to calm down. He was still evidently angry.

“There is nothing to do,” Klaus spoke in a scarily calm. “Caroline and the ascendent are gone, and all there is left is for the world to spin into utter chaos.”

“Do you care for the girl, Nik?”

The Hybird stared at his younger brother with a pointed glare. He was never the one to expose his feelings, even to his own blood. The heavyweighted question hung still in the air, because he knew the answer all too well.

He didn’t just care for Caroline Forbes. He was ridiculously in love with her, and that terrified him.

“Why does that matter?” Klaus tried putting up a strong front, acting indifferent. “If I care for her or not, she’s never coming back.”

Kol walked towards him, and he knew all too well that the Original could see right through his tough exterior.

“You wouldn’t have come this far, gone through this much trouble if the girl didn’t mean something to you.”

Klaus didn’t say a word, trying again to act as if what Kol had been saying wasn’t the truth.

“So i’ll ask you again, dear brother. Do you know what we need to do now?”

Klaus took a deep breath, looking towards the vast emptiness of the field they stood at. He knew exactly what they needed to do, and he’d do just that. For Caroline Forbes, he’d do anything.

“Get in the car, Kol. I think we need to have a little chat with Amelia Bennett.”

masterlist

[dilliebar]

I Don’t Want to Talk About It: A Dillie Fic

Hey guys! I wrote another Ellie/Dina fanfic, hopefully it’ll make your day a little better among all the hate out there right now. Enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23977564

Months after their first kiss, Ellie and Dina still haven't talked about it. Eventually the tension rises, and eventually, something has to break.

A month into summer, and Ellie was already done with partying, drinking, and pretty much the entire scene of teenagers making bad decisions. While she would be inside reading one of her beloved comics or just outside of Jackson hunting with nothing but her bow at her side, everyone else her age would probably be out somewhere hooking up or getting wasted. But despite her differences, everyone still had the responsibility of going out on patrol once in a while, and today was her turn to go on a two-day patrol with Dina.

For Ellie it was a relief. The two of them were almost polar opposites when it came to social interaction, and if she had to show up to yet another one of those parties Dina dragged her to only to end up walking home alone again, she would probably feed herself to a clicker.

Seemingly for Dina, however, the patrol wasn’t on her mind at all.

“I swear Jesse just set this up so we couldn’t go to the bonfire tonight.”

Ellie remained silent as the two of them tracked along on their horses, Dina going on and on about her jealous ex-boyfriend and how out-to-get-her he was. The taller girl couldn’t help but notice the little tinge of something in her chest at the way her friend was talking about him. Was it jealousy? No, it couldn’t be.

“I mean really, you’ve noticed it too, right?”

She continued to stare off into space, caught in her thoughts until the sudden silence made Ellie realize that Dina was awaiting an answer.

“Oh. I dunno,” she shrugged, “we haven’t been out in a while, and there’s a party pretty much every night. We’d have to miss something at some point.”

Dina hummed in agreement.

After their first kiss at the dance a few months before, neither of them really brought it up, except the one time when Dina practically forced Ellie to rate it on a scale from 1-10, which only resulted in her sarcastic response of “three”. 

Sometimes she could feel the tension between them, but whether it was a good or bad tension was yet to be determined. Ellie was never too good at reading the mood when it came to flirting, and putting off the conversation only seemed to make the tension become thicker and thicker until she almost felt that they were pushing each other apart like the same ends of different magnets.

She often questioned if it was all in her head, but the more Dina talked about Jesse, the more she was convinced that it wasn’t.

Eventually the two rolled up to their destination: a small rural town by the name of Wilson just a little bit west of Jackson. It was a quaint town, but the amount of farming equipment made it a popular spot to scavenge for spare parts and fuel, and despite its appearance, it actually held a few nice shops in the middle. Ellie and Dina had never been there before, but from what they’d heard they would probably come back with a decent amount of supplies.

They roamed down the main road for a bit, keeping an eye out for any major gold-mines.

“Everything actually looks pretty looted.” Ellie commented, and it was true. From what was marked on the map, which was practically nothing, and what little was left of the bare machinery, there wasn’t really much that the two of them could take back to Jackson. At least, that’s what Ellie thought, anyway.

“Hey look! Over there.”

Ellie’s eyes followed Dina’s pointed finger over to what looked to be an old, grown-over antique store. Part of the roof was caved in, with cracks in the walls running up each side of the building. Sure enough, it wasn’t crossed out on the map, but Ellie wasn’t convinced. 

“That place looks like a death trap” she laughed.

“Oh come on, it doesn’t look that bad,” Dina soothed, “We’ll stick to the non-caved in part, how about that?”

 Ellie shook her head, “Lead the way.”

The two tied up their horses to the bike rack outside and began to look for a way in, but alas, the front door was blocked off from the inside, and the back entrance was locked with a keypad, because of course it was. Breaking the glass windows wasn’t too good of an idea, either, considering the fact that they had no clue what kind of infected were in there, and they were already low on ammunition as it was.

Dina turned to the taller girl, “I think there might only be one way in.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow and contemplated for a minute before realizing what she meant.

“No.” she stated firmly.

“But-”

 “There’s no way that you can make me walk on top of that thing, all for some glorified alarm clocks and maybe a teapot.”

“Come on, maybe there’s some cool comics in there.” Dina tempted.

“Dude.”

They both fell silent, each waiting for the other to do something. It was moments like this when Ellie had no clue what the shorter girl was thinking, if they were just joking around or if they were actually having a disagreement. It was the kind of tension that had surrounded them since their kiss, and it was infuriating.

Ellie looked at Dina, their eyes meeting in a tension-filled glance. But she could never look deep into those brown pools for long, and after a brief moment she turned back towards her horse to grab the map.

“Listen, let’s just keep looking, okay? I’m sure there’s some more stuff out-”

But Dina wasn’t listening, and when Ellie turned around, she was halfway up the rusted ladder on the side of the building.

Ellie hesitated for a moment, not sure whether she should follow the girl into that building she just knew would get one or both of them hurt or killed, or just decide to stick by the horses, trusting that Dina could handle herself regardless of what was in that creepy ass excuse for a shop.

But the latter didn’t seem like an option.

Fuck it.

Ellie raced up the ladder as if her life depended on it, her hands gripping the rough rungs one after the other, but when she got to the roof, her friend was nowhere to be seen. “Dina?” she called through the collapsed part of the roof, but yet there was no response. On one hand, she couldn’t hear any obvious sounds of any infected, but the lack of Dina’s voice still worried her to no end.

She could see that the collapsed part of the roof sloped violently downward into some knocked-over bookcases, with various hardcovers littering the hardwood floor. The rest of the room, unlit by the opening, was dark, and even with her flashlight Ellie couldn’t see where in the damn hell Dina was among all the leftover junk that no one bothered to take.

Ellie called out to the girl again, with still no response, but with the squinting of her eyes she could make out a still figure in the back of the store, downed and unconscious.

“Shit shit shit.”

That’s when, without thinking twice, she took a step forward, and the ceiling cracked under her. She quickly lost her footing and before she knew it, she tumbled down the opening in the roof before her back hit the pile of books and all of the air left her lungs. It was a hefty fall, maybe ten feet or so, but after remembering why she was down there in the first place she quickly recovered.

Ellie grabbed for her flashlight without any luck, got up, and brushed herself off, ignoring the pain in her back and beginning to make her way to the back of the room where she saw the younger girl. Her attempts to call out for Dina were met with nothing but silence. 

She approached slowly, her arms out in front of her, making sure she didn’t run into anything in the dark and that there weren’t any infected lurking around the hundred-year-old antiques before she finally reached down.

But the arm she was touching was cold and hard, almost like plastic.

And that’s when the head fell off.

“BOO!”

Ellie fell over in shock, with a sudden beam of light shown in her face. When she looked back down at the figure, she realized her mistake.

A fucking mannequin.

She looked up at the person who held that familiar voice; a voice she would know anywhere.

“What the fuck, Dina?!”

Dina turned the flashlight out of Ellie’s eyes to reveal her pretty much dying from laughter. She was fine, without even a scratch.

“You totally should’ve seen your face!”

Ellie got up off the ground for the second time that day, too shocked and annoyed by the situation to even respond. She stormed off back to the pile of books in an attempt to find her flashlight, and Dina non-hesitantly followed.

Ellie knew it was a joke. She knew that this was the playful banter and stupid pranks that they had engaged in together before all this tension began to build. It was a fun thing, but eventually something had to snap.

“See? I told you this place wasn’t that ba-” “Dude, it could’ve been that bad!”

Ellie turned around sharply and looked Dina dead in the eye, her own filled more with concern and confusion than anger. The shorter girl was taken aback, never having seen a rise out of Ellie this abrupt before. Neither of them knew what to say, and so Dina asked.

“What’s your problem?”

The taller girl scoffed, “What’s my problem?”

“Yes, dude. You’ve been all weird for weeks!”

“I’ve been weird?! At least I don’t drag girls to random parties every night just to leave them hanging and make them awkwardly stand in the corner!”

Dina crossed her arms, “I’ve been flirting with you every time, you dumbass! You’re just too blind to see it!”

Now it was Ellie who asked.

“What?”

Dina rolled her eyes, uncrossing her arms and sticking her hands in her pockets. The heat of the conversation began to even out a bit.

“I don’t know, I thought the kiss a while ago made everything pretty obvious.”

Ellie just stared, frozen in place.

“And all those times I’ve ‘dragged’ you to come with me…” for the first time in the conversation, she hesitated, “I was hoping you would make a move one of those nights, okay?”

The words stalled, and Ellie took a step forward apologetically, “Dina, I-”

“I thought you felt the same way, as stupid as that sounds,” she mocked herself, “But it’s fine. I won’t bring it up again, alright?”

Dina went to turn away when she felt Ellie’s soft hand on her wrist pulling her back. Their eyes met again, and unlike the gaze they held earlier today, this one was understanding, loving, and Ellie couldn’t bring herself to look away.

“I do feel that way,” she corrected, “We never talked about it- the kiss, I mean- and I just wasn’t really sure if that’s what you wanted.”

Dina grabbed the taller girl’s hand, and whispered in the smallest voice,  

“Then let’s talk about it.”

Ellie shook her head, letting go of her hands and lightly taking the shorter girl’s face in her palms.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Then she closed the gap between them, and when their lips met for the second time they could feel any tension that was left melt away, almost as if it had never been there in the first place. Fire ran through Ellie’s veins, igniting a spark she had only felt once before with Dina, and the other girl was just as submissive to the feeling.

Dina’s hands made their way to the back of the taller girl’s neck, deepening the kiss. She had kissed lots of people before, but way the softness of Ellie’s lips felt against her own and the taste of lingering whiskey didn’t compare to any other feeling in her life, other than maybe a handful of things she could imagine in that moment, all having to do with Ellie.

Breaking the kiss for air was painful, almost as if it were more important than breathing. They leaned their foreheads against each other, each one of them trying to catch their breath.

“Okay, but we definitely have to talk about that.”

Ellie laughed before leaning in again to leave a brief kiss on the shorter girl’s lips, then pulling back and taking her hands in her own.

“You wish.”

[easyfella]

plaudite. acta est fabula: thots on my third vlr playthrough

annnnnd done

with all the alt timelines down and all but two secret files obtained, i’m feeling pretty good ending my 3rd (and probably last for at least a long, long time) vlr playthough at a slick 20 hours. i’m pretty excited for my dual phds in metaphysics and philosophy, earned from completing the famed “tripletion” (triple completion), to come in the mail!! anyway, i enjoyed the game, but holy shit, do i have some things to say (spoilers and everything else beneath the cut as always).

i guess i’ll start with the fact that this is a hell of time to pick this game up again, concerned as it is with quarantines and pandemics and plagues and all that. Radical-6 I think hit me harder than it did when I first played this game when i was 15 (context: i turned 21 this last december), for obvious reasons. I remember at one point the game says that 100,000 people died from R6 and it was a huge, global tragedy ... weird to see that so directly mirrored in just the US headlines alone. I don’t have much more to say about the pandemic aspect of the game, but it was a weird thing to start off my playthrough confronting. 

Like I mentioned, my first playthrough was when I was 15, my second I think I was 17, and here I am 4 years later. So why do I keep going back to this game? Well, for one, the plot is dense enough, and my brain is sparse enough, that i find myself surprised by one aspect or another every time. This time, Dio’s blackmailing Sigma to get the Axelever (sp? who cares), how much I liked K, and a lot of the plot after the final puzzle room were surprises for me. That being said, there were also things I dreaded and did not want to revisit: Quark’s and Alice’s suicidality, the part after the first AB game where you go to three different rooms and people info dump on you, most of the puzzle rooms tbh, and good god the part where Luna’s face melts off. I hate it. I hated it at 15, I hate it now. 

