#since that's what makes a smile look strained or phony

[jackalxhearts]

what are people on about when they say they see "sadness in their eyes" on pre-transition transition timeline photos

I feel like that's definitely confirmation bias, or the fact that in some photos the person is literally just frowning or has a clear facial expression that denotes discomfort (in which case their eyes don't say as much as their. like. frown. or tilted brows)

like is that what they actually mean

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Pregnant!Female!Reader) pt. 12

Cult girl deals with an unexpected and unwelcome guest.

@wisesandwichshark @pearlstiare

Trigger warnings: pregnancy, emotional manipulation, emotional abuse, infidelity, threats of violence

Step three: kill Anna

So maybe there was an understanding that the pregnancy was to be kept secret from Anna.

The withdrawal of Archie and Max from the picture left a hole in the plan. Just when it looked like you had secured that much-needed victory, it shriveled up and died right before your eyes. That much was certain. Everything else was a big question mark.

Ever since he felt the baby kicking, Hannibal became even more hopelessly enamored with the idea of being a father. He never mentioned it, of course, but it was there. It was there in the way he cooed at your stomach and how his hand lingered after he felt a kick. He was in heaven.

For a few days, it looked like the downward trajectory was beginning to flatten. Then you remembered your favorite line from Ryan Reynolds' Deadpool:

"Life is an endless series of trainwrecks with only brief, commercial-like breaks of happiness." You repeated to yourself as your phone flashed Theresa's call icon.

It took you a minute to remember that Theresa in your phone was actually Anna, because you hadn't bothered to change it. In a way, it was symbolic. Theresa was the head you cut off, and Anna sprouted up in her place. All in the pursuit of making your life unbearable.

You pulled the toothbrush from your mouth and placed it next to the sink. Lazily, you brought the phone to your ear. "What?"

"Hey pretty girl!" Anna said, using her most transparently fake cheery voice. "How's it going?"

Then it clicked. You felt kind of stupid that you didn't see it coming. In the world of cults, this was known as 'lovebombing'; a manipulation tactic in which the cult leader showers their target with affection, compliments, validation or anything that would make them associate good feelings with the group. In any other context, it would be called 'ass-kissing'.

You narrowed your eyes in skepticism. "What do you want?"

"Jeez, who crapped in your corn flakes?" She scoffed. "Can't a girl just call her little sister to say hi?"

It would have been one thing to say 'cousin', which, despite your bad blood, would have been technically accurate. But 'sister' was crossing a line. The blood that binded you and Anna together was thinner than water.

"We're not sisters, Anna." You corrected. "Why are you calling?"

"I just wanted to let you know that all is forgiven." She said, slipping back into that phony cheerful tone. "That little fiasco at the funeral, it's water under the bridge."

What Anna didn't know was that the water under the bridge was never water, but gasoline. Every drop that flowed under that bridge only created a more dangerous blaze for when you finally burned it down.

"Awesome." You said, flatly.

"I also wanted to say, 'may the best woman win'." She jeered. "I don't want to alarm you, but Liam and I have been fucking like bunnies."

You gagged. "I'm not alarmed but I certainly didn't need to know that."

"I've been keeping track of my ovulation," She disregarded your objection and continued the conversation she wanted to have. "And I even put child locks on the computer so Liam can't watch porn. Can't spare even a drop, y'know. It's too crucial."

"I will literally let you have the entire inheritance if you please just shut up right now." You said through gritted teeth.

"Oh?" She perked up. "Come on, don't give up. Don't make it too easy. Winning is just more fun when someone else loses."

She was growing into her Theresa shoes quite well.

"Seriously, though," You raised your eyebrows. "If it means I never have to see you again, by all means. Take the damn money."

"You know I love you, right?" Anna blurted out, pretending to be offended. "You may not think so, but I love you like a sister."

Again, you fought the urge to feel bad for her. Her model of sisterly love was Theresa. She could use the word to invoke sympathy, but would never know what it meant. It hit your ear exactly the same as when fundamentalist christian strangers said they loved you and that's why they were harassing you. Just an empty annoyance.

You rolled your eyes. "Goodbye, Anna."

"Wait!" She shouted as if she was about to die.

You threw your head back in exasperation. "What?!"

"I wanted to give you a little good-luck gift." She said.

You were slightly interested. "Oh?"

"Yes." She answered. "Can I swing by and drop it off later?"

You sighed. "Whatever. As long as you make it fast."

You were most certainly noticeably pregnant, but a fluffy robe obscured any misplaced curves just enough. You just hoped she wouldn't ask why you were wearing a fluffy robe in July. Anna arrived at the house, with Liam, who was holding a small basket of colorful jars and bottles.

You waited a minute to see if she would just leave the basket on the porch, but she didn't. You resignedly opened the door.

"[F/N]!" She shouted with that hyper-enthusiastic smile. You cringed, trying not to let her presence trigger your morning sickness.

The smile disappeared from her face. "Jesus H, you look like hell."

You desperately wanted to inform her that it was the strain of growing a human inside your body, but you held your tongue and thought of an excuse.

"I'm hungover." You said. Yeah, that would work.

"The usual, I see." Anna snipped at you under her breath.

You eyed the basket. You didn't even bother to mask your disappointment when you realized it wasn't food. "What's this?"

"Oh, this?" Anna said as if she were starting a sales pitch. "This is my olive branch. My exclusive DoTERRA fertility rejuvenation kit."

Your brain refused to process that Anna had been sucked in to an MLM, as it was really only a matter of time. You just didn't think it would take this long.

"Dude, you're twenty-nine and I'm twenty-six." You narrowed your eyes at her. "What on earth are we rejuvenating?"

She pointed to a collection of little bottles. "So these are for the initial cleanse. Put a few drops of this in your food, and some of this in your bathwater-"

She rattled on with practiced certainty about the fictitious health benefits of thyme and geranium oils, how they promote fertility and whatnot.

"Thanks, Anna." You cut her off, reaching for the gift basket. You didn't intend to use any of it, but you could pawn it off on some struggling hunbot for less than they would buy it new.

Anna pulled the basket out of your reach. "Oh. I wasn't giving it to you."

Nothing surprised you anymore, and this was no exception. "I thought you said it was a gift?"

"Oh, god no." She shook her head. "This whole kit costs, like, five hundred dollars."

You grimaced. "So you came here to show me your snake oil collection?"

"I came here to tell you in person about this amazing business opportunity." She said, returning to her fake smile. "For just $1000, you can be part of this amazing company-"

"Anna, what am I studying right now?" You cut her off.

She looked at you with round, clueless eyes. She looked back at Liam for help. He tapped his head to give her a hint.

"I want to say..." her voice trailed off. "...brain surgery?"

You shook your head. "No. Liam?"

"Clinical psychology with a specialization in cults." He answered. "You want to be the next Steven Hassan."

Anna didn't deserve Liam.

"So you're saying you're too smart for me?" Anna said, crossing her arms. "You're too busy going to your fancy college, living with your fancy boyfriend to support your own sister's hustle?"

"I'm saying you're in a cult." You countered. "A pretty obvious one, at that."

"Oh, when your only solution is a hammer every problem looks like a nail." She scoffed. "You think everything is a cult. Why can't you just be happy for me?"

"I'll be happy for you when you accomplish something that isn't built off the backs of people you fucked over." You said, allowing yourself to finally snap.

Anna's jaw hung open. "Do I even need to gesture to this house? Those clothes? That degree? All paid for by your rich boyfriend."

It's time.

You stepped on to the porch and shut the door behind you. "Liam. I have something to tell you."

Liam handed the basket off to Anna and approached. "Alright."

"No she doesn't, Liam." Anna objected. "Don't listen to her. You know she's a liar."

"Liam." You said, looking into his eyes. "Do you remember Nathan Sparks?"

"Anna's ex from college?" Liam folded his arms and looked at his wife. "Vaguely."

Anna gritted her teeth at you. "I swear to fucking god, [F/N]-"

"Anna, stop." Liam cut her off. "Let her speak."

"Anna continued to see him for two years after you got together." You smirked.

Liam's dial-up internet brain sputtered to life.

"Oh my god." His mouth hung open. "...is he 'pineapple'?!"

"Nope." You said. "You are."

"Is this true, Anna?" Liam said, in the overlap between denial and anger. "Did you keep seeing Nathan after we got together?"

Anna threw the basket on the ground, jars shattering, releasing a noxious cloud of concentrated snake oil. She was too busy glaring daggers at you to answer her husband.

"Fine. Don't tell me." He spat, turning back to you. "I'll hear it from you, [F/N]. You're the only one in this family who's been honest with me."

"She only wanted to get with you because your uncle is CEO of that publishing house." You added. You felt bad for essentially rubbing salt in the wound, but he was right to assume he wouldn't hear it from anyone else.

He placed his hand over his head as if to nurse a migrane. "How could I be so stupid..."

"Liam-" Anna said, her voice jumping a few octaves.

Liam put up his hand. "I don't want to hear it."

"I'm sorry, Lee." You offered. Even though you loved seeing Anna caught, you felt bad for every person she victimized along the way. Liam was no exception.

He dropped his shoulders and sighed. "Thank you, [F/N]. I'll be out of your way, now. Anna--"

He stopped himself, presumably to avoid saying something he would regret. "...find your own way home."

He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked away, leaving Anna with you.

"Thanks for coming." You sneered at her, feeling around behind you for the door handle. "I'd call an uber if I were you."

"You twisted bitch." She scowled, hands hovering in your direction. "You just get off on ruining people's lives, don't you?"

"Oof, that's some serious projection, Anna." You said, unconsciously untying the belt of your robe and pulling it off your shoulders.

"You're-" She sputtered, her eyes growing to the size of personal pizzas. "You're fucking pregnant?!"

Shit. You thought, cycling through whatever braincells you had left for an idea of how to play this off as if you meant to do it.

"Surprise." You shrugged. Yeah, that would work.

"That's impossible!" She stammered. "You're- you're not even married!"

"Grandma never said anything about marriage." You grinned.

Anna struggled to find her words. "That is unfair!"

"So now that you're not winning, the game is unfair?" You raised an eyebrow.

She pursed her lips and pointed at you. "You aren't going to get away with this."

"Just like you didn't get away with cheating on your husband?" You taunted.

"I'm serious, [F/N]." Anna said, backing down the porch steps. "I will destroy everything you love just like you did to me."

For a half a second, the voice in your head told you to beware, that the threat should be taken seriously. Upon remembering it was coming from Anna, you pushed the thought from your mind.

You shouldn't have.

[ihearthes]

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Unnamed OFC Rating: Light Smut Word Count: 3500 Inspired by: @wanderlustwaving and “The Lady or the Tiger” by Frank Stockton

His eyes dart around the bar, seeking her. She has to be here. It’s tradition. Their tradition. January 1st. Every year. Sunset. Anguilla. The Four Seasons. 

Harry had booked this table nearest the bay a full year ago, confirming it in mid-June and again in early December. Sitting silently, his eyes shaded behind his sunnies, he watches the giant ball of fire as it descends into the water. Less of a sizzle than one would expect. Each sip of his Casamigos Blanco over ice is perfect. The sky lights up with oranges, reds, and yellows that are reflected on the clouds, resembling the Monet painting San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk which he had viewed in Cardiff. A second version hangs in Tokyo at Bridgestone Museum, and he had been lucky enough to see it once. 

The longer he watches its descent, the more he realises that this sunset is different from the paintings he’d seen. His fingers itch for watercolours or acrylics even though he knows his amateurish strokes would never capture the beauty. Last year, the sunset had been underwhelming, the clouds obscuring rather than reflecting the colours. Their first year, he had been unable to believe what he was seeing. It had been stunning with the reach of the palette across the sky, like tendrils of smoke straining to hug the entire planet. Now he captures his journal from the extra chair, opening it’s leather binding to a blank page. Flipping back to the beginning of his journal, he finds a sketch of her leaning on the railing -- drawn from memory years after their first meeting. His mind casts backwards to the non-date that had launched this annual trip. 

“Wow.” The voice belongs to a woman who steps to the railing next to him, leaning forward and twisting her head to take in the full sunset. Glancing at her, he does a double take as he recognizes her. Holy shit. She’s even more stunning in person. 

“Oh, I’d give it a solid 8.5,” Harry’s calm voice is the opposite of his turbulent emotional state. 

“Seriously? It’s much closer to a 9.2.”

“You’ve lost your mind. It’s worthwhile, but not a 9.2,” he scoffs, shifting his body slightly closer to hers. He turns toward her, planting a single forearm on the railing as he observes her in her floral sarong that matches her bikini top. Her hair is bundled lazily on top of her head, and her tanned feet are encased in strappy sandals. Surreptitiously, he takes in her curves while she’s examining the sunset. 

