#not really an overall point just kind of puking what i think about this in general terms

[datadegroove]

i've been blue collar all my life and there is an interpretation in this country of being a person who works with their hands as like, this honorable or "real manly man" way of being alive. and when you go from like the absolute bottom tier of like assembly line labor to what's considered a real career, it really becomes clear that this idea is something that infects almost every layer of american culture. it is this disgusting catholicism-adjacent self flagellation thing that people do to justify whatever horrible thing is being done to them. and make no mistake, blue collar work is a horrible thing. but it's not really the average joe's fault. this is why capitalism doesn't work, why it's an inherently evil thing. after all, what the hell are you supposed to do? not everyone has the ability to rock the boat in a way that might matter. unions and striking may be legal in this country, but trust me when i say that kind of action can only occur under very specific circumstances. for every manual labor position, roughly half of the people working there are so uneducated that they're anti-union because the union "takes away their rights". many others are so entrenched in their flagellation that they believe this is the way things ought to be. so you play the game to keep yourself and your family alive, to keep your head above water. and after generations of playing this game, now it's the way of life, both for us, and for the people making profit off of our labor. and i can't even really blame the people who are making that profit. many people who run the middle management of these companies did legitimately come from the bottom, and worked their way to the top. that in itself is a smokescreen, it's a trap to keep you complacent. because you played the game and you "won" (which simply means that you get to work behind a desk now), the system works. everyone has the ability to win. sounds a little bit like the lottery, doesn't it? my general point is that blue collar labor is evil for its needlessness. half of these positions could be eliminated with a little bit of thought and logistics, and the other half could have their workplace environment altered so that it's not quite so similar to hell. I don't deny that there are certain dirty jobs in the world that HAVE to be done. someone has to, say, be the person who casts molten metal. this job is hot, it's dangerous, it has the ability to kill not just that worker, but everyone in the plant with one errant mistake. my point is that when we put something like air traffic controllers on a job, there's an understanding that that person cannot operate for long periods of time, and that lives are at stake if they can't operate. but you see, the blue collar life means nothing. because it has no capital by design, it's designed from the ground up to be as close to a slave as you can possibly be without actually being one. you are a disposable unit, a tool to be used and discarded. and because of this attitude that these people have towards their own fates, they'll smile and shake your hand as they willingly step into a machine that can break you into a million pieces. i know people who have permanently broken their leg from slipping on a ice while they move a 10,000 pound pallet, have had their arm literally ripped off and reattached, have slit their femoral artery on panes of glass. you think the jobs paid for all that? don't worry they're "adding new safety procedures to ensure that this kind of incident doesn't happen again". and these are just some of the things that I know, in my limited experience. these things don't go away. but you go back to work in a couple months and everything is fun and laughter. so at what point is death no longer the baseline for change? i guess as long as you can afford your pointless ford truck, as long as the consumer gets their toys, it doesn't matter how much you or the people who made that purchase possible suffer. as long as everybody got to have their little playtime. if you're happy, i'm happy, right??

[crusherthedoctor]

Since the original character designs in IDW have become something of a hot topic, I thought I’d give a brief tier list in regards to how I’d rank the original characters based on design alone (cause you know none of them would be ranked highly in terms of characterization), and how well they can fit in relatively seamlessly with the game cast.

Starting from the top:

Jewel: I don’t have any real issues with her design, it’s cute enough. Maybe the beta design where she lacks a nose would have worked better for a beetle, but it’s no big deal to me. And her attire - both her pink suit and her beta dress - are both good, simple, and compliment her overall colour scheme.

Tangle: I’m fine with her being a lemur, I like her Ristar tail, and while grey might not seem like a suitable colour for a Sonic anthro, it’s usually... shaded vibrantly enough(?) for it to not matter, ala Shadow’s black fur. Her clothing is a little extra than the average character, but nothing too extreme, and not something that couldn’t be resolved with a minor edit or two.

Starline: He’s fine overall, and the elements I initially wasn’t keen on (the side hair and the Neo Metal Sonic-esque shoes), I’ve warmed up to. That said, you can tell what the inspiration for his design was, and I think the most obvious touches from that inspiration are the ones that I’d adjust.

Kit: As a water-themed fennec, he’s... fine. Whatever.

Lanolin: Her hairstyle is kind of stupid, and her clothing is less Sonic and more Kingdom Hearts Lite. The rest of her is alright, I guess.

Whisper: I feel like the basic idea with her design could work, but in execution she’s just a little too cluttered and too obvious Metal Gear Solid reference. There’s really not much point to the mask in particular, as well as her eyes shut gimmick, since she opens them for Muh Dramatic Moment all the time anyway.

Rough and Tumble: I guess there’s nothing technically wrong with their designs, for what kind of characters they’re supposed to be. But I really don’t care for either of them.

Belle: I know it’s probably meant to invoke Eggman’s stache, but the Sticks hairdo (or should I say Aika hairdo) does not look good on her. And her clown nose makes her "No one cares about me uwu” scenes unintentionally hilarious.

Surge: Everything about her design pisses me off, and not just because she’s transparently a Vagina Scourge. Stop making that stupid Twitch streamer grimace, you’re not Eggman. Stop using too much hair gel. Get a less puke shade of green. Give Aladdin his pants back.

Mimic: I acknowledge that an octopus must be one of the trickier species to turn into a compelling Sonic design, but Mimic just looks like a crusty echidna who’s waiting for the right moment to teleport behind you and tell you it’s Nothing Personnel, Kid.

Clutch: I forgot what he looked like.

[redrobin-detective]

Ben 10 lore that exists in my heart regardless of canon

- Ben’s personality in his mid-late teens is a mix of his Alien Force and Omniverse self. On the surface, he’s very cheerful and kind even if he is a bit of arrogant showoff. He makes jokes and plays around and acts as if he isn’t bothered by the things in his life. Those who know him best understand a good portion of his outward confidence and cockiness is just a facade to cover up his insecurities and to project the ideal, effortless hero. While sometimes seen as immature, most beings know Ben 10 means business as he takes his unofficial job and people’s safety very seriously. He’s clever, adaptable, charismatic and empathetic which makes him a formidable opponent and a loyal friend. Doesn’t open up easily but if you get to him, he become so dearly attached. 

- Drinks smoothies so much for several reasons. Comfort food go brrr, reminds him of the good easy times with him Gwen and Kev. It’s also a light but generally nutritous food to give him energy for heroing. Anything too heavy and he’ll be puking (both from physical and emotional stress). Though he jokes about his mom’s health foods, his are a crazy concoction of add in proteins and vitamins/minerals bc he knows he’ll out and out collapse without it. (Still has on occasion bc boy still doesn’t eat right/enough)

- While Fame is exciting for him at first he soon begins to detest it. Not the fans, no, he can’t bring himself to hate the people who look up to him. But he hates the constant attention, that he can’t walk outside without being mobbed. the only place he feels safe is his hometown where most people are so used to him and his weirdness that they don’t react much anymore. Takes to wearing a cape and face shield when going out anywhere so he can actually get things done without being recognized and mobbed.

- Part of the reason Bellwood isn’t concerned with Ben is partially because ben’s been weird and alien for as long as they can remember but also many don’t realize how famous/powerful he is. Yeah that’s just Ben Tennyson over there, sometimes he turns into funny creatures- wait what do you MEAN he’s the savior of the universe?? He cried over a spilled smoothie the other day.

- Does mostly online schooling by the time he’s 15. At first he tries to do half day things to maintain something of a normal life but it quickly becomes overwhelming and dangerous him/the school. Finishes his GED early but the Plumbers and Azmuth make him take additional college level and alien courses to prepare him for his future role. Ben gripes but really does love learning all these things, especially on his terms (ADHD and stress + the public school system do not always go hand in hand). He’s a quick learner when he deems the information important and is made accessible to his learning needs.

- Ben definitely has ADHD speaking of which, it was nearly uncontrollable as a child bc his free-spirited parents didn’t believe in medicating. Ben convinced them he needed it and after some trial and error, found meds that worked. As he became more involved in heroics/growing up he had to change his medicine regimen (resulting in him being a bit more off the rails in OV) and needed antidepressants and therapy to manage it better. As an adult he has a whole litany of coping mechanisms (good and bad yes) and regularly checks in with his therapist and doctors to keep things under control. 

- Has a complicated relationship with his necrofriggian children. Considers himself their mother and worries after them. They too feel a connection to their parent despite this being unusual for their species. A few visit (some more than others) while they grow while others maintain distance. Ben never breathes a word of them to the media for fear of them being targeted. Still he keeps an eye on them and ensures all 14 mature to adulthood (another rarity for the species). Checks in every now and again with the ones who don’t want to see him and those that do. Two join the Plumbers and Ben is both proud and worried. His youngest becomes partners with Rook Ben.

- Just in general loves kids, they’re his favorite fans and while he’ll grumble at pushy adult fans he always smiles and kneels down for the little ones. Not so secretly wanted to have children of his own but knew it was a risk overall and used a lot of that energy with mentoring and teaching. Eventually had Kenny later in life (late 30s-40s) and was over the moon, becoming such a loving and doing parent or as much as he could be with his hectic schedule. 

- Omnitrix can’t come off, never has at any point since it first latched onto Ben’s arm. Azmuth tried and failed to get the device off, doesn’t let Ben know for many years as he feared the consequences. The watch loves and protects Ben even beyond it’s programming making him much more durable to damage and releasing energy charges when he’s threatened. Not even removing Ben’s arm would separate them. They’re stuck for life.

- Ben does have Anodite heritage but the Omnitrix actively suppresses it and uses the built up energy to power the transformations which is why ben is mostly unaffected by what should cause a massive energy drain on him. Theoretically if Ben learned to harness and safely use his Mana at an early age like Gwen he would have been fine but letting it build up without safe outlet meant activation would have killed him. Omnitrix Ben, however, went his whole life not knowing of his latent abilities and how the watch saved his life.

- Ben’s eyes get more green and glowy as time passes from the Omnitrix. At first they think its a trick of the light but by the time he’s an adult his eyes are pretty much glow in the dark. His veins light up too after long stretches of using the Omnitrix. Its vaguely unsettling to people who aren’t used to Ben.

- Max and the Earth Plumbers work so, so hard to keep teen Ben on Earth when half the universe is blowing up their comm lines asking for The Ben 10 to help with whatever problem of the day. Ben himself doesn’t quite understand when he’s younger the prestige and expectations on his shoulders. Max throws up a million and one roadblocks so Ben can live as normal a life as possible while he still can. Still, while doing that he Still overloads Ben with expectations and responsibilities on earth and beyond. He becomes a soldier again with Ben as their greatest weapon. He never forgave himself of losing sight of his grandson underneath the hero esp after Ben’s breakdown. 

- Rook partnership with Ben ends not long after Omniverse with his promotion to Magister. Ben tries to play it cool but the thought of another loved one/teammate leaving his tears him apart. Max revealing that Ben most likely wouldn’t get a new Plumber assigned partner since he’s almost an adult and won’t need it and Rook accidentally missing their last smoothie run due to a scheduling mishap causes Ben to snap and have the nervous breakdown that had been building for almost a decade. He completely loses it for a little while and needs to take an extended leave of absence from school and heroics that lasts about a year. Spends time recovering both on Earth and Galvan Prime, does some diplomatic training, learns about aliens, actually confronts the stress and loneliness of his life. He comes out the other side stronger but still fragile and exhausted.

- Ben’s above mentioned breakdown brings him closer to all his friends who didn’t quite realize the extent of Ben’s burden. Rook had been under the impression Ben didn’t like him all that much so the knowledge that his departure was the final straw for friend/hero’s collapse was shocking. Ben and Azmuth also become closer, the Galvan becoming fiercely protective of the boy seeing as his Earth family didn’t do well to keep him safe. It takes years for him to get over his anger at Max for putting so much on his grandchild. Ben makes more friends, in and out of the hero business, finally gets a therapist and gets some of his burdens eased a bit. It’s not a sure fire fix and Ben has several smaller breakdowns the rest of his life but its something.

- Azmuth was straight up suicidal before he met Ben for the first time. Ben gave him back hope for the universe and his ability to create items for peace not weapons. The boy infuriates him, frightens him, frustrates him but Azmuth cannot deny in his heart of hearts that he loves Ben dearly. He’s very upset at Ben’s breakdown and doesn’t know how to handle the worst of the initail outbursts. Azmuth talks Ben down from a suicide attempt. He reaches out to Ben that he Too felt overwhelmed by pressure, thought himself only good for war. Ben’s arrival in his life saved him and now he will do the same for Ben. It’s the first positive step forward in Ben’s recovery.

- For no other reason than I like it, Azmuth primarily refers to Ben as Benjamin (mostly to annoy the kid but he likes the way it sounds too) and Ben in softer, more serious moments. 

- Professor Paradox continues to flit in and out of Ben’s life. He says its because Ben is the most equipped to handle universal peril (true) but he’s also just very fond of the boy. Ben, existing in so many forms and having such importance also exists a beat outside of normal reality which Paradox identifies with. Ben is naturally attuned to time related problems because of this (instantly IDing Spanner as from the future before being told later deducing him to be his unborn son). Plus Ben named him, way back when. He’s just drawn to Ben.

- Adult Ben, while being seen as an impressively skilled fighter and champion, really has his strength as a universal diplomat of sorts. Based out of Earth, he helps mediate and defuse conflicts, advocate against tyranny and overall preserve peace and balance. He’s not perfect, he makes mistakes and sometimes is forced to become violent (and yes kill) but overall is regarded as a peacekeeper, something younger ben simply couldn’t understand. 

- Gwen gets her degree and primarily does work with advocacy and teaching about magic/alien culture. While she and Ben are still close, there’s a bit of a frustrated divide in that she isn’t helping him share the burden of the universe. Gwen never wanted to be a hero and has enough worth to not shackle herself to a job that’ll burn her out. Ben loves heroing but gives too much of himself away trying to fix everything. They get into screaming arguments that it wouldn’t be so bad out there if she just helped him but she refuses to budge and says he shouldn’t make himself do so much. They always make up and thy still are each other’s closest relationships.

- Ben marries Kai in a political move, Kai is Asexual and Ben Aromantic. They didn’t love each other but they got on well enough and Ben was really feeling the stress of carrying the hero burden so Kai also being involved made him feel like he wasn’t alone. Both were also so tired of the universe constantly asking about their love life and said ‘fuck it we’re married leave us alone’. Gwen was always mad about it feeling Ben deserved better but the two of them were happy with it. They had separate rooms, mostly separate lives but they became strong friends and supports with their strictly platonic marriage. They had Ken via Invitro in an incubator and were loving if extremely busy parents. 

- Also from the moment he appeared, Ben knew that Spanner was his future son, Kenny. He played ignorant and then was kind of deliberately teasing him in future encounters. He knew the rules of time and didn’t want to disrupt things further even if he was angry and worried as heck about why Ken felt the need to time travel. When future Ben catches up in the timeline, Kenny gets SUCH a lecture. 

- Ben isn’t quite immortal but he’s also not entirely human anymore either. The Omnitrix not only keeps him safe from most harm but it lightens the effect of aging. Ben 10 is active many, many years when most humans would have been forced to retire. He’s not sure how long the watch will keep him alive and it terrifies him. Gwen too is functionally immortal however she ages like a normal human, then when her natural death came, shed her skin and became a fulltime Anodite. So in the end, it was her and Ben together wondering which of them will die first. Gwen has trouble retaining her humanity as pure energy and swears she’ll let herself fizzle out when Ben goes. When that’ll be however...

[nanami-says]

Part V (2/3): chapters 58~60

Chapter 58

[About Sukuna’s fingers resonating with one another]

"The ones that possess an immense presence. The ones that are hiding. The ones that are already taken in by cursed spirits."

⇒ "1) The ones with too big presences. 2) The ones holding their breath. 3) The ones already absorbed by cursed spirits."

I added the numbers for explanation purposes, see below. 

"One of Sukuna's fingers was hidden by a cursed spirit. When Itadori consumed the finger in June, it released its cursed energy"

⇒ "The Sukuna fingers that had been absorbed were holding back their power [while] inside cursed spirits. Then they unleashed their cursed energy with Itadori's incarnation [of Sukuna] in June serving as a trigger."

Whelp. On top of extremely simplifying the explanation, they mixed up the kind of Sukuna finger involved here - it was very explicitly stated in the text that it was number 3) "absorbed" (assimilated) fingers, and not 2) "hiding" fingers. 

I guess saying that Itadori consumed the finger isn't wrong plot wise but it's actually referred to (here and many times more in the manga) as "incarnation"! The same word also gets used for the death painting brothers.

[Megumi remembering a conversation with Gojou] 

"I was surprised you asked me to train you"

⇒ "It's rare for you to ask me for a practice, Megumi"

"To train you" wasn't wrong but Gojou saying "it's rare" here points to it either happening occasionally or having happened in the past and I'm not sure "I was surprised" quite conveys that. 

"Are you feeling pressure because of Yuji's growth?"

⇒ "Did you get impatient after getting surpassed by Yuuji?"

Gojou actually says that Yuuji has surpassed Megumi here! Quite a different nuance from just "Yuji's growth".

"Megumi, your skill and potential are probably higher than Yuji's. All that’s left is the mental aspect"

⇒ “You know, Megumi, I think that both your real ability and potential are in no way inferior to Yuuji's. (...)"

Emphasis mine because pray tell, how does one reach the conclusion that "don't lose out to"/"aren't inferior to" equals to "are probably higher". “Skill” was fine btw but I’d probably go with “mindset” for the last line, personally.

[Gojou explaining why he thinks Megumi doesn’t know how to make a serious effort giving the baseball game as an example]

“Why did you bunt? You sacrificed yourself so that Nobara could advance. Well, good for you"

⇒ "Why did you make a sacrifice bunt? Did you want to advance Nobara to the next base even if it meant you'd be out yourself? That's commendable"

The nuance for the last line was just different - the word used there usually is just used as praise, either genuine or ironic but imo “good for you” has a different meaning. Also he says “out”  but it’s written as “death” (although that is sometimes the case in baseball as well.)

“But no matter how many allies you have around you, you'll always die alone"

⇒ “(...) when you die, you’re alone”

I tried to phrase it a bit closer to the original because I feel like the nuance may just be different for this line but can’t quite put a finger on the how.

[Gojou to Megumi]

"To die and then win, and dying victoriously are two completely different things, Megumi"

⇒ "To win by dying and to win even if you die are completely different, Megumi"

Emphasis by Gege. Ngl, I had no clue what the English was trying to say here… This is most likely what the line actually meant.

[Megumi regaining his consciousness after he blacked out from getting hit] 

 "How long was I out? Was my divine dog destroyed? No, my technique's finished"

Actually "my technique got undone". Putting it as "has finished" is imo both unclear and misleading. Similar situation as in ch. 1 (refer to part I).

[Lead-up to Megumi using a domain expansion for the first time]

"A jujutsu sorcerer's growth never comes easy"

⇒ "The growth curve of a sorcerer isn’t always gentle"

Mostly, the line was more intricate in the original but also the grammatical construction used here that they mistranslated as "never" actually means "not always [necessarily]” instead.

"Here we go!!"

Not really incorrect but it's kinda generic and I guess something like "I'm gonna do it!" is closer nuance wise. 

"With a firm base, skill and imagination, a person can change thanks to the slightest of events"

⇒ "A firm foundation, a handful of sense, and imagination. Then, [even] with a most insignificant opportunity, a person will change"

A pity they simplified "a handful of sense" into just "skill" here. Overall not really incorrect but I wanted to propose something that imo better conveys the original wording and vibe.

“Area expansion”

…”area”? What? Obviously this is actually “domain expansion”. I just don’t have words.

“Think bigger! My technique’s interpretation!”

First sentence actually referred to the second one, so it’s actually something like “Expand it!! The technique’s interpretation!!”

[Megumi to the cursed spirit after his shikigami deals it a finishing blow]

"Divine dog's claws even hurt it...You were no match!"

"(...) So something like piercing through you when you're not even paying attention was easy"

Less excitement, more dismissiveness, I’d say? Also, for the divine dog it’s actually specified that it’s “divine dog (totality)” and not just simply “divine dog”. The term appeared before in ch. 47.

Chapter 59

[Megumi talking about what he considers the basic rule for human interactions in a flashback to his middle school years]

"Basically, you shouldn't cross any line that violates another person's dignity. You should acknowledge each other's mutual existence. That's the rule. You ignored it and fed your stupid ego"

⇒ "In short, it's drawing a line in order not to jeopardise one another's dignity; [it’s] a process through which both parties can coexist. That's what the "rule" is”. You broke it, throwing your weight around and forcing everyone to walk on eggshells around you”

For the first sentence, Megumi says “it’s drawing a line”, so the nuance here was probably closer to “creating boundaries” rather than “crossing boundaries” like in the official English release. For the second sentence, the original literally says “the process through which one another’s existence is achieved”, so rather than acknowledging each other’s existence the sentiment is probably closer to live and let live? For the last sentence, they once again simplified it to the barest bones.

"I'll definitely tell Ikezawa and everyone today that we're not their lapdogs"

“You got this, Aida!”

"But we might be the next punching bags, so don't go overboard!"

Should be “Ikezawa and others'' and definitely “that I’m not their errand boy” for the smallest boy’s first line. If all of them were already being treated as errand boys like the way using the plural form here implies, the other student’s reply wouldn’t make sense.

[After Tsumiki sees Megumi has beaten up delinquents once again]

“You said you wouldn’t pick fights anymore”

“You’re not my mom”

⇒ (...) “Don’t act like you’re my guardian”

Imo the distinction is significant because there’s a possibility that Tsumiki as the older of the two probably did feel responsible for Megumi to an extent and acted accordingly, as if she was his guardian. 

Also, he doesn’t actually say “mom” - this is not the first time where the official English release opts for a gendered phrase where the original uses a neutral form. (Like making Yuuji say his grandpa was like a dad to him when he actually said parent all the way back in ch. 2.) 

[Megumi’s thoughts from back in the middle school]

"I hate bad guys with no brains and zero emotional capability. Walking around feeling proud. Disgusting."

⇒ "I hate bad people. The way they act like they’re superior, with their complete lack of imagination or sensitivity. Disgusting”

I guess I really dislike the way they worded it here, especially the “no brains” part since Megumi wasn’t really talking about intellect or smarts here but about imagination (and sensitivity), which he literally describes as being akin to "vacant lot", "empty lot", "raw land”, which is much more evocative.

"I hate goody-goodies forgiving bad people, justifying mercy. Makes me wanna puke"

⇒ "I hate good people. The way they forgive such bad people and perceive that act of forgiveness as something noble. They make me sick"

Mhm, way to just simplify the heck out of the whole line. I’m extra bothered by their use of “goody-goodies” here since this is yet another appearance of a rather formal word for “good person” (善人/zennin) in the original and which I’ve observed to be a very important part of the world-building in jjk. I discuss it at length in various previous installments, with notable examples including: ch. 9 (Megumi about Yuuji and about the kind of people he wants to save - part I), ch. 31 (Nanami and Yuuji’s conversation in the aftermath of the Junpei incident - part III 2/2), ch. 36 (Panda about Yuuji - part IV 2/5).

“Tsumiki, you’re a perfect example of a good person.”

See, the word he uses here to describe Tsumiki is the same as in the line above (善人) but because back then it got translated as “goody-goodies”, you’d never guess it since the vibes are just that different.

[Megumi reminiscing about meeting Gojou for the first time]

"In the first grade, my dad and Tsumiki's mom got married and separated just as quickly"

⇒ "When I was in the first grade of elementary school my father and Tsumiki’s mother, our respective single parents, got together and disappeared into thin air"

The original doesn’t mention marriage OR separation. Heck, especially for the second one, it doesn’t even come close to mentioning it?? I have no clue where they got this from. 

What I put as “got together” can also be translated as “to have a liaison with (a man or a woman)” (among others). Since Tsumiki’s surname is also “Fushiguro” in middle school, it’s possible that they were actually married and many Japanese fans seem to think that as well but it’s not explicitly stated, at least not here, so those are most likely speculations. 

As for mysterious “separation”, the word used here actually means "disappearance (of people intentionally concealing their whereabouts); unexplained disappearance", so imo the whole section means their parents got together and at some point both disappeared. As we learn at one point in the manga Touji first and Tsumiki’s mum sometime later. 

(Btw, one fan scanlation used “evaporation” here instead and while this is another possible translation of the word in question, imo from the context it’s clear that the intended meaning was the “unexplained disappearance” instead.)

Lastly, Megumi uses kind of formal expressions when referring to both his own dad and Tsumiki’s mum, which imo is indicative of the emotional distance.

[Tiny Megumi about teenager Gojou]

"A weirdo with white hair said"

⇒ "A suspicious man with white hair"

Needless to say, he doesn't actually call Gojou a weirdo.

[Gojou about Touji] 

"But he's a loser that just works for me. He left the family and had you."

⇒ "He's enough of a good-for-nothing to take aback even me. Basically, he left home and then had you."

Emphasis mine. Again, I literally have no clue where they got the translation they went with for this. “Works for me” - just what?? (Btw, one of the fan scans available for this had the latter part of this line mistakenly imply that Gojou had Megumi leave his house. The bit definitely referred to Touji leaving the Zen’in family.)

"You're something your dad used against the Zen'in family. His trump card"

⇒ “You’re something your father kept as his strongest card against the Zen’in family”

A bit of a different nuance than “your dad used” suggests.

"The divorce money makes sense now. I was sold to this Zen'in family"

⇒ "The mystery behind the funds for their disappearance got solved. Apparently, I was sold to this Zen’in family or something"

Again, the word for “divorce” doesn’t make an appearance ANYWHERE in this chapter, least of all this page. ...How. 

Once again - fan scans had this as money that also evaporated but neither it nor the official English release make sense, considering the line is followed up by “I was sold” as the explanation. So yeah, imo the first sentence definitely referred to the money Megumi considered necessary for Touji (and co’s) disappearance.

[Gojou referring to Touji basically selling Megumi off]

"Sucks, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it's annoying. Especially your attitude."

⇒ “It pisses you off, doesn’t it”

“Yeah, it does piss me off. Especially that lack of delicacy of yours”

I mentioned it multiple times but imo repetition in the original text tends to be done on purpose and as a device and imo this was another example where this was the case. Megumi borrows Gojou’s words here. (Which mean “to be irritated, “to be angry” and not “it sucks”.)

[Megumi continuing about Gojou]

"But that annoying guy wrote off the situation with the Zen'in family. He made a promise that we would work as sorcerers in the future. We would be collateral and receive financial support from Jujutsu High in exchange."

⇒"This man pisses me off, but it was him who cancelled the deal with the Zen'in family, and made it so we would receive financial support from the technical college with me working as a sorcerer in the future [serving] as collateral for it”

I don’t know why they’d translate it as “we would work” here since who the “we” would be supposed to even entail other than Megumi himself? Surely not Tsumiki. Or Gojou. Also, putting the next bit as “we would be collateral” makes it sound kind of dehumanising to me, ngl, whereas Megumi was talking about his labour here.

Also, the same phrase for “pisses off” as above got used once again, which makes it three times in a row, so imo that was definitely a deliberate stylistic choice on Gege’s part.

“Jujutsu sorcerers. How stupid.

⇒ "Sorcerers, what even. How nonsensical"

Just proposing an alternate wording.

[Megumi about the curse Tsumiki got hit by]

"All we knew was that we didn't know anything. Tsumiki still sleeps."

The word used to describe Tsumiki’s state literally means “became bedridden”, which imo heavily implies she fell into a coma. “Still sleeps” is most likely a misunderstanding on the translator’s part since the word sounds like it’d mean that (but it doesn’t.)

[Megumi about Tsumiki]

"Always smiling and saying nice things"

⇒ “Always smiling and spouting lip service”

Another case where the translator seems to have translated the word based on the way it’s written as opposed to checking the actual meaning. (The “nice things” phrase.)

"It's not a bad thing to not forgive people. Megumi, that's your way of showing kindness."

⇒ “Not being able to forgive people isn’t a bad thing. That’s your kindness, Megumi”

It wasn’t just “not to forgive” but “not being able to forgive”! Which imo would imply the next line’s nuance was something similar to Tsumiki considering Megumi’s inability to forgive people to be something that stems from his kindness (e.g. because he can’t stand seeing injustice).

"Even spinning my short-comings in a positive light."

⇒ “She would affirm even my nature"

Imo this line was more of Tsumiki accepting Megumi as he is or at least that’s what the line says - makes sense with what I proposed for the line above too. Translating it the way they did in the official release kind of feels like overinterpreting.