And, though my memories are quite fuzzy on ZTD, I’ll say (expanding on Luna’s face melting off) that this is the only game in the series that inspires genuine dread from me. I think, honestly, that it’s 70% how uncanny the models are. K is the only that looks remotely OK, and that’s because he’s a big silly suit of armor in a monk robe. On the flip side, though, this uncanny valley I think works tonally very well for the game. It makes me feel uncomfortable to look at the visuals. Half the environments look like they’re from the original Silent Hill, for God’s sake. It’s not good, but it’s serviceable, and even functional in an accidental sort of way. However, the visuals are the reason I’ve never been able to recommend this game to other people (that and the walls of text, the obscure psuedoscientific rants, the way Alice’s tits are just out ...). 999 is far-and-away the more charming game visually, but I think VLR in its own way has carved out a visual style that works, though it’s jarring initially. Though, I do wonder how approachable the game is in 2020 compared to in 2012, or in 2014 when i played it. I think our need for quality graphics and disdain for poor graphics (especially this sort of ugly, gumby shit) have only increased since. I guess if anyone has any more thoughts on how they feel about the graphics and how approachable it makes the game, pls feel free to dm me. I’d love to talk about how weird this game is.

Changing subjects, I remember liking the music quite a bit more on my earlier playthroughs. Maybe that’s nostalgia talking, or maybe I’ve just grown as a music listener since high school. Probably both. I think it’s really appropriate for the game and great for setting a mood (and I love, love the twist in the credits track), but I think some tracks were overused. “Dun dun .... Dun dun ... Dun dun”  ad nauseam. Uh oh! I know that track! Looks like something deeply horrifying is about to happen! ^_^ I sure hope it’s not that same ugly rendering of Alice being stabbed in the chest :3c (it is. it is the same ugly rendering of Alice being stabbed in the chest.)

Maybe I’ve come across as overly critical, but I do have a deep appreciation for this game. I think that it easily has the best premise I’ve ever, ever come across in a video game, and, no jokes, every game I’ve played since I first came across VLR has failed in comparison to how absolutely genius i think this game is. I’m not exaggerating. The way the plot mirrors the actions of the player, the unique incentivisation of replaying, the way it lets me just be straight up evil occasionally, the twists, the turns, the way i had to cut off my own arm using a warehouse door. the list goes on. The reveal of Zero Sr. is, I think, the most impactful twist in a piece of media i’ve ever experienced. Perhaps I’m a buffoon, but i think this game slam dunks it in terms of pure plot showmanship. that said, i think the exact details of what’s going on where and why (especially at the end irt Kyle, but that’s more of an issue to do with ZTD, and we’ll come to that when we come to that) can get quite murky. 

Admittedly, the game does explain what’s happening; in fact, oftentimes it takes an infuriating amount of time walking through the minutia of what was going on where (the infamous door and map animations are infamous for a reason), but i think that a vague gesture toward the plot is all i need, or really all i get from the game at the end of the day. For me, the plot is more of a vehicle for the scenarios of the nonary games, not the other way around. In a sense, I could care less who’s at what point in time where -- just let me brutally betray this old man in a prisoner’s dilemma situation.  And the game, after pontificating, eventually does. and I fucking love that. God, I adore just smashing that betray button. 

And that’s the fun of the game. Past the over-detailed plot, the predictable music, the gummy looking character models, I love vlr because of how it lets me interact with its world and its characters. I always get to choose either ally or betray, and what happens happens because of that choice that I made. I wish more video games operated like that. Also, I just love Phi. I know this paragraph isn’t about her, but i love rude girls. 

So, I think that’s that. VLR is a mixed bag, but I’m ecstatic that it evens exists, bizarre as it is. 

i’ll be starting my ZTD playthrough probably soon. I don’t remember much about the game besides playing on launch day, finishing it within 48 hours, and being vaguely disappointed, but it’ll be good to move on from all this murdering in VLR to a whole different set of murders.

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

His Shooting Star Chapter 5

Sorry that it’s taken so long! You guys know how it is when the holidays come around. Everything is chaotic.

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 6

Summary: Captain Bucky Barnes loves being a pirate. He’s good at what he does. He feels as if he’s found his purpose. And yet…still there’s something missing. Until you. You in your wonder and shine, appearing as if out of nowhere. Will Bucky and his crew be able to help you find your way back home? Or will the captain decide he can’t let his newest treasure go?

Chapter Five

No one likes feeling lost. That nagging feeling of emptiness lurking in one’s stomach? That gnawing feeling that there’s something so close and yet just out of your reach? That little detail a person can’t quite place even though it’s there — they can picture it, it’s just through a fog.  Wakanda, though beautiful, left Y/N feeling lost. She’d never experienced that gnawing feeling before. That emptiness and desperation to just figure it out was never something she’d had to live with. What was she missing?

There was nothing useful in their books. Their maps showed her nothing, reminded her of absolutely nothing. And yet she couldn’t stop herself from scrambling through the memories of those pages. She knew why. She was hoping something would magically leap at her, screaming that it was exactly what she needed and that everything else would simply fall into place. But in all her memories, Y/N was not that lucky. No, not at all. Instead, what was her reality? She was staring at this image through the fog and it left her absolutely desperate for a clue. It was a blur and just out of her reach.

“Y/N?” 

She blinked, barely registering that someone spoke to her until she saw the figure of one of the other crew members. His shadow hung over her form, forcing her to look his direction. He was tall, but not quite Bucky’s height. She’d seen him around and heard his name in passing, but they hadn’t shared an actual conversation together. What was his name? “Sam, right?”

He chuckled, leaning next to her. “That’s me. You have a good memory, you know that?”

“He says to the girl currently unable to remember who she is or where she’s from,” she muttered. 

Sam snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. He’d heard the stories from Shuri. This woman was quiet, but stubborn when she set her mind to something. It reminded him of when he first met Bucky. And hearing the snide little comments muttered under her breath, Sam was starting to believe that Shuri was right. She wasn’t as innocent as he first thought. Not from the moment he first saw her when they pulled her out of the water. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was talking to Bucky. You grumble like he does.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

Sam laughed. “Argue like him too.” Turning to face her, he noticed the markings on the back of her neck. Shuri had mentioned something about glowing markings and a necklace. He saw the markings, but not the necklace. Where was it? Tilting his head, he rubbed his brow and studied her for a moment. Did she know she was missing that? She was always fiddling with those bracelets of hers. It would only make sense that she do the same a necklace. Especially if it was something that came with her. “You really don’t remember anything, huh?”

“What? Do you think I want to stay here any longer than necessary?”

She was met with silence. It made sense that he wouldn’t have an answer for her. She wasn’t like the women they encountered when docked. Those were cold, only throwing themselves at pirates to earn money and a warm bed for the night. She wasn’t like the women on board either. They were quick witted, temperamental, and wanted to be heard. They knew they were strong. The more Sam spoke to this woman, the more he was expecting to see one extreme or the other.

Instead he was met by a calm, collected, and overall impressive woman who just happened to have a memory problem.

A very frustrating memory problem.

“It’s okay to be frustrated about it.”

Y/N huffed, fidgeting with her fingers as she stared at the water. It wasn’t as peaceful as the previous nights. Waves rocked, crashing against one another and making their presence known against the rough wood that was the ship’s body. The wind tangled her hair, whipping it round her face. Her eyes shifted to the sky, to the clouds that blocked out those beautiful stars.

“I feel like something’s missing,” she murmured. 

Sam looked at her, surprised. He hadn’t expected her to voice anything — especially not to him. He watched her, noticing how the wind whipped her hair around her face. Its tangled strands lost themselves in the mass of her hair. Little wisps danced in front of her eyes. They were focused so intently on the ocean, he wondered if she realized she had spoken. He opened his mouth to speak, wanting to ask, but —

“There’s this hole.” She didn’t shift her gaze, still staring at the ocean as if it would provide all her answers. “I don’t know where or why, but it’s there and it is gnawing at me. I feel like it’s eating me alive.” Y/N groaned, knowing well that her frustration was getting the best of her. Perhaps that was all it was. Frustration. She pressed her hands against her eyes. “I’m losing my mind.”

“Y/N, you’re missing a lifetime of memories. I would be just as frustrated if I was you. Actually, I take that back. I wouldn’t be frustrated. I’d be angry, pissed, infuriated. And I’d probably be beating Buck up to get through a lot of it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s an odd sort of friendship you two have.”

“I’d expect nothing less from him if he was dealing with it either.”

Y/N lowered her hands, eyes fixating on the water once again. It was interesting. Her brow was furrowed, eyes transfixed, and her bottom lip was currently trapped between her teeth. Funny, she had the exact same look Bucky would get when he was lost in thought. 

“Y/N?” Sam wasn’t surprised when he failed to get her attention. Clearing his throat, he hid his smirk behind his hand when she finally looked his way. He knew now wasn’t the time to joke around. Drumming his fingers on the rough wood, Sam couldn’t shake the feeling that her necklace had something to do with this. “When we found you, you had a necklace. I don’t know what happened to it, but you could ask Bucky.”

Y/N frowned, her fingers instinctively reaching or the spot the pendant would normally fall. It wasn’t there. Her fingers brushed against the fabric of her shirt, aching to wrap around the metal and stone she knew she wouldn’t find. He stole it from her. He stole her property and his attempt to make himself feel better was to — what? To half ass an attempt at helping her look through some maps?

Squeezing her eyes shut and taking a slow breath, Y/N asked, “Where is Captain Barnes?”

Most people Sam has encountered don’t radiate anger. Sure, they look angry. They sound angry. There’s usually even that glimmer of anger in their eyes. But to radiate anger? To have it seeping out of your pores with a level of intensity Sam hadn’t seen before? He didn’t want any part of that. So Sam did what he does best. He gestured to the door leading below deck, giving her the short reply of, “His office.”

And she was gone before he could get another word in. Unable to hide his smirk, he watched in amusement as Peter quickly sidestepped the infuriated woman.

“What’s happening with Y/N?” he squeaked, joining Sam and handing him a bottle of rum. 

Sam took a swig and shook his head. “That isn’t something I recommend looking into, kid. Just…don’t stop by Cap’s for a bit, all right?” His eyes didn’t stray from her retreating form until he saw the door slam shut with her heading below deck. Y/N was a walking storm and Sam did not want to be on the receiving end of her wrath.

The cool chain looped in and out of his fingers with the star lying in his palm. Bumps and ridges dug ever so slightly into his skin and the weight of it was odd, comforting in a way he wasn’t expecting. Bucky would never admit that he’d spent several nights staring at the stone, trying to figure it out. It was interesting and when he’d hold it up to the light, it felt like he was staring at the sky itself.

That was what it was like the more time he spent with Y/N. It was strange. She came out of no where and now she was invading his every thought and dream. Hell, if he closed his eyes, he swore he could hear her voice, practically picture her in front of him. Why? Why did she have to be everywhere? And why did he find her so interesting?

“Captain Barnes!” 

Bucky looked up as the door swung open, rising to his feet when Y/N came in. Her skin was practically glowing that same color he’d seen when they’d first met. Was it from distress? Or — Oh, she was angry. No, angry didn’t describe it. 

Livid, that was the word. And this would simply be another appearance to haunt him behind closed eyes.

Twisting his hand, he took quick strides around the desk and tucked the necklace into the band of his bracelet. “I don’t appreciate you barging in here, Y/N. Care to explain yourself?”

“I understand that I’m not one of your crew members or some random alliance, but what do you take me for? Some naive child? Somebody you can steal blindly from and assume I wouldn’t notice? Or is that the kind of person you are? To steal from someone with no memory because you —“

“Watch yourself, Y/N.” The tone in his voice forced her to stop. She watched as he walked around the desk, blue eyes staring her down even in the low light. Y/N hated it — the way he made her feel. She didn’t understand it. “You are treading a thin line.”

Through gritted teeth, “You stole from me.” Tears threatened to fall as she tried to grasp at that reality. She was desperately trying to piece her life together, clinging to possibilities of creating some semblance to her reality. And here he was, taking a piece of that with no remorse whatsoever. “Explain that, Barnes.”