Twisting her head quickly, she catches his eyes on her ass. Rather than blushing, he smiles at her instead, well aware that the dimple is doing it’s job appropriately. The live steel drum band starts a new song, and she boldly turns to him, holding out her hand. “Dance?”

He doesn’t respond verbally. Grasping her fingers, Harry wraps one arm around her waist, stepping into her and leading them in time with the music. When he twirls her rather expertly, she laughs, planting a hand on his chest and gazing up at him with what appears to be a phony bashfulness. 

“I didn’t know you could dance,” she laughs. 

“Clearly you’ve never seen me live on stage,” Harry smirks. 

She clucks her tongue, “Oh, but I have. I said what I said, Styles.”

Looking away from her, he can’t help the smile that breaks loose. Damn, she’s got moxie. And it’s intriguing and beguiling. 

“You’re here alone?” he wonders, his eyes roaming the outdoor space. It’s filled with strangers -- to him anyway. 

“Tonight only. Yes.” She twirls him, and he grins at the move. 

“Me too.” The soft words are spoken into her ear as he’s drawn her closer. “I like to spend the first night of the year reflecting on the previous year.”

“Isn’t that what New Year’s Eve is for?” she wonders, her voice breathy. 

“Nah. That’s for drinking and celebrating with friends. Today is for reflection -- looking backwards and forwards simultaneously.”

“Planning to conquer the world this year, Mr. Styles?” 

“Indeed.” Arching an eyebrow, he mimics a cartoon villain, drawing his pinky to his mouth. 

She slaps at his chest, and he desperately wants to kiss her in that moment. After all, they are flirting, aren’t they? 

“Are you going to offer me dinner?” she asks boldly. “And take me to your room afterwards?”

Woah. Definitely gutsy. “Depends,” he whispers as he spins them both around once more while the band winds down. 

“On what?” 

“On what kind of sushi you prefer.”

“Ah!” There’s a gleam in her eye that he can’t resist. She’s playful and not shy about being the seductress. Harry finds the combination heady. Waving her hand in dismissal as she turns towards his table, “I usually try whatever the newest offering is -- especially if it’s fresh from those waters.” Fingers waggle in the direction of the bay, and he wants to grasp them out of the air and wrap them protectively in his own hand. 

Instead, he applauds the band before following behind her. At the table, she drags her chair from the opposite side of the small round table until she’s sat beside him. With his questioning glance, she again gestures towards the bay. “I’m not going to miss that sunset just so I can stare at your pretty face.” 

Rather than sketching the sunset, he attempts to paint the current sight with words. Everything he writes seems trite: clementines, flames, majestic, radiant, blush, hearth.

Where is she? Yes, it had been a year since they had spoken, but surely she would have sent a message if she weren’t planning to join him? Why hadn’t they exchanged numbers? Followed each other on Instagram? 

But he knows why. The mystery. The transcendental experience. The enchantment of meeting once a year, incognito, in this particular and magnificent place. No knowledge of each other outside of this 24 hours that belongs to them alone. 

Which is ridiculous. Because he certainly knows who she is and follows her career. And he would be astonished if she didn’t also pay attention to his. A few times this last year they had coincidentally been in the same city simultaneously, and he had seriously debated trying to locate her. Contact her manager maybe. Or put out feelers that would certainly have stretched to her ears like an old-fashioned game of Chinese Whispers (which of course isn’t what he should call the game now; it’s racist). The message, though, would have been garbled but sufficient for them to meet up. 

Every time, he refrained. Their unspoken commitment was to this place and this one day a year. Now he regrets not making contact. Had she decided that one day a year wasn’t worth the effort? Was she even now canoodling with someone else? There hadn’t been rumours of any recent love affairs on her end, and he snatches his phone anxiously to search her name just in case she connected with someone during the last week.

Picking up his now-empty glass of tequila as he scrolls through his phone, Harry draws an ice cube into his mouth, swirling it on his tongue to relish every tiny bit of the liquor there. The burn has vanished as it’s taken him nearly an hour to drink one tequila. No record of any new beaus. Maybe he should follow her now on social media? DM her? What would he do if she didn’t show? How much longer should he wait? 

“Oh yum! This roll is even better than last year’s.” She proclaims as she rushes to grasp the last bite of the Ceviche Roll. 

“Hey! That was mine!” Harry protests, laughing as she stuffs the full piece in her mouth. 

“Order more,” she mumbles around the rice, fish, and seaweed flavored with citrus and cilantro. 

“Nah, I’ve got a different appetite now,” he murmurs, watching her lips as she chews the sushi. 

Freezing, her eyes rush to his, and she slowly finishes the sushi she’s been eating, swallowing slowly. He wishes that she would move her chair to his side of the table like she had the previous year. This time, they’re seated on opposite sides of the table, but at an angle where both can watch the setting sun. 

“What?” Her look has made him nervous. “You’re not going to tell me you’re seeing someone, are you?” 

Her hair twirls as she shakes her head. “No. Broke up with him last week in anticipation of this.”

Having sipped his tequila, Harry chokes at her words. Coughing, he grasps the table with both hands. Holy fuck. She didn’t really expect him to --

“Kidding!” Her giggle lights up her eyes, bringing a light blush to her face. She’s truly stunning. Maybe even more than last year. 

When her foot, sans sandal, caresses his calf under the table, he knows that the night is going to be filled with sex. Fun, hot, brilliant sex that will last most of the night. Hmm...perhaps it would be best to fortify himself for their escapades. Raising his hand, he flags down the server. 

“Sir?”

“Another Ceviche Roll, por favor. Plus a bottle of Casamigos.” He pauses as her foot makes its way further up his leg, and he wonders if she’s going to slide under the table completely. “Send it to my room, please.” Voice catching as her toes make contact with his crotch, he demands, “Put it all on my tab please. I’ll settle up later.” 

With a nod of agreement, the server disappears. Quickly Harry rises, adjusting his slacks as he glances around the room. 

“Let’s go,” his voice rumbles. 

“But H -- the sunset,” she whines. 

“My room has the same view,” he insists, holding out his hand which she grasps. Gracefully sliding her foot back into her sandal, she rises and glides behind him towards the elevator. 

His stomach rumbles at the thought of eating, and he debates ordering food. The sushi at the sunset lounge is always fresh. In the past, though, they’ve enjoyed the dishes together, trying new ones every year. Dejected, he places his glass harshly on the table, his disappointment at her absence radiating across his psyche like the colours of the sunset. 

“I would say it’s a solid 8.5,” her voice sounds from over his shoulder, and he twists in surprise. Like the sunset beckons the stars, she summons happiness to his soul. He scrambles to rise, kissing her on both cheeks, his lips lingering each time. Not too long, though, in case others are watching and photographing. Which he always assumes these days. Fans. Paps. No privacy exists anywhere. 

“Hi,” he whispers, grateful for her presence, but unable to say the words that would tell her how worried he’s been. That might reveal too much of his emotions. And his heart. 

Fuck. When had his heart gotten involved? And why hadn’t he realised before this particular moment? 

“You agree?” she smiles, gesturing to the sunset. 

“I would say it’s a 9 or maybe even a 9.2,” Harry smiles, his dimple making an appearance to rival the sunset in front of them. 

“You finished your drink,” she nods at his empty glass. 

“I started early.” It’s a lame excuse, and he knows it. 

His annual partner tilts her head in his direction. “Or maybe I’m late?”

Not knowing how to respond, Harry waits, his fingers playing with the coaster underneath his drink, spinning it around, the glass slowly rotating with the cardboard circle with the restaurant’s name on it. 

“I debated,” she whispers, “unsure if I should…”

The server appears, a smile on his face. His white trousers and white shirt are complemented by a blue scarf at his neck, his accent strong. 

“What can I get you?”

Harry notices the man’s gaze on his companion’s breasts which draws his own attention to the bosom swelling around the buttons of her frock, which he just now notices has sunflowers across the lower half of the skirt. Was that on purpose? 

When she exchanges a knowing glance with Harry and smoothes the fabric over her legs, it becomes clear that she knows exactly what she was doing by choosing this dress.

He shifts in his seat. 

“I’ll have what he’s having,” she announces. 

Harry reminds the server, “Two Casamigos on the rocks please. And your newest sushi roll with light brown rice please. Thanks.”

Nodding, his date agrees to the order, and he’s relieved that at least the basics haven’t changed in the last year. 

“You were saying?” he prompts as the steward moves away from them. 

“Oh,” she blushes, her cheeks tinging slightly pink. “I just...wasn’t sure…” She swallows, her head down before she makes eye contact with him, “that this was a good idea.”

Taken aback, Harry settles his bum more deeply in his chair, feeling blindsided by the comment, wishing he had his tequila to soothe him in this moment. “I see,” he mumbles. 

“Harry --” she begins, and he waves a hand in her direction. 

“It’s just casual,” he unceremoniously argues, “right?” But his heart clutches at the phrasing. 

Her eyes drop to her lap where her hands are entwined. “Yes. I guess.” Her whisper makes him sweat. Fuck. Had she decided this was it? The last time? “It’s a pretty sunset,” she adds.

“Absolutely,” he concurs, anxious at what else she might say. Silence descends on the table much faster than the stars appear in the sky above them. Should he be vulnerable? Tell her how he feels? What he’s thinking? 

This year’s live steel drum band begins a new song, and without pause, she rises, holding her hand out for him to grasp. Grateful for the reprieve, he joins her in their corner of the outdoor restaurant, placing one hand on her waist as she rests her head on his chest. Together, they sway, and his mind wanders.

“I need another lime!” she shrieks gleefully, holding the bottle of tequila in her hand. Harry shakes his head from his position flat on the bed. They are going to need clean sheets before they sleep tonight. Maybe they will go to her room for actual sleep? 

What the fuck is he thinking? As if they had actually slept during their rendezvous in the previous two years. 

“Here. Hold this,” she laughs, thrusting a lime towards Harry to place in his mouth, pulp out. 

“Mhm. Me next,” he mumbles just before his teeth wrap around the green rind.

“You bet,” she giggles. Settling herself on the bed as she straddles him, her soft parts landing on his cock encased in its bright green briefs. She slides down his legs and leans forward, holding the bottle of tequila out to the side. “Mmmmm.” Licking a stripe up from the base of his underpants to his navel, she sprinkles salt there before tilting the bottle of Casamigos and allowing a shot of tequila to land in his taut navel. He’d worked hard on his abs the last couple of months, knowing that he would be lying here with her. They’ve got definition that most blokes only dream of. 

Quickly, her tongue captures the salt before she sucks the tequila from his belly and shifts forward to suck the lime that’s in his mouth. Fuck. If he hadn’t been hard before they started this game, he’s certainly got a hammer between his legs now. 

As he releases the lime for her, she grips it in her teeth, leaning backwards in her bra and panties, her core now on his chest, and he can’t resist reaching out with a single finger and tracing a pattern over the treasure he knows is underneath. 

“You waxed for me this year,” he comments. 

“No,” she protests, “I waxed for me this year. You give great oral, and I wanted nothing to get in the way. It’s been far too long since my pussy has been properly eaten.” 

“Oh?” Harry’s eyebrow raises, as he knows a couple of people who she dated during the previous year. 

“Yep. I would say,” she smiles, leaning down to capture his mouth in a kiss, her lips hovering just above his, “about exactly a year.”

“Hey…” he begins as they finish their silent dance just as their drinks arrive along with the plate of sushi, but he’s interrupted. 

“Here are your drinks. Our newest sushi roll is the Hot Lover,” which makes Harry cringe and shift again in his seat. “It’s spicy tuna, shrimp tempura, and avocado wrapped in soybean paper.” 

As he places the food in front of them, Harry smiles sadly and nods as the gentleman fades away into the restaurant, like the sunset has drifted into the ocean. 

“You were going to say something?” she asks, and he loses all of his courage. 

Shaking his head, he grasps a piece of the sushi roll between his fingers, sliding it onto his tongue. 

“Not bad,” he comments as he chews, trying to tuck the food in his cheek so he’s not rude. 

“It’s really not got a lot of flavour,” she grins as she mimics his eating habit. “Kind of boring.”

Did she mean their relationship? Was this one of those double-entendres? Swallowing the fish and rice concoction, he sips his tequila as the sushi sticks in his throat. For some reason, he wants to cry. It makes no sense, but the tears come unbidden to his eyes. Fuck. Looking away, he sips more of his drink as he watches the remnants of the sunset fade away, blinking furiously. 

“I wanted to call you when we were both in New York this year,” he comments softly. 

Her fingers pause halfway to her mouth, the soybean-paper-wrapped piece of sushi hovering near her lips. Harry watches as she debates how to respond to his comment, finally placing the fish on her tongue and chewing slowly. Unable to draw his eyes from her mouth, he unapologetically watches as she savors the restaurant’s latest speciality. Eyes closed, she moans. Her hands clutch the table on either side of her, and Harry feels his mouth go dry. 