"But even she would get upset when I hurt somebody. I was annoyed by the hypocrisy"

⇒ "But even such Tsumiki would get genuinely angry (...). I would get annoyed thinking she was a stickler to the rules and a hypocrite"

Emphasis mine. The phrase that the translators seem to have skipped here and I translated as "stickler to the rules" literally means "to play it safe", "to avoid trouble at all cost". 

"Yeah, I know. I was immature. I'm sorry so please wake up already"

“I’m sorry, I was a brat. I’ll apologise so just wake up already, stupid older sister”

Just a different nuance and tone for the whole line.

"All I did was get rid of the Yasohachi bridge curse. My sister's sleeping curse is a separate matter."

⇒ "This Yasohachi bridge curse was probably only overlapping with it, and the curse that caused Tsumiki to fall into a coma probably hasn't been lifted"

The official English release makes it sound like sleeping (or more correctly, the coma) was the nature of the curse that Tsumiki was put under, whereas imo the original indicates it just as its effect, which is an important distinction.

“As for the finger and Itadori…”

⇒ “What should I tell Itadori about the finger...”

The “tell”, “say” is only implied here but it’s pretty clear from the context that was the meaning. Also, he explicitly says “to Itadori” here.

[After the Yasohachi bridge curse got defeated by Megumi who then retrieved the Sukuna finger from it] 

"All of sudden I feel a presence. Did the finger get out of the barrier? Whoever took out the finger bearer is quite formidable."

⇒ “The huge presence that appeared all of sudden... Did Sukuna's finger get out of the barrier? If it was a sorcerer that exorcised the finger's host, they must be quite good......."

Emphasis mine on bits that got cut out in the official release. Because Esou was facing off Nobara, he probably assumed it’s likely there may be other sorcerers present and imo that’s what this line also suggests.

"Even so... The finger... Even if they fought against a special-grade and won, They more than likely didn't come out of it unscathed. I hope they're okay."

Just to clarify that the word used for “they” in the original indicates the speaker knows the people in question, so those were Nobara’s thoughts here.

 Chapter 60

[Esou to Yuuji and Nobara after he activates his wing king technique]

“Start running and turn your backs to me”

“Run. With your backs turned to me” would fit better nuance and mood wise. (Esou didn’t want to show his back to anyone so now he’s’ forcing them to show theirs.)

[Nobara to Yuuji after he scooped her up because she couldn’t run as fast as he could]

“I got your back”

“Okay”

“Okay” isn’t incorrect per se but the word has the nuance of “I’m counting on you”.

[Nobara to Yuuji after he speeded through the forest while carrying her, allowing them to escape from Esou's technique]

"Well done, you deserve some praise"

“Yeah, yeah”

“Just kidding. Thanks!”

⇒ "You have my praise." (...)

Actually a set phrase! Spoken from a rather elevated/superior POV, which is why Nobara later reiterates that she’s genuinely thankful. Also, I probably would just go with a period for “Thanks”, imo nuance wise it didn’t require an exclamation mark and it’s not there in the original either.

[Esou after Yuuji gets splashed with Kechizu’s blood]

"There's no need to worry. My younger brother's blood isn't the same quality as mine"

Actually "doesn't have the same properties like mine”.

"You wouldn't even die from mine unless you were drowned in it."

Much closer to something like "unless you were to bathe your whole body in it".

"But it does hurt like hell"

⇒ "But it does hurt to death"

Not really wrong meaning wise but in the original it was “to death” instead of “like hell”, which combined with a previous line was probably a wordplay. "You won't die but it does hurt to death"

[Esou explaining how his and Kechizu’s shared technique works]

"If you take in one of our brother's blood and if one brother activates a technique"

Idk if it's clear here but it most likely doesn't matter which brother does which (could even be the same one). Also, definitely should’ve been “the” or “this” for technique, since Esou has just stated on the same page he’s now going to start laying out how a specific technique of he and his brother’s functions.  

[Esou replying to Yuuji]

"Yes, the result is essentially poison. Our technique is 'decomposition'"

Should be “but what our technique is, is actually ‘decomposition’” nuance wise.

"It's activated now. In reality they'll be dead faster than that”

⇒ “Done with technique disclosure, so in reality (...)”

Emphasis mine. You know, the rule in jujutsu where if you explain your technique to your opponent, it gets a buff? “Activation” is just wrong here. 

While it’s not phrased as such, the phenomenon is first explained in ch. 20 during Nanami’s explanation to Yuuji (refer to part II 2/2). It also gets mentioned by name later in the manga but oftentimes the official release would either skip it or word it completely differently so it’s hard to tell, like in ch. 51, when Hanami realises Toudou has lied to him (part IV 5/5). 

[The history of how cursed wombs came to be]

"[In the beginning of the Meiji era] there was a girl with special genetic makeup who bore a cursed-spirit child"

Actually “with an idiosyncrasy that allowed her to get pregnant with the child of a cursed spirit”! Imo an important distinction since it’s not certain whether her first child that gets discussed here was born prematurely or not and the following pregnancies were all aborted.

"A child born of mixed blood - both cursed spirit and human.”

Skipped “grotesque child” at the end.

“It was a mysterious pregnancy. She would be ostracized by family and friends.”

⇒ "Starting from a pregnancy she had no recollection of, [followed by] the oppression from her kith and kin, it made her go insane"

This latter part of this section is filled to the brim with complicated language so I’m not entirely sure but I think this might’ve been the intended meaning of the line. The official translators were probably struggling with the vocabulary too, so they cut out some stuff entirely, to be precise - the go insane part. It’s the bit I’m not certain about myself but I scoured Japanese dictionaries and that’s the meaning that seemed to be the best fit among the options.  

Anyway, to reiterate - the bit about the pregnancy actually says that the girl herself didn’t even know (couldn’t remember) how it came to be. The part about the relatives doesn’t mention friends, it’s actually a set phrase that means “one's relatives by blood and marriage (in blood and law); one's kith and kin” - I went here with the latter since it’s shorter and fits the overall vibe of the line.

“She would hold the corpse of the child and flee to a temple in the mountains. The temple was run by jujutsu sorcerers. However, her luck had run out."

⇒ “(...) However, this was when her luck run out”

Other than the nuance in the last line, this isn’t mistranslated but the whole section just flowed differently in the original and felt less disjointed.

Also! One of the scanlations I’ve seen had it misspelled as “Noshitori” but the evil sorcerer’s name is actually “Kamo Noritoshi” (and yes, it’s the same as the young Kamo but the “toshi” is written with different characters).

"The child born from a cursed spirit and human would become a prisoner of intellectual curiosity"

⇒ "His [Kamo Noritoshi's] intellectual curiosity would be taken captive by children born between a cursed spirit and a human"

Very much the other way around. It's very clear in the original that the subject of the sentence was Kamo's intellectual curiosity and not the child.

"Death painting wombs: numbers 1-3. Cursed objects worthy of special grade."

Closer to "cursed objects powerful enough to be classified as special grade"

"Did cursed energy originate from a mother's hatred? No..."

It's specified here as "did their cursed energy" instead (emphasis mine), and the question is actually left unanswered......................................................... So yeah, congrats on getting rid of this very intended ambiguity. It's something like "or was it maybe--"

[About cursed wombs]

"For 150 years, with only the notion of one another's existence, they would survive, sealed away"

⇒ "For 150 years, they endured the seal, relying only on one another's existence"

"The notion" just doesn't capture the sentiment of the line at all, which imo is most likely the follow-up to the narrator's musings about the origin of the death painting's immense cursed energy. (See above.)

"We're siding with that cursed spirit."

Actually "siding with them", read as "them" but written as "the cursed spirits" - probably plural as the original literally says "the side of the cursed spirits", so it possibly means cursed spirits as a whole as well, aside of Mahito and co specifically. Remember, the brothers are actually half-humans too. I explain in depth the “written as but read as” device in part IV 4/5 (ch. 48, Toudou’s “my friend” phenomenon).

"The future that the cursed spirits have painted is more suited for us. But that's it. Forget about what we owe for our freedom"

Not incorrect per se but Chousou actually says “forget the debt we owe them of our incarnation”, which would make it yet another instance where the official English release has cut out the term entirely. (Emphasis mine.)

[Nobara after stating that a technique that assures a win as long as it hits an opponent is indeed powerful]

"I'm a bad match for you!!"

Actually “the worst match [possible]” - more confidence in the line! 

[Nobara to the death painting brothers after using Resonance on herself thus redirecting their attack back at them]

"Let's play a game of chicken, shall we?"

The actual wording is “contest of endurance”, I’m not entirely sure if the two have the same connotation.

[part v (3/3)]

[volturiwolf]

The Volturi Princess - A Felix Volturi x fem!Reader Story (part 3)

No of Words: about 5313

Mentions of: Abandonment, Abortion, Anxiety, Blood, Bruises, Coma/Comatosed State, Death Emotional Abuse, Emotional and Physical Pain, Gaslighting, Greece/Greek Language - with translation, Heartbreak, Italian Language - with translation, Manipulation, Murder, Pain, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy, Suffering, Suicide/Suicidal Thoughts, Swear Language, Throwing Up/Puking, Witches/Wizards/Witchcraft

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part 1 part 2

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"The Volturi Princess " Tag List (reply if you want to be tagged or removed):

@felixvolturisprincess @singerj2002 @mrtony-stank1 @ikissedthescarsonherskin @alecvolturiswifeforever @hshehdyhd

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Felix’s POV:

We have been traveling for over a year now, Demetri tracking Carlisle and us following behind him. Demetri located him across the Atlantic, so we swam across the ocean to reach him. Almost a year and a half after leaving Volterra, we tracked Carlisle while he was working as a doctor somewhere in the northern United States. He was surprised to see us, but we kept our austere facade to maintain our sovereignty towards him. He welcomed us gladly in his small house.

It was a two-story building, and it smelled of old wood and mold, but I guess that was the best he could do for now. The living conditions around here did not seem to be ideal. Apart from the Volturi and the Egyptian coven, no other vampire lived comfortably, in castles, mansions, or even big houses; most vampires were nomads, traveling around and living by hunting whenever they could. So, Carlisle actually living in a house, even if it looked like this, was way better than living the nomad life.

“Jane, Alec, Demetri, Felix. To what do I owe this pleasure? Can I offer you anything?” Carlisle had always been one of the kindest of our kind, too compassionate for a vampire.

“No, Carlisle, thank you, we’re good. We are on a mission, and we have a few questions for you.” Jane took it up to herself to start the conversation.

“Please, sit down so we can talk.” Carlisle offered us to sit around the table that was in the middle of the ground floor. We each took a seat at the table. “So, may I ask what it is all about? I don’t think I have personally acted in a way to upset the Volturi.”

“No, indirectly, you haven’t.” Jane continued. “We wanted to ask you a few questions regarding (Y/N). We think that you may have heard by now that she has left Volterra.”

“Yes, word came around. I met a few nomads from Europe some time ago, and they told me that (Y/N) left Volterra, probably permanently.”

I tried to suppress a sob that was fighting to leave my throat. Carlisle knew that (Y/N) left, everyone knew that (Y/N) left. They didn’t know she left her mate behind, and they shall never find out that she was my mate. I didn’t even want to think about the possibility of (Y/N) being in danger if anyone found out that we were mates. I had too many targets on my back to risk anything happening to her.

It was my turn to intervene. “Have you seen her? Has she ever come around here?”

Carlisle turned to face me. “I did. Once. She stayed with me for about a year; that was about 6 or 7 years ago. She tracked me through her memories. She has become quite skilled at that.” Demetri and I looked at each other confused. (Y/N) could track as skillfully as Demetri now?

Carlisle continued. “Anyway, she seemed concerned. She told me she had been traveling for quite some time, but she felt like she was missing a piece of herself, of her past. For a few months, she wanted to learn more about me, my job, how I was doing with the whole “animal blood” diet, simple curiosity really. She had been training herself to abstain from human blood, so it was easier for her to go hunt with me. She told me..”

Carlisle turned to look at me now. “She told me about your bond, Felix.” So, she has felt our bond, too! “She told me that she was scared for you, for your safety within the Volturi. She was worried about all of you, but particularly you, Felix. Being her mate means you are basically a target for anyone who wishes to harm (Y/N). She told me she ran away to protect you. As long as no one knew of your bond, you were safe. The traveling and meeting the world was just an extra benefit for her and her gift.”

“Her gift?!” We all exclaimed in unison. (Y/N) never claimed a “gift”, so how could this be possible? Did she lie? Did she even know about her gift?

“Before you say anything, she didn’t even know what her gift was. It is way more complicated than you think. I guess she’d appreciate it if I gave you an idea about it.” Carlisle paused for a few moments. If my heart was beating, I swear it would have stopped by now.

“You know how, for example, Jane, you can induce mental pain, or you, Alec, can restrict anyone’s senses?” The Twins nodded at Carlisle. “Well, (Y/N) can do both, and so much more.” We were kind of shocked. No one has ever had a gift similar to the Twins; that’s why they were in the Volturi. Because they were unique.

“(Y/N)’s gift is copying others’ gifts. That’s why she could also track me; she had copied Demetri’s gift.” Carlisle pointed at Demetri, who looked utterly shocked now.

I would lie if I said I didn’t feel the same way or scared even. I was not scared because of (Y/N); I was scared for (Y/N). This newly-found discovery meant she would be way more important to Aro than we ever thought. He wouldn’t just let her go - not that this was his intention before, but now, she would be even more precious to him and his cause; she would now be the perfect weapon for him to use against other vampires. I had to find her and warn her.

“Do you know where she is now?” My voice came out more stern than I intended it to be.

Carlisle nodded his head slightly. “I may know where she is now. Before she left, she was trying to find out as much as she could about her parents. I assume that was the “missing piece” she was referring to? Anyway, she may be after her parents. I mean they do know her nature better than any of us does. Don’t forget that (Y/N) is half-witch. No one could ever teach her how to be one; only her father could be the one to do so. So, if I stand corrected, she is looking for them. And there’s only one place that (Y/N) has ever linked to her parents.”

“Greece.” Demetri stepped in. Demetri was the only one who could understand (Y/N)’s connection with Greece; it was their birthplace, their origin, their true home.

“Exactly. If you find her parents, you’ll most likely find her. Even if she’s not with them, it will be easier to track her if you have her parents’ assistance.”

We nodded and we stood up. “Thank you for your help, Carlisle. You were most helpful.” Jane spoke for all of us.

“It was my pleasure.” Carlisle led us to the door, but before we left, Jane turned to him one last time. “We think we can trust you that this conversation stays between us.”

“Of course, Jane. Have a safe trip and take care of yourselves.”

“You too.” Alec smiled at Carlisle.

What Carlisle said at the end had me worried for (Y/N). “I hope you find her soon. Her parents never had the best reputation around.” What kind of people was (Y/N)’s family anyway?

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Tracking (Y/N) proved to be way more complicated and debilitating than we thought it would be. We assumed that the closer we were to Greece, the easier it would be for Demetri to pick up her tenor. We were wrong; we were going around blindly, not a clue about (Y/N)’s whereabouts. Even when we finally set our feet on Greek ground, we still didn’t know where to start looking for her. Nobody had a clue where she could be; we didn’t even know her birthplace.

Demetri took it upon him to start his research in a place he knew well enough: Athens. Athens was the capital of Greece’s civilization for many centuries, but, at the time of Demetri’s birth, during the Byzantine times, Constantinople emerged as the center of the Eastern Byzantine Empire, while Rome remained the center of the Western Byzantine Empire.

Athens was not regarded as highly as it used to, during Pericles’ “Golden Century”, as the 5th century BC was known. It still was an important and historical city, but it has lost its title as the “capital” eons ago. The city was taken advantage of by both “allies” and Ottomans and seemed to have lost part of its previous glory. Still, it was beautiful; I may have been quite “old” myself, but I could still admire the history around me.

It reminded of (Y/N)’s stories and books; knowing Ancient Greek history was one of the first things she took an interest in. The fact that she was able to travel to Athens, with or without Aro, quite a few times also developed her fascination regarding the Ancient Greek arts, philosophy, and overall way of living. Of course, it wasn’t easy being a woman then, or ever really, but she was more financially privileged than the average Athenian - vampire wealth had always been an actual thing, and Aro always prided himself to be a “collector” of wealth (and talented vampires for the matter).

We arrived in Greece at a transitional stage; the country has been experiencing a war against the Ottomans for a few years now, and it was evident around the city of Athens. There were many casualties during the war, many damages around the streets, the houses, and there seemed to be a climate of misery and decline.

Yet, the country had recently elected a prime minister, who declared Nafplio, a city in Peloponnese, as Greece’s capital. That was our next stop, as we couldn’t find anything in particular that could indicate (Y/N) being in Athens. Apart from the poor living conditions, the country was experiencing a plague pandemic wave, which killed even more people, but authorities worked hard on containing the cases, and it seemed to have been working.

Still, without a single clue about (Y/N)’s location, the only thing we could do is go around searching for any possible information. We could only travel at night, and hide during the day; Greece, just like Italy, had always been blessed with sunny days, for the majority of a calendar year.

It wasn’t ideal with us being vampires, but Volterra was an ideal strategic location for the Volturi to travel across the vampire and human world, rule, and impose their laws whenever it was needed. Just like always, we now also had to be secretive about our existence.

I thought about how lucky (Y/N) was in that situation; being a non-fully vampire, she didn’t “glow” in the sun like us. She had a more healthy-skin-like glow, a healthy and subtle glow that made me even more attracted to her - if that was even possible. That basically meant that she could technically go anywhere and everywhere; the weather did not affect her, the sun did not affect her.

I started getting frustrated and disappointed. It wasn’t only (Y/N) I had in my mind; apparently, during the years of the Greek Revolution, many vampires, Greek or non-Greek, started secretly fighting to claim territories for themselves.

We knew that it wasn’t part of our duty, but it wouldn’t hurt if we could actually claim Greek land for the Volturi. Having both Italy and Greece under our control could mean more power, more resources, more blood. It only seemed natural; the three Volturi kings were born in Greece, all three of their wives were born in Greece, Demetri and Chelsea were born in Greece. (Y/N) was born in Greece.

Greece could easily become an extension of our territory - Italy was already ours in its entirety - and it would only be the start. It would be easier to control and deal with any possible riots from other covens - the Egyptians and the Romanians in particular. We didn’t fear either of them, but the Romanians have been holding resentment towards the Volturi for a couple thousand years, so anything could be expected from their side at any moment.

I shared my thoughts with the Twins and Demetri. They all agreed that it was a plausible plan; it would show others that the Volturi are still as powerful as they have ever been, and should be feared. Besides, we knew that just the four of us would be able to subjugate any vampire that crossed our paths. With the Twins’ powers, Demetri’s tracking skills, and my strength, it would be impossible for others to resist or challenge us.

We started interrogating any vampire we found wandering or hunting at night; none of them worthy enough to fight us or even gifted enough to join the Volturi. It was quite easy to find the leaders of these “newly-made” covens, or alliances, as they seemed. Because none of them inspired loyalty to each other; none of them was a coven in the sense the Volturi were. They were more like vampires who came together to fight for territory control; I doubt if they would even manage to stay together for one more day. They did not only lack loyalty towards their "leaders", but also discipline, principles, and basic rules of survival and solidarity towards the other members.

It was quite easy to take over any “coven” in Southern Greece, including the island of Crete. We started moving north, taking over the territories of Thessaly and Epirus, something which the Greek humans did not manage to acquire from the Ottomans yet. We were to take over Macedonia and Thrace next, but we were met with an unexpected obstacle.

Every vampire we would interrogate regarding these two territories would say the same thing: none of them knew who owned them, but whoever tried to claim the territories never returned back, dead or alive. The mystery that surrounded the person or people behind the leadership of these areas made their skin crawl; they all refused to “help” us any further, no matter how much Jane, Alec, and I tried, which made me kind of worried, or more like curious, but I didn’t want to show any weakness or let them question my effectiveness.

Every one of them was just a “normal” vampire; we were better, stronger, gifted, and we have proved that we can bring results every single time. No other vampire has ever dared go against us; we wouldn’t allow them to question us now either.

We continued traveling up north, determined to face whoever it was behind the territories there. I didn’t pay attention to the slight pain in my guts as we were traveling through the country, but it was becoming more and more intense as we continued going north.

We didn’t know how we would find the vampires behind this “operation”, so our plan would be to act in any way possible to provoke them into coming out of their “hiding spot”. For a few days, we were rummaging any small village we could find, killing the villagers and draining them of their blood - not a very “Volturi tactic" may I say. We were supposed to hide our existence, not challenge our luck by killing so many people; yet, this was the only way we thought that could possibly lurk the vampires out of their “comfort zone”.

As we were traveling through Macedonia, we came across a rather developed town, compared to the villages we have seen before. The city was surrounded by tall stone walls. There were a few rivers on its western side, forests and mountains on its northeastern side, and swamps and marshes on its southern side. We couldn’t hunt freely here, at least not during daylight; there was no way we would go unnoticed if we started hunting anywhere in the area. We decided to run through the forests, see if there was a place we could stay for a while; if there was a human or more we could feed off of; if there was a sign of the vampires or (Y/N).

During the last few weeks, I’ve been thinking that our mission has been more about expanding our power and influence, and not as much about locating (Y/N). Actually, it felt more like locating (Y/N) was more of an afterthought now. We lost the purpose of our mission; the reason we came together all along.

It wasn’t as if we would actually be directly benefiting by the territories we claimed; we were still working on behalf of the Volturi. We didn’t ask the kings to claim Greek territories; yet, we did, because we felt obliged to consider their own good once again, this time at the expense of finding (Y/N). Once again, we became the victims of the influence they had on us, and we played their game.

“Why are we even doing this?” I yelled frustratedly. My friends turned to look at me.

“What do you mean, Felix?” Jane seemed slightly annoyed. “We’ve come here to claim the territories, to show these savages who the boss is here.”

“No, Jane, they are not savages, we didn’t come here to claim territories, and we don’t have to show them “who is the boss”. They already know that the Volturi rule the vampire world. No. No. We came here to search for (Y/N). Not to “claim territories”. Not to “show them”. We came here for (Y/N). We..We lost our purpose. We lost the true meaning of our mission. We just started claiming the land for the Volturi, for Aro. We..We forgot about her.”

My eyes were stinking with venom. I felt weak, I felt as if I betrayed her. I promised to myself that I would bring her back home, that I would protect her. It’s been so long and we still haven’t found her. We just kept wasting time on things that shouldn’t matter to us. We should not care about expanding our influence, our territory, our power. We should care about bringing the Princess back.

Jane lowered her head apologetically. “I’m sorry, Felix. I didn’t know you felt this way. I have to admit it though; we did lose track of time and we forgot about the actual purpose of this mission. We once again forgot that (Y/N) has always been way more important than any power in the world. I’m sorry. We all are. I promised you we’ll start searching for her right away, okay?”

I nodded affirmatively. We had to find (Y/N) as soon as possible. We were not only running out of time but also out of hope that (Y/N) was in Greece or anywhere else, that she was alive. We got so distracted by our conversation that we didn’t notice we were being watched until we all started screaming in pain. I fell on my knees, the pain on the back of my head unbearable, and that’s when I blacked out.

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I didn’t know how much time passed being unconscious. It felt like a new sensation to me; being a bit over 2000 years old, I haven’t lost my senses once - except for the times Alec liked to play games on me. I didn’t feel like myself; it didn’t feel right. I didn’t like being restricted of my senses, especially now, especially here, in an unknown place. My mind was blurry and I couldn’t see anything distinct around me; I couldn’t see almost anything. I tried to move my hands around but I couldn’t as if the tightest rope in the world was holding me in place.

“No need to fight, sweetheart.” I heard a woman’s voice. “There is no way to escape.”

“Who are you? Why am I here? Where are the others?”

“Felix? Is that you?” I heard Demetri’s voice on my right.

“Demetri? Is that you? Where are Jane and Alec?”

“I am here.” I heard Alec’s voice on my left.

“Me too." Jane replied.

“Alexandre, please, I cannot start with this again.”

Suddenly, I could see again. I was still physically restricted, but my eyes could see them crystal clear and my mind was in order once again. The woman in front of me was very imposing, though of average size. Her long, curly hair framed her face beautifully and her piercing red eyes were piercing through my soul. The man standing next to her was only a few centimeters taller; he had short, straight hair, and his eyes were looking between the four of us sternly. Who were they even? Why were we even here? Why us? As if she read my mind, a woman spoke to me.

“Oh, deary. We’re not going to tell you who we are. But you are going to tell us what you, Volturi guards, are doing in our territory!”

“How do you know who we are?” I exclaimed. Of course, everyone knew the Volturi as the authority of the vampire world, but not all vampires around here have ever met us specifically, or any other member of the coven for the matter.

“Your crest, dear. I have known that crest for far too long. Way before you were even born. I see that dear Aro never changed it. He does like to remain in his same, old ways after all. Never changing, never moving forward, still imposing his “laws”, I’m assuming?” The woman seemed to know way far about the Volturi and Aro. She became a danger for our coven, from the moment she and the man abducted us. She should have never done that; they both would be punished for their actions.

“Dear, I won’t get punished..for anything. You, on the other hand, are in a pretty difficult situation. You see, my husband and I are not going to let you get away until you tell us why you are here.”

“Pain.” I heard Jane saying. The woman turned to look at her but she didn’t even flinch. I heard Jane screaming in return.

“Oh, sweetheart. Your powers won’t work on either of us. You see, I am a shield, so don’t even try to hurt us. On the contrary, WE can hurt you just as much, if not more.” The woman smiled evilly, while Jane was writhing in pain.

“Please, stop hurting my sister.” Alec pleaded, unable to use his gift against the couple.

“So, you are the “Terror Twins”. Alec and Jane, I see.” The woman knew their nickname? “Oh, yes, I do, dear.” She turned to look at me. “You see, I was once part of the Volturi. Technically, still am. However, I left, way before any of you joined the coven. To put it into perspective, I was there when Didyme lived but I left way before she was killed. Dear Marcus has never been the same ever since. I still feel somewhat of a connection to the coven, though I am able to make my own decisions because I managed to escape them. We were actually passing by Volterra a few times. I wonder how you never noticed us, though our powers would practically make us mentally invisible from Demetri, over here, or any other vampire, really.”

She knew Demetri, too?

“Felix, dear, I know all of you and about you. You see, my dear daughter has a special connection with all of you, a kind of friendship neither my husband, nor I quite understand. It wasn’t easy for her to keep her memories secret; though she is an amazing shield - which makes me so proud, she is kind of “vulnerable” when she is sleeping. And my husband’s magic is quite strong and easy to penetrate her mind and memories when she does eventually sleep.”

Her daughter? Could that be…?

“WHERE IS SHE?” The question slipped out of my mouth without even thinking about it first.

My anger could not be controlled right now. I was pushing myself to my limits to break my fetters, to no avail. Were that woman and that man (Y/N)’s parents? I started making some connections here and there; they looked similar to (Y/N), though so different at the same time. Their immortality, their red eyes, their confidence, and their aggression did not remind me of (Y/N). She had a pure face, a face of kindness, she was not like them.

“You think so? Alexandre, can you please call (Y/N), agapi mou?” The woman turned to the man, and the man started moving his fingers in front of him, creating some sort of a wave around him.

Within a few seconds, the door burst open and the first thing I saw was a red silky fabric flowing around the air. When the fabric settled down slowly, I saw her for the first time after so long. She has changed..a lot. Her (Y/E/C) eyes were replaced by piercing red ones, with a slight hint of (Y/E/C) around the pupils. Her eyes apathetic and stern; her facial features more defined; her hair reached a little below her shoulders, straight and shiny, like her father’s. She still looked as beautiful as ever.

She stared at us, focusing her eyes mostly on me. Her heartbeat sounded steady and strong. I was relieved; she was still human, they had not turned her fully vampire yet. She took a few steps farther into the house, her feet bare but surprisingly clean, no dirt, no grass had stained them. She stood right beside the woman, who I now knew was her mother and Aro’s daughter.

“What are they doing here?” Her voice came out stern, yet it was music to my ears.

I missed her voice so much. I missed her so much. Our mate bond, weakened by the distance and time spent apart, slowly started forming again. I felt it; I felt my existence becoming meaningful again. I felt my breath hitching in my throat, her presence provoking so many different feelings and emotions inside me. However, she still seemed cold and distant, and I couldn’t quite read her face. Did she not feel the same? Has she forgotten me? Does she hate me now?

I saw her gaze getting softer, even compassionate? She approached me and bent down slightly, placing her left hand carefully on my right cheek. She stared deeply into my eyes and I closed mine, leaning on her touch. It was the purest moment I have experienced in my 2000 years of life.