Bucky watched her, tilting his head curiously as he stepped closer. His boots brushed against hers. She was quick to take a step back. He smirked. Was she really all talk? That couldn’t be. There had to be more to her than that. “I didn’t steal from you.”

“Sam said that I —“

He laughed. “Sam said? Is that right?” Running a hand through his hair, knocking those stubborn strands out of his face, Bucky asked, “And should I be worried that Sam said something?” Bucky knew he had her necklace. He knew fully well that he was egging her on, pushing to see just how far she was willing to go.

Bucky also knew he didn’t give a damn.

“Well?”

Rough wood met her back as she tilted her head up, holding his gaze. “Sam said I had a necklace when he and Scott found me.” 

“A necklace?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember what it looks like?”

“I —“ Y/N hesitated. Of course she didn’t. Y/N remembered feeling it. She remembered the weight of it in her hand and around her neck, but she couldn’t picture it in her head. “N-No.”

“So you’re trusting Sam’s word?”

“I’ve had to trust the word of every man and woman on this ship, Barnes. You know that.”

Bucky stopped in front of her, the feel of her hand pressed firmly against his chest surprising him. He hadn’t realized he’d moved closer until her hand had moved. It was warm and Bucky was using every ounce of his willpower to ignore it. Why did he have to hate the cold so much? “If you have to trust all of us, why question me?” 

His voice was a low rumble, vibrating through her hand and sending a chill up her spine. Dropping her hand, she held it behind her back, fingers intertwining with bracelets. “Because you’re the only one who doesn’t treat me as an equal.”

Resting his arm on the wood pole above her, Bucky leaned over her form. She was an infuriating and curious creature. He couldn’t figure anything about her out. He had hoped the necklace would help, but…nothing. Ducking his head, he couldn’t help his smirk as he whispered in her ear, “I’m the captain. It’s my job to do that.” The shudder that he felt run through her was oddly satisfying.

Y/N shuddered, moving out from under his arm. She needed space if she was going to get her necklace. He made her unable to think properly and she absolutely hated it. She had to have a clear head if there would be any progress made. “No, it’s your job to keep your crew safe.” She kept distancing herself, hands running through her hair. “I know I’m a burden to your ship and crew. I would’ve stayed in Wakanda, but —“

He reached forward, catching her arm. “You aren’t a burden, Y/N.”

She looked over her shoulder, gaze meeting his as her brow furrowed. “I can’t remember anything, Barnes, but I am trying. I’m trying to understand and remember everything I can so that I can go home. I don’t know how or why I was where I was when Sam found me, but there had to be a reason. And Sam —“ Y/N took a breath, trying to calm her racing heart. “Sam told me I had a necklace. And I don’t have it now. The only two people that would have been around me enough to take it are you and Shuri. But she wouldn’t keep something like that. It’s useless to her.”

“Wouldn’t it be useless to me?” His voice was soft, no longer a rumble, but oddly comforting. She could listen to him talk like that all the time. And she wasn’t sure that she liked that. 

“I don’t know,” she answered lamely, looking away from him.

Bucky was torn. He knew he should give her the necklace. If it helped her remember, that meant she could leave and get out of his hair. But the longer she stayed, the more he found himself hating the idea. She was fascinating and made him feel…something. He just wasn’t sure what that feeling was yet. Could he really risk her remembering and leaving before he got the chance to understand her?

Yes. He could risk that because it was the right thing to do. Taking a slow breath, Bucky dropped her arm and untucked the necklace. He pulled it off his wrist, feeling her eyes watch his every movement. Guilt tugged at his heart, making it sink like a rock into the pit of his stomach. Every part of him was screaming to not meet her gaze. If he looked, he’d see anger and Gods know what else. She had every right to be pissed, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“I was curious if I could figure it out,” he lied. “I thought if I could then maybe helping you find your home would be easier.”

Y/N couldn’t take her gaze off of the swinging pendant. Her fingers grasped the long chain. She pulled it over her head, the weight hanging around her neck. It felt good and solid, like a piece falling back into place. 

Blinking slowly, Y/N willed away the unshed tears and cleared her throat. “I don’t forgive you for taking it.” She took a slow breath, eyes fixated on the star. “But thank you for returning it.”

“Do you remember anything?”

Y/N looked up at him, relieved when he didn’t question the stray tear slipping down her cheek. Offering a weak, almost shattered smile, she gave him her honest answer. It hurt to whisper, to admit the smallest -

“No.”

————-

What to expect next chapter:

Y/N’s going to remember – but how much?

Loki’s making an appearance and putting plans to action.

Bucky is trying to balance the distraction that is Y/N with figuring out how to create an alliance with Tony.

And Sam and Shuri are wondering what the hell is up with the Captain and the Woman from the Water. 

Hope you enjoy!

[theplatinthehat]

*nails my piece of paper to Philip Pullman’s front door*

So, I made a joke earlier today about writing up my grievances with the world-building of the His Dark Materials trilogy. I genuinely didn’t think anyone would be interested enough to ask me about this. But someone did, so I’ve abandoned the actual jobs I needed to do today and went away to cobble together this post to summarise My Thoughts (and no-one was more surprised than I to find that there were more than two).

Let me say that these are my thoughts and opinions on this particular canon of work. I don’t judge anyone who likes them (hell, I love the idea of daemons and I certainly think there are some interesting concepts explored in the series) and you are more than welcome to disagree with me on any (or all) of the points that I outline below. And you’re certainly allowed to acknowledge that there are issues with a text and still find enjoyment from them. I’m not looking to Cancel anyone – I just have questions and I’m prepared to shout them into the void.

If anyone does reblog this, I ask that you don’t tag it with #hisdarkmaterials or #hdm, because that’s unfair on the people who are using those tags to curate a positive fandom experience.

Caveat to all of this – I haven’t read the books, but I have watched the current BBC/HBO series in great depth. I’m also writing a fanfic called The Shadow Mandate set in the world of His Dark Materials and that has required me to do extensive research and engage with multiple sources about the world. It’s as a direct result of this research that much of these questions and critiques have arisen. I am planning to read the books soon though (mainly so I can roast them more thoroughly)

Don’t send this to Philip Pullman (or Philman, as I will probably refer to him from here on out). 1 – he isn’t going to care what I say (he’ll just say it’s a metaphor and to not read too much into it or something equally as infuriating) and 2 – I don’t care what he says.

Now all that boring stuff is done, let’s get to it. I’m putting this all under the cut so the poor folk who want nothing to do with this can ignore at their leisure.

This will possibly get a bit tongue in cheek in places – just a warning

One Church to Rule Them All, One Faith to Bind Them

So, one of my main questions about the world of His Dark Materials is the Magisterium and the Holy Church. And that question is “How?”

Overlooking the fact that this was probably a conscious decision by Philman to Make A Point, I still have questions behind this behemoth of an institution. Based on my research, I’m of the understanding that Lyra’s world parted from our own when John Calvin became the Pope, and transferred the seat of Papal power to Geneva. After Calvin’s death, the Magisterium was formed and they consolidated power from there.

In my mind, this just doesn’t work. Because it makes it sound like Calvin was the only person standing between the Catholic Church and the Protestant Reformation. Whilst he had a big role in the Reformation, he just wasn’t the only person working for reforms (I mean – Luther? Hello? He had 95 problems, and Indulgences were all of them). You could probably argue with me on this, as he was a significant figurehead of the Reformation, but there were so many people working for change in Europe at the time that I would have thought that someone else would have taken that place (you can read more here).

The lack of denominations also doesn’t really sit with me because if there’s one thing I know about Christians, it’s that we love to argue over teeny-tiny details and build whole new ways of worshipping around them. The fact that the Magisterium doesn’t just tear itself apart is, to be honest, quite surprising. And, you know, the Eastern Orthodox tradition was already a thing at the time… (here’s a brief overview of the East-West Schism of 1054)

I’d also like to point out that Papal power was dominant in Western civilization. That leaves a lot of the world for the Magisterium to then suddenly gain power of. Or did Philman conveniently forget that Judaism (although the Jewish people had suffered significant persecution in Europe by this time), Islam, Hinduism and Buddhism (and many others) were all already very well-established religions in other parts of the world that I doubt would have taken too kindly to the Magisterium’s political advances. This idea of a religion having such a heavy-handed control over the whole world just seems a bit too far-fetched for me to believe.

However, I have to acknowledge that I say this as a white, Western Christian – perhaps people genuinely feel that is the case.

I do know that the witches are mentioned at having their own religion, but I can’t really find any information about it, so I can’t really compare them. It could well be that other religions and faith practices are mentioned in the books themselves, but I’m struggling to find them (do the shamans count? I’m not sure). Perhaps this is just me, but one religion consuming the whole world (or, at least, the vast majority of it) doesn’t strike me as particularly plausible.

 Beast from the East

This is probably my most serious critique of the series, and one that’s actually been the most nightmarish for me to deal with in my own expanded world-building of Lyra’s world for The Shadow Mandate. This is an issue that has been discussed at length Marek Oziewicz in the paper ‘Representations of Eastern Europe in Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials, Jonathan Stroud’s The Bartimaeus Trilogy, and J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter Series’ – which I highly recommend you read!

(And it dunks on Ms R*wling too – what a treat!).

I’ll do a little summary for those of you who haven’t got the time to read a whole paper:

The His Dark Materials trilogy is told from a very British point of view (understandable, the author is a white British man)

Britain is a positive and exciting place, where all the characters are individuals with the capacity for good or evil

The general geographical sense of the world-building is that the further East you go (in Europe) that the less ties the people have to the Holy Church and the more barbaric they are – see the Tartars and their ‘Breathless One’ practices

The Eastern European races are frequently described with qualities such as “cruelty, pitilessness, barbarism, fierceness, physical and emotional instability” (Oziewicz, p. 8)

A lot of nationalist stereotypes surround the peoples of these races/countries

I mean, the treatment of the Tartars (which is a living, breathing ethnolinguistic group) as a whole is pretty disturbing. They’re described to be like a ‘warmongering race of xenophobic genocidal humans who want to conquer the whole of the Earth’ (Quote) - compare that to the complexity of the characters from the West. Oziewicz notes that the Tartars are somewhat akin to the Imperial Guard of Star Wars, as their helmets have ‘no eyes – or at least you couldn’t see any eyes behind the snow slits’ (Northern Lights, p. 289). As far as I can tell, they’re pretty much just tarred with one brush – made particularly plain by the fact that all Tartars seem to have identical wolf/husky daemons – unless that was a requirement when the Magisterium put the job posting on Indeed.

So, a whole nation of people has been reduced to a single archetype – one that plays on existing prejudices in British culture. That just feels like extremely lazy world-building to me – I don’t know a single country or ethnic population that could accurately be described as one archetype.

I also feel that a lot of other countries in the world are written off with sweeping generalisations – or just kinda lumped together? So, a lot of my research has involved me looking at the canonical list of Globetrotter Maps, and a whole bunch of countries tend to get lumped together – particularly, I’ve noticed, the South American countries. It does this really intriguing and complex world a major disservice. As I said, this is something that I’ve had to grapple with for my own work – and I hope that I’ve done enough work so as to begin to dissemble what Philman started.

 A new and exciting way to get around the ‘G’ slur

For those of you who are unaware (although, you’re on Tumblr – how could you possibly not be aware?) the G-slur is considered to be a pejorative description of the Romani ethnic group, associated with idleness and itinerancy. It comes from the mistaken European belief that the Romani people came from Egypt (they aren’t). You can read more about that here and here.

Philman decided to name his ethnic group known for travelling and trading as they go ‘Gyptians’. I won’t insult your intelligence by explaining any further.

Should I let this slide with the explanation that the term is so pervasive in Britain that it’s actually a legal term? Perhaps, but I’m not going to.

 Kill Bill God

My only issue with this is that if Philman wants to kill God, he should kill… God. Not some angel with a superiority complex. But seeing how badly some people took it, I can understand why he didn’t. I still think he’s a coward.

 Sex, Dust and Dragons

I have a whole other bone to pick with Philman about his obsession with sex in children’s literature, but that’s not what you’re here to talk about. No, you came to hear about His Dark Materials.