Once she devours the food, she sips her tequila on the rocks, and he can visualize her tongue swirling the liquid around as she either tries to clear the flavour of the fish or fully taste the liquor. After all, her tongue has done that same move to his most favored body part. When she finishes, she makes eye contact with him, her hands resting on either side of her plate, fingers curled. Taking a deep breath, she straightens her fingers flat without breaking eye contact. Fuck. He’s sweating. 

“Truth be told, Harry -- I desperately wanted to call you when we were both in Edinburgh that time.”

“Why didn’t you?” His words are faster than his brain, and he immediately wishes he could draw back the question. 

“You know why,” she replies, and he nods because he does indeed know all of the reasons. “The sunset --” Her attention is drawn to the colours in the sky, “is lovely, don’t you think?”

“Honestly,” he admits, “I would say this is the best one of all of the times we’ve sat here together.” The words make him cringe. He wants to keep things light, but something about the moment prevents fluff. It feels momentous. Overwhelming. 

He watches as her eyes stray from his to the sky before they tear up and she nods in agreement. “Yes, Harry. I would say this is the most breathtaking of the sunsets we’ve seen.”

Did that mean that this would be the last one? Neither of them is getting younger. Sooner or later, one of them will meet “the one”. And then where will the other be? Stuck on an island with a sunset alone? Fuck. He doesn’t want to be that person. But he truly doesn’t want that for her either. 

“It’s a sensational sunset,” Harry pleads, his eyes not leaving her face, not straying to the glorious colours, not denying that they have some chemistry together. Why hadn’t he made a play for her before now? Was a hookup enough? Would he be happy if this is the last one? 

“Harry,” she sighs, sipping her drink again. “I wonder ---” 

The band starts a new song, and he shakes off the sound, willing her to continue. A group at the table behind them sings ‘Happy Birthday’ while another table nearby bursts into laughter and somewhere a server drops a tray of glasses, the shattering drawing applause from a few assholes close to the debacle. Harry ignores all of it. 

“Yes? Go on,” he encourages. 

“Maybe…” she bites her lip, looking away from him towards the sunset. 

“Yes?” His throat is dry, but he doesn’t reach for his tequila or his glass of ice water. Instead, his gaze remains riveted on her. 

“Do you think that perhaps we could…” 

His breath catches in his throat. What would she say? Would she ask for some random sex act? Cancel their relationship permanently? Or possibly -- miraculously -- suggest that they celebrate more sunsets together instead of just once a year. He holds his breath, waiting impatiently. 

“I mean, it would probably be best if we...” 

A/N: Reblogs are love, my readers.  I appreciate the likes, but reblogs help others find the story and, quite frankly, encourage me to continue publishing here. 

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

WHOMST IS THIS OC BAKER BOY ELF I SEE YOU SPEAKING ABOUT!???! DO TELL!!

~vaya

GAH YES I LOVE MY SOFT BAKER ELF BOY!!

He is one of my most favourite OC’s, because he is quite literally a cinnamon roll.

(him on the top left, not my art but my faceclaim, as found on Pinterest with no other link)

His name is “Oranor” (it means “Sunday” in Elvish—the day he was begetted on)

He’s from another one of my main stories, “Phony Matrimony”

Basically, he’s about the elven equivalent of 18 years old, and developed a strong childhood crush on Legolas after the war against Sauron, upon seeing him ride to Aragorn’s coronation atop a white steed (very swoon-worthy for a 6 year old gay-to-be)

When Legolas took over Ithilien, I headcanon he built his town in Emyn Arnen—a canon place which looks like the Shire, but more yellow.

(Emyn Arnen, Ithilien)

He’s a baker’s boy (originally born in mirkwood) who Legolas regularly orders from, and the story follows one big lie that Oranor accidentally orchestrated with his scheming older brother.

So, his parents perished in the war, so he and his brother are both taken in by their aunt, Bronwe.

His older brother, Remmirath (means “constellation”), is an...eccentric “El Dorado” type of fellow, always chasing one big adventure after another, or selling snake oil as “cures” to people—a total charlatan.

Remmi comes back one day to find his little brother heartbroken over Legolas being forced to choose a Sindar-blooded partner soon by Thranduil (Oranor himself is just a lowly silvan), and sees an opportunity to be set for life.

The brothers are both naturally brunette, but Remmi returns as a blonde, explaining that he found this “amazing flower” which can change your hair colour for a short amount of time (like polyjuice potion, but just for your hair), depending on which hued flower you pick.

After being coerced (Remmirath just wants his brother to marry a royal so he can mooch off of them both), Oranor agrees to take the flower and turn blonde, as to convince Legolas and Thranduil that he, “Alfirin” (his new alias, quite literally means “white flower”), is actually Glorfindel’s illegitimate son, making him of noble blood, and consequently allowed to marry Legolas.

Big antics ensue with a “suitor competition”, as Thranduil calls in potential elves for Legolas to court, and now Oranor, under the guise of the blonde “Alfirin” has to make Legolas fall in love with him.

However, Legolas has actually been in love with the simple baker’s boy all along, and isn’t interested in any of the suitors, until “Alfirin” starts to remind him of Oranor, who has mysteriously skipped town.

An extract of chapter 2 underneath the cut!

I’ll get around to posting the story eventually lol

Also don’t mind Legolas being a little bit scandalous, he’s doing it to piss his father off (and rightfully so, too)

🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖

Blowing a stray strand of his fringe out from his eyes, Oranor readied himself under his breath. Readjusting the crate underarm, he shifted his weight to one hip.

Muttering quietly to himself, the young elf further pushed the letter down behind the sticky buns. “You can do this, Oran. He will never know it’s you unless you reveal so to him. Don’t be a coward, for once in your life, don’t be just a little baker’s boy. All you have to do is—”

Halting his nervous tongue, Oranor heard voices on the other side of the door. They sounded heated and tense, clearly two males.

It was only with quite some strain on Oranor’s elven ears, that he recognised both Thranduil and Legolas’ voices.

The Elvenking was here, in Emyn Arnen?

Frightened out of his idea immediately, but still curious, Oranor pressed his ear flat against the wood, and listened closely.

“I ask this of you because I care about you, Legolas!”

“Ada, please! You only wish for me to court so you can have an heir begotten for you!”

“That is NOT true, and I resent your thoughts regarding so! Just study the list of names, Legolas. Some are male, too! I know you and your preferences.”

“My preference is to NOT get married right now! Especially to your presumptuous list! I’ll be sailing soon after Aragorn’s departure from our world, so what does it matter, Ada?”

“You will be lonely by yourself overseas! I want to ensure my son is spoken for before he goes.”

“Your son is speaking; you’re just not listening.”

“I could be a lot meaner, Legolas. I am allowing you to choose whom you marry freely, so long as they’re from my list. There are many names on there! You will see—love will find you swiftly.”

There was a short silence on the other side of the door, and Oranor imagined it was his usually reserved lord taking a moment to roll his eyes at his father. Once those few seconds had passed, Thranduil spoke up again—sterner this time, too.

“I am not being unreasonable, Legolas. I only ask two things of you; that you see to yourself being betrothed in the next few months, and that they be of Sindar lineage. There are many to choose from. I won’t hear another word about it—you are still my subject and heir, therefore I have the right to ask this of you.”

Oranor gulped down the nerves that rose in his throat, and made quick moves to retrieve the letter. Hastily, for he heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the door (most likely Legolas seeking to leave his father’s presence in a furious state), Oranor began to rip the letter in two.

He was blushing madly in humiliation. Of course he could never court Legolas. Legolas was a prince, and Sindar at that. Oranor himself was just a lowly Silvan of bakery origins. It was simply not meant to be.

Perhaps it hadn’t moved past a childish crush after all.

Feeling the tips of his ears turning red, Oranor anxiously glanced between the letter he was tearing in half, as well as the door.

He knew he could not hide both himself and the crate in time, for the angered steps were upon him. Glancing all around, Oranor spun on his heel a few times, as he hastily thought of where to flee and stash the crate.

There was a pot of fern to his right, but before he could throw the crate inside and finish tearing the letter, the door to Legolas’ large reading room opened.

A roaring fireplace soon met Oranor with its warmth, as it fought to fend off the winter snow’s cold, just outside the large windows of light running along one side of the room.

Oranor, shorter than his lord by at least a head, was soon met face-to-face with Legolas. They blinked at each other in shock for a moment, before Thranduil spoke up again.

Oranor peeked over the prince’s soldier, and saw the king rise from the long couch before the fire to chase after his son.

“Legolas, do not be such a child, it is very unbecoming of you to storm away—”

Thranduil, too, was stunned to find someone there. If he didn’t possess all the class in the world, Thranduil perhaps would have been embarrassed over someone having heard his conversation.

Formally, Oranor bowed his head to both Thranduil and Legolas, and greeted them by their respective titles. At the same time, he tucked the one half of the letter he’d managed to rip into his winter cloak’s pocket—partially grateful the rest was hidden down the side of the buns.

At least most of it was unintelligible now.

“Your majesty.” He moved his eyes away from Thranduil’s, and nervously met Legolas’. “My lord.”

“My delivery?” Legolas repeated back, offering a mustered smile to the baker’s boy. He also gave a brief nod down at the buns in gesture.

“Yes, my lord,” Oranor meekly replied, shifting the crate under his arm again, so that he brought it forwards with both hands.

“Amazing timing,” Legolas sincerely commended. He took the order and practically drooled over the scent of cinnamon and icing.

Turning on his heel, and ignoring his unimpressed father, Legolas walked over to the table set before the fire. He placed the crate down promptly, planning on curling up with a good book later on and divulging himself in the treats.

The crate was slightly messy, and icing soon covered the lord’s fingers. Extracting a low, quiet whine from the back of Oranor’s throat, he watched as Legolas licked the icing from his fingers, one by one.

Thranduil caught this, and narrowed his eyes in Oranor’s direction. The younger elf noticed the king’s scrutiny quickly, and averted his eyes from the blonde, who seemed to be cleaning each finger very slowly, almost aware of his audience.

“Legolas,” Thranduil ordered, pausing the lord’s tongue as he looked at his father innocently with blinking eyes. “Pay the baker, and then we shall discuss your betrothal plans further.”

With one finger still in his mouth, Legolas flickered his eyes on over at Oranor. The brunette could’ve sworn he spotted mischief behind the blue, and the slightest of smirks upon his lips.

Oranor shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, wishing more than anything to run upstairs in the bakery to his bedroom. It’d been a blessing since his older brother had left on another adventure, for privacy was entirely his in the shared room and bunk beds, and his alone.

“Of course, Ada,” Legolas replied, popping his finger from his mouth. “I was just about to.”

[gingerwritess]

In response to your pre-dating idiots call!!!! PLEASE expand on what Loki said in "so there's this girl" about pretending to hate reader!!! I'm in a very angsty mood!!! Also good luck with ur studying

here’s a long ol fic for some predating idiots developments! lots of foreshadowing and implications, oooo…

part 14, masterlist (Loki’s happy ending) in bio :)

―   ―   ―   ―

There’s really nothing left to like about Loki.

He’s mean, he’s cold, he’s vindictive, manipulative, calculating, blackmailing you for your generousity.

Luckily, he’s leaving you alone.

Sometimes you’ll wonder if Loki thinks he has your memories of him, that he successfully ripped himself out of your mind—you find yourself checking, every once in a while.

Eyes closed, you’ll lean back. Focus.

Jagged cuts, barely scabbed lashings, pale skin stained red…Loki flinching away from your touch with such a wince of pain you may as well have sliced him open again.

The memory is definitely still yours. 

It’s stayed on through the weeks, in your new office and devoid of any fake-boyfriends and blackmail threats—which makes for a fairly quiet work life.

Since the discovery of Loki’s double, security in Stark towers has tripled. Now you can’t go anywhere without an escort, you’ve been gifted a new taser, and you can call yourself personally aquatinted with the Avengers—though that might be your least favourite parts of the day.

They’re nice, you guess, but trying to keep up your story when Tony Stark and the Black Widow are grilling you with questions only gets harder by the minute.

To make matters worse, they’ve been asking about your little faux-boyfriend, too. You had to settle on a backstory, how you met, what he did before Stark Industries (which you vaguely remember him mentioning shield), all without speaking a word to the god in question for the past three weeks.

As far as you’re concerned, you fake-broke up. But like, for real.

You don’t want to see him. You don’t want to talk about Laing, or Loki, or anything that’s ever happened between the two of you, but they bring up the day you met and almost killed him, they ask you if he threatened revenge, if he hinted a second attack, and you say no.

Over and over, you say no.