I opened my eyes and stared at her. I saw golden flakes scattered in between the red in her eyes. Once again, she took my breath away. It felt as if I fell in love with her all over again, a unique feeling of refreshment. We were lost in our own little world. She smiled slightly at me, the first time she did after such a long time.

“Enough! (Y/N) get away from him, now!” (Y/N) was forcefully removed away from me by her mother. She was looking at me pleadingly and then turned to look at her parents with such hatred. I’ve never seen her like this ever again, not even with Aro.

“YOU. WILL. NOT. TELL. ME. WHAT. TO. DO!” If looks could kill, (Y/N)’s parents would be dead by now. Her hands started lighting up, bright purple flames rising up. She was trying to intimidate her parents, but neither of them looked concerned in the slightest. She turned to us and with a dance-like move of her hand, we were finally freed of our fetters.

It was her father’s turn to speak. “(Y/N), let’s take this outside.” With a jerking motion of his hand, we all found ourselves, outside, in their house’s front yard.

“They’ve come to take you back to Volterra, back to Aro! Don’t you see it? They don’t care about you! They just want to please their master.” The words came bitter out of her mouth. She had a clear resentment towards the Volturi. “I will not let them take you away from me! Not again!”

“I know, mother, I’ve read their minds, too. Yet, I don’t see why YOU seem to think that you can make the decisions for me. I am my own self. I can make decisions for myself. And I get to choose what I do with my life.” (Y/N)’s voice was certain, powerful, in control. “They are not bad people, mother. They just have to follow orders, just like you followed Aro’s orders, just like I followed yours. That’s not going to happen anymore. I am taking control of my life!”

The sweet, little girl I got to see my whole life was becoming a strong, powerful woman right in front of my eyes. She was radiating power; she was taking control of her life. She was..my everything. She was becoming independent, her own self. To say I was proud of her, would be an understatement. She has always been special, but this newly-found power has clearly given her way more confidence and trust in herself.

She would finally be able to rule the Volturi. If she decided to come back to Volterra, she could definitely take over the coven. No one would be able to resist her or her gift. My thoughts were quickly interrupted when her dad started shouting in Greek.

Demetri, who was standing right next to me, saw the look of total confusion in my eyes. “I’ll translate for you.” I nodded at him. “So, her father says: Enough with this nonsense, (Y/N). Your place is here, with us. You owe us; we taught you what you needed to know about your magic. We taught you how to use it, how to develop it. You didn’t know enough to defend yourself back then.”

“Now, (Y/N) says: I don’t owe you anything. Yes, you did teach me how to use my magic, which I inherited from you. But, you gave me away to Aro. You couldn’t defend me or yourselves against him. You just offered me to him, as if I was a present for his birthday or something.”

“Now, her mother says: You, at least, owe it to yourself to get away from these tyrants. You know they don’t deserve you, so why are you still defending him? It’s that man, isn’t it? Now, (Y/N) says: That man has a name. Now, her mom says: You know, his name means “lucky”, "happy" in Greek. Yet, he hasn’t been that lucky or happy at all, has he? We read his mind, (Y/N), he’s not worthy of you.”

“Now, (Y/N) says: Guess what? I have also read his mind, and I have also read the two of you, as well. Don’t you think that it is only you who can read my mind while I’m sleeping! I’ve been reading your minds any chance I get! I know how you’ve been planning to use me, as a weapon against the Volturi! Guess again! I’m not going to let you manipulate me anymore! And that man deserves EVERYTHING in this world!”

“ENOUGH!” Her father shouted and threw a dark red glowing sphere, hitting (Y/N) and knocking her on the ground. My heart dropped at the sight, but she quickly stood up and gathered so much energy in her own hands, attacking her father with a powerful hit.

He got wounded, his face slightly cracked from his forehead to his jaw, yet he didn’t give up. He was about to attack her once again when his wife stopped him. She was looking at me and nodded to her husband. I heard (Y/N) screaming, but I didn’t make out what she was saying, as I started screaming myself and felt myself getting tossed in the air. Then, everything went black once again.

[jadedxrealityw]

-Opposites- Peter Parker x Female Reader

    ☼-☪-☼

   Kody: sassy reader for the win

   Movie/Show: Spider-Man: Homecoming / Infinity war / Endgame

   Request: hi, how are you? i hope everything is okay! it's ok if i ask for some peter×reader where the reader is all sass and peter is all shy and cute maybe? idk, don't really have something specific in mind, but i really like your writing thank you! 💕 @loudbluepancake

   Possible Triggers / Warnings: cursing, puke/throwing up/vomit, angst because i suck, Peter being to innocent for his own good

    ☼-☪-☼

      people always say opposites attract. That two completely different people could cherish each other. You didn’t really believe in such superstitions for most of your life. That was until you met Peter Parker in chemistry class, it was like your whole idealism was thrown into orbit. 

   it was sophomore year and you despised anything science related. Mostly because you sucked at it- okay that’s the only reason. Your teacher had issued some work packet, about six pages to be finished by the end of class. The urge to throw yourself out the window was growing by the second. 

   you guessed your internal struggle became visible at one point because you felt a light tap on your shoulder. 

   your head snapped to the left like an owl, startling the brown haired boy in front of you “What?” you said rather harshly due to your stress. He purses his lips together, contemplating whether it was a good idea to come over to you after all, he just had to listen to Ned.

   he holds out his hand, offering it for her to shake with a nervous smile “I’m Peter- uh Peter Parker. I saw you were um- struggling? I can help” he says, stumbling over his words a bit, something he usually did. You eyed him up and down, noting his nervous stature. 

   narrowing your eyes for a second, you sigh “Yeah clearly. I’d appreciate that. I’m Y/n by the way” you reach and grab his hand, shaking it twice before letting go. “Pretty- i mean your name is pretty. Sorry” he apologized quickly. Watching him trip over himself was kinda funny.

   “Well i hope i don’t look ugly either” you said, a small grin on your face as his drops to a worried look. “No!-” he exclaims, earning a harsh shoosh from the teacher in front of the classroom and a few weird stares at his outburst. Peter takes notice and smiles nervously around the room. 

   he turns to look at you and sighs “That was joke wasn’t it?” his face scrunches up. He looked cute that way “Yeah, but i would actually like your help” you admit with a half smile. He blinks mindlessly for a moment before exhaling deeply “Alright”

   and that’s how it started

    ☼-☪-☼

   six months later

   after your quick encounter, would would always bug Peter on chemistry work when it didn’t make sense to you, so most of the time. “I- I’m busy Y/n” he spoke, not looking in your direction “With what?” you asked, not believing him in the slightest. He was such a bad liar.

   his hands clench a bit as he crosses his arms “I’m going out of town for a bit” he says and Ned nods along with him. Ned didn’t look like he was lying, so you figured he was in the dark too? Unfortunately you were a hot head “when you want to buck up and tell me the fucking truth, delete my number” 

   Peter looks up at you, his mouth opening to say something. He wanted to say something, anything really, but he knew he couldn’t. How was he supposed to say he was going to Germany to fight Captain America with Tony Stark. Oh yeah he was also Spider-Man!, but he really wanted too. 

   his mouth closed and you took that as your cue to leave. Turning on your heels, you walk towards the door of the classroom “Y/n!” Peter calls out, but instead of turning round you lift your hand up and flip him off. As you walk out the door Peter drops his head onto the table. 

   “That girl has too much sass for her own good” Ned says, Peter just folded his arms and sighs, but he did agree. You on the other hand were huffing and puffing as you walked out, trying to calm yourself down and convince yourself that Peter blowing you off shouldn’t hurt as much as it did. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   two weeks later

   you were sitting at your desk looking at your chemistry textbook and taking notes. The truth was you had been taking Peter’s study techniques to heart and were actually passing because of it. You had just gotten so used to Peter coming over to help you study for tests that you assumed he’d be there. 

   maybe it was selfish of you too expect him to bend to your will, but he was your only friend other then Ned and Maybe Michelle, but she was more of a loner at the moment, but she’d come around. You liked watching him teach you because he was confident in the way he spoke.

   but you loved his shy side, because you could get an reaction out of him by anything you said- that sounded more mean then it should. You were brought back to reality once you hear your cat meow next to you, since they were sitting on your desk. 

   “Do you think he has a girlfriend and that’s why he blew me off?” you ask your furry fellow who nuzzles it’s head into your hand. “It’s not like i would care if he had a girlfriend. We don’t even like each other like that” you shrug your shoulders, the words not feeling right as you say them.

   “Are you talking to your cat?”

   “What the fuck!” you shout and jump out your chair to face your window. Perched on the windowsill was a guy in a red and dark blue spider suit. Spider-Man. He raises his hands up in defense, almost falling back out the window “Okay okay, maybe i should have knocked” he joked.

   was he- making jokes?

   you turn to your desk and grab from the stack of textbooks, chemistry. You chuck it at him and he catches it “Yeah that’s not gonna work” he says with an amused laugh, but it’s cut short s you throw your english book next and it hits him straight in the head. 

   “Ow! What is your problem?!” he shouts and throws your books onto your bed. You deadpan and gesture to the room “Your in a 15 year old girls room you fucking creep!” you shout back. “If it makes you feel any better i’m also 15!” he says, dodging more flying books and throwing them on the bed.

   “It doesn’t dipshit, your still a man!” 

   “Okay okay, i’m sorry!” he apologizes, letting out a groan as he grabbed his his side. You narrow your eyes and drop the book you were holding “What’re you hurt or something?” you question, He lets out a small laugh “Ran into a mugger on the way here- i mean i live around here”

   “Right and you stopped by my room because?” you say, not fully trusting spider boy over here. “I heard you talking to yourself- well cat and thought you needed some company” he shrugs. At this point you thought he was either a creep or a really nice dumb guy. 

   “Why were you talking to your cat. Don’t have friends?” he said and you life up the book again to throw it at him “No no no i mean like you seem like a nice gal, so i assumed you would have friends?” he quickly mustered up the words. You roll your eyes “Nice save” you say before sitting on your bed.

   “I have three, one is busy with crime documentaries, one is building legos, and i’m not talking to the third” a frown overtook your face. Spider-man stepped through the window and sat down, leaning against the wall “What’s the reason?” he said, sounding unsure if that made sense. 

   “He’s a dick and lied to me” you reply, hoping off the bed to sit on the floor, but still lean against the wooden frame of said bed. “How do you know he lied?” Spider-man questioned “He shoves his hands under his armpits and doesn’t make eye contact with me. He’s also just a shit liar”

   Spider-man went silent after that, mumbling something to himself before eventually speaking up “Maybe he had a good reason?” he said and you rolled your eyes. “I told him everything about myself and he lied to me. Maybe everyone else was right”

   “Everyone else?”

   “Most of our other classmates and people in our year in general think i’m obnoxious, loud, and just overall an overbearing attitude. Ned, my other friend just calls it sass.” cracking a smile, you advert your eyes to your hands to mindlessly pick at your nails. 

   you weren’t able to see as Spider-man’s fist clenched before sighing “Does he know about what they say about you?” he asked, already knowing the answer “Nah” you shake your head “I didn’t want to worry ‘bout lil old me. I guess someone got to him”

   “I don’t think that’s true”

   “How so spidey?”

   “If i was your friend i’d never believe what other people say about you. You don’t seem obnoxious” he says. That was kind ff sweet of him “Well you don’t seem like the kind of guy to fight Captain America, plus some other avengers but i saw the news yesterday”

   he reached behind to scratch the back of his clothed neck “That’s on the news already?” he asked. You lift your head and nod “Yeah dude, some people stayed back and recorded it i guess” you shrug, thinking that was a plausible answer. “Aw man” he whines, making you chuckle. 

   “I think you held your own for a good amount of time. i would have probably died, but i can’t shoot webs out my wrist so it only makes sense” you wave your hands a bit “Hey! i also have enhanced strength, reflexes, and speed. I’m amazing” he gloats. 

   “Alright Spider boy don’t let that go to your big head” 

   “It’s Spider-man, thank you very much” he replies with as much sass “I’m already rubbing off on you, get out of here before you become my clone” you joke, standing off the ground, Spider-man doing the same. You saw his mask move as he laughed a bit.

   “I should get home and you better call your friend, even if it’s just yell. I’m sure he’d want to hear your voice after how long?” he asked, going over to the window “Two weeks” you say, stepping towards him “Yeah he definitely misses you. See you around”

   “yeah yeah i will. See you round Spidey. Get that rib checked out by the way” you point at him in a mock scolding tone. He shakes his head “I will too, bye” and with that he fell back out the window. You went over and looked at the sidewalk just as he swung passed you. 

   he waves and you do too before shutting the window. What a weird dude. You look back at your desk and spot your phone “Dammit” you mumble and walk over slowly, like the device was going to jump out and bite your damn finger off. Once your close you grab your phone and swipe up, unlocking it. 

   you click on the green phone button. It opens up and you click contacts until you see ‘P.B Parker’ it was funny at the time you made it, now it seemed stupid. fuck, why did this seem so hard all of the sudden? You quickly click the call button before your mind could make you pussy out. 

   it rang once, then twice.. “Hello?” you press the phone to your ear, feeling nerves nip at your skin “Hey Parker” you say and it went silent for a few moments “It’s- uh It’s nice to hear your voice, i thought you’d ignore me forever” he says with a nervous laugh. 

   “Nah, i don’t have enough friends to do that. What were you really doing the past two weeks?” you ask, hoping to get straight answer from him “I was working with Tony Stark, i got an internship with him. I wanted it to be a surprise” he said. “Now i feel like a bitch”

   “Don’t- i. I should have said something. I don’t like when your mad at me Y/n. It’s both scary and depressing” he admits, which made your chest feel a bit warm “It’s because i’m so amazing i know” you reply, making him chuckle “Yeah, you are”

   you two ended up talking on the phone for hours about nothing and everything. He seemed more confident in the way he spoke as well, but you will always like the shy side of him. It was also the night you figured out you liked your best friend. 

   ☼-☪-☼

   one month later

   “Hey guys, Peter’s in his room. I’m making turkey meatloaf” May says as she steps aside so you and ned could come through. May wraps her arms around you and squeezes you tightly “May. Losing. Oxygen. Tell my mom. I love her” you say dramatically and she laughs, letting go.

   you smile as she kisses your forehead before going back to the kitchen “Five bucks says she burns it” Ned says and you nod, shaking his hand. Both you and Ned walk into Peter’s room, not bothering to knock because you both suck “Where the hell is he?” Ned asked and you shrug. 

   “May said he was here, so she probably doesn’t know he’s out. I’m not snitching’” you raise your hands, pushing the door a bit with your foot. Ned rolls his eyes and goes over to Peter’s bed placing the box of legos down “I’ll call him” he says and you nod, taking a seat at his desk. 

   Ned lifts his phone to his ear and you could hear as it rang a rang, but Peter never picked up “I’ll text him were here and i guess will wait?” he says, unsure. You shoot him a shrug “Whatever you want to do dude” you reply. Ned sighs as he texts rapidly on his phone before looking at you.

   “What?”

   “You are no help sometimes, you know?” 

   “Fully aware. Now let’s build that death star thing to rub it in his face” you suggest, going over to sit next to Ned “It’s just death star” he says and you roll your eyes this time “Yeah whatever. Now open it up before i put legos in your shoe”

       ☼-☪-☼

   a couple hours later

   “I don’t even know what it’s supposed to look like, but damn that’s cool” you say, looking at the fully built death star in the hands on Ned “Yeah! We have to take a picture for Peter-” Ned stopped talking as you both heard the window to the left of you both. 

   you tilted your head to watch as the the similar figure wearing red and dark blue suit clung onto the wall. What. The. Fuck!? Both you and Ned are stunned into the silence at the fact that Spider-man just crawled through your best friends room. 

   was this a normal thing for him?

   you were just beginning to process what was happening until Spider-man reached up to grab his mask and rip it off his head. You should have looked away, but you didn’t and what you saw some reason made you feel sick. The dorky face of Peter Parker.

   what

   the

   fuck

   Peter slowly crawled across the ceiling until he was a few feet to the right of his door. He lifts his arm and shoots a web, slowly pulling it closed. Once he could no longer do that, his feet detached from the ceiling and he was dangling by one arm for a second until that detached as well. 

   he went to the door and used his hand to fully shut it, letting out a deep sigh. He turns around and his whole body freezes up, his  brown eyes going back and forth between you and Ned. Ned drops the death star, causing it too crash onto the floor and break apart. Damn- 

   Ned stood up abruptly while you looked around, reaching for the trash can beside his bed. You grab it and release the lunch you had earlier in it. “What was that?!” May called from the kitchen. Peter looked back and the door with a worried look “UH! Nothing! Nothing!” he shouts back.

   he looked back at Ned, who looked like he was bubbling with questions already “Your the Spider-man, from youtube” he breathes out. Peter pats his chest as his suit deflates around him. You look up for a moment, wiping your mouth to see Peter just in his boxers. “I’m not. I’m not” Peter repeats

   fuck, Shit, Damn- 

   emotions were everywhere at the moment. Wait did he have abs!? “You were on the ceiling you dipshit!” you shout at him, pointing up with your finger. Peter looks like he’s about to implode “NO i wasn’t. Guys what’re you doing in my room?!” 

   is he- trying to- turn this on you guys?

   “May let us in. You said we were going to finish the death star?!” Ned explains hastily. “You can’t just bust into my room!” Peter shoust back just as the door opens, causing him to stand next to Ned as smoke came filing into the room. Jesus, was the house on fire- oh nevermind. 

   damn you owned Ned five bucks. May came in laughing to herself “That turkey meatloaf recipe is a disaster. Lets go to dinner. Thai? Ned, Y/n you wan’t Thai?” she says, reaching up to take the clip out of her hair. Ned smiles “Yeah actually-” 

   “No he’s got a thing”

   “A thing to do after” Ned corrects, smiling nervously as May looked at you, waiting for your answer “I just puked in this trash can so” you say simply making May’s face become worried “Okay, i’ll go get some stomach medicine” she says, grabbing for the handle 

   “Maybe put on some clothes” 

   Peter purses his lips together and grabs a grey sweatshirt off his desk chair quickly. May smiles and closes the door, Peter going back to standing in front of both of you. Ned raises his hand gesturing to the door “Oh! She doesn’t know!” Ned says. 

   Peter sighs before turning back to ned. “No, nobody knows. Well Mr. Stark knows, but that’s because he made my suit, but that’s it” he explains, showing his arms through the sleeves of the sweatshirt. “Tony Stark made you that? Are you an avenger?” Ned says in pure disbelief. 

   Peter’s mouth went agape for a moment until his head did that cute, stupid little nod thing “Yeah basically” he says, shrugging his shoulders. Ned dramatically leaned against the bunk bed “Oh Jeez” Peter went to stand directly in front of him. You finally stood up and stood next to Ned

    “Dude, you guys can’t tell anyone about this. You gotta keep this a secret” he says in a hushed tone. This is a first seeing him so serious “A secret, why?” Ned says and you facepalm next to him “Seriously?” you say, whacking Ned’s arm. who swats your hand away. 

   Peter’s voice suddenly got very high in pitch “You know what she’s like. If she finds out people are trying to kill me every single night, she’s not going to let me do this anymore” he says, gesturing to the door every couple words. “Come on Ned please” Peter begs. 

   “Okay, okay, okay, kay I’m gonna level with you.I don’t think i can keep this a secret ” he says and Peter sighs, turning his head away “This is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me” he says. He acted like he just found out that he himself was Spider-man instead of Peter. 

   “May can not know. I can not do that to her right now, you know?. With everything that’s happened with her I- please” he pleaded his case once more, his voice cracking a bit. It would have pained you to see him like that a little more if the urge to strangle him wasn’t there. 

   “Okay”

   “Just swear it okay, both of you”

   “I swear” Ned says and Peter looks at you. “Yeah i swear, for May’s sake” you make sure to point out you were still pissed at him. “Thank you” Peter says anyway. “Okay” you shrug your shoulders. Peter ran a hand through his hair “I can’t believe this is happening right now”

   “Is the internal freakout kicking in Spidey?” you say with a small grin on your face. “Can i try the suit on?” Ned asked “No“ both you and Peter say at the same time. “How does it work? Is it magnets?” How do you shoot the strings?” Ned kept the questions rolling. 

   Peter grabbed his arm, leading him towards the door “I’mma tell you this at school tomorrow okay?” he said and Ned nods as Peter grabs the door handle “Great. Wait ” Ned says and they both stop at the door. Did he forget about you. “How do you do this and the Stark internship” he asks. 

   wow

   Peter gives him a strange look “This is the Stark internship” he says and Ned smiles, nodding “Oh” Peter shakes his head and shoves Ned through the door “Just get out” he says and shuts it. He turns his back and leans against it, exhaling deeply. 

   you take a seat on his bed and grab your black sneakers so you can slip them on. “What’re you doing?” Peter asked, pushing himself off the door “Leaving. What does it look like genius?” you snap at him as you stand up once more “But May said she’d bring you some-”

   “I’ll tell her i’m fine. I just want to go home” you say and go to grab your bag off the floor when Peter shoots a web at it, pulling it towards him “I know your mad at me” he says “Oh so he is a genius, what do you want? a cookie. Give me my bag Peter” you say bitterly. 

   “I wanted to tell you, i really did. Especially after that night in your room-”

   “Don’t even bring that up”

   “Y/n please, just let me and explain” he begs as you walk towards him and go for the handle, but he shoots a web onto it before you can even touch it. You sigh and look at him with a glare “Fine” you submit and he nods, dropping your bag beside him. 

   “I was a normal kid my whole life and then my world was flipped over. I could do things no one else could and it was awesome, but i knew i couldn’t tell anyone but at the same time i knew i could help people. So i did and it became my new normal”

   you listened quietly, trying not to give off any emotions or whatever “then six months ago i met a girl who couldn’t do her chemistry work, so much so that she was breaking her pencil and didn’t even notice. Everyone calls her obnoxious and full of attitude, but i think she’s perfect”

   “Are you flirting with me Peter?” you asked and he smiles sheepishly “No- well yes, but i’m trying to tell you i like you. Like- like like you” he said then immediately averted his eyes away from you. “Oh” you breathed out, in shock yourself.  

   “Yeah”

   a few moments went by and both of you didn’t say a word, just stared at each other awkwardly. Peter seemed to become antsy by the second because out of nowhere he grabs your face with both of his hands, planting his lips on yours. It took you a second, but you kissed him back.

   wait

   pushing him away, you wipe your mouth “Peter i just puked in your trash can dumbass!”

    ☼-☪-☼

   two years later / senior year

   “I fucking hate bridges” you groan, slumping down into your seat. Field trips sucked ass, especially when you had to drive over a bridge. “You’ll be fine” Peter reassures, wrapping an arm around you. You narrow your eyes and look at him “When we drive off this bridge and die. I’m blaming you”

   Peter shook his head before his face dropped and he looked at his arm. The hairs on his arm standing up. He takes his arm from around your head and places his hand over the hairs, causing your head to fall back “Ow. What the hell Peter?” you glare, 

   you sit up in your seat and spot what he’s looking at. Oh aliens- that’s fucking great. Wait your boyfriend is a superhero “Peter” you say, but he looks at the back of the bus before reaching in the front to tap Ned in the face. Ned takes out his earbud and looks back at him.

   “Hey Hey. I need you to cause a distraction” 

   “Ned don’t” You say, but it’s too late, Ned spots the spaceship, his face lighting up “Holy shit. We’re all gonna die!” he shouts, getting the attention of everyone on the bus. “Peter” you say again. Everyone gets out there seats and strats to crowd the back of the bus. “It’s a spaceship!”

   Peter reaches into his backpack and pulls out his web-shooter, slapping it on his wrist. It connects automatically. He points it out the window on the other side of the bed and shoots a web at the latch, pulling it open. You grab his arm, finally catching his attention “Peter for fucks sake think about this”

   “It’ll be fine. I always come back, you know this. I’ll see in a couple hours okay?” Peter flashes you a smile. You sigh and nod “Fine, come back soon” you say and he nods, leaning down to peck your lips. “I Love you, bye” he spoke quickly before launching himself out the window. 

   he had never said i love you before

    ☼-☪-☼

   you were at home, religiously watching the news on your phone, switching to other channels if they didn’t have any view of Peter.  Speaking of Peter, he was currently holding onto Doctor Strange as something was beaming it up “Peter just let go” you say to yourself. 

   but you knew he wouldn’t

   you watched as the light post that was keeping him down was ripped out the earth and your boyfriend shot through the air, leaving earth with that spaceship. He was gone, but he would come back. That’s what he told you. Like she had been watching herself Mj’s contact appeared on your phone. 

   scrambling across your bed, you grab your phone, answering it “Y/n” she says before you have a chance to explode on her “He’s gone Mj What am i supposed to do?” you say, your words breaking like you had forgotten how to speak. Mj waits a few seconds before responding.

   “He’ll be back. No get some rest it’s late will meet at the cafe next to your house with Ned”

    ☼-☪-☼

   two days later

   “Y/n, you looked like you haven’t slept” Ned points out, causing you to send a glare his way “Yeah no shit, my boyfriend is in fucking space and i haven’t seen him for two days, but yeah thanks for pointing that out dickwas” you snap, leaning back in your chair. 

   Ned purses his lips and looks around, begging for Mj to show up with your drinks already. “He’s my friend too, my best friend. I’m scared, but you know Peter. He’ll be back” he says. You look at him and sigh “Yeah i’m sorry Ned” you say and reach across of the table, opening your hand. 

   Ned takes your hand into his and you smile “You guys having a seance without me or something?” you both turn your heads to see Mj standing in front of the table. She places the drinks down, one in front of you and one in front of Ned. “God, did we have to chose a table outside it’s hella freezing”

   you laugh at Mj’s comment “I needed the fresh air. My room smells like depression and doritos” you say, making Mj snicker this time. You lift up your drink and look at Ned who is frozen in fear. “Ned” you say, placing your cup down.

   Ned doesn’t say a word, only lifting his finger, pointing at something between you and Mj, who had taken a seat next to you. Both you and Mj turn around to see people- people turning into dust and floating away like a old dandelion you blew to make a wish on as a kid. 

   Mj’s eyes widen “We have to go!” she shouts and just as you were both ready to take off- “Guys” you both turn to look at Ned. He’s staring at his hand, watching as he came apart and floated away “Ned!” you shout and jump out the seat, going over to him. 

   Mj grabs his hand, but he goes right through it. You can see her eyes watering, you can’t remember ever seeing her cry before “Ned, it’s going to be okay” she says. “I- i feel weird” Ned spoke. You both lift him out the chair, but it’s too late. The last bit of him had flown away.

   “Oh god” Mj spoke, looking at her own hands, she was fading away as well. You grabbed her shoulders, both of you in tears at this point “Mj you can’t leave me, okay? That’s not how this friendship works. Your to stubborn for this bullshit” you spoke through sobs.

   Mj’s knees buckled under her and you fell with her. As soon as her lower legs touched the ground she was gone. You didn’t know what to do, your best friends and vanished in front of your eyes. Like you were on autopilot, you grab your phone from your pocket and click the phone icon.

   ‘P.B Parker’ you click the call button and it goes straight to voicemail 

   “Please leave a message after the tone”

   ‘beep’

   “Peter. Ned and Mj vanished into thin air and i don’t know what to do. Your usually the logical one and- fuck Peter why did you leave. I’m so scared and all i can think about is how you told me you loved me on the bus, you really know how to make an exit”

   as you spoke you saw your hand beginning to fade as well “shit- I love you too Peter Parker” your boyfriend would never hear that message.

    ☼-☪-☼

   titan (sorry in advance)

   Peter Parker clung onto Tony “I don’t wanna go” he kept repeating like he could convince the stones to let him stay. 

   “I don’t wanna go Mr. Stark”

   “Please”

   Peter fell, taking Tony with him “Y/n- find her and make sure she’s alright please. I should have stayed with her- i-” Peter was choking on his words “I’ll find her kid” Tony assures him and Peter cracks a small smile, before looking Tony in the eyes.

   “I’m Sorry”

   and the universe lost Spider-man

    ☼-☪-☼

   23 days later

   “It’s been 23 days since Thanos came to earth” Rhodey spoke as pictures of the avengers and other people related and were blipped flashed on the screen. “world governments are in pieces and parts that are still working are trying to take a census and it looks like he did-”

   Natasha stopped speaking for a moment “he did exactly what he said he was going to do. Thanos wiped out fifty percent of all living creatures” as Nat spoke Tony saw Peter’s face and quickly looked away “Where is he now, where?” he asked.

   “We don’t know, he just opened a portal and walked through” Steve replied, leaning against a table. Tony sighs, a bitter smile on his face before his head turns to see Thor sitting away from the rest and points at him “What’s wrong with him?”