It’s established in the world that Dust doesn’t settle on children because they don’t have experience – they are too innocent. Based on the research I’ve done, and the language used in both the film and the mini-series is this maturation from childhood to adulthood is though protosexual experiences e.g. kissing. And this is what Mary Malone’s role as ‘the serpent’ is – she’s the one that make Lyra think about her sexuality for the first time:

As Mary said that, Lyra felt something strange happen to her body. She found a stirring at the roots of her hair: she found herself breathing faster. She had never been on a roller-coaster, or anything like one, but if she had, she would have recognised the sensations in her breast: they were exciting and frightening at the same time, and she had not the slightest idea why. The sensation continued, and deepened, and changed, as more parts of her body found themselves affected too. She felt as if she had been handed the key to a great house she hadn't known was there, a house that was somehow inside her, and as she turned the key, deep in the darkness of the building she felt other doors opening too, and lights coming on. She sat trembling, hugging her knees, hardly daring to breathe, as Mary went on...

Marzipan, The Amber Spyglass

(That’s such a long quote)

It’s then made explicitly clear that it’s the intimacy of Lyra and Will’s relationship, and the touching of one another’s daemons, that causes Pan and Kirjava to settle in their true forms.

Andrew Lloyd Webber was right – love really does change everything.

Here’s where things get a little bit petty.

So, if Dust begins to settle on children once they’ve had their first ‘sexual awakening’ – what about those people who don’t ever experience that? Because, believe it or not, asexual people have existed for a very long time. If they don’t experience this, then would their daemons settle? What are the implications of this? Are asexual people remaining in the ‘childlike innocence of the Garden of Eden’? (Quote)

Asexual fans of His Dark Materials, I pass this question to you – do you lack a soul because you’ve never experienced sexual desire? Is sex truly instrumental on the road to maturation? I’d love to hear your thoughts, and what you’d do if your daemon never settled. Would you let them shift into a dragon? I know I would if I were in that position.

This issue, to me, is massively indicative of the prevalent attitudes towards the asexual community. There is a tendency for media products to portray a-spec people as immature because they don’t experience sexual attraction – which is just not true. The ace community has said many times that they feel that this attitude infantilizes their orientation, and it’s a view that needs to be challenged. Check out this source for more information on the microagressions faced by this community – section six is particularly relevant. Asexuals are mature – despite this lack of ‘experience’ that Philman seems to think all people need to have in order to become free-thinkers. This just isn’t true. I don’t understand why society seems to believe this theory, but with its prevalence in media it’s not too difficult to see why this view pervades.

Anyway, the only reason I’m so petty about this particular aspect is that I’m so bored of reading stories where sex and romance are the most important thing. I think heresy is a much more interesting sin than sex, so that’s what The Shadow Mandate will be about once I’ve finished it.

I also have some more minor world-building issues both in HDM and the later Book of the Dust trilogy including, but not limited to:

Why is it New Denmark? The Dutch were quite famous for reaching America – New Amsterdam being the original name for New York. Admittedly I’m only cross about this because I got mixed up in my own world-building.

There’s even more ‘othering’ of non-British races – particularly the Skraelings who are analogous to the Inuit people (but possibly a term for all Native-American peoples) who carry out ‘barbaric’ practices such as trepanning

Witches can’t forgive men that turn them down. Well I don’t have much of a problem with this as such, but it just makes me think of that quote about fairies from Peter Pan – “Fairies have to be one thing or the other, because being so small they unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time.”

The treatment of Pantalaimon by Lyra in subsequent adventures

Malcolm Polstead needs to leave Lyra tf alone

 I appreciate that this is a very long and whingy list about things that I don’t like, so congrats on making it this far! I’d love to give you something – perhaps your time back – but alas, my powers only extend so far. I appreciate that the His Dark Materials books are well-loved and that most people would probably disagree with what I’ve said – I just have lots of questions and Philman doesn’t have as many answers as I would like. But then again, should I really read this much into the work of a writer who seems willing and capable to ignore the personality of their protagonist for a whole book? I don’t know. But I do know, that axolotl daemons would require a lot of work.

(I have beef with Philman – thank you for humouring me)

Leave your hatemail in my inbox <3

[citrusdragonart]

Theo vs Cirrus

(This is my best drabble yet, I assure you!  I based it on an old rp I had with @wandirge, though I made most of this up on my own.  It’s a short brawl between Theo and his, er, ‘friend,’ Cirrus.)

Match after match, a little ball of rage inside of Theo has been steadily growing.  And the cause?  Cirrus, of course.  That asshole has been sniping at Theo, and taking his kills, and badmouthing him... even when they're on the same team!  A few times is fun, but it’s been almost an hour, and Theo can’t stand it any longer.  No, no, just breathe.  It’s just a game, it’s—

Just then, as Theo's speeding along near the edge of the map, a sudden shot sends him right off the side. And of course that shot came from a very particular jerk.  That's enough!  Following Cirrus' sniper beam all the way to the platform he's hiding on, Theo's ready to burst.  “Cirrus, what's your deal?!  I invited you to play so we'd both have fun!”

Despite the scolding, Cirrus greets his ally with a rather large grin as he leaps down from his perch, setting the butt of his charger on the ground beside him and placing a hand on his hip.  He had just splatted three members of the other team, so he knows they have a few moments of safety to chat.  “What do you mean?  We are having fun!  You swing at them, I shoot at them…and you sometimes, too, I guess. Whoops!”  The inkling couples his false smile with an equally friendly tone as he ignores Theo’s concerns.  “You need to relax more.  C’mon, Theo, smile!  We’re having fun!”

All too familiar with Cirrus' playful front, Theo is now even more at a loss for why his friend is behaving this way.  “Did I upset you or something?”  He leans forward on his brush, staring steadily into those devilish eyes. “You've been pretty much harassing me for an hour now!  I just wanted to have some fun playing Turf with you.”  That look on Cirrus' face is really getting under his skin, but Theo clenches his teeth so he won't escalate things further; their time together may still be salvageable.

“Harassing you?” Cirrus' sneer grows, creating creases at the corners of his eyes.  He could laugh right now at how easy it is to bother Theo!  “What, can’t take a joke?  Feel like you’re being bullied?”  In a babying voice, he adds, “Aww are you gonna tell on me?”  Pushing Theo’s buttons gives him a thrill he can’t quite explain.  Maybe he can make the boy snap!

It almost works. “Shut up!”  Cirrus just won't drop this nasty attitude, and it’s killing Theo to not understand why.  It’s making him feel foolish that he bothered to ask Cirrus to hang out in the first place, as if they could get along with each other.  “Look, if you don't wanna be my friend today, then you can at least leave me alone while we play.”  Though he feels incredibly dissatisfied, it looks as though Theo is going to back off and rejoin the match before he does something he’ll regret.

But Cirrus is also dissatisfied with this.  He thought he had Theo for sure, but he’s ending the fight before it can really begin! He’s ruining the real fun!  The false smile drips down into a nasty scowl with a glare that freezes Theo in place.  “I should keep knocking you off this map just for being stupid enough to think we’re friends!”  His true bitterness now bites through every word, although…maybe he shouldn’t have said that.  Oh well. Before he can even let his words sink in, Cirrus' hand leaves his hip so he can lift his weapon, but not as a proper sniper.  No, he has it held up like a club, and he swings it as such.

The jabs at Theo’s intelligence and his good intentions hurt more than he’d care to admit, but there’s no time to retaliate when the other kid attacks him.  With a bit of luck on his side, Theo lets his brush go and is able to catch the end of the charger coming for him, though the force makes him skid to the edge of the platform they’re on, nearly knocking him off like Cirrus had threatened.  “What’s wrong with you?!”

As the two boys battle for control of the charger, Cirrus briefly wonders if maybe he’s gone too far this time.  But it’s too late to stop now and always too late to apologize.  “Have you ever considered that maybe something’s wrong with you?!”  Since Theo is only pushing, it’s easy for Cirrus to stop and pull his weapon free, now the only one in control of it again.

“What??”  Ignoring a generic bully is easy, but this is someone in his own social group, someone he’s shared things with…  This attack is very personal, and it’s making Theo’s common sense give way to hurt and anger as he picks up his own weapon to defend himself with.  “Leave me alone, asshole!”  Twisting his torso back to give him a more powerful swing, Theo lets loose an attack that mirrors Cirrus'.

The ally ink may have no effect, but the brush is solid and makes Cirrus cry out after he throws his arms up in defense.  Lost in the dread of betrayal, Theo quickly follows up with a second swing that sends Cirrus onto his rear.  The grip on his weapon is so tight the handle creaks as he looms over the fallen boy, but there’s hesitation.  Theo knows better; he shouldn’t be doing this.  But as shame starts to creep up, Theo’s vulnerability is taken advantage of, and his feet are pulled out from under him as Cirrus gives his ankle a good yank.

Cirrus’ hearts pound as Theo’s back smacks into the cement.  He’s quick, crawling overtop Theo as he bares his row of fangs at him. “Learn when to stay down, or are you too stupid?!”  A little bit of joy is added to the hatred filling him as he sees the daze in Theo’s eyes; he must have hit his head from the fall as well.  The nasty grin is back.  “Is there even a brain in there?  Hellooo?” Cirrus knocks above Theo’s temple a few times, making him flinch.

Theo can’t help but groan from the pain at the back of his head, but at least the sunlight now getting blocked out by Cirrus makes the strain better.  But this is bad.  Getting mocked for his intelligence, having someone try to physically dominate him… It’s all reminding him of Blake, and Theo begins to freak out, suddenly thinking he’s in more danger than he truly is. Acting on survival instincts, Theo tucks his legs in then uses them like a spring to topple Cirrus off of him.

And boy does it work. Unprepared for such an attack, Cirrus is hurled over Theo’s head, landing behind him.  Unfortunately, since Theo was already near the edge, Cirrus is now half off of it, struggling to pull himself back up.  Internally, he curses out his teammates for not doing a better job at inking their half of the map; then he could easily swim up. The spray of the sea breathing against his legs makes his skin itch.  “You tryin’a kill me?”

With no one menacing him, Theo can sit up and recover, rolling his shoulders to stretch out his sore back.  “Ow…” Cirrus’ voice gets Theo to spin around, making his head spin just the same.  Oof.  Man, he hates Cirrus’ big mouth.  “I should let you fall off.  Then I could get the hell away from you.”  With the battle clock still ticking, the team’s spawn point removes any real danger from the situation.

“Still being a big baby, hm? Learn to play nice with the other kids.” Cirrus flips Theo off, but karma comes after him for his hypocrisy.  Unable to hold himself up with just one arm, gravity yanks him all the way off the platform, and his one hand can’t hold the sudden weight.

Watching Cirrus fall should feel satisfying, so amazingly, wonderfully, in-your-face satisfying. But in Theo’s heart of hearts, he can’t sit and watch something bad happen to someone he knows.  Unable to stop himself, Theo lunges for the ledge and has to lean halfway off of it to reach Cirrus’ hand.  “You shouldn’t be this heavy,” he complains for the sake of complaining.  This really is harder than it looks, though, and he starts to get pulled over the edge with Cirrus.  Desperate to recover, he grabs an adjacent railing with his other hand as an anchor.

He shouldn’t be, but Cirrus is now more annoyed by this.  “Letting go would be a lot easier.  And faster.  But then again, I wouldn’t expect you to do anything right.”  It’s infuriating to see Theo working so hard to save them both, especially since it’s not necessary.  There were flames!  He could feel them in his hearts and see them in Theo’s eyes!  It was exactly what he wanted!  But now?  “You ruin everything!”

Those words strike Theo’s hearts, feeling like there’s venom flowing in his chest.  He wants to let go and get away from here, but he’s not the type to do that - to abandon someone he’s trying to help.  So with a hearty yell, Theo musters up a burst of strength and hoists himself and Cirrus back onto solid ground.

Cirrus can’t wrap his mind around Theo.  Why would he help him after all Cirrus just put him through?  Well, he shouldn’t really be surprised.  Theo is always such a nice guy…  Shit.  Cirrus hates the guilt plaguing him now as much as he’d hated Theo a minute ago.  “I don’t understand you.”  He looks towards Theo as though that will give him answers, but the other boy isn’t even facing him.  Theo’s unusual silence makes Cirrus regret what he’s done even more, but he keeps that to himself.

Why did Cirrus start this fight in the first place?  He really considers this for a moment.  It’s so much fun to pick on such a goody-two-shoes, but Theo has never done anything to warrant something so vicious.  Cirrus concludes that sometimes he just can’t help himself, and he leaves it at that.  It’s easier than trying to figure himself out.

However, Theo is not satisfied, not even if he could hear Cirrus’ internal dialogue.  Time and time again, he’s tried to create a friendly bond with Fae’s friend for her sake and the sake of their friend group, but it bites him in the ass every time.  When is he going to learn to let it go?  To give up on this?  It’s just that...he doesn’t want to give it up…  He doesn’t want someone so present in his life to be so cruel to him…

Before Theo can speak up, though, two women in uniform walk over looking less than happy. Apparently, their fight had caused the match to be stopped and authorities to be sent in to collect them. Both boys are escorted out of the playing area, given a day’s suspension as punishment, and sent on their way.