At this point, though, you are pretty certain that revenge isn’t Loki’s motive. You’re not quite sure what could be taking its place, but bloodlust or pure “evilness” aren’t options anymore. If they were, he wouldn’t still be treating his patients as Dr. Laing, and he certainly wouldn’t have just stopped and knelt next to the thin woman sitting in front of the Tower, hugging a small boy to her chest.

Yourself on your way to work, too, you immediately duck back around the building on the corner, not wanting him to know you’re watching. Whatever he’s doing, this is all Loki…well, Laing. Not trying to keep up another cover or impress anybody, right?

He speaks too quietly for you to hear from your distance, but the mother, you guess, has tears in her eyes as she cradles the coughing boy and pleads with Dr. Laing.

Loki stands, and your heart twists. Of course he’s leaving her there, her and her child all alone. You curse yourself for being surprised.

You’re about to march out there yourself and demand that Loki take them in, threaten to rat him out if he doesn’t, but before you can, Loki’s back by her side, holding out a hand to help her to her feet.

Your jaw drops.

Loki—Laing, or whoever the hell possessed him—carefully takes the little boy from her arms, laying a hand over his forehead and saying something to the mother with a soft smile.

A smile you’ve never seen on either of his faces.

Still quietly talking to the mother, he takes them to the elevator, casting a wary eye around the fairly empty lobby as you hurry to keep up with them. With a split second to make your decision, you run through the doors after them.

Loki gives you a tired, incredulous look. 

“What floor?”

“Same as you,” you reply with an all-too-cheery smile.

He doesn’t seem too happy to have gained your company.

The elevator ride goes by in an uncomfortable silence, the wanted criminal holding a sick child and offering his mother a few strained smiles while you watch on, trying to comprehend what the hell is going on. 

Luckily it’s over soon, and you quickly turn the opposite way from the strange little trio, pretending to go the other way before turning around and sneaking after them to Laing’s office. 

If you’re not careful, your assigned guards are going to come looking for you. Technically they were supposed to meet up with you the moment you arrived on premise, but today, you’d rather see what Loki’s up to on your own.

The strange little trio is already in the room, the little boy laying on the examination table while Laing looks over him. That’s strange, but the strangest part is the fact that he’s still smiling—at the mother.

She’s slowly breaking down, you can tell. 

You can’t look away, peeking through the window to the exam room as Loki sits the boy up, trying to console the mother as she drops her head to her hands, shoulders shaking.

Loki steps away from her and looks right at you.

“Come in here.”

Startled, you jump away from the window and hurry to the door. “Need any help, uh, Doctor?”

He just grabs you around the arm and drags you outside.

“Let go of me—”

 “I need you to distract her,” he whispers, and surprisingly lets go. “The boy is sick, I can’t help him without a bit of my own help, but she can’t see.”

“O-okay.” You blink at him in shock. “That’s it? No scheming, you’re just helping them?”

Loki sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “They can’t pay. I’m not going to let her child die when all it would take it a wave of the hand. Will you help me?”

You try not to let the shock—and blatant disbelief—show on your face. 

“Sure…”

“Just comfort her,” he tells you, ushering you back to the room. “Keep her distracted and please, please stop her crying.”

The woman looks up when you enter the room, her eyes bloodshot and tear-brimmed. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, and Loki quickly returns to the boy’s bedside.

You plaster on a friendly smile and sit down next to her, drawing her attention towards yourself. 

“Is this your son? Lo-Laing will help him, don’t worry.” 

She nods, and you see Loki moving out of the corner of your eye to cover what he’s doing. “He’s been getting worse and worse, and no one will see us,” she explains quietly. “Dr. Laing is the first person to help us, y-you’re very lucky to be with him.”

“Oh, no, no,” you laugh, wishing Loki would hurry up. “No, we’re not together, I just work with him.”

“Still.” She smiles, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I can’t thank you enough.”

You’re quite sure what to say to that. Of course, she has no clue who she’s really dealing with, and for a split second, you nearly forget, too.

No murderous sociopath would be handing a freshly-healed little kid a lollipop, right?

He certainly looks the part, smiling and ruffling a hand through the kid’s hair, standing there in his lab coat with a stethoscope around his neck, lifting the little boy off the table to run back to his mother.

“Get him something to eat,” he tells her with a smile, a fake, phony little smile, and you can’t help but stare when he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of bills. “Here. He needs food and rest, as do you, and if anything else seems off, you know where to find me.”

By the time Loki has escorted them back down to the lobby, you’re left alone in the exam room, trying to make sense of what just happened and trying to decide what on earth to do with this information.

That was…helpful.

That was unlike Loki, that’s for sure.

When he eventually returns to the room, you’re still sitting there, waiting.

“Did you want a candy, too?”

You don’t respond, staring as he trudges around the room, prepping it for the next patient. 

“I assume you haven’t forgiven me.” He casts a quick glance over to you, getting nothing in return. “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t forgive something that went into my mind to play games, either.”

“You didn’t do anything to me,” you remind him stiffly. “I still remember everything I saw. Someone hurt you, you have scars to prove it, and I still know that.”

“You compromised my cover.”

Shaking your head, you can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t compromise you, you blew your own cover. You’re weak, aren’t you?”

“What does that matter to you?”

“I’m trying to understand what’s going on, because as far as I can tell, you’re not who you’re pretending to be. Can’t you just explain what happened to Thor? He’s your brother, I’m sure he—”

“I am not hiding from your little heroes,” Loki snaps, slamming the cabinet he was rifling through shut. “They are the least of my concerns, and I’d much appreciate if you would leave them out of our interactions completely.”

You give a small huff of annoyance, crossing your arms with a pointed glare. “I don’t believe it, sorry. If you were really some crazy serial killer, you wouldn’t have just helped that lady and her kid.”

“Maybe,” Loki/Laing sneers, “I was luring them into my trap. Maybe that’s what I’m doing to you, hm? You certainly can’t seem to get enough of me.”

“No, I think you’re scared of something.”

“I think it’s time for you to leave,” Laing smiles back, holding the door open with a sweep of his arm.

“You’re running from something, you’re hiding from something,” you continue, a small smile of your own playing at your lips. “Aren’t you?”

Backed into the hallway but trying to stay one step ahead of him, you stare at him expectantly as he furrows his brow, no doubt annoyed beyond belief that you keep pressing the subject.

Maybe he was about to answer you, but now you’ll never know—one of your guards comes running to your side.

“You’re supposed to tell us when you’re coming in early,” he huffs, hastily pushing back the visor on his helmet. “I can’t read your mind, okay? You’ve gotta work with me here.”

Loki straightens up, an unamused glaze passing over his visage.

“Sorry,” you tell your guard, eyes never leaving Laing’s. “I sure wish I didn’t have to be escorted everywhere, thanks to some emotionally constipated god.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Maybe it’s for the best.”

“Maybe he should go to therapy,” you reply smoothly. “Let someone help him for once, tell someone the truth.”

“Maybe you should stay away from him,” Laing growls—your guard, Marcus, steps a little closer as Laing advances towards you, voice dropping. “Maybe he’s unstable, and maybe he has a target on his back that could level your planet, and maybe he’s nothing more than a monster that needs to be disposed of before anything worse happens.”

You blink.

That came out of nowhere.

Laing sighs, slipping back into his office. “Stay with your, ah, guards. Don’t ask anymore questions.”

“You can’t tell me—mmf!”

Laing just smiles, and you catch a glimpse of Loki in his sad eyes as you involuntarily spin on your heel and hurry away, leaving Marcus scrambling to catch up.

This isn’t the first time that he’s had to watch you walk away; it’s a sight all too familiar to him.

Even from the distance now between the two of you, he catches a glimpse of the taser hanging from your belt, the gun strapped to your guards back, the one in his hands, and when you reach the elevator, unable to stop walking, two more guards join the group.

Good, he reminds himself, good, good.

You glare back at him in the doorway, mouth stopped and feet moving by Loki’s hand, and a wave of relief crashes over him.

You look annoyed.

Disgusted with him.

Angry.

―   ―   ―   ―

“Tell me a bit about your father.”

“Which one?”

Loki rolls over on the crisp, white bed, a grin on his gaunt face. 

“Whichever you feel more connected to,” the therapist replies. 

A pen clicks and clicks again, and Loki sighs.

“He’s a horrid man. He hates me, I hate him. It’s simple enough, doctor, he never loved me.”

Thor points at the screen. “I believed that.”

I might, too, you decide.

“Do you blame your father for some things that have gone wrong in your life?”

“Yes.”

It’s a quick, short answer that needed no thought.

“Can you elaborate?”

Loki crosses his ankles, stretching to lay his hands behind his head with a content little hum. “Well, if he had paid more attention to me, I wouldn’t have attacked this poor town, that’s for certain.”

The therapist seems stunned by the sudden confession.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Loki continues, eyes fluttering closed. “I did this for him. I want him to see that I am the worthy son, I can conquer worlds and be a greater king than he, and he will hold nothing in his heart but respect for who I am.”

“I believed that one, too,” Thor says again. “That one made sense, but only if I assumed the worst.”

“Do you think anything from these sessions is true? Anything that his clone said?” Mind spinning, you stop the video player and remove the hard drive, unsure if watching Loki’s therapy tapes had helped in any way or not.

Currently, the scales are tipping towards not.

“It is unlikely,” Thor sighs. “My brother is a skilled liar, he twists your words and manipulates the truth to bend to his will…most of the time, you never know if you are even truly speaking to him, or just another illusion. Just as this now shows us”

“Do you believe any of that?” 

“I want to,” he answers truthfully. “It is simple. It makes it easier to take him back to the Allfather for punishment, if we could only find the serpent.”

“I don’t,” you mumble under your breath, then stop, unsure if you should really let those words actually leave your mouth. 

Thor gives you a sideways glance and you curse yourself for saying anything.

“Do you find him attractive?”

You drop the hard drive to the floor with a loud clatter. 

“What?! No! No,” you laugh, quickly stooping to pick it back up. “Of course not, why would you say that?”

“You seem to have faith in him,” Thor carefully replies, still eyeing you suspiciously. “Or at least an acute interest. Why do you want to help him?”

“I’m…” you pause, needing to think for a moment.

To an extent, you suppose he’s right - you want to have faith in him. You made a judgement call when you first met him and tried to kill him, only to accidentally find yourself tangled further in his webbed plan than you’d care to be. 

Some days, Loki makes you think you made the wrong judgement, that maybe it wasn’t him, that maybe he’s suffering in a different way than most assume, that maybe he’s more than he lets on.

That maybe he’s been forced into playing the villain in his brother’s story. 

“Curious,” you finally answer. “I’m curious. He’s weird, a-and gods are still kinda new to our world, so…I’m curious if he’s really who he lets on to be.”

Thor nods, brow furrowed and deep in thought. 

“Though it’s pretty tough to find anything out about him when he’s missing,” you quickly add, remembering that you really shouldn’t have as much access to the god as you do.

“I understand.” Thor gives you a small smile, a mild comfort. “Be wary of him, won’t you? I fear he uses people to his advantage, mistakes their kindness for strategy.”  

A flood of memories to support that cloud your mind, and the rest of your walk back to your office finishes in silence.

You are curious. There’s something off about this Loki character. Just from the small bits of him you’ve seen, the way he pushes you away, the clear evidence he keeps hiding, something about him screams out to anyone who will listen.

Screaming for help, you’re nearly certain.

“He is dangerous,” Thor says once you’ve reached your office again. “He is powerful. And I fear we’ve hurt him past the point of repair.”

“I doubt it,” you smile, giving the god a reassuring squeeze on the arm. “He’ll come back. He’s your family, right?”

Thor just smiles, wishes you a good day, and walks away.

―   ―   ―   ―

fuel the writer?

feel free to send me ideas!!

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda @padmeisgay @authordreaming13 @lokisironthrone @theunknowinglys @highfuncti0ningfangirl @epicfallenismine @stubby-toe-589331 @fandomnerdsarecool @retrofantasyland @arch-venus25 @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @littleredstarfish @marshyrebelcloud @okie–loki @atterodominatus @stfxlou @pandacookieowo @tonakings @shinisenko @tinchentitri @nildespirandum @thefallenbibliophilequote @vodka-and-some-sass @highfunctioningfangirl19 @sadwaywardkid @lokioneshot @brooksaza @wild-honey-piy @ellaenchanted91 @lwwy19 

[sirianhewigxiii]

Part 1 A Regular Night Off  Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

Winter opened the door and entered. Even though she spent most nights in her personal quarters at the military base, it was good to return home every so often.  

Home obviously not being Schnee Manor, which back when she was younger, she used to only ever refer to as “home” as a formality. After she had been officially and financially cut off, the first thing she decided on getting the moment she started making her own money was her very own place away from the manor. Away from him. Just thinking about that person made her blood boil to the point where it almost clouded her vision.