   “uh he’s pissed. He thinks he failed, which of course he did, but you know there's a lot of that going around ain’t there” Rocket chimes in, sitting on the floor. “Honestly, until this exact second i thought you were a build-a-bear” Tony says, point at Rocket.

   “Maybe i am”

   “We’ve been hunting Thanos for three weeks now. Deep space scans and satellites and we got nothing.” Steve admits to the room before looking at Tony “Tony you fought him” he adds. “Who told you that?” Tony asked, holding onto his robe. 

   “Your a fighter”

   “No he wiped my face with a planet while the bleaker street magician gave  away the store. That's what happened. There was no fight.” Tony corrected. “Okay” Steve nods, noting Tony’s agitated behaviour. “Did he give you any clues, any coordinates, anything?”

   Tony shakes his head “Pfft! I saw this coming a few years back. I had a vision. I didn't wanna believe it. Thought I was dreaming.” he says. He was starting to act like a child. Steve sighs “ Tony, I'm gonna need you to focus.” he says, trying to calm him down. 

   but Tony’s anger was already bubbling up and ready to boil over “and I needed you. As in past tense. That trumps what you need. It's too late buddy. Sorry. You know what I need?” he asked, standing up from the table. He reaches into robe and pulls out a camera and a cellphone. “I need you too watch this and listen”

   “What is this?” Steve asked, looking at the tables contents. “Oh you know just some things i asked Happy to grab from Peter’s apartment. Let’s have a look shall we?” Tony said. Everyone in the room looked tense at the mention of his name. 

   “Friday play the video on the screen” Tony instructs as he steps back. Everyone turns towards the screen and the first thing they see is Peter, laying on his bed with a smile. He turns the camera and shows you peacefully sleeping on his chest, wearing his shirt. 

   “Peter if your recording me, i’m going to break that camera” okay maybe you weren’t sleeping. The camera is placed on his chest “You uh- looked cute” he spoke and you shook your head, leaning up to kiss him, it only lasting a couple seconds. “Friday pause” Tony says. 

   “Why are you showing us this?” Steve asked, but his questioned went unanswered. “That right there is Y/n L/n. B to C student at Midtown high, only child and all that. She was also the kid’s girlfriend for three years. He told me to find her and i did”

   “Friday play the security footage outside of Steamin’ mugs cafe” Tony says, Friday replying with a ‘yes boss’ before the footage of you crying on the phone before you vanished into nothing. Natasha looked away, having see that too much for her own good. 

   “I’m kinda happy for her. At least i didn’t have to tell her i watched him turn to dust in my arms, but you know i got here the last thing she said to him. It’s a real tear jerker. Wanna listen?” Tony says, going over to grab Peter’s phone off the table. 

   “You made your point Tony” Rhodey says. Tony turns to Steve once again “ I said, ‘we'd lose’. You said, ‘We'll do that together too’ and guess what, Cap? We lost and you weren't there. This is what we lost. This is who we lost. You didn’t know her, but it matters. It matters is because they’ll never see each other again  ”

    ☼-☪-☼

   five years later

   (Kody’s endgame so no death lmao)

   everyone was in front of the destroyed base. Thanos was gone and everyone was still around to see it happen (i wish). Doctor Strange has just finished returning everyone to where they belong. “I must say i did not think we would win” he admits.

   “Thanks for the optimism buddy” Rocket says, looking up at him. Peter stood up from the rumble he sat on “I need to see someone, can you bring her like- here?” Peter asked Strange, who already knew who he was talking about because- it’s Doctor Strange what do you expect?

   he nods and backs away to do his thing.

    ☼-☪-☼

   you took a large gasp of air as you saw light. What happened? Didn't you just vanish? It was only a second ago. You look around and see people staring at you strangely. “Aw damn my head hurts” you heard Mj groan. You instantly tackle her to the floor “and now it hurts more”

   “Yeah cry about it i just saw you vanish”

   “I’m here too, ya know?” both of you turn to see Ned and the hug became a group tackle as you both smiled and embraced each other. That was until you were pulled into a orange portal out of nowhere. You end up facing a bunch of rubble and debris.

   “What the fuck?! I’m so tired of the super magic bullshit!” you shout. 

   you turn your head and see a couple of avengers like Captain America, Thor, Hulk, and thor stare at you. You already met Tony. “Hi Mr. Stark’ you say, raising your hand for a awkward wave. Tony smiles and gestures his hand to Peter who was standing, in a new suit might you add and a nervous smile. 

   you didn’t care much for embarrassment after that and ran towards him, practically leaping into his arms “I’m back” he says, digging his head into your shoulder “Yeah no shit, you went to space you dumbass. I think i called you a hundred times or until my phone died”

   Peter let out a breathy laugh as his arms tightened round you “I’m sorry,no more space okay? Just you and me on earth. ” he suggests and you nod “Yeah i like that. About what you said on the bus by the way” you let go a bit to look up at him. 

   his nervous, shy stature set in quickly “What uh- what about it?” he asked, hoping for a good answer. “i love you too dork” you smile and he sighs “Oh thank god. I was about to dust away again’ he says and you whack him in the arm “What?” he asked, slightly hurt. 

   “Too soon Peter” you explain and he nods “Right” he says and a silence falls on both of you. Was he going to do anything “Oh my god- Kiss her!” Tony yells from behind you both. Peter’s face flushes in slight embarrassment before he shrugs, grabbing your face. 

   you both share a sweet kiss, long overdue by the amount of time spent apart. Even if it was just two days and five years to everyone else. Both you and Peter end up spending weeks together, alone just cause you could. You made Peter promise no more space trips and he begrudgingly agrees. 

  a girl with two much attitude and a boy who was too shy somehow managed up the nerve to talked to said girl. They were polar opposites and some would say completely different people, but they managed to fall in love and make it through anything. 

    who wouldn’t want love like that

    ☼-☪-☼

   Click here to join my Taglist!

   @sonbelleame @hel-viti @loudbluepancake @vmame 

    ☼-☪-☼

    Kody- i haven't slept yet and i pulled this plot out of my ass. It’s 8am and i’m going to go pass out. Anyways, peace. 

[pynkhues]

.... any succession fic recs? 👀

Yes!! I haven't read a lot for it yet, but some of the stuff I've read has been staggeringly good. I'm generally more into gen fic in this particular fandom, but have enjoyed some Stewy x Kendall, Gerri x Roman and Naomi x Tabitha too.

A few recs under the cut!

“I wanted to get out. From under all this. Take the money and run.”

Kendall tells Stewy even though he knows he’ll never get it, not like Naomi does. He’ll never understand the crush of it, the heart-stopping head-fucking fear of failing a tyrant. Kendall’s been ignoring the shape of it for a long time, putting pieces of it together in the back of his mind in total darkness like a blindfolded man. It doesn’t matter that one day his dad will die. It doesn’t matter about the money or the hostile takeover or the stolen files or any of it. There’s no running. Kendall’s Logan Roy lives inside his head.

Stewy laughs. Stewy laughs for a long time.

“There is no out, Ken, what the fuck are you talking about? You were born this and you’ll die this. You are what you are, and what you are is a fucking Roy.”

Kendall hates him, for a moment. Lightning-strike furious. What the fuck does he know about any of it, about his dad’s swinging dinner plate-sized hands, about getting 24% name recognition in reliable international polling, about puking every time you think about a car swerving off the road in the rain. About finding out that you can do something unthinkably, unimaginably terrible, and it doesn’t matter to anyone you know but you. There’s a scar on his arm that no one else who hasn’t already been told how it got there can ever know about, and he’s sick of it, and it’s not fair. He hates Stewy for a moment because Stewy’s right.

“I wanted to do the right thing, Stewy, for once in my fucking life.”

Stewy laughs again, more briefly, and the predator flash of his eyes in the neon of the motel sign is a torture all its own.

‘There is no right and wrong, Ken. How the fuck do you not know that yet? Not for people like you. Like us. There’s shit you get caught doing and there’s shit you don’t.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You really, really fucking don’t,” says Ken, and fuck, there it is. The road less travelled, that only he has ever driven on. The path he’s down where Stewy can’t follow. That place beyond Stewy Hosseini where he never thought he could go.

“You’re not telling me something, and when I find out what that is, and I will find out what it is, Kendall, don’t you think I won’t, so I am warning you that when I do find out I am going to be righteously fucking pissed,” says Stewy, and if Kendall thought those were a predator’s eyes before—

“Yeah, you will,” says Kendall, because he knows exactly how perceptive Stewy is. Exactly how weak he is. Exactly, precisely what both of them are.

And treat this night like it’ll happen again by postcardmystery. 8k words. Kendall x Stewy. Post s2. (CW: internalised homophobia, some homophobic language)

I tried to pick a shorter excerpt, but I literally couldn’t, this fic is so. good. The voices are pitch perfect, and it’s got this incredible build to it overall that goes back and forth between time and point of views and just rips your heart out. The premise itself is pretty simple – after the press conference at the end of 2.10, Kendall calls Stewy, and they drive through rural America while Kendall has a breakdown, and it’s just - - unspeakably good. I love it so so so much, I have no words.

r/roysucks Connor’s gf just posted on Instagram (instagram.com) submitted two months ago by webbedscrum_2279 23 comments share save hide report

[–] DM_ME_SAMESMAIL 40 points two months ago I too like to escape to my yacht in the Mediterranean when my family and I are on trial for covering up rape and murder. permalink embed save report reply

AITA for accusing my father of multiple crimes on his own news station? By amleth 3k words. Gen fic. Post s2.

And now for something completely different – epistolary fic which is just reddit news threads of the Roy family drama. I love an epistolary fic and this is just totally charming, and made me laugh a lot out loud.

“You’re quiet,” she observes. “That’s a first.”

“Yeah, well, the Turks beat it out of me. Gave you a run for their money.” He waggles his eyebrows. “So what is this? Whips and chains? Are we doing the whole boat-sex thing? I heard Shiv and Tom are looking for a third —“

Gerri finds what she’s looking for: a black leather binder. She drops it on the bed and begins paging through it, and Roman cranes his neck enough to recognize that it’s just full of documents, not like, dick pics. “I’ve given some thought to what you proposed a few weeks ago, and I agree that we should make things official in some way,” she says, and he blinks.

“Uh,” he says. “Which — what part of it?”

“Take a look.”

Gerri closes the folio and hands it over. It’s deceptively heavy, and the print on these pages is way too fucking fine, he thinks, paging through it. “Is this some kind of, like, Fifty Shades of Roy sex contract? Because it’s not that I’m not into it, but I think there’s a strong argument for going paperless —”

“Strictly speaking, this isn’t legally binding,” Gerri says. “Just something I threw together with regard to our business arrangement going forward. But with no respect to the family — the past few weeks have really illustrated that no one should take anyone at their word right now. Give me a little more than your word.”

Evacuation strategies for a yacht on fire by devourthemoon. 11k words. Gerri x Roman. Post s2. Explicit.

After the events of s2, Roman and Gerri fake being married as a professional alliance, only, y’know, maybe it’s not so fake. This fic is just so, so much fun, and messy in the best possible way. The author nails all the character voices, and the sex scenes are just the right amount of hot and ridiculous, and I just love it all a lot too.

Kendall estimates it will take an hour for the first articles to go up. Some rapid-fire blog without oversight—the New York Post, maybe, or wherever those Vaulter hippies have skulked off to—will slap a catchy headline on it and report his words verbatim. Give or take a gif of his face when he switches to script number two. New York Times, Washington Post, AP, those fuckers take longer. They like to bleed the story like Middle Ages plague doctors for its marrow, fact-check and add context and analysis and as many backlinks as their servers can handle. Still, a couple of hours, and his face will be plastered on every major news outlet. His voice will play over the nightly talk shows. He’ll trend on Twitter. A few more days, and he’ll be the star of analysis segments, podcasts, weekly briefings. Maybe, fuck it, maybe he’ll trend on Twitter again.

It’s been years since Kendall read Shakespeare. But that shit sticks with you, gets under your skin and emerges when you least expect it, like eczema or Keynesian economics. He knows how the media will spin this. Kendall Roy Attacks CEO Logan for Years of Corruption. Prodigal Son Disrupts Family Legacy to Restore Credibility. That’s how Hamlet ends, right? And Macbeth, Lear, Othello, Romeo and Juliet, even Titus fucking Andronicus. The spilled blood sinks into the ground, the seedlings sprout forth from the soil, and a new castle is built on the bones. Order out of chaos, or at least close enough an approximation that the tabloids will buy it.

Legacy for profit by owlinaminor Post-2.10. Kendall Roy. Kendall through Shakespeare analogies – just - - ooooof. It's a beautiful, lyrical character study that weaves through Roy family history and teases at a future none of them are even sure they want. It's gorgeous writing.

For the next few days Shiv would have to keep the pressure on Kira like an open wound because there were other women, victims that Nate’s people were going to find one by one as soon as that phone call disconnected. Mo was her father’s friend, good friend, for a long, long time. Nate and Gil, Sandy and Stewy, too many sharks in the water and the share price probably dipped to a new low but she would never check a stock ticker. Her husband’s nerves fraying at the edges on national television. She had promised a woman she’d never met before that she would kill roughly one third of the top male executives of her family’s company. Her company.

The last look Rhea gave her before she shut the car door was concern close to fear—no longer the same woman who heard their pitch in the safe room, who laughed with her at Argestes. Rhea had only looked into the abyss; she got cold feet and she didn’t even know what it’s like to grow up in it.

Her family’s company is hers, will be hers. Even from a whale fall, new life would spring.

Feed his flesh to wayward daughters by reogulus. 2k words. Shiv Roy. Set during 2.09.

This entire fic is set around Shiv bribing Kira not to testify, and god, it is so good. It’s bleak and rough, and really hones in on the complex ground Shiv walks as a character. It's another brilliant study of what it takes to be a Roy, and the way they make the awful choices in order to fulfill this legacy that they don't even know they want.

Kendall sets down his fork. “So. Tell me. Is it everything you wanted? Is it what you thought it would be?”

Roman stills. He never does that. He’s constantly a menace in motion, slouching and fidgeting, worse even than Kendall at his amphetamine peak. “What? The view from the tippy-tippy-top?”

“His regard.” Kendall wipes his mouth with the edge of the white cloth napkin. It comes away pink from the steak. “Dad. He’s all yours now.”

Roman still hasn’t moved. Finally, he lurches, like corroded machinery come uncertainly to life. “Yeah, man. It’s fucking tight as hell. I love every beautiful daddy and me moment I was a good enough little boy to earn.” He snorts. “Fuck you.” His face goes curiously slack then, like something Kendall’s own face would do. An intermission in the performance, an energy cut. Something genuine finding its way to the surface. “Why don’t you tell me. When you got everything you wanted, how the fuck did that make you feel?”

Nauseous, is the first word that springs to mind. Sick. Scared. I’ve never had everything I wanted, there’s that. I’ve never once had a single fucking thing I wanted. There’s that, too.

Interim leadership by arbitrarily 2k words. Roman + Kendall. Post s2.

I love Roman and Kendall scenes generally, but this one which features Kendall and Roman meeting for the first time a few months after the press conference in 2.10 is just a bit magic. The push pull dynamic that's just inherent to them mixed with the genuine affection and brotherly love is really special, and arbitrarily embraces both in equal measure. It's a great little fic.

There are lots more of course, and I'd also recommend checking out other works by these authors, but I hope this is a good place to start! :-)

[south-park-meta]

opinion on ladies man/jock stan?

I disagree with it but I also think the push back to it takes it too far in the other direction with regards to either feminization or thinking he'll have a super hard time with dating. I think Stan will never be good at recognizing when people are attracted to him. He also really wants people to like him and is prone to hiding feelings in general which makes him awkward in trying to change relationships by asking people out. AND he tends to take his crushes relatively seriously.

So I don't think he's going to date all the girls in their class. But he also seems to have gotten over a lot of his nerves when it comes to dating. Some of this isn't for healthy reasons; he's been more callous towards friends, family, and strangers alike in recent seasons so part of it is just giving less shits about people in general. Some of it is fine, though, and just because he's actually gained some confidence even if he's taken steps back in other ways.

I think him being ridiculously anxious and nervous to the point of throwing up was a combination of being one of if not the first boy to really be into girls and Stan just having a nervous stomach overall -- he also pukes at movies, in-person gore, etc. earlier on in the show when the other kids don't. All of this is something he grows out of pretty quickly considering the timeline of the show. I think he would be kind of boring and average in dating. I don't think he'd have a problem asking anyone out beyond being awkward at the actual asking part. I also think every time he did it'd be an actual, legitimate attempt at dating rather than trying to get laid. If he didn't ACTUALLY like someone he wouldn't fake interest, even if it meant not dating the entire school year. If anything he has issues about making relationships last past their expiration date because of his parents' frequent divorces so I doubt he'd go through a bunch of short-term relationships and would honestly probably feel like a failure if he did.

I ship Style so I think they'd most likely end up getting together in HS and they'd both have very limited experiences dating anyone else.

That said this mostly is my opinion assuming his depression improves. He does have an addictive personality which runs in his family and sex addiction is part of that. Also he's been a bigger jerk in recent seasons due to his depression. With that in mind I could see him being more of a douchey ladies' man, but personally I think in that case the douchiness would overshadow the ladies' man element so he still wouldn't get a million girls lol. When he's an asshole he's not a charming asshole, he's just an asshole asshole.

As far as being a jock goes, I hc Stan as being naturally good at sports. I like him keeping up with football or getting back into hockey or both! I even like him getting onto a college team and starting to play there-- BUT once he's on a college team and not having his own family and friends into supporting and cheering for him, I think he'd realize he doesn't want to do it anymore. I don't think he's driven by sports. To me the actual playing part he likes pretty casually. It's a fun pastime but not much else. But he's highly motivated by people cheering him and thinking he's good at something, and very much likes being part of a team. The connection to other people is what keeps him invested in it, not the actual like, playing part, and he doesn't actually give a shit if he loses beyond liking when people are proud of him.

So being a ladies' man: Nope, but no real hangups/problems dating or because he becomes more stereotypically feminine in HS. Just only dates relatively selectively and only has a couple of relationships before getting married.

Being a jock: Good at sports but keeps up with them because he's externally motivated and likes praise, not because he's actually super duper into sports.

[mayuuunaise]

the really long a3! hogwarts au no one asked but i’m here to deliver | natsugumi

click here for the general headcanon list LOL i’m running on adrenaline what up

NATSUGUMI

Tenma // 4th year // GRYFFINDOR AND HE’S PROUD OF IT // pureblood

yuki jokes he should be in slytherin for his gargantuan amount of pride ( he doesn’t mean it. yuki would rather cut off his own dress robes than be housemates with tenma merlin help him ) bUT also constantly makes fun of the fact he fits so well in the house of lions bc he’s so obnoxious ST O P 

tenma is actually really proud of his house bc both his parents were also gryffindors. he comes from a family line of pureblood aurors. he’d want nothing more than to follow in their footsteps but --

he’s absolute shite at DADA practicals. it’s simultaneously his best and worst. he’s got theories down to a pat, the natural athletic reflexes needed to be potentially great at it, but he Freezes any time chikage sensei tells them its time for “experiential learning” and sets them loose in the forbidden forest

GRYFFINDOR CHASER!!! racks up points like it’s nobody’s business and honestly good enough for tasuku to notice.

Yuki // 2nd year // sly!! the!!! rin!!!!!! // halfblood

keeps his involvement with chikage a secret bc there’s a lot of resentment kept within the confines of a boy barely 165 cm.

he hates quidditch with a passion. he just doesn’t get what’s so fun about chasing a golden ball around and potentially falling to your death when you overreach right? that being said he makes sure to attend Every gryffindor game to cheer muku on.

gryffindor vs slytherin? no problem. he’d root for muku in a heartbeat. 

“Yukki, you do know it’s our team they’re against right??”

*sends off a mini fireworks charm that spells out “GO GRYFFINDOR KICK THEIR ASS” “what about it?” 

itaru would consider him a charms Genius actually and chikage is (secretly) proud whenever itaru brags about it. that being said yuki makes it a point to do barely average on DADA, but his actual weakness is herbology LOL just,, no dirt,, tsumugi sensei pls..,,

Muku // 2nd year // gRYFFINDOR // halfblood

SLAMS MY FIST ON TABLE. Gryffindor’s star seeker!! Tasuku Insisted he try out when he saw how fast but comfortable muku was on a broom!! he almost puked during tryouts but he’s a natural on a broom. really smart player too and eludes a lot of the other house seekers.

was a hatstall but only bc muku thought he couldn’t possibly be a gryff LOL he and the hat had a debate for over five minutes. muku insisted he be placed in hufflepuff w juchan and kyuchan but the hat was just very NO. YOU ARE A GRYFFINDOR AND U WILL LIKE IT!!

muku is actually a really good student overall but he always asks for help in transfigurations bc it’s a little too technical for him. he’s one of the only ones who actually like history of magic LOL also probably really good at divination?? The overactive imagination really helps

Misumi // 7th year // RAVENCLAW // pureblood

bc while he does value loyalty, misumi is also extremely curious w the world!! pls just imagine misumi clinging onto tsuzuru and asking him about So Many Things

Doesn’t talk about his family even though the ikarugas are pretty famous for being rather conservative. madoka is also a ravenclaw and in his 4th year. they’re awkward but they love each other.

tsuzuru is acting captain bc their actual captain is seeker misumi. LOL he’s really good but terrible w responsibilities. sorry tsuzuru, but you can’t complain when he catches the golden snitch and brings the house to victory.

not v good w potions bc he dislikes the rules set by it (and often makes things go boom) but is a surprising natural at transfigurations? some say he’s an unregistered animagus ( this is True ) but no one but kazu knows what he turns into

Kazunari // 7th year // SLYTHERIN // muggle born

he exchanges house scarves w misumi on a regular and actually fits really well w the ravenclaw crowd lmao tsuzuru is even More tired when the two team up.

kazu gets along w everybody? He’s the gryffindors favourite slytherin. he has homies in every house and in every year. he was in the running for head boy actually but turned it down LOL

likes to act a little dumb so people won’t expect much of him but is a dude who’s expected to ace his NEWTs??  does well in potions!! is,, kind of bad with flying tho,, LOL it’s why he doesn’t do quidditch

SO MANY THINGS about slytherin kazu but i feel like i will take up one more post if i do.

Kumon // 3rd year // hufflepuff // halfblood

READY TO THROW HANDS with a certain slytherin seeker. unfortunately, he cannot keep his trash talk strictly in the quidditch field lmao. 

Everyone loves kumon they’re so confused how he’s related to juza honestly but they understand him being related to muku.

1/2 of hufflepuff’s hyodo brothers beater duo!! He’s so proud this is legitimately his greatest achievement. 

he likes herbology, surprisingly!!! likes to talk about medicinal properties of them and tsumugi thinks he’d be a great healer. he’s unfortunately not a big fan of potions bc it’s so,, nerve wracking,,

[owletstarlet]

ffxv- forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue- chapter 1

“The next block over from here there’s this great little—ohmygods, you’re the Prince.”

Well, fuck.

“Says who?” Noctis counters, tiredly.

“Says your face,” the guy sputters.

(or, the Moulin-Rouge-flavored AU that nobody asked for. Ao3 link in the notes.) 

The table’s sticky, Noctis realizes too late as he’s peeling the sleeve of his jacket off of it. Drink’s not bad, though. Sweeter than he was expecting, but with enough of a paint-thinner aftertaste to it that he knows it’s doing its job. And literally nobody’s giving him a second glance at the moment, either, and that’s more than worth the very specific pitch of this music that’s sort of chipping away at his skull, or the vaguely harrowing feeling of so many bodies packed into one room.

“Not your thing, huh?”

Shit.

Noctis doesn’t turn, doesn’t give him more than a sidelong once-over to make sure he shouldn’t be imminently getting the hells out of here. He doesn’t take in much more than a shock of blond hair, a clipboard, a pair of glasses.

It’s probably fine.

Noctis doesn’t confirm or deny it, just sort of waves a hand at the commotion on the stage. “It’s a lot of…” Thrusting, his brain supplies, helpfully. Body glitter.

“It’s definitely ‘a lot of’ a lot of things.” The guy sounds amused.

“Hm.”

“…not much of a talker, are you?”

Noct bites the inside of his cheek, keeps his face neutral, hears a voice from somehwere between his ears that sounds an awful lot like Gladio’s reminding him that just because he’s in a shitty mood doesn’t mean he should be shitty for no reason to people that aren’t. Damn but this guy’s got a chipper voice, though.

“Well,” said guy goes on, “if you came to see Nea, I can go and—”

The rest of his words are cut off by a bang that Noctis feels as much as he hears, that has him halfway out of his seat with his heart suddenly rammed up his throat before he realizes that it was the sound of an elbow coming down hard on the table.

“Ah—shit, sorry ‘bout that!”

When Noctis turns to face him fully then, it’s to find the guy propped up on his elbow on the table, looking startled himself.

Noctis gets a better look at him, frowns. “Are you okay?”

He looks very much not Lucian, Noctis thinks, Niff maybe, if the light hair and eyes are anything to go by, and the freckles that stand out like pinpricks under the colorful lights. But a good chunk of the clientele around them look like foreigners, so do more than half the performers onstage at the moment. Not unusual, considering the district Noctis had wandered into not entirely on purpose.

His face looks open and friendly, but he seems distinctly unwell—there’s something sunken and shadowy in the corners of his face, in the hollows of his eyes and under his cheekbones. Noctis can’t tell if his pallor is just from the lights just washing him out, but it’s definitely not hot enough in here for him to be sweating like that. His hoodie hangs off his shoulders a bit, and it looks like his hair had been carefully gelled up at some point, but had gotten rumpled and half-deflated like he’d slept on it. His fringe is sticking to his forehead, hanging a bit in front of the thick-rimmed glasses.

“Yup,” he’s saying, a smile slotting into place that seems unforced but a little incongruous. “Yeah. Head rush, is all. Sorry.” He’s perched on the stool across from Noctis now, sliding his clipboard onto the table. His arm is trembling, very slightly, where it’s resting on the table.

Noctis feels his mouth twist, and he slides the still-untouched ice water they’d brought him across the table.

The guy blinks, looks at the water and then Noctis’ face, smile slipping into something marginally less comfortable. “Oh. Nah, you’re good, dude. Thanks. Just. Gimme a sec?”

“Sure,” Noctis says. He doesn’t take the water back. He peers down at the clipboard. It’s not anything comprehensible to him, a lot of x’s and arrows, circles and boxes, only a few words scrawled illegibly into the margins here and there. “You working?” he asks.

“Ah, yeah,” the guy says, tilting the clipboard a bit so he can see it better. “It’s choreography. Kind of. Nothing super inspired tonight, though.”

“Oh. So…dancing?”

“Yup.” He jabs a thumb at the stage, expression settling into something much more relaxed, if a bit sheepish. “I’m supposed to be up there right now, actually, but. My stomach’s being kinda weird, and I don’t think people are paying to see me puke all over everyone else, so. Dahlia stepped in for me.” He points to center stage, where a now very much topless woman with dark lipstick and a halo of brown curls is doing something that looks physically impossible involving a folding chair. “It was her night off and all, too.”

Noctis looks from the woman on the stage, to this disheveled guy who looks like he’s going to pitch over in his seat, and back again. He must be pretty obvious about it, because the guy chuckles a bit. “Uh-huh. Hard to believe, right? I promise I clean up nicer than this.”

And Noctis genuinely has no idea what to say to that. He takes a sip of his drink.

“Uh. You know, if this isn’t your scene, and you weren’t here to see Nea, there’s quieter places to go get plastered around here. And cheaper. The next block over from here there’s this great little—ohmygods, you’re the Prince.”

Well, fuck.

“Says who?” Noctis counters, tiredly.

“Says your face,” the guy sputters. After a pause, adds: “And the fact that you keep checking if your drink is spiked.” He taps the tabletop with one finger, where two little plastic tabs are lying used, the pale blue color of one end indicating safety.

Noctis resists the urge to roll his eyes; takes another, much larger gulp of the aforementioned drink. He’d had the tabs in his wallet.

“I can, like…leave now. If you want.” He’s already standing up, and already catching himself on the edge of the table with one hand.

“What? No, you’re—”

“There you are, asshole.” A heavy hand on his shoulder, then Noctis is wheeling around to look up at a very unimpressed-looking Gladio.

“Uh-huh,” Noctis mutters. “Here I am.”

Honestly, Noctis thinks he ought to be impressed with himself that he got as much time as he did, considering the genius move of having used his subway card when he’d taken off out of sheer muscle memory. He’d left his phone—and its state-of-the-art tracking capabilities—charging by his bed, though, and he’d gotten three entire hours out of it. It probably would’ve been less if he hadn’t wandered for 20 minutes after getting off at a completely random subway station, or had tried to go somewhere quieter and more predictable than this, with less flashy neon or people losing their clothes.