Now that things have cooled down a degree, Theo breaks the uncomfortable tension between them. “Cirrus…”

“You’ve got to lighten up,” Cirrus interjects before Theo can get too gushy about his feelings or whatever.

“Excuse me?”

“Lighten up.  You take everything too seriously.”  It’s not much of a defense.

“You attacked me!  You tried to hit me with your charger!”  Theo points an accusing finger at the weapon strapped to Cirrus’ back.  His teeth grind together when Cirrus shrugs him off.

“That’s your problem, not mine.”

“Why can’t you just apologize to me?!  It’s not gonna kill you!  Pretend you actually have some hearts in there.”  Instantly, Theo regrets that last comment, recoiling from his unneeded harshness.  “Cirrus, I--”

“F*ck you.”  Any miniscule possibility of an apology shrivels away now that Cirrus is the one hurt.  Everyone’s always spewing this garbage as if they know him so well.  If he doesn’t know why he’s like this, they certainly don’t. Bunch of assholes.  “I’m out of here.”  Cirrus’ brows furrow like they always do as he shoves his hands in his pockets and turns his back to Theo.

Theo calls out an apology, but it’s too late.  Though Cirrus carries a bulk of the blame for what happened today, Theo now shares it. But should he even feel bad for that one comment after all the rude things Cirrus spewed at him?  It’s not something he wants to think about right now as he heads towards his own home.

[wolfsrainrules]

The Right Partner Snippet

It was late when Bakugou got the call.

He grumbled unhappily as he reached for his phone. One of the bad points for being a Pro Hero was the hours. Sure there were the set working hours for whatever agency a Pro decided to stick with, but sometimes a hero would  get a call. And it could be at any time- on a day off, before the hero had even gone in, after they got off, or- as had happened in Bakugou’s case- in the early hours of the morning.

And there was no ‘not answering the phone.’

Bakugou was already rolling to his feet, even as he accepted the call with a sleep rough “Ground Zero.”

“Bakugou.”

And Bakugou stilled.

Best Jeanist was not the type to make early morning calls like this. More than that, Bakugou knew Jeanist, and that tone...that voice…

Whatever had happened, Bakugou knew he wasn’t going to like it.

“What happened?” His voice was still rough with sleep and now worry, but it was more alert as he questioned his boss.

“It’s…”

Bakugou’s stomach twisted, dropping to his toes. Best Jeanist didn’t hesitate. He wasn’t the kind to sugarcoat things, to pussyfoot around an issue. It was part of why Bakugou respected the hero well enough to work under him as a sidekick.

“What the fuck happened?”

“As of three hours ago, the team that went with Wildside on her mission has lost all contact with her.”

Bakugou froze, his breath catching in his throat. He knew his partner was a capable woman. He wouldn’t work with her if she wasn’t, but...That didn’t stop his throat from closing, the vice from tightening over his lungs, the way his heart seemed to skip a beat or three.

And then the adrenaline dumped into his system, as he shot up and scrambled for his clothes roaring a furious “What the FUCK happened?!”

She’d been undercover at a trafficking ring.

Bakugou felt dizzy.

Kia hadn’t been assigned to this mission at first. She’d been given the case files, asked to overlook them, and send any insights back to her boss. Bakugou had helped her with it. She’d asked to be included when she replied to her boss, saying she had a bad feeling about it.

Bakugou had wanted to go with her.

She’d talked him out of it- told him to keep up patrols, to make sure everything went well in their little slice of town, while she was away. She’d sworn she would come back, told him not to worry. Pointed out she had done this hundreds of times before, that she would have a team with her that trained specifically to handle these situations.

She’d laughed and promised that none of them would ever take ‘her partner’s’ place. And then she punched him in the shoulder, asking with a joking gallows humor that seemed to infect every pro at some point “Besides, if this all goes to hell, who else is gonna come back me up but you?”

Bakugou didn’t even remember putting the rest of his clothes on, didn’t remember jumping onto his bike, and transferring Jeanist to the bluetooth in his helmet. All he really remembered was the frantic high speed ride down the streets at three in the morning while he snarled at Jeanist to give him all the details he could.

Bakugou had never been so thankful for warp quirks. They were rare and a pain in the ass when they were being used by villains, but when they allowed him quick transport to the underground heroes who had been working with Sunshine before she disappeared?

Bakugou sure as fuck wouldn’t be caught complaining about it. If he had been forced to travel the long way around, he’d have fucking blown the plane out of the sky.

“Where the fuck is my partner?” his voice was an infuriated growl as he stormed over to the three heroes who had been working with Sunshine.

“We don’t know.”

Bakugou recognized Commune from the information Jeanist had given him, even as he cursed and growled at what she had said. She was lean and shorter than Bakugou, her black hair tied back from green eyes messily. She was still clad in the jeans and shirt she’d been wearing on her undercover position, and it was obvious she’d been working to locate Sunshine since the moment she disappeared.

Her quirk allowed her to connect five people of her choosing on a mental level, allowing those five people to have an undisturbed line of communication via directed surface thoughts.

Commune didn’t allow his mood to interfere with her report of the situation as she continued, “She’s still connected to us by my quirk, we can feel her, but she’s not awake. And I can’t track her until she tells us where she is. This is the area we lost her,” Commune tapped a map, “and where we’ve searched. My quirk only allows me to connect us, allows us to sense that connection, but not track it.” she sounded extremely frustrated about it.

And while it soothed Bakugou a small amount to know they could still sense his partner, the fact she was unconscious wherever she had ended up didn’t help his boiling temper.

(He hadn’t been this furious since his first year of UA)

Still- he was a professional, and with Sunshine’s safety and life on the line, Bakugou would be taking no chances. He stomped over to the war table the pros had gathered around, demanding sharply “Tell me every-fucking-thing you know, and Commune.”

The woman met his eyes in question.

Bakugou extended a hand. “Add me to your connection.”

It was not a request.

Commune didn’t hesitate to accept the hand, to establish the contact she needed to activate her quirk. She knew better than to prevent Wildside’s partner from having this. 

With how Wildside had talked about him before the whole mission went to shit, she’d appreciate hearing his voice as well whenever she woke up.

Kia felt sluggish and heavy when she finally clawed her way to awareness.

It took her a few seconds to remember what had happened, and her stomach twisted into knots. Her first thought wasn’t to wonder where she was, or how to get out- though those were very closely tied seconds- no. Her first thought was that B was going to kill her.

She carefully took stock of her body, checking to make sure nothing was broken or otherwise injured in a way that might interfere with her escape. She had to breathe carefully though the spike in anxiety as she noticed the shackles and collar fastened to her body.

She’d always known this was a possibility working to stop the things she did, working to go undercover in trafficking rings, working to break syndicates and find those who would do business in them. She’d prepared for that, for reliving this hell.

That didn’t make it easy.

“Sunshine.”

There was a horrifying moment that Kia thought Bakugou had somehow been caught, despite being in an entirely different country, and her eyes darted over her cell, before it hit her that she was hearing him in her own mind, through Commune’s quirk.

“B.” Kia felt a little lightheaded with relief, not only because Bakugou hadn’t been caught, but also because Bakugou’s voice was a solid and grounding lifeline for her in this situation.

“Fucking bitch, you weren’t supposed to get fucking captured, what the fuck?”

Oh, he was furious.

It was intensely comforting.

“Yeah, well, that wasn’t in the plans let me tell you. Besides, I told you you’d come back me up if went to hell didn’t I?” Kia appreciated that the others were allowing them to have this moment despite everyone Commune connected being able to hear direct thoughts to each other.

“Of fucking course I did! I fucking told you I should have gone with you!” he snarled it, but Kia could hear the worry. She was also intensely thankful Bakugou hadn’t come with her at the reminder. She wasn’t sure she’d handle seeing Katsuki chained like she was. At all. “Do you know where you are Sunshine?”

Kia’s eyes darted over her carefully again, as if she would suddenly spot something she had missed. “No,” her voice was soft “They have me in some kind of stone cell. I can’t see outside.”

“Of fucking course.”

Kia clung tightly to the sense she had of Bakugou, gripping desperately to his mental presence to keep her hold on sanity. She’d never ever wanted to see a Ring like this ever again.

Gladiator rings were disgusting. They pitted quirks against each other in battles to the death, fight or die, and Kia had never wanted to see this again. Smell the sweat and tears, the sand, the blood and stale scent of death in the air. Hear the screams of the crowd, the calls for bets. The scent of expensive silks and wines, the various perfumes of those with money to spend and a lack of morals.

Her breathing was quicker than normal by the smallest of margins. She knew this game. Had known before her ‘owner’ had informed her that the shackles she wore were equipped to kill her if she didn’t fight, if she fought the man.

Her face was blank, eyes hollow, as she stared at the familiar sights, and took in sickeningly familiar scents.

She swallowed subtly as she took in the sights and sounds and scents of the Ring.

She needed to survive this.

But gods she had never wanted to do this again.

“They’re going to make me fight.” she whispered it across the line of communication she had, a warning to the others that she wouldn’t be able to respond, and not to distract her for the next little while. “And I won’t be able to fight at my best, or they’re realize who I am. I was...well known the last time I stood in a ring like this.” She added the second part as a warning. B wasn’t going to like watching that, best he had some sort of warning beforehand. 

She hated this part so fucking much.

And worse?

Gladiator fighting was, horribly and unavoidably, like riding a bike.

Once someone had actually fought in a Ring, they never really forgot.

No matter how much they wanted to forget that horror.

Kia fucking hated getting shocked.

This ‘Electro’ was a pain in the ass, and was pissing her off. He had an electricity based quirk that seemed to speed him up, making himself much faster than most would be able to handle, as well being able to shock her when he came into direct contact with her.

This little shit kept aiming for the metal shackles she wore to make the shock hurt worse. Too bad for this bastard her last master liked to use the shock-collar as a punishment and it took more voltage than Electro could produce to put her down.

The issue was Electro was fast, and from what Kia had been able to piece together, was able to up his own processing speed. On top of that, her desire to hide any familiar fighting styles patrons of this establishment would recognize, her need to hide how well she could work this ring and fight from her new ‘owner’ meant she had to let some of these hits land. Had to appear to struggle, to fight with a frantic need to live.

Still, if the little shit touched the neck collar one more fucking time-

She would not be held responsible for her reaction.

Bakugou wondered absently if this was what a heart attack attack felt like.

He kept his silence mentally, resorting to verbal snarling and screaming reactions as Kia worked her way through opponent after opponent. She’d explained they were testing her, that they didn’t realize who she was. Didn’t recognize her- though that was thanks to the woman who had changed people’s colors during the Modeling incident- Revlon had shifted her skin and hair, as well as the color of her scales and eyes before she’d gone undercover.

Small mercies.

She’d avoided killing anyone, her mental discipline and focus echoing over the mental bond they shared via Commune.

But this dick was starting to piss her off.

Katsuki was rather ready to explode his entire fucking face.

He kept track of what was happening through Sunshine’s thoughts, and he had a pretty good idea of what was happening that way, even if he couldn’t see what she was doing.

And then he felt the mental jolt of Electro’s quirk making contact with Kia’s collar for the third time.

And suddenly, Sunshine’s mental feel, her thought process shifted. She wasn’t bothering to put the mental effort into her thoughts to hide them from those who were connected to her, and all of them were aware as he thoughts changed in tone and focus.

“You’ve had worse-” her thoughts began “Survived worse. This is nothing. Just a small jolt.” It was an obvious attempt to talk herself out of whatever she was about to do.

It failed.

And suddenly, Katsuki has a front row view to how Sunshine’s head worked in a fight, how much control she must have, to stop what are obviously instinctive, muscle memory, movements. He has a front row seat to how hard she has to work to do what she does, when he sees her react without limiting herself, without fighting what are now obviously her first, most powerful instincts when using violence against another person.

“Small. Lean, fast. Quirk allows for quick thought processing and movement. Lasts in bursts of thirty seconds, with one minute between. Ability to shock- seemingly unlimited, can use in conjunction with mental and physical boost, but power decreased. I’ve been limiting my reactions and speed- if I avoid using my wings in any ‘signature movements’ I should avoid notice. Solution? Use tail. Violence acceptable, limit to injury, no deaths.”