She took off her gloves and her white military coat. While neatly hanging the coat on the hanger in the small doorway and putting the gloves in one of the pockets, she noticed the folded weapon on the floor leaning against the hanger. A weapon she was all too familiar with. All anger seemed to almost immediately vent out of her and smiling gently she walked into the living room to look for the owner of said weapon.

Part 2 Partners Chapters: 1/1 - Summary: 

Winter was standing inside the airship, she couldn’t bring herself to sit down, like some of her fellow students. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest and she was tapping her finger on her upper arm. She was trying not to pay too much attention to the chatter of the other students, even though or maybe exactly because it was mostly about her. After all she was the heiress of the Schnee Dust Company.

She was also in their group of initiates, which meant there was a chance one of them could become her partner during this. This being the Atlas Academy Initiation which they were all about to take part in. Winter had worked too hard to screw up now and she was trying her best to concentrate on the task ahead which was, to begin with, a deliberate jump out of an Atlas airplane in full flight with no parachute whatsoever. They had been in the air for about 40 Minutes and they should be arriving at the spot designated for the initiation any moment now.

“We have now reached our destination. All students get ready to be deployed.”

Part 3 The One in which they were tired Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

Being in a special program meant that the amount of training, lessons and the workload attached to that were enormous. As such it was now the end of a particularly exhausting week and Winter was completely drained. She slouched towards the lower bunk which was hers, only to simply drop down on it face down. She closed her eyes and groaned into her pillow, pulling it closer to her face…so much for always maintaining a perfect form…Luckily she was alone, if somebody saw her like this, she would never be able to live it down.

Just as the thought of somebody maybe entering the room had left her mind she heard the door being unlocked. A measly “Nooooooooo…” was all Winter was capable of thinking as she heard the door open.

Part 4 Good Together Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

„This looks super sketchy.“

Cassie’s eyes were narrowed and her ears pulled back. Winter couldn’t help but notice how “suspicion” was undoubtedly written all over her. From what very little time she had spent with her new partner Winter had realized that she seemed like the type of person who was relatively easy to read.

Winter preferred that kind of person, she’s already had enough pretense and phoniness in her life. Winter couldn’t help but to think about how strange it was for her to be standing in an abandoned dust mine with a stranger who she had met not too long ago and still feel more at ease with herself than she had ever felt at Schnee Manor.

They had been walking inside of the mine for some time, when they found a small railway line. It was presumably used to transport tools and utensils and they had decided they would follow it in hopes that it would lead them to one of the caches they were required to find during the Atlas Academy initiation.

“Well ‘sketchy’ isn’t a word I would use, but I agree…still this is definitely a right spot.”

Part 5 Overtime Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

Winter sighed. She had read the same two lines for about the fifth time now.

The general had been out on routine military base inspections around Remnant and she had picked up the paper work while he was gone. Usually Winter didn’t have any problems picking up where General Ironwood had left off but with the upcoming Vytal Festival in Vale and all of the security measurements Atlas was meant to provide during that time, it seemed like her usual workload had at least doubled.

She was just thinking about having some coffee brought to her office, when she heard knocking on her door.

Part 6 A Bother Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

It was a late Friday afternoon, classes were finished and Winter was sitting behind her desk, trying to grind through a report which was due by Monday. She was well into it and she figured that if she kept going like this she’ll be done by the evening, so she could review everything over the weekend. She had started early because she wanted it to be absolutely perfect. Winter already knew that she wouldn’t like her current first draft and she would need the time to change and add to it.

She grabbed one of the books she had been using as a reference to read up on certain aspects in her report, when she suddenly had a strange feeling…she closed the book immediately, slammed it over her head and felt resistance.

“Ugh.” - Bullseye. Winter felt a hand drop onto her shoulder. A hand which was attached to an arm that would have otherwise moved around her shoulders and belonged to her partner. A partner who was now standing behind her and slightly teary-eyed holding her nose.

Part 7 Warmth Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

When Winter entered their room carrying her notebooks and books she borrowed from the library she found her partner sleeping on the lower bunk, the one that at the beginning Winter had claimed for herself. Ever since the two of them had first taken a nap together a while back, Winter would find her partner more often fast asleep like this on top of her bed. She had concluded that Cassie simply couldn’t be bothered to climb up into her own bed whenever she was exhausted and while Winter had at first been annoyed at her partner’s level of laziness, she also couldn’t blame her for taking those occasional naps to begin with. Not only were their schedules packed due to being in a special program, but Winter, during her own sleepless nights, had more than once noticed her partner suffering from nightmares that had her tossing at night. And while Winter could see her partner suffering, she also didn’t really know how to handle the situation.

Winter recalled how when they were both still children her younger sister would every once on a while knock on her room door whenever she had a nightmare.

Part 8 A Regular Night Off (cont’d nsfw) Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

Winter and her partner were still sitting on the sofa, cuddled up and simply enjoying each other’s company.

They weren’t paying much attention to the program they were currently watching and Winter had leisurely been drawing patterns on her partners palm and around her fingers, gently massaging two weeks of weapon-wielding strain out of it. Just what had she been doing? Wiping out an entire Grimm nest? As long as she got home safe, Winter rarely asked about the specifics. She knew that her partner could take care of herself. She was also, thankfully, a lot less reckless than she used to be, back in their academy days. Still Winter would be lying if she said that she wasn’t occasionally pacing around at night when her partner had spend more than a few days away on a mission without contacting her. Winter nuzzled closer to her partner and felt her shift slightly.

“Win-ter.“ Her partner’s voice was soft and she nudged the side of Winter’s head with her nose.

“Hm?” In response Winter propped herself up a little. She felt another quick nudge as she moved and then a kiss was placed on her temple. First the one, then a second one, lingering. A soft quiet laugh escaped Winter.

“Let’s go to bed then.“

Part 9 The Stranger (Bonus Story) Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

Weiss was taking a walk through the empty hallways of Atlas Academy. Ever since she and her teammates and friends had come to Atlas she had been feeling restless, but she also knew that it had been necessary.

When she had broken out of the manor and left her home kingdom a few weeks ago she didn’t think that she would be so back soon, let alone living in the dorms of Atlas Academy with her friends.

Friends and teammates who had always been by her side to support her and she couldn’t be more grateful and happy to have them. Winter as well, was now able to be by her side to train and teach her like she used to be able to before she left for her own combat training. At first Weiss had felt lonely when she saw her sister leave, but Winter had also been teaching her that she should be able to stand on her own two feet. If she kept up with her training and continued to get stronger she too could choose her own path. Weiss had been determined to follow suit and chase after her and as harsh as it may have appeared at the time, she was grateful for having been pushed this hard by her sister.

Part 10 Apart Chapters: 10/10 - Summary:

Winter had entered their room to find a bunch of weapon parts spread all over most of the floor.

A week of compulsory holidays was coming up and starting tomorrow the academy was giving its students a small break. Most of them used that time to return to their homes, quite a few however still remained at Atlas Academy. Especially those who originally came from one of the other kingdoms considered the traveling for such a relatively short amount of time simply too much of a hassle. Being from Mistral Winter’s partner was one of those students who stayed. She was planning to use this time to completely take apart, clean and readjust her weapon.

As for Winter…She put the books she had borrowed inside of her suitcase and closed it up. Her hand remained on the lid. Schnee Manor wasn’t too close to Atlas Academy, but it also definitely wasn’t far away enough for her to justify staying at the academy for the upcoming week. She was sure that she still could have made up some kind of excuse, but it was a holiday after all and more than anything she wanted to at least return for the sake of her younger siblings and mother. She certainly wasn’t looking forward to whatever pompous dinner party Jacques was planing…

Part 11 The Stranger (Bonus Story Followup) Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

This picks up shorty after Part 9 of the Series - The Stranger (Bonus Story) —-

Winter entered her private quarters at the military base.

She had just accompanied her younger sister back to her dorm room and decided to quickly go back to her own room. Weiss had been taking a walk around the academy and gotten as far as the military wing where she had coincidentally met her partner moments before Winter arrived to pick up said partner.

Her partner who was sitting on Winter’s bed, a book next to her, and now fighting to hastily put on an arm sling.

Winter sighed.

“Why do you never listen?”

Winter walked towards her partner who was now pouting to the side.

Part 12 Step by Step Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

Winter had received a message from her partner asking her to come to their room.

Her partner usually wasn’t the type to send messages asking for her to come and meet her somewhere. ‘Pragmatism’ as Cassie called it or ‘laziness’ as Winter called it, had her simply use her semblance most of the time to materialize somewhere close to Winter whenever she needed something from her. Or she would just come and quickly get her whenever they needed to be somewhere together.

Cassie also usually didn’t care much about whoever she would give a heart attack by simply appearing out of nowhere.

And so curious as to why her partner had specifically asked her to come and meet her, Winter had quickly packed up her things in the library and started to walk back to their shared room.

When she entered the room her partner had been sitting on the lower bunk with her knees up against her chest and her face burrowed on top of them.

Part 13 Apart: C-Side Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

This runs parallel to the Apart Story Arc/Part 10 of the Series and narrates a day of Cassie Grey’s holiday while Winter was at the manor. —– It was late in the afternoon when Cassie rematerialized into the double room.

She had just picked up her weapon which she had dropped off at one of the academy’s facilities this morning. Cassie had spend the past two days cleaning and readjusting it herself in her shared room, but there was no way she could freshen up the paint here.

She simply didn’t have the time to neatly remove the old and apply the new paint on her own. She also couldn’t do it without basically poisoning herself with the fumes in the room. And that’s even if she was to crack open a window the entire time and overnight and also risk freezing to death in her sleep.

Cassie also would have had to go back to combat lessons without a weapon, because there was no way the paint would have completely dried in time by the end of the holidays.

The Atlesian military however provided the academy with facilities that allowed her to simply drop off her weapon in the morning, input the paint job she wants done on a terminal and simply come back to pick it up all ready in the afternoon.

Part 14 Comfort and Ease 1/1 Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

Winter’s head was resting on her arms on top of her desk. She had finished every report and piece of homework for the week and she had connected a pair of earbuds to her scroll. She had closed her eyes and been listening for a while when she suddenly felt something close to her head. She bolted up and immediately removed the earbuds.

“C-cassie, when did you come here?”

Her partner was standing next to her with a smug smile on her face. Had she been so engrossed that she hadn’t even felt her materialize? Or had Cassie actually used the door for once and she simply hadn’t heard her?

“Oh, just a few moments ago…”

“I see, did you find what you needed from the library?”

Winter tried to immediately distract her while subtly pushing the pause button on her scroll and turning it face down. She wasn’t going to risk her partner asking questions she really didn’t feel like answering.

“I did. I already placed the books on my desk. You didn’t notice however since you were so absorbed in whatever you were listening to just right now.”

Dang. Winter should have known better.

Part 15 A Partner’s Present Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

It was the weekend and Winter was quietly working away on her academy assignments at her desk. She was alone in the room.

In fact she had been alone since this morning. She had even woken up to a note beside her pillow telling her that her partner will be back around noon.

She reached for her scroll and sighed. It was already some time past noon. Maybe whatever Cassie was doing took longer than expected.

But Winter didn’t mind. Because as much as treasured and loved her partner, today of all days she simply wanted to be left alone. Just as the thought had crossed her mind she felt how her partner was about to materialize behind her.

One of Cassie’s arms moved around her shoulder and her head dropped on the other side.

“Winnn-teeeerrr.” She was cheerfully humming her name.

“What do you want?”

Winter was a little irritable today and she really wasn’t in the mood for any of her games.

“Aw, don’t be like that.”

Cassie chuckled and nuzzled against her.

“Here.”

Part 16 Semblance Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

Cassie was alone in her room.

Her grandmother was in the kitchen making light dinner preparations for later. Cassie had greeted her from the front door without going to see her and she had immediately sprinted to her room on the second floor afterwards.

The small Faunus sat by her bed on the floor, her arms around her knees and her face burrowed in them. Her body hurt, her elbow was bruised, her sweater was torn in that place. Her ears hang low and they were sore from all of the tearing and pulling.

——– ——–

Winter was in her father’s office.

A gala he had put together at the manor had just ended. She had played the violin well, she had quietly stayed by his side and behind him.

Everything had went well up until the moment one of his business partner’s sons had asked her to dance and she had refused.

Part 17 Rest Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

It was the evening and Winter was sitting on her bed.

She put the text book she was reading down on her knees to look at her partner who was currently at her desk grinding away at a report and sighed.

Cassie had been at her desk for quite a few hours now and Winter could tell that her partner was getting increasingly more frustrated at the subject Winter knew she had no interested in whatsoever.