“Who’s blondie?” Gladio asks, raising an eyebrow. “You work here?”

The blondie in question’s eyes go very round—a pretty common reaction to Gladio’s entire everything, really. “Uh-huh.” To his credit, his voice cracks only very slightly. “I dance.”

Gladio gives him an appraising look, glances at the stage, then shrugs. “Oh,” is all he says. “Nice.” If doesn’t believe it, he gives no indication.

“Uh. Are you a bodyguard or something?”

Gladio’s eyes narrow at Noctis, who just shrugs—the jig’s up. “Or something,” he parrots. “Speaking of,” he adds, rounding on Noctis, voice dropping into a growl, “I don’t have to tell you what a fucking security nightmare this is.”

“Yup.” He makes no move to stand. “Planning on telling my dad? Or yours?”

He scoffs. “Y’know, getting my own ass kicked over this might just be worth watching you get grounded like a high schooler playing hooky.”

“Do it, then.”

They both know he won’t. Check and mate.

“We’re leaving,” he says, shoving at Noct’s shoulder. “Iggy’s waiting in the car.” A pause, and his face changes. “You know he’s planning on apologizing to you. And if you don’t say it back, I’m gonna kick your teeth in. You were being a dick.”

“Yeah, well.” Noct would contend he wasn’t the only one, but he was the one that went AWOL and probably (absolutely) gave them both an aneurysm over it, and had them crossing half the city to find him. Which constitutes a dick move. That hadn’t been the point, though; the point had been the bone-deep urge to just be away, just for a bit, before he could say anything else he’d regret. But he could stand to apologize to the both of them for the runaround, at least.

Gladio’s giving him a long, hard look, now. “Fine,” Noctis mumbles, fishing out his wallet.

“On the house.” The words are abrupt, a little too loud to be warranted despite the room’s overall noise level, and Gladio and Noct both look over at him.

“Uh, I mean. It’s covered. You can go.”

“Okay.” Gladio raises an eyebrow. “Thanks. Got a name, kid?” Noct knows it’s less out of actual interest and more as a rote point of security; if anybody needed to be questioned later on, they’d have a starting point.

“It’s Prompto.”

***

This time, Noct drove. Gladio had worked out pretty quick where they were headed when Noct suggested they go for drinks after they’d trained late.

Gladio doesn’t have to be thrilled about it. But at the very least, Noct’s got some supervision, this time around.

He should’ve put up more of a fight, probably, but it’s not like he could’ve stopped the damned car.

And here they are. Club Aurentia, the sign cheerily proclaims, complete with a flickering neon clementine in the corner. The building’s old, not exactly dilapidated but definitely not retro-on-purpose. Plenty of people are coming and going through the tarnished brass doors, or milling about outside, even on a weeknight.

“You do know how very obviously a brothel this joint is, right.” No shade, just a statement of fact.

Noct huffs a short sigh through his nose, drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Yeah. Iggy was pretty damn clear on that point. Not like that’s why we’re here.”

“Still don’t get why it’s gotta be we anyways. If you’re really that worried about the tab for one drink, it’s not like it’d take both of us to go settle it.”

Noct just shrugs.

Fucker.

It’s not like it’s a bad idea to make sure the charge is covered, arguably worth the trip across the city, even; if he’d been recognized they didn’t need anyone claiming that the Prince is the type to skip out on a bill. The employee had seemed like a decent enough guy, and herding Noct back to the car had been a more pressing priority at the time than any overpriced cocktail. But yeah, ideally, better to head off the issue.

Which is a one-person job.

“This about that kid from the other night? You worried or something?”  

Or something.

Huh.

Noct makes a noncommittal sound, suddenly seeming quite fascinated by a loose thread on his sleeve. “I mean, if he’s there we might as well thank him.”

“Fine. But you know you’re not here to socialize though, right. We pay, we leave. You already got recognized once, and if word gets out you already know who’s gonna wind up doing the damage control. With time he doesn’t have.”

The Citadel’s entire team of publicists aren’t worth shit by comparison, honestly. And just because Iggy doesn’t exactly know they’re here right now doesn’t mean there’s not an 80-20 chance he’ll figure it out anyways, even if precisely nothing happens.

“I know,” Noct mutters, and for whatever it’s worth it sounds like he does in fact know. And probably still feels like an ass for blowing up at Iggy the other day.

Which, good.

Gladio sighs, yanks open the car door. “We going, or what?”

***

The lobby’s not as packed as it was before—that was Saturday night, and it’s Tuesday now—but there’s still a good line snaking its way up to the ticket counter. Looks like a working-class crowd for the most part; the easy chatter between friends or coworkers washing over the narrow space. And Noct doesn’t exactly look out of place; he’s in a hoodie and jeans that don’t look as expensive as they are, and there’s about as many Lucians here as foreigners. But he looks stiff and ill-at-ease on the old chintzy carpet, staring off into nothing, the yellowed light from both the dusty chandelier overhead as well as the strands of what look like multicolored Solstice lights on the far wall glinting off his hair.

Gladio elbows him. “What, you nervous?”

“About what?” Noct shoots back, under his breath.

“Exactly.”

***

“Actually, we’re here to settle a bill.”

The woman selling the tickets raises one pristinely-shaped eyebrow at them, before wordlessly waving them over towards the other woman behind the desk. She looks foreign, too; ivory skin standing out starkly against her black blouse, slate-gray hair pinned back into a complicated updo.

She glances up from her clipboard, green eyes flat and hard as she takes them in. “Yeah?”

She doesn’t say anything for a long moment after Gladio repeats himself, but her gaze immediately flicks towards Noct, and narrows.

“You here to see Prompto?”

Gladio shrugs, not sure if it’s hilarious or worrying that the kid had obviously gone and told his supervisor. “Nah, we’ll just—”

“He’s on in ten,” she says, abruptly, cutting him off. “You wanna talk, you’ll have to wait. And he’s booked up tonight, so make it quick. That is if he’s up for it.” She turns, calls over her shoulder. “Biggs.”

The guy who emerges from the door behind her has an easy stance, a relatively friendly expression, but he’s keen-eyed, and the jacket that’s one size too big would suggest he’s packing.

“There’s no loitering in my lobby. Front section’s a hundred crown each. Nobody’ll bother you there, Highness.”

Noct, to his credit, doesn’t visibly react to his title. But it is very clear he wasn’t planning on having to sit through another show. “No, it’s fine, I’ve got the nine crown for the drink.”

“Biggs’ll go with you, make sure you’re left alone,” she says, tone banking no argument, before pointedly turning on her heel and striding through the door behind her.

That’s that, then. If they hang around out here any longer, Noct definitely is gonna get recognized.

There’s worse ways to spend the evening, Gladio thinks as they follow Biggs through the double doors. As long as this guy doesn’t try shoot them in the head point blank in front of a large crowd of spectators, Gladio’s pretty damn sure he could take him down if he needed to.

But Noct looks downright pained as he takes his seat at their table, ten feet from the stage.

“Think she just wanted our money,” Gladio tells him, grabbing the menu and scanning it. Drinks are off the table (for him, at least, though Noct looks like he’s gonna need to knock back at least three to survive the next forty-five minutes), but a plate of wings doesn’t sound half bad.

Noct doesn’t respond. Neither does Biggs, but Gladio hears his soft snort.

***

It’s a good time, really. Dizzying sprays of confetti, bass-heavy radio remix after remix he can feel in his gut, and the loose effortless charm of a dozen guys and girls in various states of undress.

He can see why Prompto’s their headliner. It’s not even that he’s the most eye-catching, really, though he is hardly recognizable compared to the bedraggled, barely-upright kid they’d met the other night--either he’s better now, or he’s buried those dark circles under a shitload of concealer. It’s the precision of his movements, the lightning-quick steps, fluid grace that’s impossible to look away from.

Noct’s certainly looking.

“Flexible little guy, isn’t he,” Gladio says, applauding at the end of a number.

“Hm.”

Noct’s still tensed up, very much so, fingers gripping the table’s edge so hard it might disintegrate, so obviously out-of-sync with the entire situation that Gladio was going to take mercy on him and suggest they take off once they’d eaten, bill be damned.

But he hasn’t taken his eyes off Prompto once.

“You smitten yet?” he asks, snatching another wing off the plate and double checking the exits—nobody’s come or gone—then glancing over at Biggs. Biggs just gives him an even look right back; he doesn’t seem to particularly mind that he’s being surveilled, and Gladio’s sure the guy’s doing the same to him.

Noct flips him off, gulps his drink. The next number starts.

It makes sense this kid’s a choreographer, he thinks. He knows what he’s doing. Gladio might not know shit about dance aside from the obligatory ballroom stuff he’d been made to practice with Iris as a kid to get them both through boring state functions, but he definitely knows a thing or two about controlled, deliberate movement.

Movement which, at the moment, apparently includes jutting out your hips gratuitously and feeling up your own ass.

He does look good, though, dancing aside; hair meticulously gelled into a perfect swoop, hoops in his ears, bits of gold leaf stuck around his eyes. He’s not tall, but he’s got a dancer’s build, lithe and strong, and those heels aren’t hurting any. The outfit’s some drapey orange and gold lamé situation, complete with shorts that look painted on him, strategically placed rhinestones and body glitter scattered across his skin.

It takes a few minutes to notice the scars. The few spots on his back, a handful across his arms and legs. It’s not the color of the skin—it’s obviously concealed, and the light catches the sparkly bits of him just right to draw the eye away—but skin pulls and puckers sometimes, just slightly, not quite moving with the rest of him. Gods know that outfit’s not covering much, but he’s the only one who’s not shedding any layers up here, and Gladio wonders if there’s more beneath that shimmery fabric.

Well. Rough part of town.

It’s not until the very end, at what passes for a curtain call at this place when the lights aren’t quite so bright, that Prompto finally seems to notice them. His expression shifts, just a bit, from the performative but comfortable smile that had stayed firmly pasted on his lips throughout the show. For a split second, his eyes are rounder, the curve of his mouth more uncertain than pleased when his gaze meets Noct’s. But the moment passes, and he’s grinning again, arm-in-arm with the other beaming, panting dancers as cheers ring out around them. Twenty seconds later and the stage is empty.

“Have fun?” Biggs asks, eventually. It’s the first time he’s spoken.

“Uh-huh,” Gladio says, easily, at the same time that Noct says, “It was fine.” God, the kid looks constipated.

“Great. Wait here.” He stands. “Gotta wait for Nea’s say-so if you wanna see Prom, but. He’s gonna be pretty busy after this.”

Noct watches Biggs’ retreating back, an odd look on his face.

“Do you actually wanna see him?” Gladio asks, sliding the still barely-touched plate of gyoza he’d ordered for Noct across the table. “I mean. Your eyes were glued to the kid.” He smirks, waggles an eyebrow, and it earns him a spectacular scowl.

“…dunno,” he says at last, shoulders deflating, jaw working as he stares at the condensation rolling down the side of his glass. “Maybe he wouldn’t want to be bothered if he’s that…busy.”

“Well.” Gladio plucks a gyoza from the plate he’d just handed over. “What he’s not gonna want, probably, is for you to act all weird about his overnight gigs. You knew.”

“I know,” he mutters, just this side of defensive.

“Ain’t like it’s a crime, either, as long as Blondie’s not committing tax fraud.”

“I know.” Noct sighs. “Can’t hurt to see if he’s okay, I guess. Seems like a lot if he was that sick the other night.”

“Yeah.”He pauses, taking in Noct’s stiff shoulders, the full-body tension that’s gonna leave him achey all over in the morning. “Last chance to bail, though. There’s no actual reason we gotta do this part.” He nods at the empty stage. “Looked like he’ll live.”

Another tight shrug, another swig of his drink and a terse “might as well,” and alright, looks like they are doing this part.

***

Ten minutes later they’re shuffled back through now mostly-empty lobby—most of the patrons are either drinking or or migrating to the dance floor now—and led through a side door into a wood-paneled hallway.

Biggs’ hands are full; a steaming cup of instant chickatrice noodle in one hand and a packet of saltines in the other, a sports drink tucked up under his armpit. “He’s already waiting for you,” he tells them, as they come to a halt in front of one of the doors deep into the hallway. “He’s gotta eat something, though. And Nea said you get ten minutes.”

“Guessing you’re here to enforce that,” Gladio says, not caring if it’s blunt.

“And to make sure no one bothers him,” Biggs replies, calmly, meeting his eyes.

He has to remind himself not to bristle at the implications of that on Noct’s behalf—these people don’t know him, and they’re probably not bursting at the seams with fealty toward the Crown, either. The treaty with Niflheim is tenuous, barely older than Noct himself, and the war beforehand had been ugly for both sides. Most Imperial immigrants are refugees, or the children of refugees, having had no choice but to flee to the country that had fared marginally better when their own had become so stripped of resources. And they ain’t exactly living the high life, here.

Noct must’ve realized the same thing, because even though his arms are crossed now, all he says is, “We won’t.”

It’s a cramped sitting room of some kind, both tacky as hell with bright orange walls and décor as loud as the rest of this place, but cozy with its low lighting and squashy armchairs. And no exits but the way they came in. Well. If Gladio needs to pull the plug on this shit a minute in, he’s got no problem with that. Biggs had lost the jacket, at some point, and if he is still armed, it’s not obvious. But Gladio’s been put through the ringer learning how to recognize and disarm assassins of all varieties. And Noct’s not exactly helpless either—quite the opposite—if it comes down to it. Doesn’t mean he can relax any, and if anything happens it is squarely on him, but it’s something, anyways. Damn kid’s gonna be the death of him.

Blondie’s seated with his shins pressed up against a glass coffee table. He’s in a pair of beat-up sweats, but his hair and makeup still look pretty much flawless in the dim light of the room, even the gold leaf framing his lashes doesn’t seem to have budged any.

 He makes no move to stand at the sight of Noct; the smile he slaps on looks taut, maybe wary. He meets Gladio’s eyes a grand total of once before decidedly looking anywhere but.

“Hi again,” he says, with a gung-ho sort of cheer that can’t quite seem to get its legs under it, an awkward little wave to match. “Didn’t think you’d be back around…your highness,” he tacks on, like an afterthought.

Gladio frowns. The kid seems winded, words coming out a little breathy and odd. And yeah, he just had one hell of a workout, but twenty minutes on and his chest definitely shouldn’t be rising and falling that rapidly.

Biggs plops down into the chair beside him and sets the soup and crackers in front of him, repeating the directive to eat before anybody can say anything else. And Gladio thinks Noct’s concern, in its veneer of studious indifference, wasn’t misplaced after all. Guy had looked like roadkill a couple nights ago, anyways. He doesn’t, now—mostly he just looks glittery—but still.

Noct sits. Gladio does not. “Didn’t mean to crash your break time,”  Noct says. Gods, he looks uncomfortable. “Sorry. You should eat.”

“Thanks.” The kid raises the soup cup to his lips, but doesn’t take an actual sip, swallowing reflexively like the smell of it alone is enough to turn his stomach. He takes a careful sip of the sports drink instead. It’s a brand that Gladio knows for a fact tastes like piss, but is damn good for electrolytes. Beside him, Biggs’ brows draw together, but he says nothing.

“So, uh,” Prompto starts, after a moment. “You have a better time tonight?”

When Noct doesn’t answer right away, Gladio feels a twinge of sympathy for the kid.

“Was fun,” Gladio  says, honestly, with a shrug. “You’re pretty good.”

Noct takes his lead, fortunately, and his “yeah” comes out only slightly strained.

“Really?” he says, brows shooting up like maybe something’s not quite adding up here, eyes flicking from Gladio’s face to Noct’s, but he doesn’t look displeased. “Whoa. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Nea said you wanted to see me?” he asks, and before Gladio can clarify that that’s not quite what’s happening here, he goes on. “If you were wanting to book, I’m pretty full up tonight, but. Uh. I don’t mind rearranging some stuff? Seeing as you’re, y’know.” He gestures vaguely at Noct. “But you gotta work that out with Nea, she handles most of the scheduling.”

And Noct, hilariously, says, “Book…what?”

Prompto blinks. “…me? Unless you wanted someone else?”

Another one-point-five seconds and Noct’s brain seems to catch up to his mouth. He flushes, spectacularly. “Wha—no.” It comes out sharp, louder than he probably meant it to, and Prompto actually starts a bit. “That’s. No,” he says, quieter now, staring very hard at his own knees, looking like he might spontaneously combust and also that he’d probably be fine with that. “That’s not why we’re here.”

“…um. Okay.”  A long pause, and Gladio can see the shift in Prompto’s face from puzzlement to something like unease. He might be blushing, too, but the makeup makes it hard to tell. But Biggs is grinning now, clearly at Noct’s expense, and Gladio can’t blame him because he is about two inches away himself from absolutely pissing himself laughing.

He tries to keep it out of his voice when he says, “He came to pay for that drink, is all. And see if you were feeling any better, if you were around.”

“Oh.” He gives them both a smile that’s nervous around the edges, a little wrong-footed but not insincere, drumming his fingers on his knee. “I am. Thanks.”

Biggs raises an eyebrow, gives a pointed look at the soup cup growing cold on the table, but says nothing.

“But,” Prompto says, frowning, “if that was all, then why’d Nea…” He trails off, and Gladio can see the realization hit him. He wonders if they’re the same conclusions he’d come to himself. To see just what they were after, for starters. To keep the sudden appearance of the Prince from causing an ordeal at her establishment. To collect their money, while she was at it. “Sorry,” he mutters, finally, gaze falling as though he’d had any part in this at all.

“It’s fine,” Noct tells him. He looks only marginally less like he wants to die than he did before, but he sounds genuine, at least. “Not like anyone warned you.”

“I’m…” Prompto starts, then lets out a shaky breath. Then, with a kind of dawning horror, “You’re not about to, like. Lock me up for soliciting royalty, or something?” Adds, under his breath, “Shiva, I just solicited royalty…”

Gladio holds back his snort, wants to tell him that repeating the offense out loud isn’t exactly gonna help his case. Instead, he says, “Relax, kid. We know the laws.” Well. Sort of. Brothels are legal is about the extent of his own knowledge; maybe soliciting royalty was actually a crime. Iggy would know, probably. Freakish knowledge of obscure laws is his forte. “Anyways. You thought it was him soliciting you, you were just doing your job.”

Noct gives him a withering look, which is pretty much the best thing ever when he still looks like a beet. And Prompto does look distinctly salmon-ish now, too, despite the foundation piled on thick enough to blot out most of those freckles. He’s picking at the edges of an old striped sweatband he’s wearing, and Gladio thinks of that gigantic jeweled cuff he’d been wearing on the same wrist, earlier.

Nobody says anything, after that. Prince Charmless can’t string two words together to smooth the situation over, because of course he can’t, and Prompto’s moved on to fiddling with the label of his sports drink, not looking at any of them. Biggs raises an eyebrow at Gladio, a silent question—which of us is gonna end this first—when Noct’s phone goes off.

It’s his text tone, a bright handful of eight-bit notes, and Gladio wonders if it’s Iggy. It’s probably Iggy.

But Prompto looks up, at the sound. He’s smiling faintly. “Heh. Level up.”

Noct’s head snaps up so fast that Gladio almost hears it.

“You play King’s Knight?”

***

(to be continued-- many, many thanks to @taizi for listening to me spitball about this one and giving me that sweet sweet validation-- 

[ncvcmbcrflush]

It is 1am and i just finished s2, so this is gonna be long and rambling and misspelled and im sorry okay?

I am not thrilled with the writing of klaus this season, can I just say? They completely undid all of his substantial development in s1, while also removing a good chunk of his positive qualities.

There were scenes where s1!klaus shined through (any of the scenes with Allison and vanya, mainly, and i was really worried abt the scenes with bby!Dave but they were handled really well imo) but those scenes were vastly overshadowed by the unnecessary cruelty? Why did they make my boy so mean this season, I am asking this question for real. S1!klaus was wild and a disaster and heartbreaking, but he was also so kind, and willing to grow as a person in ways that his siblings actively avoided most of the time.

How do you go from beautifully empathetic s1!klaus crying in response to his abusive father's suicide, protesting luther locking up vanya and later being so adamant that they take vanya back in time with them that he literally clings to her feet, to s2!klaus who seems to not care much about anything or anyone at all?? The man is dead in heaven with his father telling him point blank what a let down he is, and he still has enough love in him to cry for him, but 3 years pass and suddenly he doesn't shed a tear for his brother who just died saving their sister?? They took away so much of his emotionality and I do not understand why.

S1!klaus also absolutely would have been open to trying possession with Ben imo, and we could have avoided the intensely uncomfortable possession sequence, which should not have been played off as a joke because it wasn't funny at all, and instead just highlights how little autonomy klaus actually has- but that is a rant that needs way more brain power and research lmao.

S1!klaus also would never have hid ben from his siblings, after spending literal years telling them that ben was there with them??? He would not have done that.

And the scene where they try to save vanya was intensely ooc in my opinion- even high off his ass klaus is quick to react and jump into action- helpful or otherwise (throwing the fire extinguisher, improvising at the prosthetics lab for 5, trying to save luther in the club, running into the theater when they hear gunshots despite having no idea how to use his powers offensively, even in s2 when he finds allison at the protest) and I refuse to believe he would need to be pushed into trying to save vanya, who he has put his life at risk to save before.

The cult thing will be getting a post of its own because I have so many feelings about that whole deal but I again, am too incoherent currently.

I loved him and allison so so much, and he and vanya just break my heart together bc they are such opposite sides of the same coin and the show doesn't seem interested in exploring that whatsoever? I was a bit bummed to not really see him interact with the boys at all though. He and Diego seemed pretty close in s1, 5 and klaus have some good scenes together, and he and luther had some good interactions at the end of s1 as well, and i wish they had kept going with that.

It just feels like they were so busy with the others, and klaus got lost along the way. We do nothing with his powers except for the possession thing, like literally besides ben and the two ghosts at the very end of the last episode klaus doesn't use his powers at all during the entire season! I loved watching everyone else kind of come into their own, but that just never happened for klaus this season- if anything, he devolved.

And I think as a side effect of fucking up klaus, they fucked up his relationship with ben, and the other boys to a lesser extent, as well.

S1 ben and klaus is what i would expect from a pair of siblings stuck together for 17 years- nagging and sarcastic and judgemental but also loving and close and they work well together. They are both dumbasses who do things like play patty cake to test ben's tangibility, and decide that tossing a bowling ball is a good way to prove that ben is present.

S2 ben and klaus are entirely antagonistic; more in line with luther and diego in s1. I have seen lots of comments saying that anyone upset with ben and klaus's dynamic in s2 doesn't have siblings, and to that i have to say- people who think their dynamic in s2 is normal don't have abusive parents. There are lines that you absolutely do not cross, and comparing a sibling to your abuser is one of them. And you don't need to have siblings to know that dismissing the death of a loved one like, isn't a good thing to do? This is especially jarring given their relationship in 2019 and as children- there is no set up for this kind of behavior from either of them.

And the others were just so overall dismissive of klaus in a way that goes beyond just sibling annoyance. During the family dinner no one bats an eye when ben jumps into him, causes his body to jerk around, and literally says that he's ben?? He lies on the floor of the elevator looking like death and we don't so much as ask what's wrong? Klaus pukes out the contents of 7 fully grown humans practically and no one offers a tums, or a ride to the damn hospital?? Like wasn't diego a fuckin cop, he should know that none of this is the result of an overdose??? As far as i can recall,, klaus doesn't even use drugs in this season? We see him drink but that's it unless I'm forgetting, which is entirely possible since it is now 2am lmao. And they just play it off as jokes, we are meant to find this funny?

And just like, he wasn't involved in the actual plot of this season much, if at all, besides being a largely unwilling catalyst for ben. Nothing would change in this season if they had cut him out completely, and i really hate that.

I'm not upset at all really- despite sounding upset and writing a long ass rant lmao- the let down of one character doesn't ruin the season for me, and honestly, given how other shows have failed me this year (looking at you, the politician) , i count this season as a win overall. Luther especially has changed so much for the better, and he was probably the highlight of this season. I'm just bummed because klaus was s u c h a good character in season one, easily one of the most interesting characters, and they did nothing with him this season.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Untouchable 13- Out Of Control [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Your feedback makes my day my loves, please keep it coming! <3

The previous chapters are on my masterlist<3

Pleasure has a price Bucky Barnes can’t afford. What happens when he falls in love with someone he shouldn’t have?

Summary: Planning for the future requires keeping secrets.

Characters: Reader x Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2372

Warnings: Mentions of sex, explicit language, 1940s.

It was as if your absolute misery and sadness had slowed down the time.

You could barely eat, you hardly ever slept –since the image of Bucky on the battlefield kept haunting your nightmares- and overall, you had no energy to do anything, but at least you were left alone. That was the one good thing about threatening your madam, General was informed that you were feeling ill so he stayed away, for the most part.

Except for his letter, reminding you about the ball you would have to attend tonight.

Someone knocked on your door, then opened it slightly,

“Hey there,” Shirley offered you a small smile, “My client just left, I figured I could check up on you.”

You nodded slowly, running your thumb over Bucky’s dog tags hanging from your neck, your knees pulled up to your chest.

“I’m fine,” you croaked out, “Thanks.”

“Oh so you don’t mind if I opened the curtains?” she asked, and without paying attention to your objections, she walked inside and pulled the curtains apart, letting the rays of sunset fill the room. You made a face, squinting your eyes,

“Shirley!”

“You can’t live like this,” she pointed at you, putting her other hand on her hip and you scoffed.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Exactly,” she said, “I’m a professional on heartbreak, remember? Especially when it comes to soldiers lately.”

You let out a bitter laugh despite trying to control yourself, then shrugged.

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

“I don’t want you to say anything, I want you to pull yourself together,” she reached out and tilted your chin up so that she could look at you better, “You look so unhealthy.”

You shoved her hand gently, “Well, maybe that’ll make people leave me alone.”

“Not going to happen,” she said, “Did you talk to him?”

You shook your head, then took a deep breath, “Maybe it’s a good thing,” you said, with your nose up in the air, “Maybe I won’t be that sad when he dies out there. Logical.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” you asked her, then got off the bed to pace in the room, “That’s what’s going to happen, no? People die out there after all. A lot of people.”

“A lot of people survive and come back.”

“Good, he can come back and find himself a proper girl then.”

“Y/N….”

“I was a fucking idiot,” you shook your head at yourself, “I mean, what possibly could be the outcome, for me? Mourn the idiot, or watch him be happy with someone else. I was never going to be in the picture.”

“You know that’s not true-“

“It is,” you looked at her, “I don’t get a happy ending, Shirl, not in this life anyway.”

“Well, will he be at that military ball tonight?”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you shrugged, “It doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t- Y/N!” she snapped at you, “You need to talk to him. It doesn’t have to mean everything is hopeless, just because he’s going back there.”

You crossed your arms, shaking your head.

“We aren’t meant to have a fairytale ending, Shirley.” You told her, “You know it as much as I do.”

She heaved a sigh, then walked to your closet and pulled out the gown General had sent for you as you sat down on the chair,

“What are you doing?”

“Half of the reason why you feel as hopeless as you do is because you haven’t changed your nightgown for days.” She pointed at you, “You’ll take a shower, we’ll get you ready, make up and all.”

“Shirl.”

“It will make you feel better,” she pulled you by the arm, then steered you to the bathroom “With or without Bucky, or General, or anyone else, you’ll be alright. Trust me.”

With that, she closed the door, leaving you in the bathroom alone, so you heaved a sigh and shed your nightgown before walking to the bathtub.

                                           ***

It took you almost three hours to get ready. And in those three hours, Shirley managed to make you look like an almost new person.

You didn’t really look like a walking corpse anymore, instead you looked almost….

Classy. Rich, even. Like those ladies you would look up to when you were a child, the ones that you saw glimpses of before they got in their cars, away from your neighborhood’s sight, as if your poverty could spread through them if they stood there longer than necessary. Bucky’s dog tags were safely hidden underneath the gown, the chain between your breasts scratching at the sensitive skin. You pressed your lips together, looking in the mirror as you put your lipstick down, trying to see any kind of flaw in your makeup.

“You know, your clients have a point for once,” Shirley told you, making you look up at her in the mirror.

“Hm?”

“I mean I know it’s easy to seduce people,” she said, “But they do find you the prettiest of all the “harlots” as they call it. I’m not surprised General claims to be in love with you.”

“He’s incapable of loving anyone.”

Shirley nodded slowly, “I know,” she murmured, “I strongly believe that any man who walks in here lacks a soul. Isn’t it such a shame that only we poor folk have an idea about what love is?”