The thoughts are quick, calculating, and focused. There’s an intent behind them that had been missing, though Katsuki had not realized how intense the difference would be until he could see this.

“First: get in close. Target will attempt to grab arm or shoulder for a shock. Use tail to grab wrist. Throw into the wall. Target will be dazed, but quirk will allow for quick recovery. Do not allow the chance to recover, use wings to follow his path to the wall. Jab throat- target does not have the collar. Open for damage.

Target will choke, and hunch forward. Use knee to break his nose. Tail again to block the desperate grab. Will be shocked. Ignore, aim for his ears. Target will stagger sideways to escape being pinned against the wall.

Allow.

Use the free space to get behind Target. Aim for base of spine. Fracture. Target will stumble forward, try to turn and face you.  Aim strike for his temple.

Target unconscious, abilities still hidden, ability to shock: neutralized.”

Katsuki was still, shocked as he witnessed her discard the first thirty plans that had come to mind, all ending in Electro’s death, settling instead for this. And as he witnesses the lightning fast flurry of blows they exchange, it is awe inspiring to see them play out exactly as Sunshine had predicted.

This verse belongs to @kaycha1989. You can find her the story HERE though it DOES have a main character OC. I liked it, I enjoyed watching Kia and Katsuki bond and get closer, and look forward to more. THIS IS AU TO KAYCHA’S CANNON.

[tisfan]

Holding out for a Hero

For @chicklette

Spring Break

“So,” Becca leaned forward, “tell me how you got together. Bucky’s been reluctant to share.”

“He was my hero,” Tony said, his broad, brilliant smile crossing his face, making his eyes crinkle up adorably.

“Tell me…”

***

Four months earlier

Thor was expounding dramatically on the most recent football practice for the benefit of Jane -- his girlfriend, a physics major who understood end-around sneaks as well as Thor understood quasars. She looked like she was listening, but Bucky suspected her brain was light years away. Thor’s brother, Loki, was absently opening packets of sugar and adding them to Thor’s mug every time his brother said the word handoff. The pile of empty packets resembled a tiny snowdrift.

Bucky was still benched because of injury; he’d sprained his wrist, and not even at football practice, which was infuriating, but because Rumlow hadn’t properly assembled the drops during stagecrafting class and the whole set of flats had come tumbling down on Bucky while he’d been crossing the stage. It made for a great story -- I was hit by a train -- but it still hurt and he was probably going to miss most of the football season this year.

He’d been at practice, especially for the boards part of it, but there was a big difference between the sketches coach drew and actually running the plays. So, Bucky was paying keen attention to Thor, so that he could go over the whole thing in his head a few times. As soon as his arm was out of the damn wrap, he wanted back on the field.

Thor picked up his mug and took a swallow of his coffee sludge.

The face he made was excellent, and they all took a few minutes to laugh about it, while Thor clapped his brother on the back hard enough to send the thinner Odinson crashing into the tabletop, and then to the floor. “A fine joke, indeed,” Thor declared.

Loki was just picking himself up and dusting himself off when someone rushed by, dropped his backpack in Loki’s chair and threw an armload of books onto the table. “Watch my stuff, would you?” He brushed a quick kiss on Bucky’s cheek and was off again before Bucky had time to be more than surprised.

“Who the hell was that?”

“Mmm,” Jane hummed. “Tony Stark. He’s the TA for my Systems Engineering seminar.”

“Isn’t that the class that’s teaching you to be an actual-facts rocket scientist?” Darcy Lewis asked. She hadn’t been participating in the football discussion at all, but instead her nose was buried in a women’s studies book and she had her beret pulled down almost to her eyebrows. She always looked like she’d be more at home at a poetry slam than in the stands for football, but wherever Jane was, there was Darcy.

“That’s the one, it’s utterly fascinating,” Jane said, and was going to launch into one of her speeches about how amazing it was when Bucky pointed to the load of stuff that Tony had left behind.

“Does he actually expect me to guard his things?” The spot where Tony’s mouth had landed on Bucky’s cheek felt overly warm and tingly.

“‘Tis a sacred duty, the guardianship of the stuff,” Thor opined. “You must battle to the death, should someone wish to make off with Tony’s possessions.”

“Yeah, that ain’t happenin’,” Bucky said.

Loki sniffed disdainfully, but pulled up yet another chair rather than reclaiming his.

“So, you do not know him?” Thor inquired.

“We ain’t met, no,” Bucky said. He was aware that he was still absently rubbing his cheek with his thumb and looking off in the direction where Tony had vanished.

“There it is!”

Someone was yelling and then someone else grabbed Tony’s bag and grabbed the strap, knocking the chair over in the process.

“Hey!” Despite saying he wasn’t going to battle to the death, Bucky was up in the guy’s face as soon as he realized what was going on. “That’s not yours.”

“Stay out of it, man,” the blond shoved him back, and Bucky almost fell before regaining his footing.

Bucky snatched the backpack and jerked it toward him. “Let go,” Bucky snarled. He recognized the guy, Ty Stone, majoring in asshole. He was going to graduate with honors, at least in the asshole field.

Ty just laughed, kept his hand on the strap. “Or you’re going to do what, exactly?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky could see Loki standing up, hands cupped delicately near his face. He gave Bucky an emerald wink and mouthed ready? at him.

Bucky tightened his grip on the backpack and Loki spread his fingers, blowing out a puff of air like he was putting out candles on a cake. A cloud of white powder rushed directly into Ty’s face, causing him to cough and splutter and then lick his lips, confused. Bucky took advantage of the distraction to yank the bag free.

“What the fuck?” Ty was rubbing frantically at his eyes, which were watering profusely.

Loki made a magician’s flourish, and came up with several empty packets of splenda.

“I oughta break your arm for that, you little weasel,” Ty threatened.

“Ty, it’s over.” Tony was back, looking smug. “Leave them alone, they didn’t have anything to do with it.” He glanced from Ty’s face, furious and red-eyed, to Bucky, where he was still holding onto the backpack. “It’s okay. Give it to him, there’s nothing in there.” He sneered at Ty. “Did you really think I would take your lab papers and put them in a backpack? Don’t be stupid. I have all the evidence I need, and I’ve already emailed it to Doctor Fury. You’re done. It’s over.”

“What?” Bucky let go of the strap and Ty tore it open, dumping what looked like nothing more than a few newspapers and a bunch of flyers for the GSA ball.

“He’s been falsifying his research data for his doctoral thesis,” Tony said. “Switching our samples. He was responsible for the lab accident two weeks ago that cost me most of my raw materials, because he knew that if I got my hands on his samples in my incubator…”

“You’re a kid,” Ty accused. “You’re a petulant little brat and who the fuck is going to believe you?”

“I’m legally of age, now Ty, even if I was the youngest student ever accepted to MIT,” Tony said. “And I have all the proof I need. You’ll go up before the council for an honor code violation. Your dad’s money might be able to buy your way out of it. Give up gracefully now. This villain vengeance thing isn't a good look.”

Ty dropped the bag, his fists came up and he lunged at Tony.

“Thor, buttonhook blitz,” Bucky snapped, and he kicked the chair directly into Ty’s path. Thor was already out of his chair, moving rapidly away -- everyone else would assume to find campus security. But he hooked back in, just before Ty got there.

Thor wrapped a massive arm around Tony’s chest and lifted, turning to protect the smaller man with his entire broad back.

Ty tripped over the chair, stumbled, and faceplanted in Thor’s shoulder.

People really didn’t realize how terrifying Thor was until they were facing him on the football field. Or when he was frowning with all the seriousness of a vengeful god.

“You haven’t heard the last of this, Tony,” Ty snapped, and stalked off. A smear of artificial sweetener dusted the back of his jeans.

“I tremble with fear,” Tony said, all false bravado because Bucky could see that he actually was shaking.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bucky said. He put one arm around Tony’s shoulders and gently drew him out of Thor’s protective circle. “Come on, sit down. You’re okay.”

“Sorry about that,” Tony said. “Didn’t really want to get you all involved in that, I just thought Ty’d come and steal my bag and you’d let him, and that would give me enough time to email Fury.”

“Don’t you know, watching the stuff is a sacred duty,” Bucky teased. “I have to fight to the death.”

“What?”

Bucky shrugged, grinning. “It’s what Thor said, at any rate.”

“You really didn’t have to--” Tony squeaked, his huge doe eyes eating up his face.

“Not even a problem,” Bucky insisted.

“Yeah, he’s always wanted to play hero and get a kiss from the fair maiden,” Loki said. He put his chin in his cupped hands and looked expectant. “Go on then. I helped, it’s only fair I get a front row seat.”

“He ain’t wrong,” Bucky said. He was kidding -- not that Loki hadn’t been a help, because he had -- and wasn’t actually expecting anything except to embarrass Tony, who’d kissed him first, after all.

“Oh.” Tony’s tongue darted out to wet his lips and suddenly Bucky wasn’t kidding at all. His internal organs went up in flames. “All right, then. Only fair. Dashing hero gets a kiss from the rescued damsel, altho I was not even a little bit in distress, I totally had this covered, everything going according to plan, and I--”

Bucky kissed him. It seemed like the only way to get him to stop talking, if nothing else.

And it was the most magical, wonderful, awkward, but exciting, kiss Bucky had ever had.

Tony’s mouth was soft and subtle, sweet and adept. The prickle of his mustache tickled Bucky’s lip, drawing a gasp and as soon as he parted his lips, Tony’s tongue slid in. He tasted faintly of coffee, dark and rich. Bucky found himself cupping the back of Tony’s neck, holding him right where he was until Bucky mapped out the territory of his mouth completely.

“Oh, well,” Tony said, pulling back finally with a long breath. “Uh… you can watch my stuff any time you want.”

“I… uh,” Bucky said, aware that he was blushing furiously. Thor had turned aside courteous as always, talking with Jane and Darcy, while Loki was still watching avidly. “Sure, I… maybe I could--”

Loki huffed. “Tony Stark, meet Bucky Barnes,” he said, grabbing Bucky’s wrist and placing his hand firmly in Tony’s. “Go… go for a walk, take him out to dinner, something.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but as much as Loki was a meddlesome sort of fella, he might not be entirely wrong. “Want… er--”

“Walk me back to my dorm?” Tony suggested. “Just in case Ty decides to ambush me?”

“Yeah, sure, okay. That’s probably smart.”

Tony snagged his backpack and stuffed his things back inside, then draped himself over Bucky’s arm, like a swooning maiden. “My hero.”

[sceawere]

compromise | ivar ragnarsson

set after the ‘check’ series

part one: see the whole board part two: middlegame part three: check

“It’s quiet”

“Hmm” Ivar hummed from his place on the ground. He lay flat out in the sun that fell onto the grassy bank, arm hooked under his head.

You looked down at him, cast a look back, and then returned to peering out over the roadway.

“It’s quiet” you emphasised, rolling your fingers around through a loop of string nervously. You turned it over and over, like a wheel before you, like the cogs turning in your brain.

“Not when you keep talking, it’s not” he murmured, eyes not opening until you gave his side a light kick. He frowned as he inspected the site of contact, unhooking his arm as he brought himself up to sitting.

“I’ve travelled this road twenty times and each time-“

“Oh, will you-“he interrupted.

“No, Ivar! Listen to me!”

“You remember that we’re not at war anymore?” he looked up to you, eyes wide and piercing.

“I thought we were at war with everyone, everywhere, all the time? You gave me a whole lesson on it, remember, because that’s your idea of polite dinner conversation” you shot back and he returned your look, holding firm until you sighed and looked away.

“I’m just doing what you taught me. And what I learned from you even when you didn’t know you were teaching me. Your fondness for surprise and confusion taught me many things, including noticing signs that aren’t there as much as the ones that are and-” you crouched before him, bending over your knees to whisper to him “It’s too quiet, Ivar”

He sighed and looked away to where the rest of the army had parked up and spread out to rest. Travelling with such a band of people and supplies meant slow going and you still had maybe a week of travel ahead before you reached the section of land that Ivar’s group were allotted.

Splitting the land as equally between the brothers control as possible had meant everyone got something to rule without hovering over each other. The hope being that it would keep everything amicable between them. If not, the distance should help.

You weren’t sure how they’d adapt to ‘peacetime’ lives and trying to pre-empt any problems and avoid familial squabbles had kept you busy right up until the moment you joined said family. Ivar seemed to be doing well, considering. Although his assurance that your agreement forbade him only from raiding where you’d agreed and no further seemed to be calming him – you’d noticed the maps of the lands that had rejected your arrangement and expected to be spending the next summer alone already. It was strange to feel dread at the thought but it sat in your gut all the same.