What’s more, her partner was bored by the subject and she hated the professor teaching it. And Winter couldn’t blame her since she as well couldn’t have cared any less for him.

[jackawhacker]

Who You’re Meant To Be

Contains breast expansion, ass expansion, giantess growth, and cock expansion

“It’s here!” Jolyne slammed the door to our apartment, eagerly rushing inside. She rounded the corner into the living room carrying a small cardboard box.

“Please, I told you to not slam that thing, our neighbors are going to report us again.” I complained.

“You’re just being a grouch, Elaine. Our neighbors don’t care.” She retorted, sticking her tongue out at me. It was hard to take her seriously whenever we argued. Her short five foot flat stature didn’t lend much authority to what she said, and the bright smile she wore whenever we bickered made me forget about what we were talking about in the first place.

I sighed, “It’s whatever. What did you order this time?” Jolyne had a habit of draining her bank account by purchasing all sorts of baubles and trinkets that she swore had some mystical property to them. Last week it was a “scrying orb” with the forbidden ability to see into the future. That illusion was broken pretty quickly after I pointed out the “Made in China” sticker on the bottom.

“Well since you asked,” she said as she plopped down on the couch next to me, “I found a surefire way to help our…” she paused, “...situation.”

For the past couple months our sex life had been rocky to say the least. It wasn’t either of our faults, in fact the intimate moments I shared with Jolyne over our two year relationship were some of the best of my entire life. Before her I felt like I couldn’t be loved.

The main problem was my dysphoria. Being a transgender woman unable to afford hormones and being outcast by my family took a heavy toll on my psyche. I couldn’t find it in me to accept myself, let alone ask somebody else to accept me. But Jolyne made me feel loved and cared for. She looked past my lumbering, wide six and a half foot frame and my rough angular features. She loved me for who I was.

But this last month I was having more and more trouble seeing my body in a positive light. I felt disgusting. And it interfered with the sexual dynamic of our relationship. I couldn’t get over the fact that I would be trapped in this body forever, and it really killed all sexual drive in me.

Jolyne nervously pushed a strand of her brunette hair behind her ear. “I know this is a touchy subject for you, but I really think I can help.” She never failed to try and make everything easier for me. She was there every step of the way. I appreciated her genuine care, even if I did doubt whatever she had to offer. “Alright, if you think it’ll work, I’ll give it a shot.” I said.

“Really?” She bounced up and down with glee, “Thank you Elaine! I know you won’t regret it.” She began tearing open the flap on the small cardboard package. The outside had no discernible markings; no shipping labels or company logos. After she finally got it open, she reached inside and produced a small aluminum sheet with two tablets encased in plastic, similar to the kind you’d pop cough drops or aspirin out of.

“What the hell are those?” I asked, taking the mystery container. The two pills were bright pink in color, devoid of any inscriptions.

“Those,” she said proudly, “are our little miracle workers. I got them off a website called Witch’s Wares.” She took the package back, and popped out the two pills from inside. “We each take one, and after that we’re supposed to become more ideal versions for ourselves and each other.”

“Ideal selves?” I inquired. “Like more at peace or inner calm or something?” The idea of taking random drugs off the internet made me nervous, but if it was something to just mellow you out for an hour or two I wouldn’t mind taking it.

“Not exactly,” she giggled, “it’s supposed to have a more physical effect.” She cocked her eyebrow and cupped the air in front of her flat chest. “Eh? Get it?” She winked at me. I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t satisfied with her body. Ever since puberty passed her over in high school she’d been looking for ways to give herself a boost in the chest department. She had gone through a multitude of natural oils and phony spell books trying to gain a couple cup sizes. Nothing worked of course, but she took it in stride by wearing push up bras and high heels to boost her confidence.

I rolled my eyes. “Jolyne, there’s no way I’m sticking some random snake oil pill in my mouth. Who knows where they came from.”

She frowned, turning away from me in mock anger. “Well then, I guess I’ll have to take this all by myself then.” She said, quickly popping a pill into her mouth before I could respond. God damnit. I couldn’t let her do this alone. If she was poisoned then I might as well be too. “You’re the devil.” I grumbled, swallowing the other pill. The taste was surprisingly sweet, almost like it was pure sugar.

She lightly pecked my cheek. “Thanks baby. I know you’ll enjoy this.” We sat on the couch for the better part of an hour, mindlessly watching reruns on TV, waiting for our miracle drug to kick in. Jolyne anxiously looked back and forth between us the entire time, waiting with bated breath for any sign of change. My eyes remain glued on the episode of MASH playing.

Finally I paused the show and turned to Jolyne. “Listen, not to rain on your parade, but I don’t-“

She had her eyes tightly shut. Her fists were clenched, and her back was arched in either pain or pleasure. A small bead of sweat began to trickle down her forehead. I stared at her, debating whether I needed to call poison control or 911, when she finally spoke up.

“Elaine… I feel really…” she whispered.

All at once, a sudden wave of heat spread across my chest, moving its way throughout my body as I began to breathe heavier. I was overcome with a tingling sensation that seemed to gently massage every inch of my body. I was expecting some sort of bad acid trip at worst, but this didn’t feel painful at all.

“Elaine… I feel good.”

All I could do was stare at my girlfriend as she began to gently moan under her breath. Her breaths were as deep as mine, her chest rising and falling steadily. With each breath it seemed that it rose a little higher, the fabric of her buttoned top slowly being pulled tighter and tighter. I thought I was seeing things, but there was no doubt about what was happening.

She looked down and realized the same thing I had. She looked back up and smiled at me. “See? I told you baby.” She moaned through labored breaths. “Oh Elaine, I feel really warm.” Her nails dug deep into the leather armrest of the couch as she fell back into her stupor.

It was hard to tell at first, but I could slowly see the top of her head rising, inch by inch towards the ceiling. Her ass below her had begun to push against her jeans, her growing hips putting strain on the material. Her curves continued to slowly blossom outwards, creating an hourglass from her once skinny frame. Her breasts had begun to put intense pressure on the buttons of her shirt, easily growing past handfuls now. This was impossible. There’s no way this was happening. And yet she continued to change. Her face was glazed over in ecstasy, unable to form any coherent thoughts as she grew and grew. Suddenly her eyes opened. “Baby, we should stand up. Quickly, quickly!”

I managed to distract myself from this impossible scene in front of me and drag myself off the couch. The tingle inside of me slowly intensified. Why hadn’t I changed yet? What would I look like? What would she look like? Why wasn’t I more freaked out?

I could see why she wanted to stand up. Her once diminutive stature was slowly creeping higher and higher. I couldn’t believe anything I was seeing. My dick tensed against my pants, all of this had me unbelievably turned on. Her legs poked out from the hemline of her jeans, steadily growing, pushing her up taller and taller. The top of her head was level with my nose by now. Her top finally gave up its fight with her expanding tits, launching buttons across the room, her bra snapping in half as breasts the size of her head were finally released from their prison.

“Elaaaaaiiiine,” she groaned, “I’m getting...so big. So big for you.” I looked into Jolyne’s eyes as she crept up to my height, and then past it. “So big baby. I know this is what you want.” And she was right. I had never been more turned on in my entire life. Jolyne was turning into an absolute goddess in front of me.

The jeans desperately clinging on to her frame finally ripped, her monumental bottom shredding them to bits. Her curves were not only massive, but impossibly beautiful. The soft bounce of her now basketball sized breasts was mesmerizing, and every inch added to her growing frame somehow made her more and more perfect with each passing second. The woman standing in front of me was becoming something greater. She stretched upwards, her hands grazing the ceiling.

Slowly her breathing returned to normal, the last bits of her growth coming to an end. I looked on in stunned silence. All I could see was the bottom of a massive pair of flawless, bountiful tits directly in front of me. I forced myself to crane my neck up at her, and gasped. This whole time I had been focusing on her growing body, I had neglected her face. The features were all hers, but changed enough to be the envy of any model. Her lips plumped, eyes glittering. It was intoxicating. I was at a loss for words.

Jolyne softly giggled and looked down on me. Even her voice had become angelic. “I think it’s your turn, Elaine.” She said in her new smooth and sultry tones.

Almost as if on cue, the warmth inside of me began to burn hotter. Realizing I didn’t have much time before the changes set in, I quickly began pulling my top off, only to be hit with a wave of unbridled pleasure. I could hardly move.

“Oh baby don’t worry,” Jolyne cooed, “I’ll get that.” She bent down, her hulking form pressing close to me. I could feel her breasts push into me, slowly consuming the entire upper half of my body. And as if they were nothing, she ripped off my clothes and tossed them aside. “That’ll make it better for both of us.” She stood back up and hungrily licked her lips in anticipation.

I wanted to reply, but all I could do was eek out a yelp of pleasure as the intense tingling settled on my dick. I felt the heat consume my four inch length, and slowly seem to intensify my hard on. It was hard to see at first, but it became apparent that my penis was thickening, growing longer by the minute. My unimpressive rod was now average looking, around six inches now.

The heat burned in my chest, and I almost cried in joy as I dared to hope what may happen. The flesh beneath my nipples pushed out, forming small buds that began rapidly increasing in size. I felt the same heat burn in my rear, and could feel the pressure on my hips as they got wider. My thighs began to thicken and jiggle with my thrashing in pleasure. All the years of hating who I was were now melting off as I began to settle into my new body. The popping and rearranging of my body felt almost orgasmic.

“Elaine, you’re growing so fast! You’re gonna be so big!” Jolyne exclaimed. She was right, I was growing much faster than her, my tits rapidly moving from the size oranges to small melons. All I could do was moan and let the feeling wash over me. This was almost everything I could have hoped for.

I was pulled from my reverie by the slapping of my dick against my stomach. It had grown beyond the point of big, and had moved its way into practically outrageous. It slowly inched higher as my breasts grew to envelop the head. I could feel the thick pulsing shaft creep up in between my breasts and cried out in pleasure. I was practically giving myself a tit job as my breasts massaged my penis with their growth, now as big as Jolyne’s.

I looked up to her from my haze, and realized I had to look further up than before. I didn’t reach the bottom of her tits anymore, I was staring smack dab at her belly button. Had she grown more?

It dawned on me. “I’m getting… smaller.” My now completely feminine frame had been slowly dwindling. The world around me seemed to expand and shift as I lost more and more height. I smiled as I looked up at my girlfriend, slowly sinking below her hips. My titanic breasts now hung below my navel, resting on the tops of my thighs. I could feel myself falling, being pulled further and further downward. My dick burst through the top of my cleavage, achingly hard and begging for release.

I could feel the last spurts of my change coming to an end. My hands roamed all over my new body. I had curves for days. Hell, I had curves for weeks. My dick bounced and throbbed as I felt myself up, thick and leaking precum.

“Oh Elaine, you’re beautiful.” Jolyne stepped closer to me. Her thighs filled my vision. I had shrunk enough to be eye level with her knees now, the thought of which excited me greatly. She knelt down on the floor, still much taller than me even crouched. “I knew this would work. You’re who you’re supposed to be now.” She smiled warmly.

The tingling sensation had slowly left, leaving me with only one thing on my mind.

“Jolyne?”

“Yes baby?” She replied.

“Let’s go to the bedroom.”

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

Who said black cats were just bad luck? (Prompt: Stars)

Nathan Arch and Joey Drew had been ‘friends’ since the pair were young boys. Nathan was a studious child who even at a young age, took his family’s image and reputation seriously and saw supernatural forces as nothing more than silly superstition and myths. Joey on the other hand, was an energetic and mischievous little imp of a child who believed in the supernatural forces. So naturally, they hated each other on sight at first.

In childhood, the boys’ relationship was strained even further by their parents forcing them to be the best of friends when the pair barely had anything in common aside from their mutual dislike for having their afternoons, weekends, and summers being ‘wasted’ in each other’s presence.

This had led to Nathan bullying the smaller kid, nothing like punching or kicking the impish boy, Nathan Arch was no brute. But he did make fun of Joey, a lot. Most often by mocking his supernatural interests, calling them silly and childish as well as occasionally ruining the boy’s belongings whenever he was too irritated to deal with him. Joey of course didn’t take this lying down and had retaliated by playing nasty pranks on Nathan; shaking up soda bottles, putting creepy bugs in his things, drawing rude pictures into his school books, things like that.

Nathan compared the ritual circles in Joey’s father’s books to something like “wishing on a shooting star, but this one is just drawn on the ground with chalk.”, and Joey would fill his school bag with earthworms. Joey would tie Nathan’s shoes together and laugh as he fell on his face, and Nathan would throw one of Joey’s sketchbooks in a muddy puddle.

Then, ‘the incident’ happened and Joey returned from visiting Henry’s hometown with an injured leg and now had a haunted look in his eyes.