“Y/N, General is here!” Nancy’s voice reached your room, along with the sound of the car horn outside and you tried to pull yourself together,

“Pray for me to get through tonight?”

“You got this,” she winked at you, “You could conquer the whole world in that dress, Y/N.”

You hugged her, sniffling, then pulled back and made your way downstairs. Linda was leaning against her office door, glaring at you but you smiled coldly at her, then kissed Thomas on the cheek and walked out of the house.

“Jesus Christ, Birdie…” General said, as soon as you got in the car, “Linda said you were sick, but if this is you looking sick…”

“You look dashing as well,” you forced yourself to say with a smile as he started driving, “I’ve never been to a ball before.”

“Well, first thing first, you will be the most beautiful woman there,” he said, squeezing your leg, and you could swear you could taste the bile climbing up your throat, “There will be a bunch of important people in here, people who make decisions about this country. And some soldiers we invited before shipping them out to the battlefield, honestly I doubt half of them will come back.”

You could feel the burning at the back of your eyes but you blinked fast, “Really?”

“It’s a mess out there Birdie.” He shook his head and you let out a shaky breath, which quickly got his attention, “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Yeah I just… That makes me sad.”

“Oh sweetheart, don’t be.” He said, “I mean half of those men, they didn’t have a future to begin with, really,” he chuckled, “Some people are just born to be sacrificed.”

Your hands balled up into fists and you dug your fingernails into your palms, trying your hardest not to punch him.

“Here we are,” he pulled over in front of a huge building that was well lit, and some waiters and waitresses walking on the yard, offering people drinks while some well-dressed men and women climbed the stairs to get inside. You got out of the car, your legs feeling weak all of a sudden but you managed to straighten your back, take General’s arm and walk into the building.

It looked like those ballrooms on the TV, really. But the feeling was almost nauseating, when there were people dying out there and these people were living as if everything was perfect, as if there was no death, no poverty, no pain out there.

“Charles, you lucky bastard!” a man called out and General pulled you closer to walk with him. After a brief introduction with the man, -you could hardly pay attention to anything he said- General and he entered a long discussion about the latest news from the front, but nothing could ever prepare you to suddenly capture a very familiar blue gaze.

Seeing him in his uniform was almost a bitter reminder of when you had first met.

He stared at you, as if he couldn’t believe he was seeing you, that you were there, that you were close to him somehow, after almost a week. Even if your whole body screamed at you to go to him, kiss him there, everything else be damned, you knew you couldn’t, not now, not ever-

“Don’t you think so, Birdie?”

“Hm?” your head snapped up, “I’m sorry, I was…admiring the place.”

“I was just telling Johnny here how news make the public upset lately.”

“I-“ you shook your head slightly, trying your hardest to focus, “That’s true actually, news have been very saddening. A lot of deaths...”

“Not anyone important sweetheart,” The man- Johnny winked at you and you clenched your teeth while General threw an arm over your shoulder,

“Birdie has a soft heart,” he told Johnny as if you weren’t there, and you grabbed a glass of champagne to take a big sip, hoping it would help you to get through this night, “She doesn’t understand that war has casualties.”

“I find it strange that none of those casualties are wealthy men.” You couldn’t help to say and he frowned slightly,

“Since when do you have opinions on war, sweetheart?” he asked you, then scoffed, running his fingertips over your arm, “You have your expertise, I have mine, hm? I find yours much more pleasant to be honest.”

You were going to puke. You were for sure going to puke if you stayed there any longer, belittled, treated as if you were a child unable to understand anything.

“Excuse me please, I need to powder my nose.” You forced a small smile, then walked to the ladies room as fast as you could. You closed the door behind you, then leaned your palms on the cold counter, taking deep breaths. You ran your hands under ice cold water, then wiped them and opened to door to step outside, but you were stopped by a waitress.

“Excuse me miss, I was told to give you this,” she said and handed you a folded paper before she walked away.

Backyard, now.

B.

“God damn it,” you murmured, trying to ignore the way your heart had just skipped a beat, and after checking whether anyone could see you, you quickly made your way to the backyard, which was not as well-lit as inside. You looked around, walking deeper into the yard but then let out a squeal when somebody grabbed you by the arm and pulled you behind a tree.

God, you had missed him way too much.

“What do you want?” you forced yourself to say, “Make it fast, I need to go back.”

“To him?” he asked you, his voice way too cold, “Are you serious?”

You crossed your arms, “Well, at least now we’re both disappointed.”

“Y/N-“

“What?” you snapped, “What did you think would happen, Bucky? Hm? Did you think I would be waiting to get a letter from you what, once in every two months? When you go out there to get killed-“

“I’m not going to be killed!”

“You don’t know that!”

Bucky let out an impatient breath, running a hand through his hair, “Listen, I know you’re… I know I broke your heart.”

You blinked back the tears, then narrowed your eyes to glare at him, a cold, mocking smile playing on your lips,

“Yeah well,” you managed to say, “This is how the world works.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Right, because you’ll come back to me.”

“Damn right I will come back to you!” he said, “When have I ever broken a promise to you, darling? When have I ever made you regret trusting me?”

You pursed your lips, trying your hardest not to cry, it was not the time or the place for this.

“You kept it,” Bucky said slowly, looking at the chain of the dog tags around your neck, and you shrugged slightly, sniffling.

“I- I need to go back.”

“I’m shipping out in two days, when can I see you?”

Oh God, you really felt like crying.

Two days?

That was too soon, way too soon.

“Tonight,” you said, “I’ll…I’ll say the champagne made me sick.”

He nodded, then stole a kiss from you, making you smile for a moment before you rushed inside. You grabbed another glass of champagne, your stomach making flips in your body, your heart slamming against your chest.

“Birdie, here you are!” General said as you walked towards him, and Bucky walked past you to grab a drink, his gaze stopping on you for only a second. “You took forever powdering your nose.”

“I… I think champagne is bad for me,” you said slowly, “I don’t feel so well.”

He frowned slightly, “Eat something, you’ll feel better. You’re chugging those on an empty stomach.”

“No, actually I already ate before,” you cleared your throat, “I think I’m still not alright, I feel sick.”

“Well, grit your teeth then, we still have couple of hours.”

“I should go home.” You insisted, and something in his eyes almost shifted,

“No, you’ll stay right here.”

You could feel the surge of fury spreading through you, and you arched a brow,

“I’m leaving.” You told him, but before you could take a step, he had already grabbed you by the arm,

“Listen to me, you little whore,” he said, “I’m paying you way too much to get sick. You’re staying right here where I told you to stay, you hear me?”

You didn’t have time to react, really. It all happened in a second, your brain couldn’t even comprehend what was happening.

You yanked your arm back, ready to tell him to go to hell, but before you had a chance to say anything, Bucky grabbed his shoulder, turned him around, and punched him right in the face.

                                                           ***

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[awhiskeyriver]

Hi friend!! Hope you are safe, and hope you get some insp to write again❤️ Maybe the scene right after their first kiss? Love you❤️

An anon also requested the scene post-finding out about the bet and losing the football game and so these two sort of coincide together. Hopefully this fits your request friend! Love you too!<3

+++

The locker room lacked the natural cheer and comradery it usually held on game day. Win or lose, we were a pretty solid team and typically good sports, but it felt different this time.

   Our winning streak of the season was officially over. To make it worse, we’d lost on our own turf.

   “We’re still doing better than last season.” Finnick tried to keep spirits up, but among us there was the overall stench of defeat.

   I stripped off my jersey and threw it into the hamper, eager to shower and change so I could go back to the apartment. The weight of the loss was resting on my shoulders. I knew I was at the heart of the problem that translated onto the field today.

   All anyone could talk about this morning was the party last night. Specifically, the video that was being shared all over Instagram from it, starring Katniss Everdeen and I.

   After her friend walked in on Katniss and I...and everything happened...I left the party with the excuse to the guys that I wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t a lie, I felt like I was moments away from puking. They let me go without protest, not wanting to be responsible for me being sick at the game, and I’d driven home, turned my phone off and gone straight to bed.

   It wasn’t uncommon for me to leave my phone off on game days. It was easier to keep focused, tune out the needless distraction of text messages and social media, so I hadn’t found out about the video until some of my teammates showed me in the locker room.

   Thirty minutes before kick off.

   The horrible timing had a rippled effect, causing me to play my worst game of the season and give people even more reasons to talk.

   “Mellark.”

   Coach’s dominating voice vibrated off the walls, making his presence known before he was visible. I cringed inwardly, muscles tight. Hearing your name called fresh after a lose was never good.

   I ran a hand over my sweaty scalp as he came into view.

   “Yes, Coach?”

   “My office in ten.”

    My stomach knotted. Really not good. 

    If coach saw skepticism in my eyes, he ignored it. Everyone waited until he’d left the locker room to resume talking. I tossed my helmet into its shelf, right above the slot where my last name was scripted in gold-plated font.

    Finnick, who’s bench was beside mine wrapped a towel around his waist before turning towards me.

    “What’s that about?”

    “No idea.”

    “You don’t think it’s…” he trailed off, but the unspoken words clung to the air. I met his concerned frown with one of my own, hoping, praying Coach wasn’t calling me up to his office to discuss that.

    “It’s probably just about the sack I didn’t block,” I muttered, just in time for Cato to chime in.

    “Which one?”

    I ignored him, debating if it was worth it to just go up and talk to coach now and shower back at the apartment alone. Quickly, I ruled the idea out. Couldn’t go up to his office smelling.

    “Maybe he’s calling you up to discuss the fact that this is a men’s football team and you, apparently, have a pussy.”

     He went to smack my crotch but I grabbed his hand, shoving him away before he had the opportunity.

    “That would explain why you can’t seem to keep your hands off of him,” Finnick retorted cooly, earning a disgusted grunt from Cato.

    “Dude, not cool.”

    Finnick shrugged.

    “I’m just saying maybe if he had a set of balls, hot girls would actually want to fuck him instead of just pretending to for money.”

    I could feel Finnick gearing up for a retort, but held a hand out to stop him. Last thing I needed was someone else fighting my battles for me. What would that prove other than the fact that Cato was right? But, there was no point in getting into it with someone like him. He was trying to get a rise out of me so he could laugh and make more jokes when I reacted. Like, tell me to get my estrogen levels checked or ask if I was PMSing. Idiot.

    I showered quickly and changed into street clothes before heading up to coach’s office. Nerves twisted my stomach as I approached his ajar door and gave it a quick knock.

    “Come in.”

    His face was buried into his computer, typing furiously with half-squinted eyes that focused hard on his task. His desk was littered with football knick-knacks and sticky notes. Behind him were plaques in numerical order for awards the team had won over the years and he had a cabinet off to the side of the office that hosted an array of trophies.

    I pulled a chair out from the other side of his desk and sat down, waiting. After hours of being on the field, it felt nice to sit for a moment.

    He finished whatever he was typing and took a deep breath before pulling his glasses off his face.

    “You know why you’re here, kid?”

    I wracked my brain, mulling over all the possible reasons. I decided to test the waters by trying out the easiest.

    “Because I missed the tackle in the third quarter? I think I figured out my mistake. If I just--”

    “I didn’t call you up here to talk football, Mellark.”

     My frown deepened.

    “Oh?”

    Coach sighed, folding his hands together. “Were you at a party last night?”

    Shit. Shit. Immediately I knew where this was going and it was no place I wanted to be. Already, I could feel my skin flushing with embarrassment...made worse by the fact that the guys had basically guessed this conversation down in the locker room.

    If it were possible to dissolve into the floor, now would be a great time to do it.

    I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and ran my sweaty hands down the length of my pants.

    Coach seemed just as awkward as I felt. He scrubbed a hand over his bristled jaw line as we regarded each other silently.

    “The party,” he finally continued. “Anything happen? Any sort of...altercations?”

    I suppressed a groan, wishing he would just come out and say it so I didn’t have to.

    “Not really.”

    “Not really?” he parroted, looking skeptical. I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable. “You’re sticking with that answer? Because I’ve heard otherwise. In fact, lots of people around campus have.”

    I swallowed. There was no way to deny it.

     “You...wanna talk about it?”

    It being the video, undoubtedly.

    It was far from the first time I’d been made fun of. Middle school had basically been hell; I stood several inches above everyone else and was twice as wide, which made for a host of comments and jokes at my expense. High school had been a little better, by then I was playing football and was able to deflect most of the jokes being made at me to those being made with me. 

    But College had been the best change of pace. Away from all the people I’d grown up with and knew too well in Virginia. I supposed it had been too much to wish the fluidity of my past two years could last.

    “Not especially,” I sighed, in answer to Coach’s question.

    “Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Just so you know, that kind of behavior isn’t permitted on campus, and technically that party was on campus. If you were wanting to press charges--”

    Charges? This was getting out of control.

    “What? No,” I said quickly with a wave of my hand. “I don’t want to do anything. I just...want this to not be happening.”

    It was like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

    Coach nodded in agreement.

    “Well...if you change your mind or need to talk about it all--”

     “I don’t.”

    “Right. But if you do...”

    I nodded, staring down at my lap, waiting with growing impatience for him to dismiss me.

    “That’s all, then.”

    I stood up in an instant and gathered my bag, heading for the door.

    “Mellark,” he called, bringing me up short. I paused, but didn’t turn to look. “Don’t get stupid and start eating salads and shit. Can’t have you dropping weight in the middle of the season.”

[camseanron]

𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠: "fuck this, i need a drink." he leaves the circle. he looks at nobody. 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐧: sean had gotten up and was about to go after craig, but when ellie did, he turned off and went in the other direction instead. sean's pissed at a lot of things, and overall he's really fucking drunk. all he can think is one foot in front of the other but he hears ellie's voice and it sounds like he might be imagining it and if he's not, then he's definitely not doing this right now. so he keeps walking, through a door and round a corner and when he hears paige's voice, he turns to face her whilst taking a couple steps back and pulling cigarettes out of his pocket, pulling one from the pack. "i'm not okay, really, but i'll find you later. i just -" he held his cigarette up, turning again to make his way outside. the cool of the air is refreshing and it sobers him up just enough to sit on the ledge of a fountain and light his cigarette without any risk of  falling in and drowning . when he hears a door on the other side of the courtyard-type-area open up he dreads it's someone coming after him, but when it's craig and he's going in the opposite direction towards the cars, he's relieved and concerned and angry and everything in between.  𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠: craig doesn’t witness sean move to get up and go after him, doesn’t see ellie start to do the same, nor does he witness her going after and then getting blatantly ignored by sean. by then he’s already moving through the house pushing through people at a pace that makes him damn near impossible to keep up with, making his way back to the place where in his out of his mind inebriated state, he last remembers having the keys to his shitty car. he’s got a bottle in one hand while he’s searching around in the trampoline room, and once he finds them it turns into him making a beeline for the nearest door to lead him out of the hollingsworth house. he finds himself crossing the driveway where there’s tons of cars parked, drinking from the mouth of the bottle as he walks. when he gets close enough to the drivers side door of his own vehicle he yeets the bottle he’s holding, watching the glass shatter and the remainder of the booze soak into the ground. he thinks about what a good time he’d been having, how weird he feels now. maybe it’s the come down, maybe it’s the confusing emotions that came from kissing an ex, or being insulted by a best friend’s replacement for him, or just... sitting in that circle with all of those people. either way, craig is ready to go. he fumbles with his keys, dropping them, having to bend down to pick them up, and when he’s in that position he kinda feels like he might puke. he doesn’t, thankfully. 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐧: sean's annoyed. and angry. on behalf of the past few months of his life, and for everything that happened in the past five minutes. everything he had to witness sat in that circle. it was shitty, and he feels bad for the fact paige came after him and he asked her to go like that. he was just pissed. and he'd been avoiding both ellie and craig for months now to avoid an argument, to avoid a fight, and then one nearly appeared right in front of him. he never asked, or gave permission, for landon to be pissed on his behalf. and it also wasn't okay for craig to have been such a dick towards landon for no reason. but that doesn't mean he suddenly gives zero fucks about craig whatsoever, and when he sees the guy walking towards his car - he knows it's a bad idea. he gets up, throws his barely-burned cigarette into the fountain and pretty much runs over to where craig's bending to get his keys. he almost falls over when bending down, but he steadies himself and reaches out to grab them before craig manages to, managing a "you're not driving" and a half-hiccup before stepping back a few paces, putting some of the distance back between them that had been present since mid december.  𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠: “dude.” craig complains through half slurred words, “gimback my keys, i’m goin’ home.” he steps forward at the same pace he creates distance, and holds out his hand for them like sean is just going to willingly give them back over. 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐧: "fuck off," sean says, not with nearly any venom but just distaste at the fact that craig would even think that he'd just hand the keys back over like that. he doesn't like the way that craig is coming forward at the same pace he's going backwards, and it's only when he nearly knocks over an array of flowerpots that he stops. "order an uber." 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠: "m'not paying for a fuckin uber! i can drive. gimback my keys!"craig he does his best to try and snatch them right out of sean's hand, not even realizing he's backing him into flowerpots until one teeters and almost topples over. 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐧: "well it's a long walk, then." sean sounds the most sensible that he has done all night, and he's not sure what brings that out of him. especially where his stupid ex best friend trying to drive whilst drunk pulled him away from the calming cigarette he'd planned to have, which floats in the fountain as they have this stupid argument. he ducks under craig's arm, too drunk to have any sense of balance and hitting his head on his forearm on the way under. but he makes it, and this time he's backing towards the direction they'd just came, definitely not in a straight line. "stop being a baby." 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠: craig accidentally smacks sean in the forehead with his arm, "i'm not being a baby! you're bein an asshole!" he lunges for the keys again, grabbing sean by the wrist, trying to pry them out of his hand. he is taller than sean by a notable amount (he thinks anyway bc he's a turd), but sean is definitely stronger, so they're a pretty even match. 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐧: sean's fist is clenched around the keys, not willing to give them up for no bitch. the audacity of craig to call him the asshole? after sean having to maintain hurt for multiple months and still being there to make sure craig didn't drive whilst this fucked up? ridiculous. he grabs the wrist of criag's hand that's holding sean, moving around swiftly so that his back was to craig's front and pulling his arm down. he just figured craig wouldn't be able to reach over his shoulder and down that far, planning to put space between them again when he's free. "yeah, well, that's me," he concludes, taking ownership of the title. "go catch a bus." 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠: craig doesn't hesitate when sean turns around to get away from him, jumping and climbing up onto his back the second he presses it to his front like a damn monkey as he reaches over his shoulder, still trying to fight the keys out of his hand. "dude! c'mon i'm serious, i wanna go h-oh shit!" obviously they topple over. i said craig was toller. he's also heavier, and sean's drunk, so i mean.  𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐧: sean can barely keep himself upright and has absolutely no chance with craig suddenly on top of him. he hadn't anticipated it, and suddenly he's holding the keys underneath his body. which granted - it feels safer there, but he also does not want craig on top of him. he uses his elbows as a weapon, jutting one backwards in effort to get this pain in the ass off of his ass. "you can go home, but you can't -" he pauses here to try and shake craig off. "-can't ride me home so get off my back!" 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠: craig is now yeah literally sitting on sean’s ass as he tries to reach underneath his body where he knows he is shielding the keys from his reach, “is that a challenge?” he asks sean, a line that comes to him way too quickly, sneaking a hand underneath him finally but not getting a grip on the keys as desired. instead he accidentally pinches a nipple in the struggle, “shi- sorry..- dude, c’mon!” 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐧: sean's not sure where the line is, but he's definitely sure they've way surpassed it when he gets nipple injury from this stupidity. "this isn't fucking funny," he warns through gritted teeth. and everything's spinning so slightly and he feels like he's gonna throw up with craig sitting on him like he's a fucking beanbag but somehow he manages to put both hands on the ground below him and push himself up, hoping to knock craig off but unsure if it'll instead result in craig sitting on sean's back like a child playing horsey. 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠: “who’s laughing?” craig demands, “fuck!” but suddenly he’s being thrown back and he has to hold on or risk being yeeted, so that’s exactly what he does, just grips onto sean’s shoulders and doesn’t let go, then winds one arm around his thick ass neck, but doesn’t actually apply any pressure, it’s the loosest not chokehold ever. “give. me. the. keys!” 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐧: "it's not gonna happen,"he pushes up onto his knees, trying to get him off. "i'll drop it round yours tomorrow," he offers, not for one second believing that craig deserved this level of kindness but somehow happy to play the role whilst it was here and still easy to slip into. "fucking- just go back in the party," he ordered, just wanting to have his cigarette at this point. and if sean discovered that they were crushed, craig might wanna be long gone for his own safety. 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠: months of rising tension fueled by going so long without speaking has led up to this moment- this ridiculous moment, with craig on sean's back in the middle of the hollingsworth's insanely long driveway, not that far from a smashed bottle of liquor on the ground beside them, screaming at each other because he won't give craig his keys (rightfully, he shouldn't have them). "yeah, yeah okay, alright, okay- 'cept you haven't been to my house in months!" and with that he finally climbs off of him, or rather shoves off of him, coming to his feet. "yknow joey asks me about you every fucking week, at least- sometimes multiple times a fucking week and i have to tell him, 'no joey, i know joey, we all miss sean joey, sean hates my rotten fucking guts joey, sean's never coming over again!'" he is definitely way too fucked up to be having any conversation with sean...- but he definitely shouldn't be steering it in this direction. his eyes are getting glassy, threatening to flood when he speaks, and the words start sounding thicker in his throat. he turns away from him, blinking it all back. "fuck this, i'm just gonna walk." he definitely can't walk from this rich ass neighborhood and expect to get to his house in the burbs, but in that moment, he doesn't care. he just starts walking. 

[antihero-writings]

His Butler, and the Problem with Magic (Ch1)

Fandom: Black Butler | Kuroshitsuji x Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets Crossover

Fic Synopsis: Life at Hogwarts isn’t all bad…usually. But when Valentine’s Day rolls around, and Lockhart throws an extravagant ball, the number of couples at school the next day skyrockets, and Sebastian finds himself a new object of devotion…Can Ciel save his butler from the spell on his own?

Character Focus:  Ciel (Sebastian, Undertaker, Harry, Grell)

Notes: This is a fic I wrote for @elegantkittycat  for a Valentines day secret-santa-style event I made a few years ago!

Yes, I’m aware there are typos in this chapter. I intend to fix them at some point. 

If you’d be willing to comment and/or reblog, it would mean more to me than you know!! They really really help motivate me to keep writing. 

Chapter 1:

The great hall, quite frankly, looked like Valentine’s day threw up on it. Those lurid pink flowers from lunch still lined the walls, but now bright streamers glided across the ceiling, big, shiny hearts fluttered in the air, reflecting mood lighting, and bubble hearts popped out of bouquets of roses, (each flower cut into hearts). The ceiling itself not only continued to drop confetti, but was blighted by puffy clouds that read the same banalities you could find in every Sweethearts box; Be Mine, and True Love, and XOXO. (The clouds may have actually read that outside too, but Ciel didn’t want to check.) The burly cupids from earlier in the week lumbered about the room, continuing to pelt people with off-key music, and cards that only the most hopeless and idiotic of romantics would provide, filled with the same empty statements the clouds read—(every once and a while a howler burst forth, and the actual band would come to a shrieking halt at “YOU’RE REALLY CUTE”).

Lockhart had insisted a Valentine’s day ball was in order—(a lurid end to a lurid day)—and remarked with a toss of his perfect hair and blinding smile that it would be ‘just the thing’ to brighten everyone’s moods.

The fact that Lizzie had been the first (of many, mind you) to offer her decorative expertise and assistance may or may not have contributed to the overall… valentines-day-puked-and-so-will-I vibe of the room.

Currently, said mission to lift the general spirit was failing; aside from the few school lovebirds, (who were already widely despised and avoided, without school-sanctioned and overly sugary displays of affection) most people took this as the perfect opportunity for your daily dose of sulking at the sidelines, and contemplating if magic was quite worth this amount of suffering. Not least of all Ciel, who was currently propped against the wall behind the food table. (Lizzie had pried him away from his brooding earlier to dance, but now he happily returned to the indent he’d made in the wall). He had made many attempts throughout the evening to sneak a piece of chocolate cake, but Sebastian always magically appeared to slap his hands away whenever he got too close.

Most people would have stayed in their dorms, given the chance. Lockhart, however, had sent everyone cards with his kissy face on them, telling them flirtatiously not to dawdle, and his commands got more sugary, and insistent, (not to mention awkward) the longer they stayed indoors, and floated over their heads until they dragged their butts to the ball. This was particularly affective at making sure everyone was there, because the girls melted for his voice, and the boys wanted to shut him up as soon as possible.

“Isn’t this wonderful, Ciel!” A certain Indian prince put his arm around the earl’s neck and noogied him.

“Wha—No!” Ciel struggled like a fish out of water. Upon release he wiped his hands on his dress robes (the robes Sebastian had thrown together for the event—his ‘thrown together,’ of course, looked like others ‘spent-months-laboring-over-this’)—as if he didn’t want to catch Soma’s contagious happiness. “And I’d thank you to not touch me so casually!”

“I’m sorry Ciel, it’s just seeing all this love in the air makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside!” he spun around, “Doesn’t it do the same for you?”

“That’s called acid reflux.”

Soma pouted.

“Ciieel!” Lizzie’s hug was a torpedo. She snared his hands and spun him around, “Come dance with me!”

“Ack…I just danced with you ten minutes ago! How many times do I have to dance with you before you’re satisfied?!”

“Don’t you want your fiancé to be happy?” Her green eyes, (which were already big), became the puppy dog eyes of a little girl who wants an expensive toy.

“Don’t you?” he grumbled.

“I’ll dance with you, Elizabeth!” Soma came to the rescue. “It would be an honor to dance with such a lovely young lady!”

She blushed—“Oh please! It would be more than an honor to dance with a Prince!”—and curtsied, shooting Ciel an icy look, before joining the dance.

The young earl folded his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes.

As if that wasn’t enough sappiness for a lifetime, cloying words floated to his ears:

“Oh Professor Michaelis~!”

Ciel’s brow twitched.

“Come now Lavender, that wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

“Ahh, he’s so noble!” came a not-so-whispered consensus.

Ciel jerked his head to see the group of girls crowding around his butler, like birds to sunflower seeds in the park.

Rather than sharing his annoyance, and refusing their advances, Sebastian shimmered with flattery and flirtation. A few of them offered him boxes of chocolates and other sweets, which he took with flowery compliments, but surely had no intention of eating—it didn’t take a love expert to know they were all laced with love potions. (Or maybe he could eat them anyways; the jury was still out if love potions had any affect on the demon…some magical methods worked on him and others didn’t).

Ciel’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, “Don’t you have better things to do?!” he shouted over the throng.

Sebastian chuckled. “Mr. Phantomhive, don’t you know it’s rude to question a teacher?”

Ciel growled.

“These lovely ladies took time out of their day to offer me gifts,” the butler’s calm voice carried across the room. “It would be rude to refuse them.”

There was a syrupy sigh from the group.

“Ugh,” Ciel gave the opposite kind of sigh, and turned away before he gave into the urge to murder.

A familiar laugh at his side made him turn.

“What’s so funny?” he asked the Undertaker.

“Oh nothing much,” Undertaker forwent his usual dog biscuits for a piece of cake, “I just find your sour mood rather humorous.”

“You know me, I’m always in a sour mood.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he said, his mouth full of cake, “but,” he swallowed, “it seems the atmosphere of love and joy has put you in a particularly foul state of mind,” he pointed a black nail at him.

“I just don’t find romance being thrown in my face to make for a very fun evening, that’s all. One of Lizzie’s cutsey rampages is enough for me…but this?” he shuddered.

“Well, some would say it’s sweet. That it makes them feel happy and romantic.”

“When I rise to power, those people will be sterilized.”*

He laughed. “Always the life of the party, you are.”

“What? Are you one of those people?”

“I wouldn’t say so. But seeing you in such a state is worth all the romance any day.”

“Glad I could be of service,” he grunted.

Undertaker set down his plate and twirled in front of him, then leaned forward and spoke behind his hand, “What do you say we make this party…a party?” he reached into one of his drapey sleeves and pulled out a vial, teasing it in front of his face.

A quizzical look from Ciel made Undertaker whistle in the direction of the nearby punchbowl.

Ciel sighed and rubbed his temple. “Spiking the punch…really? Isn’t that a little too cliché, even for you?”

“I prefer the term ‘failsafes.’ Even you have to admit, the atmosphere could use a little...” he glanced around the room, “spiking. Besides,” he leaned in close and whispered, “this isn’t alcohol, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“…What is it then?” Ciel moaned, eyeing the ex-reaper.