He kept staring off at the group and you huffed, moving yourself into his field of vision. You made sure to keep eye contact before speaking again.

“I’ve travelled this road twenty times and each time you could set your pace by the noise from the blacksmiths. It was a running joke among my father’s soldiers. The town just over the ridge is practically one giant workshop. There’s a dozen or more smiths and they make a hell of a racket and I can’t hear-” you paused to emphasise your point”…a single noise but the birds. Which don’t often nest here, because the water is so mucky and the air so smoky and they don’t like the noise”

You leant back a little before deciding to double down on your point “Which I can’t hear. Because there isn’t any”

He flicked between both your eyes and you tilted your head towards him, imploring him to consider your point. For all he nagged at you about forgetting the tactics of war, he continued to treat every conversation between you as a negotiation. It was infuriating. Most of the time. You had to admit, it was also enjoyable. While he’d fight back, he’d let you go for a while first and after years of having to hold your tongue around all but your father and brother, it was refreshing.

He turned back over his shoulder to the small creek that ran behind you and then up into the treeline.

“The water’s clear” he noted.

“And the airs fresh and there are birds nesting” you added. He leant forward a little more, eyes moving to the horizon that was barely visible down the road.

“It’s the middle of the day and its fine out. Why wouldn’t they be working?”

“You used to see the smoke plumes, dawn ‘til dusk. Navigate by them. Why is no one working?” you joined his sightline, noted the clouds rolling around the hill.

“Because there’s no-one there to work” he turned back to you.

“You never raided out this far – did you?”

“No. Did they join you? We might have killed them all” he half shrugged at the end and you shot him a look before continuing.

“We came to them before that second battle, asked them to smith for us. We promised them if they provided for the army, they wouldn’t have to serve in it” you shook your head, sighing and pushing up.

“Something isn’t right, Ivar”

He reached for his crutches and you knew better by now not to try and help him, staying staring off at the horizon that was beginning to grey. He called over to one of the men he trusted who seemed to be becoming a sort of second in command – if he would allow that. The position remained an unofficial, unnamed one, on account of your husband’s pride. They spoke between themselves for a few moments before the man ran off again and started rounding up a band.

“They’re going to scout ahead” he informed you before moving off towards the chariot.

“You’re-you’re not going with them!?” you stuttered out as you realised his intention and followed after him.

“Of course I am”

“No”

“Wife-“

“Why do you insist on-What is it that you so hate using my name?” you questioned, more to yourself, as you trudged after him and slammed your hands against the side of the chariot “Ivar, don’t leave me alone with these people!”

He laughed to himself, preparing to ride out and you gripped your knuckles white against the wood, as if that would do anything at all if he decided to speed off.

“They’re your people now too” he pointed out, too much enjoyment in his tone for your liking.

“Only by marriage and partly by trickery”

“I didn’t trick you” he rolled his eyes to you, suddenly a little more serious, though he still wore his smirk.

“No but you didn’t play entirely fair either!”

“And you did?”

“We’re getting off track and you’re getting off that seat because you’re not going into the mystery village and leaving me with-Ivar!” you jumped back and shouted after him as he set off, growling to yourself as you watched them disappear along the way. You huffed as the dust and dirt fluttered around the hooves and wheels of the disappearing figures, eyes turning to the slightly smaller crowd.

“I should have become a fucking nun while I still had the chance”

-

The sky was almost continuously grey by the time they returned more than an hour later and you’d about paced a new trail in the grass beneath the cover of the trees.

“There’s no-one there” Ivar explained and gave an order for the group to carry on down the road.

“What do you mean?” you questioned, eyes on the movement of the army.

“It’s abandoned. Looks like it has been for at least a few days, maybe even a week or two”

“I was here six months ago. It was thriving”

He shrugged again and started preparing to turn back.

“Ivar-“

“It’s safe. We checked everywhere. We checked around. I stationed guards” he stared you down and while his tone wasn’t reassuring, you knew the intent. He’d spent enough time chasing you from battle to battle to lose you to something stupid now.

“Alright. Then it’s safe”

He never really seemed to know what to do once you agreed with him and it was almost funny to see him retreat back and flounder in his words.

“Well. Let’s go then. Unless you want to camp here in the mud and the rain with the pigeons” he motioned to you, regaining his mocking tone as he turned around.

“You know I could tip you off that thing or strangle you in your sleep or something?”

He scoffed a laugh as you set off.

-

This felt odd. You both sat before the fire, Ivar down in the furs while you sat above him on a chest you’d pulled over. He studied the book on his lap, moving his head almost on instinct as your fingers worked through the braids. All you’d known together was war camps and stops on the trail. Being together between walls was something you hadn’t experienced before. It almost felt realer. More true. But still a little like playing house, with the remnants of someone else’s life all around you.

Surveying the place and following down the trails out in the opposite direction you’d come to the conclusion that they’d probably heard of their new oncoming rulers and decided it was best to cross the border back into ‘proper Christian lands’. Ivar was right. These were your people now, too. You didn’t fit neatly into either group. You were a bridge now. A compromise.

Ivar had worked his way through the Church documents and the records building in an effort to understand his new kingdom better. You were glad at how serious he seemed to be taking this, regardless of his motive. If he wanted to keep the lands he’d taken and prove himself as a ruler he had to be more than a good conqueror and he seemed to understand that. Or at least he was going through the motions of it. He was trying to study a book of land contracts but given that the lawyers had fled with all the others, the two of you were having to cobble together your scant knowledge of the wording.

“This one” he pointed to another word and you lent over his shoulder, your hair trailing over his chest as you rested your chin on his skin. The village had in fact been abandoned but most of the ‘non-essentials’ had been left in place and so there was still a working settlement ready to be picked up. You’d all taken full advantage, glad to feel a few more home comforts after sleeping in tents in random fields for the last few weeks.

“Uhhh…I’m not sure actually”

He sighed and turned his head to you, so close you had to lift your head to keep your eyes on him.

“What?” you questioned.

“You’re supposed to be helping me-“

“If I would have known one day I’d have to teach a heathen raider to understand legal documents I would have studied a little harder. But as it was, there were monks and priests to help with the Latin and so I didn’t. Too bad your lot tried to kill them all, isn’t it!” you stuck your tongue out at his snarl, lifting yourself back up behind him properly. His hand flew up to grab you hand when you gave a little tug to his hair and you laughed as he tried to pull you back down over his shoulder, fighting between the two of you.

You shrieked a little as you lost balance and went swinging around, dragging his arm at an odd angle and he gave a shout of his own as you met the floor. You couldn’t help the laugh that came as two of his guards popped into the room and you waved them off.

“It’s alright boys, it’s alright” you made out through the giggles and they looked between you both confused as Ivar nodded them away. He looked back to you on the floor and you smiled even wider at him as you got comfortable. He rolled his eyes but moved to his side anyway, head lying on your stomach as your fingers weaved back into his hair. This isn’t how you thought it would be.

“We need a priest”

“No, we don’t” he grumbled, sliding the book away across the floor, a little too close to the fire. You slapped it back, jostling him as you reached across. He huffed as you settled back, taking a little too long to get comfortable again.

“If you want to do this right-“he groaned “we’re going to need a priest”

“We don’t need a priest, you want a priest”

“Fine, I want a priest. I don’t accept your argument, but if it gets me a priest, then I’ll entertain it. How about that?”

He closed his eyes and didn’t reply so you tugged at his hair again.

“I don’t like it” he grumbled.

“You don’t have to. You’ll like what it gets you though. That’s the problem with warriors gaining kingdoms. They’re good at the taking, not so good at all the giving and not-so-fun ruling that comes after. You all think it’s going to be battles and feasts and fancy fun stuff and not counting grain harvests and making sure the roads aren’t flooded on market day”

“I prefer the fighting”

“Of course you do. Fighting’s simple. Just kill everyone. Can’t kill everyone at a council meeting” you scratched at his scalp, staring up at the joists. Whoever lived here before had been drying herbs and flowers when they left and they remained tied up around the beams.

“I could” he replied and you tucked your free arm behind your head to help look down at him.

“You could. But then no one would count the grain harvest and the carts wouldn’t move on market day. So suck it up and make some compromises, King Ivar”

He smirked up at you, rolling his neck to stare up himself.

“Where am I going to find a priest?”

“At a church?” you posed sarcastically and he heaved himself up, lifting the book and throwing it across the room to land back in the pile.

“I can’t believe you did that” you watched in shock, keeping your place on the floor as he made his way over to the bed.

“I can’t believe you care that much about a book you can’t even read properly” he shot back, lifting himself onto the edge of the bed with a groan. He settled and rolled his shoulder and you wondered if you’d actually hurt him.

“Books are precious, Ivar. They’re essential to our continuation as a society and as an enlightened people” you pushed up to rest of your elbows and he laughed at you.

“We never needed books and look where we are” he pointed out, combing back his hair with his hands.

You rolled your eyes and got up, following over to where he sat.

“Yes. Look at all the things you managed to steal. I’m sure you’re all very proud”

His hands came to your hips and you leaned into him a little more, fingers tracing over the ink at his shoulder.

“You’re not proud of me, wife?”

You rolled your eyes away from the design on his shoulder to meet his gaze and tilted your head.

“I didn’t say that”

The ghost of a smile came to his face and you lifted the finger that had been tracing to flick his cheek. He wrapped his arms up around your waist properly and rolled you to the bed beside him, squealing as you flopped down on the blankets.

“Ivar! A little warning, for heaven’s sake”

He hummed a response, hand diving under the shirt you were wearing to trace your side as he lay kisses at your hip.

“God, I’ve missed real beds” you settled back, taking in the feel “Ow”

You tugged Ivar’s hair again as he nipped at your hip.

“What is it with you and pulling my hair?” he mumbled, trailing his way up.

“What is it with you and calling me ‘wife’? I do have a name, husband” you reminded him.

“You don’t like it?” he asked as he settled next to you.

“I don’t understand it”

“I use your name sometimes” he hooked his arm behind his head again and you tugged the edge of the blankets up with your foot, kicking them into the reach of you hand so you could pull them up over you both.

“Rarely”

“I like it”

“It’s a nice name” you joked.

“I like calling you wife. I never thought I’d get to do it”

You paused, eyes softening as you crooked your neck and looked up at him.

“Oh”

He hummed in his throat, not lowering his eyes to meet yours. You lifted yourself onto your hands, hovered over him, and planted a kiss to his forehead. You dropped and rolled to your back, tucking your hair back as you settled in.

“Well, goodnight, husband”

“Goodnight, wife”

The fire crackled in the space between your words and the shouts from outside where it seemed they were taking full advantage of the wine that had been left behind echoed in.

“We should stay here for a few days” you whispered, shuffling a little closer to his side.

“Hmm”

You trailed your eyes over his profile, the light flickering behind him.

“I’d like a priest”

“Oh, for fucks-“he groaned and turned to his side.

“Hear me out, here!” you argued, resting on your elbow and wrapping an arm around his waist. You dropped your chin to his arm as he linked his hand in yours “I’ve got three main lines of argument that I think will-“

-

[sebeth]

Babs-a-thon, part 2

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

 Barbara’s first appearance in the post-Crisis DC universe was her revised entry in Who’s Who: The Definitive Directory Update ’87 #1.

Known Relatives: Roger (father, deceased), Thelma (mother, deceased), James (adoptive father/uncle), Barbara (adoptive mother/aunt), James Jr (adoptive brother/cousin)

Occupation: Former librarian, former Congresswoman, now civil servant

DC decided to make Barbara taller – before the Crisis she was 5’6”, post-crisis she is 5’11”

I’m not going to quote as much from Barbara’s updated Who’s Who entry as her Secret Origins issue expands on it.

A few items of note:

“Barbara’s mother died in a car accident when Barbara was four years old, which ultimately led to her father’s death from alcoholism.  At thirteen she moved to Gotham City to live with her aunt and uncle, who later adopted her.”

The changing of Barbara’s parentage was pointless and only adds unnecessary tragedy to her past. Was it changed because Frank Miller was unwilling to write Barbara into Year One.  Or is it simply not allowed to be a hero in Gotham unless you’ve lost a parent?

“After earning her Master’s degree in Library and Information Systems from Gotham State University, Barbara worked as head reference librarian at the Gotham Public Library until the chance to run for Congress came along, and success made her a one-term Congresswoman.  A re-election defeat led her to a position at Humanities Research and Development, where she works as an Associate Director, mostly on public work projects.”