The boys’ petty rivalry was snuffed out soon afterwards; Nathan knew that guilt would eat him alive if he tried anything and Joey seemed to wrapped up in his own struggles to even bother trying to mess with Nathan. Either out of pity, guilt, or a mix of the two, Nathan did try to reach out to Joey, whether it was with a ‘get well soon’ card that came in a gift basket or seeing him in person at the hospital, but it was obvious that it was a bad idea for him to push anything further.

Whether their parents decided it was in poor taste to continue to shove them together in the hopes of them being friends or some Doctor gave an order for Joey to rest, the two drifted apart shortly after the incident. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few years later, Nathan Arch had gotten into a good college and was just setting up his side of the Dorm when he heard someone else come in.

“Archie? Is that you? How long has it been?!”

Turning around to face his new roommate, Nathan Arch’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the man he hadn’t since childhood. Joey carried around a cane now for obvious reasons, he had gone from a pipsqueak of a child to a beanstalk of a young adult, and he was a lot neater (at least, appearance-wise) than he was as an unruly little imp. But the mischievous spark had been re-lit in his eyes.

“Drew? Why, I haven’t seen you in ages!”

He hesitated for a second, what was he supposed to do? It wasn’t like he could just pretend that their history was nothing but dust under the rug, but at the same time, he’d much rather carry on a conversation that matched Joey’s upbeat tone... No, this was just like medicine, swallow it down first and fast, and then it does its job.

“Joey... About how I treated you when we were kids... I’m Sorry. It was petty and cruel of me to take out my frustrations on you when neither of us had any say in the matter of how our lives went. And I deeply regret it, I can understand if-ACK!”

He was cut off by Joey crushing him in a bear hug.

“I forgive you, you verbose, pompous airbag.”

Rolling his eyes at the insult, Nathan hugged Joey back.

Having Joey as a roommate was an... interesting experience. It was a mostly positive one as in spite of his cheerful demeanor and strong preference towards the arts as opposed to business or something of that sort, he was not a man child and did follow the rules and assigned chores of the dorms.

Compared to other students at the college, Nathan probably lucked out when he got Joey, but there was just one little thing about Joey that bothered him, nothing too serious, just a little itch of a problem.

For the most part, Joey talked about his father’s arcane tomes and spell books a lot less than he used to as a kid, but now on the once in a blue moon occasion where he did speak of the occult, he took it a lot more seriously. Perhaps even more seriously than christian priests teaching the word of God. The man treated magic how Nathan wished Joey would treat money; warning against using it frivolously, not using it when he didn’t need it, and looking into the pros and cons of each and every spell before using it.

It didn’t come up often enough for Nathan to be too nervous, but there were a few instances in college where Joey’s occultism was strongly noticeable, and not just on Halloween...

While Nathan was mature enough to keep his thoughts to himself, some things could never change. Like his views on the supernatural. He still saw magic as something fictional, but he also saw how important it was to Joey, and part of him feared that bringing up his opinions about magic would send the two back into being rivals, so he kept his mouth shut.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

While the four years of college flew by a little too quickly for Nathan’s liking, he was pleasantly surprised by how well those four years had not only repaired his and Joey’s relationship. Going from near strangers with an unpleasant history to genuine friends who kept in touch with each other even after college was just a memory in the rear-view mirror of the past. Heck, Joey even was the best man at Nathan’s wedding! And he had the pictures on his mantle piece to prove it!

Nathan was looking through a scrapbook Joey had made and sent to the happy couple as a wedding gift. It contained various pictures of the dates the two went on and the last few pages were pictures of the proposal itself. Nathan smiled as he flipped through the book, wondering what kind of gift he should make Joey in return for his own wedding (if he ever decided to marry).

But that smile fell into a concerned frown as he saw the last page; symbols he recognized from Joey’s spell books: a long forgotten language within a circle that entrapped an upside-down star. The ‘explanation’ was that this was a good luck spell wishing him and Tessa a happy future as husband and wife.

He sighed, closed the book with a little more force than he meant to, and flopped down on the couch. As if she could sense that he was upset, Tessa had come into the living room right as he tossed the book to the other end of the couch.

“Nate? What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared, Tess.”

“About Joey?”

“Yes, I had assumed that he’d grow out of this silly superstitious nonsense sometime when he genuinely matured into adulthood, but if anything, he’s gotten even worse! It’s one thing to go to church every Sunday or to read a Torah, but at best what he’s getting himself into is setting himself up to be scammed by every phony fortune teller on the block and at worse it’s genuine devil’s worship!”

Tessa nodded in sympathy.

“So do you just need to get this off your chest or do you want advice, Dear?”

Unbeknownst to the couple, a shooting star past by outside.

“Well, as much as I’d like to get advice, I don’t know what on earth could work, Joey and I were practically at each other’s throats all the time before ...his incident. While “magic” was there for him for his entire life... I want to help him out of this but I don’t want to lose him as a friend. I just wish I could understand him and why he’s so invested in all that sorcery-crap!”

“You know Nate, sometimes I feel the same way.”

“The floor’s all yours, Doll.”

“I think I can understand the appeal of just wanting to snap your fingers and make every problem you have get carried off by living furnature or whatnot but magic always seems like it’s out to get you! I wish I knew why anyone for that matter would see magic as anything other than trouble.”

The pair sighed in unison and it was Tessa’s turn to flop down on the couch.

“So Tess, where did you get the new hat?”

“New hat?” she raised an eyebrow and reached up to her head “I don’t remember getting a new ...hat...”

She took the pointed witch’s hat off of her head and looked at it in pure disbelief before looking back to her husband and practically jumping back in fear.

“Tessa?! What’s wrong?!”

“Nathan... D-don’t panic, but...” she fumbled around in her purse for her compact case before pulling it out and clicking it open, handing it over to her husband.

Nathan’s jaw dropped open by a cartoonish degree as he saw his reflection; white fur was quickly sprouting up all over his face, getting framed with black fur that spouted on the rest of his body. In a matter of mere seconds, he didn’t even look like a human being anymore! He looked more like that fat cat character in the comics he saw Joey draw.

He looked down at himself and screamed when he saw that the rest of his body had also changed, and when he looked back up to his wife, he screamed again as he realized that she too had gone under some kind of transformation.

Her normally brightly colored attire was replaced by a floor-length black dress. She was still human, or at least, much more human than he was, but she looked simplified in a sense, more like a living drawing of herself. Her pie-cut eyes were filled with concern as she saw the fear in his eyes.

“Oh don’t tell me...”

Nathan bit his lip and nodded.

[darks-ink]

Absurdism Chapter 11

Danny antagonizes Vlad, Valerie shows everyone why she is Amity’s best ghost hunter, and then promptly as A Regret.

Rating: Teen/K+ (a lil swearing, because teenagers, man) Warnings: - Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort Additional Tags: Sibling Bonding, Family Bonding, Alternate Universe - Halfa Jazz AU, Jazz makes friends

[AO3] [FFN] [more Absurdism on Tumblr] First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

---

“Have you seen?” Jazz asked the moment she joined Phantom in their clearing.

“What, the bounty?” He shrugged, far too casual for her comfort. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Fine? It’s a million dollar bounty! The world’s best known ghost hunters are all coming to Amity, just to hunt you down! How can you not worry about that?!”

Phantom blew out a breath. “Chill, Jazz. They’re the world’s best known ghost hunters, not the best. They’re a bunch of phonies who couldn’t catch a ghost if it waved at them.”

“But—” Nerves curdled in her stomach. Why was he so dismissive?

“It’s nothing,” Phantom said, more comfortingly, like he’d finally caught onto her concern. “Really, Jazz, it’s fine. I got away from all of them when I was your age, and I could do it again now. Not that I would have to, because the bounty isn’t real.”

She blinked at him. “It’s not?”

“Nah. Or, well, in my universe it wasn’t, so I bet it’s not in this one either. Vlad set it up to lure me—you—us away from the Fenton Portal so he can steal it. And I guess I make a better target than you.” He shrugged.

“He’s probably still trying to get you out of the way,” Jazz pointed out, crossing her arms. “Since you ‘stole’ his mentorship position, and all that.”

Phantom made a face. “Ugh, yeah, probably. Really, though, I’ll be fine.”

Jazz shuffled her feet uncertainly, watching her glow flicker slightly. A reflection of her emotions, she now knew. “Are you sure? I mean, it just takes one slip-up…”

“I’m sure, Jazz.” He smiled at her. “I mean, really, the only reason why I got caught in my own universe was because I felt bad for Dad and let him catch me. And you obviously haven’t hurt his feelings like I did, so…”

She snorted, startled. “Oh my god, you let him catch you? How did you even survive your first year as a half-ghost?”

“Well, some might argue I didn’t.” Phantom winked, his grin growing more wide. “But for real, he found out that the bounty was a trap, and the ghost who put it out was going to target our family. Or, well. Jack’s family. I offered to free him from the trap if he freed me from the Fenton Weasel, and that’s pretty much how it went.” He shrugged at the end of it, like it wasn’t a big deal that their ghost-hating father caught and then released a ghost of their caliber.

“How can you act like that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously, Dad caught you and then let you go?”

“His family comes before ghosts,” Phantom pointed out, humor leaching out of his voice. “Always.”

The mood was clearly broken. Silence fell, strained and uncomfortable.

Jazz cleared her throat uncertainly. “Right, so, uh. What are we working on today?”

---

Now, Danny usually doesn’t go out looking for fights—not counting his patrols—but he figured he would make an exception this one time. Vlad was still in Amity somewhere, lurking.

Besides, he fought the elder half-ghost in his own universe. If he didn’t come to Vlad, the man would surely seek him out. Better to catch him off-guard and engage on his own terms, right?

Finding the older ghost was easy enough. Even though half-ghosts were harder to detect—thanks, ghost sense—Vlad wasn’t alone; he’d brought the three vulture ghosts along. And those? Those were easy to track down, as long as you were looking for them.

Danny glanced downwards, quickly making sure that they were high enough up that no one could overhear. Assured of this, he flew up to Vlad’s level, even though the other half-ghost hadn’t noticed him yet.

“Hey, Plasmius!” he yelled, drawing even with the four ghosts. “What the fuck are you doing in Amity?”

Vlad whirled around, his red eyes briefly blown wide open—startled. Danny had actually startled him.

The expression was quickly wiped away in favor for Vlad’s usual smooth blankness, of course, but Danny was counting it as a win anyway.

“Phantom, I presume?” Vlad hummed, as the vultures spread out behind him. An attempt at intimidation, or were they getting out of the way for a possible fight?

“Oh please, like you don’t know exactly who I am.” He rolled his eyes at Vlad. “Seriously, man, you’re not welcome here. Haven’t you caused enough trouble yet?”

“Me?” Vlad pressed a dainty hand against his chest, eyes wide and blinking innocently. “Why, Phantom, what are you accusing me off? I haven’t done a thing.”

Danny shot Vlad the flattest, most disbelieving look he could manage. “Uh huh. Sure, old man. Nothing about this bounty is sketchy at all, and it certainly has nothing to do with you. Now, for the last time. Leave this town, or I’ll make you.”

The vultures behind Vlad squawked, a dead giveaway that it was Vlad’s fault. Not that Danny had any doubt about that, but it was always nice to have proof.

He grinned at Vlad, knowing the other half-ghost hated that cocky smirk. “So, now that we’ve established that… Leave, Vlad. I’m not above fighting you.”

“What, all on your own?” Vlad quirked an eyebrow at Danny. “I didn’t know you fought without your dear… sister.” The last word, he said carefully, measured.

Danny snorted. “I’ve fought more without her than with her. But don’t you worry, I’ve got more than enough power to deal with you.”

“Big words for a ghost who hasn’t even met me before,” Vlad scoffed, flaring out his cape in a (weak) attempt at intimidation. His fists flared up with pink ectoplasm. “But if it is a fight you want so dearly, I suppose I give you that much.”

“I would prefer if you just left,” Danny bit back, firing off two quick but low-powered ecto-blasts towards Vlad, “but I’ll settle for kicking your ass.”

Vlad summoned a minimal shield, small and glass-like, reflecting the blasts. “Oh please. Bold words for a little ghost that can barely form an ecto-blast. It’s a miracle that Specter would even consider you a mentor, when you have so little to offer her.”

“You’re just jealous that she didn’t want you,” Danny countered, smirking at Vlad. His core thrummed eagerly, flooding him with energy. It had been far too long since he’d been in a serious ghost fight. “But don’t be jealous, Vladdie, because she wouldn’t have accepted your offer even if I hadn’t been around!”

He underlined the statement with another ecto-blast, bigger and more powerful than the previous two. Vlad swore, ducking underneath it—barely.

Vlad shot back a blast of pink ectoplasm in retaliation. “Don’t call me that!”