He stood back up to his full height. “I’m not one to spoil the punchline before I tell the joke.”

The young earl sighed, “You really think we should deprive people of their misery? I’m not one to interrupt some good, old-fashioned sulking.”

“The general idea is that those who are miserable would like to…not be.”

“They also say that misery loves company. Misery and I, for instance, have quite the close relationship.”

As if called by them saying ‘misery’ too many times, Lockhart’s pretty face showed up.

Ciel coughed to cover his distaste.

“Ah Undertaker! Good to see you here! Everyone’s loving the party aren’t they?”—He gestured to the glowering room—“It’s so wonderful to see all these young people in love!” he gave a throaty chuckle.

“Well, I wouldn’t say everyone.” Undertaker had a way with honesty.

“What makes you say that? Did someone tell you they weren’t enjoying it? We can’t have that!”

“It’s not so much anyone specific, but—”

“…What’s that you have?” his eyes fell on the vial that Undertaker had barely tried to conceal. Despite Ciel’s theory that Lockhart was dumber than a bag of rocks (even if the rocks were magic), it didn’t take long for the truth to dawn on him, “Spiking the punch are we?” He held up an accusatory finger, “Naughty naughty. I would have expected this from one of the students, but shouldn’t a man of your stature know better?”

“What stature?” Ciel snorted.

“What’s that, Dear Boy?” Lockhart leaned forward.

Undertaker put his hand on Ciel’s head, covering his vision with his sleeve. “The young Er—student was just about to say that a man of my stature is not one to shy away from a little fun.” he put his other hand on Ciel’s shoulder, his grip a little too tight.

“I hardly think it’s ‘a little fun.’ We don’t want any students getting hurt, nor do we the party ruined, now do we? All it takes is one slip of the foot and someone ends up in the hospital.” He held out his hand, expecting him to hand over the vial.

“On second thought, do it,” Ciel whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “I’ll be the kid who winds up in the hospital. Anything to get me out of this hellish party.”

“What are we up to?” Dumbledore joined the conversation. It appeared as though Lizzie had got to even the headmaster, as he had bows in his beard and hair, though he didn’t seem to mind much.

“I regret to inform you that our dear Undertaker has intents to spike the punch.” Lockhart said like he was a student tattling.

“Ah,” the headmaster said casually, popping a heart candy in his mouth and burping out a heart, “(Pardon me). Well you can’t blame him for trying to bring a little…sprucing up, to the room, can you?” he lifted his hands and smiled genially.

“Are you saying that my party is not of the highest caliber?”

“Oh we aren’t denying that you have an air for the grandiose, Gilderoy,” he began cutting the cake with his wand; “Mr. Phantomhive, would you like some cake?”

Ciel glanced at Sebastian, who was currently preoccupied, and tried not to smirk. “I’d love some, thanks.”

Dumbledore cut him a huge slice, handing it to him gracefully, as if he were dropping a tiny lemon sherbet into his palm instead of a mountain of chocolate. Ciel inclined his head in gratitude, (and made sure to eat a big bite when Sebastian was looking, and the incense on his face was worth it—he, of course, couldn’t do anything butler-like with the headmaster and another teacher standing there).

“Don’t beat around the bush Albus!” Lockhart cut back in, “What is it you’re trying to say?”

“No one denies your party-throwing skills, dear Professor Lockhart.” He stood, placing his hands behind his back, “But your em…” he cleared his throat, “other skills can sometimes be rather lacking…”

“I’m shocked, and hurt, Dumbledore.” He put his hand over his heart. “Shocked and hurt. I’ll have you know that I won ‘best party-thrower’ in three”—he held up three shaky fingers—“countries! I think that should more than make up for any spoiled brats who can’t see fun even if it’s standing in front of their face!”

“Was he talking about me?” Ciel murmured to Undertaker, without a hint of hurt in his voice, “I feel like he was talking about me.”

“And what countries were those?”

As they argued, Dumbledore inclined his head towards the punch bowl.

It was Ciel’s turn to be shocked. Everyone knew their headmaster was rather eccentric, but he didn’t take him to be so reckless. He’d expect this from Undertaker… but Dumbledore? He thought he had at least a little ‘responsible-grown-up’ in him (even though Undertaker was definitely a lost cause).

Ciel turned to stop the ex-reaper, but now a dotted outline remained where Undertaker previously had been, and a second later he saw a long-nailed hand appear above the punch bowl.

Ciel facepalmed.

Any desire he had to drink said punch, as well as be at this party at all, had gone into the negatives.

But, eh, at least he had cake now. So maybe it wasn’t all bad.

“Young Master!” Sebastian snatched the plate from his hand, “How many times have I told you—!”

“Oh, so now you can walk away from the girls?” Ciel spun to his butler, whose arms were full of assorted treats. (Ciel, of course, knew he’d probably have walked away sooner if it weren’t for Lockhart and Dumbledore).

He tapped his foot on the ground (which somehow didn’t imbalance the tower of sweets), “I won’t allow it. You’ll get a tummyache.”

“I’m not a child!”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at his whining. “That may be…but regardless, you have a delicate composition.” He leaned over and set Ciel’s unfinished plate in the ‘dirty’ pile. “Sweets of this size will certainly impair your gastrointestinal health.”

Ciel looked from side to side, hoping no one was listening, feeling his face grow hot. “Delicate!”

“Would you prefer a different term? Fragile? Frail?”

“I’m not a vase!”

“Tender?”

“I’m not a steak!”

Sebastian looked over his professor-glasses at him as if to say Do you think you’re talking to someone else?

Ciel groaned, giving his butler the victory.

Sebastian set his armful of gifts in a pile along the wall. Clapping his hands clean and wiping his brow.

“What, are you tired?” he mocked, knowing full well the demon couldn’t get tired. “Is having a bunch of high-school-girls fawn over you exhausting?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Sebastian joked back, feigning thought.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, let’s get out of—”

A mischievous idea curled itself around his brain.

“You must be thirsty,” he said in a mockingly-concerned voice, trying to lean sideways on the table by the punch (but he almost fell over, and had to catch himself).

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t really require hydration like you humans do.”

Ciel gave him a look as if to say No, go ahead, I won’t mind. You really do look exhausted.

“But I suppose it couldn’t hurt….If you insist.”

“Oh I do.” He smirked as he watched Sebastian pour himself a cup.

More likely than not it wouldn’t have any affect on the demon, but, presented with the potential, he wasn’t going to deny himself a few hours to imagine what it might be like if it did.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Young Master?” he asked before raising the cup to his lips.

“Oh…I’m just enjoying the party.”

That didn’t clear things up. Sebastian’s brow furrowed, but, after taking a sip, he didn’t have time to ask because—

“The party has arri-ved~!” a certain familiar voice sang.

Ciel was starting to wonder if this was God finally deciding to punish him. Both master and butler felt like they were going to be violently ill, and simultaneously had a thought something akin to that’s my cue to leave! Before they could even make the first step, however—

“Ahh Sebas-chan!”

They winced, turning slowly to see Grell waving a princess wave at the butler over the crowd, while Ronald followed suit, nodding and blowing kisses towards the girls.

“All this love in the air,” Grell materialized beside them (they jumped a little), and crossed his hands over his heart, staring blinkily into the ceiling, “Kinda gets you thinking, doesn’t it.” He sidled up beside the demon.

“If you mean thinking about ending your life, indeed, it does.” Sebastian showed him no mercy.

“Playing hard to get, are we? Ah! How saucy!” he slapped his shoulder playfully,

Sebastian sighed, folding his arms over his chest, trying to ignore the nagging presence.

“Ciel! Ciel! Are you going to introduce me to your friends?!” Lizzie and Soma arrived at his side, as if hopeless romantics were coming out of the woodwork.

“They’re most certainly not my friends.” He cleared his throat.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Old Chap?” Ronald asked, “We may not be close, but I thought all those times we tried to kill each other meant something.”

Lizzie stared at Ronald, inching slowly away.

“Oh that’s just…a joke we have,” Ciel defended weakly.

“Oh…” Lizzie looked away, then recovered quickly, “Well, anyhow, you didn’t tell me Prince Soma was such a lovely dancer!”

“How was I supposed to know?” he grunted, “I’ve never danced with him!”

“Don’t be so rude, Ciel!” Soma defended her, “Please, you were like a—what are those dancers called? That’s right, a ballerina! —You were like ballerina, Miss Lizzie.”

“Don’t be so modest! Ciel, should take a page out of your book!”

“What page?” Ciel demanded, “The one on being a spoiled brat?”

“Sounds like someone’s already read that one,” She punched his shoulder. Her attitude changed in a second again, “I’m so thirsty!” She reached for the punch ladle.

“Wait—NO!” Ciel grabbed her wrist.

She blinked. “What are you doing?”

“I—uh” his face was a thermometer slowly going into the red, “I just umm…You don’t want to drink that.”

“I don’t?”

“No…yeah…it uh, tastes like uhh… cat pee,” he started to pull her away.

“How would you know what cat pee tastes like?” Ronald’s butted in.

“Maybe a cat peed in my mouth one time, you don’t know my life!”

“I’m having a hard time believing a nobleman such as yourself—”

“I just don’t think she should drink it, that’s all! Is that so inconceivable?!”

“Sorry! Sorry! Sheesh,” he shook his head, “you Nobles are pieces of work!”

Ciel rolled his eyes, turning back to Lizzie. “Why don’t you go back to your dorm?”

“But… I don’t want to go back to my dorm.” Lizzie pouted, “I’m having fun! …Or at least I was,” she murmured.

“…Look I’m sorry. I’ll-I’ll dance another number with you, okay?”

As they walked out onto the floor, he watched the other students drink the unassuming punch over his shoulder.

*****

At the risk of sounding even more cliché; the day started like any other. Ciel got up before the other boys in his dorm to a chilly February morning, and started his routine—an aspect of which was speaking to Sebastian about today’s mission and objectives before classes began. Their current mission had to do with the Chamber of Secrets—such as figuring out where it was, if it existed at all—and the heir, who they were, and how to dispose of, or join them, accordingly. At this point, they had little to no leads. With his day robes on, and homework and books in hand, he slipped out into the hall.

He’d soon wish he stayed in bed.

Once the common room door closed, his day-from-hell would begin.

For a magic school, not much happened day-to-day. Well, that wasn’t true, Harry Potter added some…pizzazz. But it was still a school, and once you get used to the magic…normal-school-things happen.

Today was one of those days which reminded him that this was not a normal school.

Sure it was the day after Valentines Day, but did those Huffpuffs have to kiss in the hallways?

And guess what? You there, standing in the hall, blocking everyone’s way? Yeah, you. There is a perfectly nice wall behind you, just waiting to be leaned against (ignore the judgmental painting in the background).

And why did anyone who wasn’t in the throws of *shudders* youthful passion have this glazed look in their eyes, like they’d eaten pot brownies for breakfast?

Most of the time, the few students who were awake at this hour chatted and giggled, inflicting the general populace with the daily gossip, at which, sure, he would still roll his eyes and groan, but it was at least better than kissing and clogging up the hallway (as well as each other’s mouths).

He was relieved to finally reach Sebastian in the The Defense Against the Dark arts classroom.

This was one thing that was no surprise, as he shared the teaching position of the class with Lockhart—(no easy task, as they were both divas who didn’t enjoy sharing spotlight, and one was totally incompetent, and the other was as overqualified a professional chef at a kids easy-bake bake off. But their even-keeled headmaster had to give them each equal time teaching. At the beginning of the year, after it was decided which classes would get which teacher, some students begged the heads of houses to reconsider putting them in Sebastian’s class. Sebastian, amicable and excessive as ever, decided to host extra classes after school to satisfy the disappointed students).

“Alright, shall we pick up where we left off?” Ciel marched towards Sebastian, throwing his books on the nearest desk.

However, unlike his usual, attentive I-solved-all-our-problems-overnight-here’s-the-solution self, the butler stared out the window…he didn’t even pay his master immediate attention.

Said master tapped his foot impatiently on the ground and snapped, “Oy, Sebastian!”

“Mm?” the demon faced him, slowly.

Again, there was that glazed look. Like he had been in a donut factory.

“Young Master, I… didn’t hear you come in.” His eyes darted around the room.

“You bloody well didn’t,” he continued to tap his foot, muttering, “Demon hearing my ass.”

When Sebastian didn’t use said demon hearing to reprimand him for swearing, he knew something was wrong. He stopped being aggravated for a second and looked a little closer.

There was a smudge on his glasses. His hair was sticking up in front of his forehead, and there was some cat hair on his robes (probably from a clowder he kept in his room).

He was…imperfect. His appearance, while still practically impeccable by human standards was sloppy by Sebastian’s. His attention, divided.

And that was reason to worry.

Ciel leaned over the desk and snapped in his face. “You can ogle photos on your own time!”

Sebastian looked at him, but every time he focused on him, as if magnetized, his eyes reeled back to a photograph on the desk.

“Do you think…do you think he could like me?” Sebastian said in a strangely uncertain voice that didn’t sound at all like him.

“Huh?”

He had never known Sebastian to be uncertain of, or fascinated by, anything, and, more importantly, he had zero regard for whether or not people liked him. He also never pried his concentrations from the missions, especially not for something so trivial and/or emotional as photos.

Ciel walked around the desk to get a good look at it. He thought it might be Lockhart, as the room was crawling with his glimmering face. Instead, in a shattered case—(Ciel thought he might hurl)—the demon fixated on a picture of Grell.

The young earl vaguely remembered Grell giving it to him—mentioning passionately something about it being a way for him to be with him at all times, with hearts in his eyes. At the time, Sebastian had rolled his eyes, said, ‘is there a version of this when I can see you at no times?’ and tossed it into the drawer with enough disregard that the glass had shattered, and (now this is just speculation) hoped to never look at it again.

For what unholy (or holy, by demon standards…no, it definitely wasn’t holy) reason would Sebastian return to it now? And what’s worse, how could a picture of Grell possibly distract him from the task his master had placed before him?

Was it possible that all those pictures, cards, the cheesy lines, and sappy gestures, all the maudlin advances, had finally made it through to Sebastian?

Hell no. He’d watch the world burn before that happened.

Hang on a minute, let’s check.

Nope, still snow on the ground.

Okay, more plausibly, did he lose his mind?

Let’s tone it down a little; Maybe this was a—albeit not funny—joke?

“What are you on about?”

The demon picked up the picture. “Grell.” He rushed towards Ciel, putting the picture in front of his eyes—“Get that out of my face!”—“Do you think he’d ever want to be with someone like me?”

The earl began to laugh, a fake, loud laugh, then abruptly stopped.

“Very funny, Sebastian, you like Grell. Can we get back to work now?”

Sebastian grabbed a book off his table and Ciel had to duck to keep it from hitting his head.

“What are you on?!”

“I may be cleverly witty when the situation calls for it, but I am not joking, Young Master! And I’d thank you to treat my beloved one with respect!”

Ciel blanched, his eyes glued open, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. “You mean this,” he pointed to the situation at hand, the words soft and enunciated, a nervous laugh behind them, “This isn’t a joke?”

“No!” he cradled the picture, “I think Grell’s the most lovely person I ever met.”

He waited for the butler to burst into laughter.

…and he kept waiting.

He knew more than anyone, neither master nor butler pulled stunts of this caliber.

Ciel grabbed one of the scrolls on the wall and wacked his butler over the head with it.

“Quit playing around! We don’t have time for children’s games!”

“I don’t understand, Young Master,” he rubbed his head (as if that could possibly hurt the demon). “You aren’t insulting Master Grell, are you?”

“No, I’m insulting you, you twat!”

He swiped the picture from him (hurt flared in the butler’s eyes). “You see how the glass is shattered here?”

He placed his hand over his heart. “Who would do a thing like that to such a perfect face?”

“You, you bloody idiot! Don’t you remember?” he smacked his head with the paper again, making it crease, “When Grell gave you that you tossed it into the drawer and said you ‘wanted to see him at no times.’”

“Me?” he snatched the picture back, holding it tight to his chest. “No, I would never!” he said like Grell was the purest little ray of sunshine, and Ciel said he’d kicked a puppy yesterday.

“No, what you would never, is return said…” he cleared his throat and didn’t finish the sentence.

“I don’t understand, Young Master. Here I am, bearing my heart. Why must you squash it?”

His eye twitched. “To remind you you don’t have a heart!”

“I—”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” he slammed his hands on the desk, “There’s no way this can be real!” he slumped onto the desk and ran his hand through his hair, looking more deranged than the one who was actually delirious, “Why, in all that is—How—Why would you ever—?!”

“Be careful, Young Master, don’t let that anger fester; it’s bad for your health.”

And it dawned on him.

He slammed his palm into his forehead.

The punch at the party—it was so obvious. Undertaker had even told him it didn’t contain alcohol.

“Young Master, are you saying our love is not real? Are you insulting master Grell?” his voice became a sickening tone.

Ciel now fully understood the situation: Sebastian, having been given a love-potion—(turns out they did work on him…or, even if they didn’t, maybe Undertaker made some extra-potent, mutant variety that did)—and Grell being the first person he saw (or heard) after taking it, fully believed Grell to be his one-true-love.

And as he watched a shadow (much bigger than the demon’s human shape) spread across the floor, he realized he believed it enough to attack anyone who stood against said love. Even his master.

The young earl knocked into desks as he scrambled way, his outward attitude towards the situation performing a 180:

“Uh, no no! No, no, no! I believe you!” he grabbed his bag, “There’s nothing weird or horrifying about you being in love with Grell at all. I just was a little…mmmm surprised!” his voice went up an octave. He shoved a desk into the space between them, “That’s all?! I’ll…I’ll just be going, now! You uh…you go back to…what you were doing!” he gave him a thumbs up (something he’d never done in his life) as dashed out the door.

After getting some ways down the hall, he doubled over, breath sharp and fast, piercing his side, his thoughts whirring around.

He’d wanted to mess with Sebastian, but he, first of all, hadn’t thought it would work, and second of all, hadn’t meant to mess with him this much—especially not in a way that affected him. This wasn’t fun or funny, this was just…gross. And now he had to fix it, when, had he left the situation alone and not given Sebastian the punch in the first place, he’d have his demon butler to help him, and the predicament would probably be solved in less than a day.

Now when he saw the students making out, or walking around dazed, he understood the full ramifications of Undertaker’s little stunt.

Speaking of which…

He heightened his pace until he was rushing through the halls, speeding past dreamy eyes, and cuddly couples.

Everyone, everyone had been at that party. Not only had the whole school been at that party, the punch was one of the few things available for the sweaty and thirsty dancers to drink. Even the sulking folks, who didn't intend to dance, surely wouldn't have had a problem grabbing a snack or two, and, well, a cup of punch to go with it. Now instead of one night of suffering in a lovebird’s playground, the whole school could be set to pop music. And, like the villain in a fairy tale, it was his job to break apart the happy couples.

And his first order of business was to find the mastermind who put them together.

Undertaker performed many of the odd jobs around, and often made it a job to make things odd (but Ciel of course knew that his primary function was probably to make dead bodies disappear discreetly). He and Peeves were overly chummy, and their pranks could sometimes be unbearable…but neither had ever attempted something of this magnitude before.

He was close to Filch’s corridor—

When the bell rang.

In the pandemonium he had forgotten today was still a normal school day.

“Sebast—” he began, hoping for an easy way not to be late, but remembered that his butler was …otherwise occupied. He grit his teeth, clenched his fists, and hurtled towards the transfiguration classroom.

*****

“Mister Phantomhive!” snapped a clipped voice as he swung open the door, gasping for breath. “I thank you not to be late! And while you’re at it, not to disrupt my class while in session!”

“Sorry—” he clutched at his side, “Professor— McGonagall.”

“Usually,” she ran her fingers along her wand, stretching out the word, “I would give you detention. However, as it seems you are not the only one…out of sorts this morning” she drummed her fingers on the podium, giving Ciel a moment to look around the room—There were always a few latecomers, especially during first period, but the number of empty chairs rivaled the number of students present—“I will let you off with a warning.”

“Thank you,” he coughed—“Professor.”—And slumped at his desk like an old sock.

Thankfully not everyone had been affected by the spiked punch. Certain kids in class had that far-off look in their eyes, and a few even kissed in class (they were definitely sent to detention, though, of course, nothing much mattered to them but their newfound love). There were also teachers who had starry looks, and instead of giving them genuine lessons, muttered trite words about love, like a broken radio that only plays emo songs. There were, however, others who acted just as confused, annoyed and shell-shocked as Ciel at the current predicament. Clearly they had either found something else to drink at the party, simply not drank anything, or escaped the festivities somehow.

McGonagall was clearly among the unaffected, and while he was grateful for a little normalcy, he might have traded her for someone a little more lenient, and liked to see how her disposition changed while under the affects of love.

Throughout the day, he told the few students who were still awake and alive to the world that someone had spiked the punch with a love potion the previous night. This seemed to give them relief that they weren’t going crazy, still, none of them had any idea what to do about it. Love potions weren’t exactly considered an important course in potions class, especially not with a teacher like Snape—(in fact, a certain Ravenclaw had asked how to make a love potion in class on Valentine’s Day, and later Ciel saw that Ravenclaw mysteriously lost ten points). Some worried for their friends, while others eyes lit with an impish glint at the realization that—as long as they didn’t insult their ‘true love’— they could do anything to mess with their friends.

He had to give Undertaker at least a little credit: that day was one of the most memorable in his entire time at Hogwarts:

During transfiguration, on multiple separate occasions, students, instead of transfiguring their hamsters into dominoes, transfigured them into rings, and flowers used to profess their love, or even propose to Professor McGonagall herself. She only looked down her nose, and demanded where this talent had been the entire semester, and wracked up a body count of detention-bound students.

In Herbology, while not nearly as exciting as others, Professor Sprout went on and on about how amazing Neville was—(whenever he passed him in the hallway that day Neville looked as red as plants they tended to...He probably hadn’t had much of anyone else to talk to at the party).

If Divination wasn’t enough already, Trelawney made them look into their futures and see their potential for romance (…it was hard to tell if she was under the spell or not), and it was both worth noting, and a source of personal pride that she looked into Ciel’s and saw lots and lots of hate.

And best of all, during potions, which was his last class of the day, Snape looked like he was ready to kill someone…and got close when Lockhart burst in and proclaimed that he simply couldn’t take it anymore, that they were made for each other. (Out of all the the crazy, embarrassing things that happened that day, this was the one Ciel guessed would be the most difficult for either of them to live down).

Hilarious confessions aside, Ciel was relieved to find that the potions master was at least trying to counteract the curse himself, by having them make antidotes and anti-love potions, and drink them (allegedly, lots of students refused to drink them in earlier classes, so he had to forgo their Latin name and call them “Happy Sunshine Potions,” which was quite possibly the best string of words he’d ever heard Snape say, and the unaffected students looked like chipmunks holding in their laughter in when hearing it). Although this was another teacher Ciel would have liked to see under the affects, he was guessing the net worth of breaking the curse would be far greater.

However, as far as he could tell, currently, Snape’s attempts to douse the proverbial fire were ineffective. (Yet another reason to think Undertaker’s love potion was some mutant version).

At each break he had, Ciel attempted to find Undertaker—(Except at lunch, when everyone was screaming that Draco was running around, and in increasingly boisterous and/or risqué methods, trying to declare his love for Ron Weasley. While Harry and Ron were also running around, either avoiding him at all costs, or messing with him. It was, first of all, difficult to get around the crowd, and, second of all, not something to miss.)—But Undertaker had an ongoing disappearing act that had nothing to do with magic. The one thing Ciel knew, was that the old coot couldn’t have left; he’d want to see every glorious minute of the chaos he wrought, so Ciel wasn’t giving up on finding him.

After school, hungry, tired, and desperate (especially after a run-in with Peeves, through which he earned the ex-reaper’s location, but also a cluster of lipstick marks on his face) he finally found Undertaker back in the Divination Classroom (of course he just had to pick one of the tallest, most tiring towers to climb). The room was cold, and Trelawney was nowhere in sight.

The pretty, setting sky over the frosty roof outside didn’t provide an iota of solace.

Ciel rolled up his sleeves, his anger a newfound immunity to the cold, and, with fingers curled into fists, marched up to him.

“You.”

The Undertaker, resting against the windowsill, turned to the seething boy, grinned, and spoke as if this was no more than an ordinary meeting.

“My, Young Earl, looks like you’ve been getting busy.”

“Wh—?!” he remembered the marks on his face and rubbed them off on his sleeve as Undertaker cackled.

“You seem awfully upset about something,” Undertaker continued, “Don’t want to let it fester—as your butler would say.”

“You spiked the punch with a love potion.” The boy growled.

“Did I?” he put a finger on his chin as if thinking, “I can’t seem to recall.”

Ciel’s brow twitched. “You bloody well know you did, I watched you. Now tell me how to undo it.”

“How do undo it, you say? And why would we want to do a thing like that?”

“I am in no mood for your games.”

Undertaker shrugged. “‘Fraid I can’t help you then. You know the rules; no payment, no information.”

“The whole school is a joke! That’s your payment!”

He contemplated it. “Sure you wouldn’t like to give an old man a good chuckle?”

“I’m certain.”

He sighed. “I suppose you got me there. To tell you the truth, I hadn’t quite got to the whole undoing it part.” He twirled his hand in the air like the ringmaster in this show.

Ciel blinked, emotion flickering as he spluttered, “How can…? But you—? I—? What?!”

He laughed, and the Undertaker’s nonchalance and disregard made anger jumpstart his tongue.

“You made it, didn’t you?” he kept his voice low, and his hand on the wand in his pocket, marching forward, “You can at least tell me how you made it. Then maybe I can unmake it.”

Undertaker tapped his chin, as if knocking around the marbles in his skull, “Don’t much feel like it.”

“You don’t feel like it?! Listen here—!”

He no sooner pulled out his wand than it was in Undertaker’s hand. He hadn’t even noticed Undertaker draw his own wand.

Undertaker ruffled his hair as he walked by, dropping the boy’s wand back into his pocket, “Part of the fun is figuring it out for yourself, Young Earl. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that?”

He headed down the stairs, leaving Ciel standing alone, angry breaths steaming up the chilly classroom.

*****

When Ciel trudged back to his dorm, all the energy he had used to run around that day had given up the ghost. He barely noticed the smooching and starstruck kids in the hallways anymore, and didn’t have the energy to send even a derisive snort their way.

Sebastian was supposed to be the one running around trying to find answers. These menial tasks were beneath him. Hard work, and running around, looking for answers, was no suit for a fourteen-year-old boy to wear. Oh, Ciel would devise a particularly difficult and useless task for his butler to accomplish once he—or someone—finally broke the curse.

Caught up in thoughts of needless revenge, he ran into someone in the hallway, sending both their books to the floor.

“Sorry!” The boy called.

As they both crouched down to pick up their fallen items, Ciel looked up to see unruly black hair, crooked glasses, and lightning-struck forehead.

“Harry Potter.”

“Yeah…?”

“Sorry, I don’t believe we’ve formally met. I’m Ciel Phantomhive.” He held out his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Harry smiled, taking his hand.

“Likewise—er, sorry about your books.”

"It's alright. I seem to have some bad luck with that lately! At least ink didn't spill all over everything this time."

"That happened?"

"Yeah...It happened yesterday actually."

"Oh, that sounds awful."

"Nothing a little magic couldn't fix," he shrugged.

They both returned to their task.

“It looks like you haven’t been…love-ified,” Harry noted.

“You seem to have your wits about you as well.”

“Lucky us…Draco wasn’t so lucky though,” he laughed. “I heard someone spiked the punch at Lockhart’s Valentine’s day ball.”

“I heard that too.”

“A perfect end to the night, huh?”

“Hehe…yeah…”

Ciel turned to the next book, about to hand it to Harry.

Here’s the thing, about dark magic.

It has this sort of…pull. The more you use it, the more sway it has on you.

A pure soul looks at a dark object and feels uneasy, but doesn’t know why.

Someone who has participated in the dark before, let it creep in and corrode the soul, is attuned to the darkness. Like a resonant frequency, a humming in the back of their mind, putting them on the same wavelength, (and if they listen too long, they might shatter). They may not always know what it is, or does, and sometimes they wont recognize why something has this aura, but they will know that an object is not just that, in as much as darkness is not just the absence of the light.

Ciel Phantomhive was no ordinary student. While he may have learned from the teachers at Hogwarts, the reason he was here was at the request of the Queen, not for learning, and his most informative teacher, was Sebastian. Before they arrived at Hogwarts, Sebastian, going above and beyond as always, made sure he knew more spells than half the students in his year. More importantly, however, fear of the dark had long left them both. Knowing dark magic, they surmised, would put them ahead of their enemies (not to mention their friends...well, if you could call them friends), and could be a powerful trump card were the situation to call for it.