The de-aging of Barbara has begun – first her Ph.D. is downgraded to a Master’s degree and her term as a Congresswoman is later hand-waved away.

I’ll be honest – the de-aging annoys me.  It takes away from Barbara’s character and history.  It only gets worse as Chuck Dixon and DC become hell-bent on making Bab’s Dick Grayson’s “one true love”.

“James Gordon later learned of her identity.” – Then why did I read dozens of post-Crisis comics of Barbara trying to hide her secret from her dad?

“Barbara’s nocturnal adventures are less frequent lately, due partly to what she perceives as her ‘failures’ during the events known as the Crisis…”

For those who weren’t reading DC Comics in the immediate aftermath of the Crisis –

1)      Psycho-Pirate is the only individual with full memories of the Crisis and the pre-Crisis multiverse

2)      Everyone else lost their memories of the pre-Crisis multiverse and have murky memories of the actual Crisis.

Could Barbara’s “perceived failures” be subconscious memories of Supergirl’s death?

Barbara’s hand to hand combat abilities are the same pre & post Crisis – she’s still a brown belt. However, Babs is now an Olympic-level runner.

 Secret Origins #20 – “Flawed Gems” by Barbara Randall & Rick Leonardi

The issue opens with Barbara pursuing a thief.

“As always, my mind races to catalog the image, then file it away among similar ones.  My brain’s a tidy place, lists and pictures in endless lines.  Nothing is ever lost.  They call it a photographic memory?”

An upgrade from pre-Crisis Babs: photographic memory.

“I like flawed gems. They remind me of me.  It’s impossible to tell from the outside what’s hidden on the inside.  The gem keeps private corners, holding secrets. So do I.”

Babs recalls how her mother and aunt died in a car accident when she was a toddler.  

“I wish I had a sister or a friend or someone who knew what it was like to do this.  Why I was compelled to be here to protect others. I used to pretend I had a friend. But it hurt much more when I realized I was talking to myself.”

Barbara’s lived a lonely life.  Babs chooses not to let her father in on her crime-fighting career.  She’s not close to the Bat-Clan either.  It’s especially sad that the Crisis erased/made her forget her close friendship with Supergirl.

We receive another clue about Bab’s intelligence: “Years ago, I developed a multi-light tracer for my bike.”

Bab’s reflects more on her childhood.  Barbara had an active imagination and created many super-hero personas:  Rocket Girl, Marvelousgirl, Batgirl, Supergirl.  Babs often played super-hero with Marcy, a childhood friend.  We see Bab’s bedroom where all of her stuffed animals are dressed in hero costumes.

Bab’s father has descended into alcoholism since the death of his wife.  He eventually drinks himself to death.  Barbara moves to Gotham to live with Jim Gordon, her uncle. Barbara discovers that Jim’s wife is also named Barbara.  Jim and Barbara have recently given birth to a son.  The couple eventually adopts Barbara.

Babs developed an interest in helping Jim with his cases:

“This Two-Faced guy – did he ever kill anybody?”

“Only nosy thirteen-year-old girls.”

“Right. Gothcha”

Bab’s continues to sneak into Jim’s home office to peak at his case files.  Batman sneaks her a note that states “Don’t get caught.  He’ll get angry!”

Bab’s decides she’s going to become Batman’s partner.  She develops a list of skills and courses to improve herself:  karate lessons, track, visiting the library to study maps and city information, and concentrating hard-core on her academics.

I like this determined, ambitious Barbara – it’s a better approach than the “hey, this looks like fun” motive of pre-Crisis Barbara.

Fearing she’s attracting too much attention, Bab’s tones down her academic and physical performance. She’s already graduating two years early.

Barbara, at 16 years old, attends Gotham State University for a library and information systems degree. Barbara completes her master’s degree.

The night of the policemen’s masquerade ball arrives.  Barbara is going to attend in a Batgirl costume.  Barbara, in costume, breaks up a robbery by Killer Moth and his henchmen. The victim of the robbery?  Bruce Wayne! Needless to say, Batman is not impressed by these shenanigans.  An infuriated Batgirl stalks off.  Babs skips the costume ball and starts her career as Batgirl.

Barbara later decides to run for Congress.  She wins but is found to be too liberal for re-election.

Bab’s notes how her later cases were strange:  mindwiped, impersonated, and turned into a snake!

“I flirted with the first Robin for a while, but he was so young.  Batman was always the one on my mind.  Is he the reason I do this?  I can’t help feeling I know who he is.”

The above passage is notable for several reasons:

1)          It explains why I could never get aboard the Babs-Dick ship.  There is clearly a big age difference between the two.  Babs’ mind is clearly on the older, more age-appropriate Batman.  Think about it – when Dick and Babs meet – Bab’s has a master’s degree and is preparing for a Congress run, Dick isn’t even old enough to have a driver’s license. You have to be 25 years old to run for Congress so we have an age gap of 7 to 10 years.

2)          It’s also why I was never bothered by a Bruce – Barbara pairing. Barbara’s first post-Crisis story states she was aiming for the older, not the younger, Gotham hero. Barbara went on a date with Clark Kent in the pre-Crisis.  Babs dated and later became engaged to Jason Bard, another adult, in the pre and post Crisis.  To me, Barbara has always been an adult peer to Batman, not one of his teenage sidekicks. I don’t ship Barbara and Bruce but I’m not against it.

3)          It also shows the distance between Babs and the Bat Family.  Bruce clearly didn’t trust her enough to reveal Robin or his identity to her.

“There’s only one face I can’t remember.  Coromant. He killed me.  A dummy fell to the ground.  But part of my soul fell with it.  He made me realize I could die doing this.  I should thank him.  He made me work harder.  Next time, he’s the one to take the fall.  I saw his face everywhere.  When the red rains came, when all the heroes left to save the world, I was left behind to fight him.  He was everywhere.  I’m chasing him now.  I’ll always be trying to catch him, and when I do…first, I’ll strip off his mask. Expose his secret identity.  Know his face.  I never forget a face.  I’ll make him as afraid of me as I was afraid of him.”

The red rains are reference to the Crisis on Infinite Earths.  Babs seems to be battling some PTSD when it comes to Coromant.  Apparently, Coromant is Barbara’s “perceived failure” during the Crisis.  I still like “my subconscious memories of Kara’s death” theory.  As far as I can tell, Secret Origins #20 is the first appearance of Coromant.  The Coromant panels also set-up the Batgirl special that came out later in the year.

This issue would top my personal list of essential Barbara Gordon issues. It establishes Barbara’s new origin, hits the pre-Crisis highlights of Batgirl’s career, and sets the stage for her next appearance.  You were able to get inside Barbara’s head and understand her motivations and fears.

Babs-a-thon, part 3 will feature the 1988 Batgirl Special, the Killing Joke, and a Death In the Family.

[anothertroy]

Pretty Green Eyes by Ultrabeat, Rome by Susanne Sundfør, Dead Stars by Covenant, Autoclave by The Mountain Goats, or You Threw It At Me Like Stones by Rome? xxx (I'm so fucking out of it that I just did first five songs on shuffle so uhh yeah. if none of these work I'll keep sending you songs

for curious readers, I offered @bonewhiteglory​ bad Drarry AU fic based on whatever song she put in my inbox, to cheer her up while she’s sick :x here and hereafter as and when I get to it, Harry and Draco visit a goth club, a place man ought not to wot of, the house in my head, Rome, and discover that war is hell (though not all at the same time and not in that order). (I am splitting these across five posts over the course of…whenever rather than putting them all in one so I didn’t have to cut them, bc I know text on my blog isn’t especially legible, but y’all can feel free to ignore them or read them if you like :x)

Autoclave - The Mountain Goats

hand me your hand, let me look in your eyesas my last chance to feel human begins to vaporize

“You’re totally sure this is where we’re meant to be?” Harry peered at the map. Draco made another, longer, infuriated sound and waved his wand, setting the locator spell glowing again. the light hovered, circled, grew still; Draco didn’t even bother to comment. magic couldn’t possibly let them down and the light was quite clear: this was the place. I knew this was a bad idea, he thought moodily, watching Potter and his maddening frown get closer to the cave mouth. 

the Ministry had tried everything to get him to accept an assignment with the Boy Who Lived To Piss Him Off - bribery, threats, withholding Caramac bars in the break room magical vending machines - and finally he’d gone to the man himself to tell him to make them stop, only to discover that Harry had had no idea it was going on at all. “Bloody hell,” he’d said sheepishly, “No wonder you won’t come out with us for happy hour.”“No hour I spent with any of you could possibly be described as happy,” Draco had ground out, “I’d be living a lie.”“Not for the first time,” Harry had grinned, and three days later Draco had agreed to go on a mission with him just to be contrary.

now they were on a damp, damp moor, looking at a damp, damp cave, wearing damp, damp robes and probably likely to find nothing but a damp, damp squib perpetrating what the local villagers persisted in referring to as “the thing”.

“Hello,” said Harry like a wretched 1940s schoolboy, “There’s writing here.” he scrubbed at the wall of the cave with his sleeve. “I…N…N - hold on.”“Oh, by all means,” Draco muttered. his shoes were ruined.“I think it says Inn’s Mouth. Maybe there’s a…” he trailed off, looking at the cave.“A hostelry. Of course. In there. How manifestly likely.”“You are an arse, Malfoy, you do know that?”“Takes one,” Draco said before he could stop himself, “To know one. Great aunt Miranda, can we please just look inside and then can we please leave?” and then he marched past Harry into the cave, because he knew, he just knew his fellow auror and the all-round bane of his life was getting ready to say -“You don’t have a great aunt Miranda.”

fuck my life, Draco thought with feeling, casting a ball of light to illuminate the path and the tragic state of his shoes. it was dark up ahead, though in the distance there was a faint visible glow - probably a campfire made by the total fuckbucket responsible for their having had to go out there in the first place. he mentally went over the report they’d been handed:sheep missing, cows partly missing (non-missing parts dead), also missing one (1) daughter (may have run away), villagers blame the thinghe’d gone over it twice and then turned to Harry and asked, “Blame the thing on what?”“No,” Harry had said with the resignation of someone who’d seen the report before, “They blame The Thing. Not like…The Thing, from the movie, just - they call whatever’s doing it The Thing.”“The thing from the movie?”“The movie The Thing?”“Potter,” he’d said acidly, “If there’s a punchline to this joke I’d suggest you progress toward it rapidly.”

it hadn’t been an auspicious start. 

now, the sound of Harry’s more sensible boots crunching over grit and small bones accompanied the approach of the orange illumination, coming to them from around a curve in the tunnel. bearing right, Draco was surprised to find himself entering a large chamber - surely taller than the hill itself; they must have been going imperceptibly downhill all the way in - empty but for a central pillar. atop the pillar was a strange figure, carved and twisted and somehow emitting the light which threw the roof of the chamber into shadow.“What on earth is that?” said Harry, stopping beside him, apparently equally bemused.“The pillar’s Spanish marble,” Draco replied on purpose, “But that, I don’t know.”“It’s…” Harry sounded like he was going to choke; Draco glanced at him sharply and realised he was laughing. “It’s the thing!”“It’s the thing.” Draco spoke flatly, but he had to admit to himself, not without discernible amusement. “Well. So it is. What, Auror Potter, are we going to do about the thing?”“How is this eating sheep?” it was a mildly chilling question. 

not one for being caught stalling, Draco approached the pillar cautiously, wand at the ready. whatever it was (it’s the thing, his mind supplied with an edge of hysteria) it was beautiful, sinuous, tactile; Draco wanted to touch it. he had to touch it. the song, the unbearable singing - he reached out with his free hand, maddened by the need to caress the carved arch at the top, where the purple glow was strongest. behind him, he heard someone say, “What the fuck -” but it was as nothing to the communion happening between him and this extraordinary icon, the place where the skin of his hand met its ice cold surface.

“Draco - Draco -” the voice was frantic. he looked up; Harry was in front of him, and also beside him. there were two of him now. just my bloody luck, he thought vaguely, staring from one to the other in irritation. “Draco, your - your hand -”“Oh,” he tried to say, “that,” and he’d intended to explain that he had given it in sacrifice and that Harry should do the same - “Hand me your hand,” he barely managed to say through a mouth that felt clogged and peculiar, shifting. all the Harrys, and the chamber was full of them now, staggered back in horror and sync as he grew, expanding and unravelling outwards into the black light.

you ought to head for the exits, the sooner the betterI am this great, unstable mass of blood and foam