When Ciel looked at this diary everything slowed. Like in a movie, when you can hear your heartbeat, and the camera zooms in. From the moment he saw it he knew it would be both silly and dangerous to think it was merely a diary. One may pour their soul into the words dear diary, but the Something that lurked beneath it’s pages was far more than the heartfelt and trivial adages of teenage boys and girls. There was something living in those pages.

He knew it was alive. Unlike other dark artifacts, which gave off a hint, a whisper of more-than-I-seem, this was more than a whiff of untapped potential, or forbidden mystery; the resonant darkness, rather than a faint, inanimate hum, was a Horror singing old-fashioned lullabies to himself in the darkest corners of the pages.

Ciel was tired. Tired of running around, tired of searching for a cure, tired of doing all the work himself. He wanted an easy way out. That’s how he’d always been. People who like to take the long way ‘round don’t make contracts with demons.

So, in a moment of weakness…

…or a moment of strength

He slipped the diary into his own bag.

*****

That night, despite being interested enough in the book to steal it, he hadn’t had any energy to begin figuring out what that darkness was, meant, or could do. Nor did he have any energy to spend on figuring out the antidote to the plague himself. In fact, he had had so little regard for either, that he ignored the dumb looks of his roommates, slipped the diary into the chest at the foot of his bed, flopped facedown on top of his covers (screaming into his pillows for good measure), and went to sleep.

The next morning wasn’t much better. He woke up with a splitting headache, the love-zombies were still up to their shenanigans—(he half hoped it would end in the morning)—and when he tentatively checked on Sebastian, the demon had traveled further down the Grell-obsessed rabbit hole than before.

When Ciel entered the teacher’s lounge (it had taken a moment to find him) the smell of flowers smacked him full in the face. Unlike some of the teachers present, Ciel was unimpressed, and quite honestly queasy, to see that he had moved on from admiring the picture of his affection, to creating his own; or rather than a picture, a bust made of flowers of none other than his…erm lady-love, Grell.

Just like Sebastian, he was attentive to detail; only the freshest of flowers for his beloved, and each component of Grell’s complexion was a different flower: the coat was made of red Amaryllis’, the vest, brown orchids, the shirt, white hydrangeas, the face was pale dahlias, the eyes were green carnations, and the hair was, of course, roses. He wondered if Sebastian went far to find all of them, though knowing him he probably ran to the finest flower shop in Paris at 1:00AM that morning for them and was back before anyone could wonder where he’d gone.

Yes, quite far gone. But not far enough to forget the ‘offense’ Ciel had caused to his new master the day before.

Or perhaps Ciel had caused him new offense by blurting out “What the devil is this?!” upon seeing his labor-of-love.

If it was good idea in general for the public not to talk to the young earl, today, it was an inescapable rule: if people didn’t give him a wide berth, they learned quickly he was not in the mood for human (or reaper, or demon) interaction.

Wasting his time before class on pointless attempts to slap the delusion out of his butler was idiotic. So he headed to the library to actually try and make some progress, and picked up a book on love potions—(Madam Pince was too busy writing love poems to scold kids like him for going into the restricted section. Knowing this was a rare opportunity, he grabbed several more books he’d had his eyes on while he was there.)—with the intent to read up on counter curses every spare minute he got, not excluding during certain classes overtaken by horny teachers.

More students were missing from classes today, and those who weren’t were either more randy than before, or losing patience and brain cells every second they were around those afflicted. The teachers who were still in possession of their faculties—namely McGonagall, Snape, Vector, and Flitwick, (Madam Pomfrey was too, but she wasn’t present)—made an announcement at lunch, in front of their dreamy-eyed headmaster, that they were trying their best to find a solution to the problem presently.

While it was comforting to hear they weren’t sitting on their asses, and it would save him a hell of a lot of trouble if they did solve it, he didn’t expect they’d figure it out anytime soon. If Snape couldn’t figure it out on his own, he wasn’t sure they would have much luck, even together. Even if he had had faith in them, he wouldn’t have stopped his own research. He and Sebastian always did it their way, this was personality, not practice—(he’d learned from a young age he couldn’t rely on anyone else)—and a setback, even one that kept his butler from his work, wasn’t going to stop him.

It was during a disappointing lunch that he saw a flash of red in the doorway to the great hall. At first he thought nothing of it—it was probably a banner some kid made to impress their one-true-love, or a bunch of heart-shaped balloons, or a leftover decoration—it didn’t matter, he was going to try his best to eat, and read, in peace.

Until the ‘banner’ came inside to steal his food.

When he finally realized who it was, he practically screamed;

“Grell!”

“That’s my name darling, don’t to wear it out,” he blew a kiss, sitting up on the table.

“Love potions, huh?” in his horror, Ciel hadn’t even noticed Ronald had stolen the book (as well as a sandwich).

“Ooh!” Grell called, leaning in closer, raising his eyebrows. “Is somebody looking to trick some poor soul into loving him?”

“No! No, in fact I’m trying to un-romance someone, thank you very much.” He stood.

“That shouldn’t be too hard…for you.”

Ciel rolled his eyes.

“So, not that crushing the dreams of others isn’t in your repertoire, why do you want to do that?”

“It may be difficult for you to understand, but some of us don’t look for romance in every guy they meet,” he stole the book back from Ronald (who was starting to to look too interested for the young earl’s comfort.)

“Now that’s just rude,” Grell folded his arms over his chest and put his chin in his hand. “But, I’ll choose to ignore your impotence,” he turned, becoming more animated, “because you’re in charge of my Sebas-chan. Speaking of love,” he said the word like it was fine caramel, “where is my precious Sebas-chan?” he looked around, casting his eyes towards the blank spaces at staff table.

“He’s—”

Before the sentence could fall on his tongue, the words snagged on the mental image of Grell and Sebastian canoodling like schoolboys.

“NO!”

That caught their attention.

“I mean uh—” he coughed, “No…He’s uhh…I…”

He could barely think with these images making him sick to his stomach. He set down what was left of the lunch he was no longer hungry for, trying to shove his brain into the mode where it could formulate a cunning plan.

“Well? Spit it out, boy! We haven’t got all day! Some of us have plans. I, for one, have a hair appointment this afternoon,” he fluffed his crimson locks.

“You know what?” Ciel chose a more confrontational approach. “I don’t have to tell you where Sebastian is.”

“You don’t have to, darling, you should want to.”

“No. You know what? I don’t want to. And you know why I don’t want to?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

He had to think of something fast. Something clever. A good excuse.

“Why don’t you ever want to spend time with me?” he slammed the book on the table.

So much for that.

“Huh?” Grell, Ronald—(and Ciel’s own brain)—responded upon hearing the words.

“Yeah. You heard me.” It wasn’t the best plan—hell, it wasn’t even a good plan—but Ciel was committed at this point, and came up with a plot fiercely in his mind, “That’s right. It’s always ‘Sebastian this’, ‘Sebastian that’, but what about me?!”

“What about you, brat? You’ve never shown any interest in me. What happened to ‘we’re definitely not friends?’” he mocked his voice.

“….That’s what I say to my true friends.” They definitely weren’t convinced, so he added, “I’m only nice to my fake friends.” (Ronald lifted his head like a dog being told he was a good boy all along).

“Regardless if you’re telling the truth—which, I don’t believe you are—what makes you think I’ll give you the key to my heart now, after you threw away your chances? That’s no way to treat a lady!”

“I…I never had the chance to,” he looked away and hugged himself, trying to look pitiful, “what with you fawning over Sebas…chan,”—it made him sick to speak the nickname, but not as sick as he would feel if they found each other— “you never even pay me any mind.”

“What’s there to pay mind to?”

Ciel bit his tongue, and tried not to let that get to him, reminding himself everything could and would be far worse.

“Hey, hey!” Ronald stepped in the middle, noticing the rising tension of the scene, “There’s a simple solution after all; why don’t you and Mr. Sutcliff go for a walk today? That’s not too much to ask, right?” he turned to Grell, “You’ll still have time to see Sebas-chan before your appointment.”

“I suppose,” Grell bit his nails, ruining his manicure—which he quickly realized, and petted them as if to say ‘forgive me!’ “But I’d better get some quality time with my Sebas-chan!”

“Does that sound alright with you, Mr. Phantomhive?”

The thought of spending any amount of quality time with the reaper was repugnant. But not more repugnant than certain other thoughts and predictions his brain was happy to provide.

“Yes, that sounds just fine.”

“Then let’s get this overwith,” Grell stepped dramatically off the table, twirling his high-heeled shoes in the air.

Ciel’s thoughts exactly.

But there was something he had to do first.

“Erm, Ronald, would you mind doing something for me while we’re on our walk?”

Grell put his hands on his hips, suspicion and curiosity in his eyes.

“Uhh sure—I mean, that depends on what it is”

He pulled Ronald aside, towards the wall, out of earshot of the red-haired reaper.

“I just need to buy some time,” he whispered, “Will you please get Sebastian out of the teacher’s lounge for me.”

“Um…” he glanced between the two of them. “I suppose I could. May I ask why?”

“No you may not.” When Ronald seemed less than happy with this response, he added, “I can pay you back. Money, sandwiches…whatever you want.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” he grinned.

“Alright, Grell,” he cleared his throat, “it appears as though you and I will be going for a nice walk together.”

“‘Nice’ would be pushing it.” Grell muttered.

Ciel couldn’t agree more.

*****

The scene reminded him too much of a Thomas Kinkade painting; the snow covered trees and grounds, the faint chirping of birds, the pitter of small animals in the snow, the patter of kids playing, as well as more than a few romantic escapades displayed for all the world to see—like everything else in this sugarcoated nightmare, it was so sweet and was sickening. Ciel spent great lengths trying to avoid the mystic hellscape that was ‘outside,’ and whenever he found himself forced into its grasp, he remembered why.

Well, he supposed it wouldn’t have been so bad…if it weren’t for the blithering idiot beside him.

“Yeesh… love really is in the air around Valentine’s day.” Grell commented in the direction of the kids kissing by the frozen river.

“Oh? I thought romance was…your thing.”

“When I’m involved! Not these ragamuffins slobbering all over each other,” he shuddered.

They spent a while in awkward silence, before Grell spoke, “So, what do I have to do to get you off my back, Brat?”

“Ohh just spend a little quality time with me,” Ciel sang, putting his hands behind his back and stepping in front of Grell like a mischievous schoolboy. “That isn’t too much to ask, is it?”

Grell looked away. “I better be Carlos’ last customer today; my hair’s going to be a mess by the end of this.”

Ciel laughed fakely.

“So…” Ciel tried to think of something to talk about, “tell me about Carlos. Is he…cute?”

“Oh come on!” Grell stomped in front of him, “You can’t possibly mean any of this! You’ve never shown any amount of interest in me. I may be prone to fantasy, but I’m no fool!” he crossed his arms and looked away, then his green eyes trailed to him suspiciously, “What are you plotting?”

“Plotting?” Ciel laughed again, “Why so sinister?”

“Oh things are always sinister when Sebas-chan is involved,” he said ‘sinister’ like a radio announcer telling you that sinister is what you want, “usually it sends tingles down my spine! But this is just…” he looked down at the earl, his lip curling in distaste, “freaky.”

Ciel tried to ignore the fact that they were on the same brainwave today.

But he could see that he wasn’t going to fool him for long if he didn’t do something.

“Well…” Instead of formulating a suitable answer, he subtly pulled his wand from his robe pocket sliding it behind his back, and cast a little nonverbal spell that sent a snowball hurtling at the back of Grell’s head.

“Hey!” Grell spun around to two kids playing on the bank. “Which one of you imbeciles did that?! Haven’t I suffered enough?” he held up a split end of his hair.

The kids glanced at each other, confused.

“Now Carlos will have to give me the extra treatment to cover this!” he took a strand of hair and petted it.

Ciel smirked.

Messing with the reaper seemed both more effective, and more enjoyable, than chatting, so whenever a risky topic came up, he had a little extra fun avoiding the subject (goodness knows he needed it)—until enough time had passed that, if Ronald had done his job, Sebastian would be out of the teachers’ lounge, and they headed back into the school.

“Sebastian’s right around the corner.”

“He better be, Brat, after the hell-walk you took me on.” Ciel tried not to laugh when he looked at Grell—the sticks in his frazzled hair, the smeared mascara and lipstick, the muddy clothes (he had eventually stopped trying to protect or fix his appearance).

Ciel gave the fake laugh again, opening the door.

Despite requests and expectations, Sebastian was right around the corner.

There the demon remained (apparently he had been there all day) with a finished bust of the reaper sparkling beside him, not to mention a few more, smaller art pieces of the Redhead in different poses of increasing erotica.

Ciel felt all the anger that had been briefly soothed by messing with Grell re-entering his body with ferocity.

Why hadn’t Ronald removed him from this place like he asked? All he asked for was one simple thing, and he couldn’t even do that. Well, maybe it was his own fault he had put his trust in someone so incompetent as Ronald. Whoever’s fault it was, this encounter, and the memory of it, might just stain his brain forever, and someone was surely going to pay for it.

He turned towards Grell (the real one). Both his eyes and mouth were open wide, focused on the statue of himself, leering down at him with a flirtatious grin.

When the butler emerged from behind it, and saw Grell, he too froze, but in the quiet, reverent way the hot dude does when they see their love in romantic movies.

Ciel wanted to grab one, or both, of them and wrench them away from each other—exorcise the romantic spirits out of them (it’s an odd day when you want to exorcise a demon out of a demon), and maybe wring their necks—but he knew that would be met with more than a little resistance, (and using the Imperius curse in the teacher’s lounge would be more than a little conspicuous), and there was something rather mesmerizing about the scene; like a horror movie you can’t bring yourself to look away from.

Sebastian closed his eyes, giving a small smile before rushing to grab a rather large bouquet (likely made of the leftover flowers) and bowed, presenting them to Grell.

“For you, my darling Mr. Sutcliff.”

Ciel covered his eyes with his hand.

“For…me?” Grell’s words were distant and confused.

Rather than taking them with honors—Ciel saw between his fingers—however, he took a step back.

Sebastian held them higher. “Only you.”

Grell glanced between master and butler, and his hands shook as he took them (then his arms sagged with the weight).

Ciel shut his eyes tight, waiting for hell.

Soon the scene would turn into the amorous novel Grell always dreamed of, and that would be it. They’d find love in each other…or what passed for love when it comes to love potions. Should Ciel leave now and spare his mind the eternal horror? Or should he wait and just make absolutely sure that’s what would happen? Maybe there was some sick part of him that was even curious what would happen.

His patience, however, was rewarded;

“Get away from me you freak!” Grell threw the flowers across the room, and rushed to hide behind Ciel. “What the hell have you done with my precious Sebas-chan?!”

This time it was Ciel’s mouth and eyes that dropped open, staring, dumbstruck, like a bird that had hit a window.

Grell had flirted with Sebastian from the moment he met him (to be fair, he did this with pretty much every attractive guy he came across, still…). There were times when master and butler could use this infatuation to their advantage, but most of the time it was just a gigantic nuisance. Luckily, Sebastian shared Ciel’s distaste for the reaper’s advances, and never returned them. Since it had seemed impossible, before today, Ciel hadn’t had much time to imagine what Grell would do if the butler returned his affection. Not one of the sickening scenarios his mind had provided today had Grell rejecting Sebastian. Grell had always appeared superficial enough that Ciel guessed he wouldn’t care how or why Sebastian returned his feelings, just that he did. The fact that he could tell this was not Sebastian’s normal self made Ciel think slightly higher of the reaper.

But only slightly.

Maybe it should have made sense; it was the flirtation; the game, that Grell enjoyed, more than true romance, and heart. He had said so himself—he was just as disgusted by the teen romances in the courtyard as Ciel. (Though, to be fair, most adults generally found teen romance to be gross).

He couldn’t help but feel a growing pride and satisfaction that he would not have to witness any romance, or worse. That the roles of disgust had now reversed, and Grell could walk a mile in their shoes. Not that he thought Grell would become a better, less annoying person after this.

“I…don’t understand,” Sebastian’s eyes were full of welling hurt. He stood, staring at the discarded bouquet (which had all but exploded on the wall), “I’ve done everything for you…” he gestured around the room, “I thought this is what you wanted.” He looked at Grell like a puppy who had been thrown from a warm and loving upper-class home, out into the streets of London. He pulled out the picture he had barely stopped staring at since the other day, “Remember?” he held it up, “You said you would always be with me.”

Grell seemed torn, almost like Sebastian’s puppy-like disappointment drew his pity, but he backed away further, (still holding on to Ciel, almost making him fall backwards).

“What is this?!” he pointed, “Some kind of sick prank?! I want my sexy, coy Sebas-chan, back! Not this coddling fool!”

Ciel had to bite his lip to keep from grinning. This was too rich.

Sebastian looked at the ground, sadness, anger, rejection flaring in his eyes. Ciel would have liked to stay and enjoy Grell’s blubbering a little more, but he could see a demon-sized tantrum coming a mile away.

He didn’t make it a practice to touch pests like Grell, but in this case, he didn’t have much choice; he grabbed Grell and pulled him out the door, dragging him down the hall.

“What the hell is going on?!” Grell ripped his hand from the boy’s grasp and blocked his way, “Who was that idiot?!”

Ciel could barely breathe from laughing.

Grell blinked at him, then anger flared in his eyes again. Before he could catch his breath, Grell grabbed the boy’s shoulders and shook him, “What have you done with my Sebas-chan, you little Punk?!”

This made him regain composure quickly. He brushed his hands away and explained, “You remember the Valentine’s ball Lockhart threw?”

“Of course. My Sebas-chan was looking particularly dashing that night,” he blinked dreamily, then his expression changed as he remembered he had just seen Sebastian, and he was not so dashing today as previously advertised. “What did you do to him?!”

“I didn’t do anything!” he half-lied, “Undertaker was the one who spiked the punch with a love potion.”

“Undertaker’s the cause of this?! He took my Sebas-chan from me?! Oh that sexy bastard hasn’t seen the last of me!” he started to march past the earl.

Ciel blocked Grell’s way. “I already talked to him. He didn’t have the antidote.”

“Well maybe he just needs a little roughing up!” he rolled up his sleeves and tried again to go around him.

“You really think a man who takes pleasure in ruining other people’s lives will help us fix this?” he said to his back.

Grell stopped, turned around, “Well you would know wouldn’t you?!” He looked away, biting his lip. “You put him back then!” he shoved his chest.

“Why do you think I was reading that book about love potions?!”

That quieted his rage slightly.

In that moment, a certain student walked by, though not one of Hogwarts. He was surrounded by a gaggle of girls, and didn’t even see them.

Levicorpus! Ciel cast, and the girls’ gasped as Ronald was hoisted into the air by his ankle, his clothes hanging off him (showing off his stomach, and a bit of his underwear—the girls’ blushed and giggled).

“Whoa, whoa! What’s this—?! Oh…” the young reaper blinked upon seeing Ciel, recalling the task the earl had given him, and he rubbed the back of his head giving a mock-sheepish smile, “Hehe.”

Ciel tapped his foot impatiently on the floor. “Would you care to offer an explanation?”

Now that he knew Grell had no intentions or returning Sebastian’s artificial affection, the fact that Ronald hadn’t accomplished the task wasn’t nearly as big of a deal, but it could have easily been catastrophic, the anger was still there—someone had to pay, after all—and letting those who disobeyed him off, without even a decent scolding, was a bad precedent.

“I’m sorry, Earl, but these girls…they just kept coming up to me! There must be something in the air today!” he held out his hands as if to say you really think I was going to turn them away?

Ciel rubbed his temple, muttering, “Nope it was in the punch.” He sighed, taking a step forward like a predator. “I’m going to let you off this time, but believe me, I won’t be making that mistake again.”

“Come on, it was an honest mistake!”

“And an honest—”

“Mister Phantomhive!” a deep voice rang out across the hallway.

Ciel winced.

“…Professor Snape.”

His footsteps were a judgment toll.

“Care to release Mister…?” he looked at Ronald quizzically, realizing he didn’t recognize him.

“Knox,” the reaper offered.

“Knox.”

“Yes, Sir.” Ciel murmured.

Liberacorpus he cast, nonverbally, and the reaper spun in the air until he was set upright again.

Strictly speaking, they weren’t allowed to do magic outside class, and the curse on the school evidently hadn’t made the potions master forgo any of the traditional rules.

“I’d like to know who you two are, and what you’re doing at Hogwarts.” Ciel felt a little smug thinking of the potential trouble they could get into….until Snape turned “As for you, Mr. Phantomhive…”

“Yes, Professor?” he said politely, as if his politeness could suddenly change his heart and get him a less-harsh punishment.

“Detention.”

“…Yes, Professor.”

Ciel glanced at Grell, who had crossed his arms and whose look said it’s-what-you-deserve.

“Well!” Grell broke the tension. “We can certainly explain who we are and what we are doing here…at a later date. As of now, I have an increasingly important appointment to get to—Good Professor, I’m so sorry you had to see me like this, I promise wont look this bad when when we next meet!” he bowed low, “Come along, Ronald!”

“Yes, Mr. Sutcliff!” He blew a kiss towards the girls.

“This isn’t over” Grell whispered in Ciel’s ear as he skipped by.

“Nothing ever is with you, is it?” he muttered.

“What’s that?” Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing, just excited for my detention!”

Snape raised an eyebrow, perhaps wondering if Ciel was under the spell after all.

*****

Ciel didn’t even go to class that afternoon, as it was double Defense Against the Dark Arts. Once again he returned to his dorm, and flopped onto his bed. He had only made it halfway through the day this time, and he was already drained. After some time resting (though his mind raced too much to actually take a nap), he finished skimming through the book on love potions. In the end, the only help it gave was a comprehensive list of the usual ingredients in love potions.

As he was putting the book away a diary fell out of the trunk at the foot of his bed. In the fatigue of the evening, and the tumult of the day, he had forgotten about his run-in with Harry yesterday.

He picked it up; the same simple, dusty, empty notebook as before—the simple, dusty notebook that was seething with dark magic. When he opened it to the first page he saw the smudged name T. M. Riddle. He hadn’t thought it was Harry’s in the first place, but was still displeased that the name didn’t sound familiar to him. He wondered if he was a student who dabbled in dark magic. Still, the power it held seemed more than what a mere student could conjure…

Ciel had never been one for feelings and the kind of sentimentality a diary implied, but it couldn’t hurt to try it out. There wasn’t much else to do but write in it. Evidently it wasn’t just a diary.

Setting it down on his desk, he flipped it open to the first blank page, got out his quill, dipped it in the ink, and began to write:

“February 16th

“Two days ago, Undertaker spiked the punch at Lockhart’s god-awful Valentine’s ball with a love potion.

“Now Hogwarts is infested with a swarm of insolent, love-struck zombies, because Undertaker is a—”

As he wrote, the words, instead of staying in place like words should, they were swallowed by the paper. As the earl stared, the ink resurfaced like a serpent beneath water, a reply forming from secondhand ink.

“My, that does sound awful.”

The words disappeared as soon as they came, then reappeared…

“Perhaps I could be of assistance.”

[ambitiousskychild]

Ooh how about Mike and Eddie? :)

ahhh i’m so sorry it took me FOREVER to get to this, but thank you for giving me these characters in specific and also i’m apologizing now for how long this is gonna be let’s begin

Why I like Eddie and Mike

They are HANDS DOWN the best characters of the 7 of them hands DOWN. 

Eddie in the book is the BIGGEST badass, not only did he LAUGH IN HENRY BOWERS’ FACE when he broke his arm at 11 years old, he KILLED bowers 27 years later right after bowers broke the same arm in the same place, by smashing his classy glass Perrier against his bedside table and stabbing bowers to death with the remains :) 

Mike Hanlon is the reason the book happens AT ALL. He’s essentially the narrator. And he is the final member of the losers club, they save his life from bowers and co, and he automatically knows he can trust them and they all know, like magic, that their group is complete and that was so fuckin sweet to me. He often puts his body in the way to protect Eddie and Stan and AHHH

Why i don’t like Eddie and Mike

bc i LOVE them next question

Favorite scene

For Eddie there are so many, here’s a bulleted list

“They’re gazebos! They’re BULLSHIT!”

THE LOSER/LOVER SCENE ARE YOU KIDDING ME, THE FACT THAT EDDIE HIMSELF TOOK THAT NASTY WORD GRETA BRANDED HIM FOR EVERYONE TO SEE AND DECIDED THAT’S NOT TRUE, AND CORRECTED IT TO THE THING HE LOVES MOST ABOUT HIMSELF IT MAKES ME FUCKING INSANE, EVERY TIME I WATCH THAT SCENE I CRY

when richie set his broken arm back into place and most definitely made it worse lmao

when eddie got puked on by pennywise and literally SHOOK with rage bc there was sooooo much of it in his tiny little body and he decided he was no longer afraid and swung at pennywise with those tiny HANDS

For MIke omg

In the book there’s this scene where he faces Pennywise as a giant bird that’s terrifying and I can’t describe it but Mike is just SO smart and brave

In the book when the losers decide to fuckin hotbox their underground clubhouse hoping to get high enough to see the origins of IT and it fuckin works, but Richie and Mike are the only ones who can stand it anymore in there to actually SEE anything

In the book when they’re fighting IT as kids and pennywise turns into that bird again and swoops down for Eddie, and Mike is so worried the bird will just take him that he rolls his body over Eddie’s

When in Chapter 1 they ran from the Neibolt house after Eddie broke his arm and Mike picked Eddie up all by himself and put him in his bike basket like a little puppy lmao

Favorite movie

Favorite movie for both of them is Chapter 1

Favorite Line

Eddie: “Get my bifocals, they’re in my second fanny pack”

Mike, tragically didn’t get really a lot of good lines butttt probably “I know the difference between what’s real and what’s not” bc that’s like,,, literally the only thing he got that wasn’t just sad lol

Favorite outfit

For Eddie it’s the pink polo shirt and red shorts with the rainbow stripes but ALSO the thundercats shirt with those same shorts both of those were LOOKS lol

And For Mike i love the outfit we first meet him in, his jeans and the grey shirt. i thought at one point he wore overalls, but i think i imagined it lol

OTP

For Eddie, obviously Reddie

For Mike, i like him with Bill AND Stan, but i also think he and eddie together would be adorable

Brotp

For Eddie- him and Bev! They’re so similar anyway i love to think they’re absolute best friends, aside from him and richie. And i especially love the idea of Richie, Eddie, and Bev as a trio. Eddie and Mike could be the cutest best friends, and Eddie and Stan, and Eddie and Bill omg, Everyone should be best friends with Eddie

For Mike, i like the idea of him and Richie being close tbh! Him and Eddie too and him and Ben! Also, everyone should be best friends with Mike

Head Canon

ummm i hc that Eddie develops an almost INSANE need for thrills after they defeat Pennywise for good and he wants to get tattoos and try smoking and he gets a motorcycle to go real FAST, and richie is not only supportive, but stupid, so they have a lot of dumb matching tattoos and a motorcycle they’re trying to get rid of like a year later :)

I hc that Mike always wanted to be a vet or something with animals, but he just never got to :( but when they finally defeat pennywise, Bill supports his dream to care for animals :)

Unpopular opinion

I love soft!Eddie! I know that’s like,,, not cool to say in the fandom these days but that’s literally the coolest most rebellious thing about Eddie is that despite it ALL he still chooses to be soft and kick your ass lovingly

And for Mike, it’s so hard bc he got so little attention or screentime or ANYTHING that actually let him be a character, so my main opinion for him is that he deserved better but that’s not unpopular lol

A wish

I wish that Eddie had been allowed to not be a raging asshole and then a coward for like all of Chapter 2, and I wish that Mike’s character hadn’t been somehow turned into crazy man who steals from Natives and “lies to his friends” lol

An oh-god-pls-don’t-ever-happen

Oh god, i would fuckin HATE it if Eddie died for no fuckin reason and then his friends just moved on 20mins later like he didn’t literally die for them, that would suck, thank god that doesn’t happen

And it would also suck if in the book, Mike, the whole reason they’re all even back in Derry, despite knowing the dangers of Derry during the height of IT being back and knowing he should be watching his back, put himself alone in harm’s way for no reason other than to be taken out of the game so he’s not even down in the sewers for the final showdown with Pennywise, that would suck and be infuriating, glad that didn’t happen either

5 words to best describe them

Eddie: brave, loyal, loving, funny, chaotic

Mike: sweet, kind, strong, brave, wise

My nickname for them

i usually just call them both sweet angel babey lmao but also spaghetti boy and farm boy lol

thank you for the ask and sorry i wrote you an essay

send me a character? if you dare lol i really snapped on this one