The blow petered out against a hastily formed shield, and Danny blinked innocently. “Call you what, Vladdie? Don’t you like it when people use your name?”

Vlad snarled, the ectoplasm whirling together into pink flames. “Who do you think you are, you little pest!”

Danny opened his mouth to snark back, but Vlad lunged at him and he discarded the attempt in favor of protecting himself. He dodged the first swipe, used a shield to block the second, and then blasted Vlad in the side to push him away.

“Why do you even care about Specter?” Vlad asked, once he’d recovered from the unexpected counterattack. “You say she’s your sister, but you can’t be. It must be something else.”

Oh, Vlad. For an expert of all things half-ghost, he could be incredibly oblivious. “Why can’t I be, hm? Is there some sort of limit on half-ghosts, or do you just feel threatened by the possibility that someone could’ve managed without your help and expertise?”

He could see Vlad’s brain grind to a halt at that. The man froze in mid-air, the ectoplasmic flames around his fist dying off.

“You… You can’t be,” Vlad mumbled. His voice was quiet, like he was just thinking out loud. Danny would feel bad about listening in but, hey, Vlad has done far worse. “It makes sense, but— surely I would’ve noticed? He acts like he knows me, and he’s close to Jasmine, but— no. Surely not?”

“You’re rambling, man,” Danny interrupted, leaning his chin on his hand and rattling the fingers against his cheek. “You wanna leave to have your crisis somewhere else, or are we still gonna fight?”

Vlad whirled around to him, his aura flaring brighter. “Would you shut your mouth, Daniel?!”

Immediately, Vlad snapped his mouth shut, but it was too late. His cheeks colored—an inhuman teal—and Danny realized that Vlad hadn’t even meant to say his actual name.

“You know, I usually ask people to call me Phantom or Danny, but I’ll give you a pass for this once.” Danny lounged backwards, his spine clicking as he stretched. “Seriously, though. Are you gonna leave, or what?”

A pink ecto-blast whizzed by him, and Danny raised an eyebrow. “Well, alright then. If that’s how you want to play this.”

The next blast, he intercepted with a shield. It lasted through several more shots from Vlad, before Danny suddenly dropped it, following it with an ecto-blast of his own. It caught Vlad right in the arm, breaking up the steady rhythm of firing.

In the newly made gap, Danny darted closer, angling low and bypassing Vlad entirely. Electricity crackled over his arms, and he discharged it right against Vlad’s unprotected back.

The older half-ghost was blown forward, tumbling heels over head, but he managed to straighten himself quickly. He snarled, baring his fangs, flames licking over his arms.

Danny rolled his eyes, looking as unimpressed as he felt. “You’re not that scary, man.”

He waited until Vlad opened his mouth to snark back. When he did, Danny launched a pointed icicle, swiftly followed by several more.

Vlad swore, throwing his ectoplasmic fire in front of him. Once the flames had faded, Danny could see that Vlad had gotten soaked, but he seemed unharmed.

“You’ve been underplaying your skill,” the other half-ghost commented, his voice strained. “You didn’t need Specter’s help for any of those fights of yours, did you? But why else would he train her…"

“Yo, fruitloop, I’m right here!” Danny shot another ecto-blast, but it was halfhearted, and Vlad easily shielded it. “And I think you know the answer to that last question already, don’t you?”

“It can’t be!” Vlad snapped back, aura flickering wildly. “You’re obviously experienced, and I can’t have missed— missed another for so long!”

Danny scoffed dismissively. “Clearly you can. Seriously, man, it’s been years. You’ve missed your shot by miles, and Jazz will never take you, because she knows she’ll always have her actual family. Give up, Vlad. Or learn to do better, and maybe I’ll let you help.”

Vlad snarled, vicious and animalistic. “I don’t need your pity, boy, nor your advice! I’ll get what I want sooner or later, and you’d be wise to join me before you pick the losing side.”

“I’m already with the winning side, Vlad.” Danny crossed his arms, staring Vlad down impassively. “You’re free to join us if you clean up your game, you know? But nobody wants this, Vlad. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can find happiness yourself.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vlad sneered, eyes narrowed into bright red slits. “You’re, what, sixteen? You have barely an ounce of the life experience I have. But, nevertheless, I am done here.”

Vlad caught the edge of his cape, bowing deeply. “Goodbye, Daniel. You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

And, with that, he swept the cape over himself, disappearing in a swirl of pink smoke.

Danny cast out his ghost sense, confirming that Vlad had actually left. Him, and those vultures too. Uh, whoops. He’d gotten so caught up with Vlad that he forgot about the minions.

Well, they couldn’t have gotten that far. He would just have to keep an eye out during patrol.

Actually… maybe he could take Jazz out with him. That would assure her that the bounty wasn’t dangerous to him, right?

Yeah, that sounded like a good plan.

---

“Wanna join me on patrol?” Phantom asked, completely out of the blue. Jazz jerked her head towards him, frowned.

“Why?”

He shrugged vaguely. “You’re worried about the ghost hunters, yeah? If you come along on patrol, you can see first-hand that they’re no danger to me. Besides, they won’t go after you—they’re only interested in the bounty.”

“Well…” She made a face. He was right, she supposed, but still… “Are they really only going to chase you, though? That seems…”

“Sketchy? Kinda shitty? Just overall a really awful thing to do? Yeah.” He shrugged, lounging in mid-air. “There’s a reason why they held off on coming here until now. They don’t care about the actual ghost hunting, they care about the money.”

“That… sucks.”

Phantom shrugged again. “It also means that they have very little experience dealing with actual ghosts, so. Not very threatening. Want to join me for patrol?”

“I guess. Are you that worried about ghosts?” She frowned at him. “I mean, won’t the ghost hunter’s presence scare off other ghosts?”

“It’s possible,” Phantom admitted, easily. “But Vlad tends to drag his vulture minions along with him, and he’s not above having those guys cause trouble just to lure us out. So I’m gonna go on patrol and find them, make sure they can’t cause a ruckus later.”

“Isn’t that exactly what he wants, though?” She sighed. “But, yeah, sure, I’ll join you on patrol. Give me a second to finish this bit of homework, and I’ll meet you outside.”

Phantom grinned, wide and bright, and saluted her. Then he was gone.

She rolled her eyes—he was definitely running head-first into a trap—but did as she’d said. Her homework was almost done anyway, and she had plenty of time for the rest later. For now, she had to make sure that Phantom wasn’t doing anything stupid.

And, yeah, in some way he was her older brother. Maybe she was a bit too worried about Phantom. He was, after all, both older and more experienced as a half-ghost. He was way stronger than she was, could beat her easily if they fought.

But he didn’t always make good decisions. And that? That wasn’t a Phantom thing. That was a Danny thing.

Besides, they both knew that Phantom wasn’t happy to be here. No matter how hard he tried to be cheery, to help to the best of his abilities… He missed his home. He wanted dearly to go home. It was clear, so clear.

So, Jazz was glad that he was staying around anyway. That he was helping her with all this, instead of looking for a way home. Sure, he said that there was no point in looking for portals back, but there must be other ways. And even if he didn’t know about them just yet, he could’ve done tons of research in the time he’d been here.

But, no. Instead he’d stuck around in Amity, helping her. Training her, mentoring her, teaching her.

With her homework swiftly finished, Jazz pushed herself away from her desk, out of her chair. She bit her lip, hesitating for just a second… Leaving with Phantom to patrol would be sneaking out, wouldn’t it? But as long as she returned before it was too late her parents wouldn’t miss her, and Danny definitely wouldn’t.

She easily shifted to her ghost form, turning invisible and intangible so she could sneak out unnoticed. From her room it was just a short flight to the rooftop where Phantom was waiting, and she dropped her invisibility almost immediately.

“All done?” Phantom asked, pushing himself to his feet. With a quick flash of light he returned to his usual ghost form—he must’ve shifted back to avoid ghost detectors.

“Yeah. Lead the way, Phantom.”

He nodded, pushing himself off of the rooftop. Jazz followed him, taking a moment to remember the first they’d met. When she could barely fly up to meet Phantom’s height, never mind follow his steady flight.

She still couldn’t match his grace in the air, but, well. Danny had always been aiming for space. It made sense that he was better at flight, at disregarding gravity, than she was.

They found the vulture ghosts faster than the ghost hunters found Phantom, which either said worrying things about the hunters, or great things about them.

Unfortunately they weren’t that much faster, and the cacophony from the human hunters distracted her and Phantom long enough for Vlad’s minions to get away from them.

“Just follow my lead,” Phantom told her, a grin on his face, before he turned a full 180 degrees and flew back over the ghost hunters chasing them—him—them. She scowled, but did as he asked.

The hunters, in four clearly-uncoordinated groups, got tangled up in each other when they tried to give chase. Only a single shot was fired in their direction, and it went so wide that Jazz was almost embarrassed for the hunter who had fired it.

With their tail thus thrown off, the two of them managed to track down one of the vultures.

“Must’ve split up,” Phantom mumbled under his breath. They were hidden from the ghost around the corner of a building, ready to chase it down. “I’ll come from the front and freeze it, you catch it in the Thermos.”

“Gotcha.” She nodded, pressing her feet against the wall so she could push herself off.

Phantom nodded back, and off they went. He shot straight at the vulture, legs immediately melting into his spectral tail, hands glowing blue. He didn’t even fire the ice beam from the distance, like she knew he could, but held off until he was practically touching the vulture before releasing the shot.

It was effective, though, she had to give him that. The ghost was frozen solid, and the Thermos sucked it up easily.

“One down, two to go,” Phantom said, rejoining her. “Let’s keep up the pace, before those suckers catch up again.”

They returned to their sweeping loops over Amity, both turning invisible when they passed the ghost hunters again. Jazz thought they had ghost detectors, but they either didn’t have them, or didn’t use them, because the hunters didn’t even notice them. Suckers.

The two of them used a similar tactic on the second vulture, once they had found him. This time, though, Phantom scared the vulture by flying at him from the front, while she caught it off-guard—and in the Thermos.

“Just one more.” She grinned at Phantom. “Are you sure you didn’t ask me along just to make this go faster?”

He laughed, holding up his hands. “Guilty as charged. But, really, do you still think those guys are a threat to me after this?”

“I guess you’re right,” she allowed. “Come on, let’s go catch that last vulture.”

Just then, both their ghost senses went off.

“Well, I guess that he’s making it easy,” Phantom said, twisting his head to look upwards. “Oh, yeah, there he is.”

Jazz followed his pointing finger, and indeed, there the third vulture ghost was. Way up high, and actively flying around.

“What are we waiting for?” She smirked at Phantom, Thermos already in her hand. “Let’s get him.”

He grinned at the challenge, and before she could move, he launched himself upwards. Jazz laughed, quickly flying after him, even if she couldn’t match his speed.

The vulture squawked when Phantom hit him, apparently forgoing ghostly tactics to just body-slam the vulture at top speed. Jazz worried for a moment about how she was supposed to catch him in a Thermos, but Phantom was already turning around, arms still wrapped around the ghost.

They leveled out with her, stopping abruptly, and Phantom released the ghost. Apparently the maneuver had disoriented the vulture, because he didn’t even try to fly away.

Jazz uncapped the Thermos, held it up, and captured the ghost in its vortex. Satisfied with a job well done, she capped the Thermos again, clicking it back on her belt.

“And that was the last of them,” she said, a satisfied hum to her core.

Phantom dusted his hands, grinning at her. “Yeah. Thanks for the help, it really made things easier for me.”

“Not that you needed the help,” she countered with a shake of her head. “Seriously, those ghost hunters are just sad. I know that people don’t like it when we protect the town, but we have to be better than that, right?”

“The Fentons aren’t that bad either,” Phantom pointed out with a shrug. “And there’s always Val.”

“There sure is,” a familiar voice answered, and Jazz’ eyes snapped upwards. Red, and a lot of it. The whine of some sort of technology, and a blinding flash of light.

Jazz clenched her eyes shut, slowly opening them when the light faded again.

Valerie stood on her hoverboard, a knock-off Thermos in her black-gloved hands. It was nigh impossible to read her expression thanks to her mask, but Jazz thought she was frowning down at the device.

Wait.

Where was Phantom?

She looked around, but there was no trace of him. It was like he… disappeared.

Oh.

“Did you just catch my brother?” she bit at Valerie, twisting back to look at her. “I thought you were alright with us!”

Valerie scoffed, shoving her Thermos in a holster on her thigh. “There were more important targets. It’s a thing called prioritizing.”

“What, and we suddenly pushed to the top of your priorities?” Jazz asked, but cold realization seeped in. “Oh, no, of course. It was the bounty, wasn’t it?”

“Oh please.” Valerie huffed, her tone of voice making it sound like she rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t expect a ghost to understand what that money means to me, to my family.”

“There is no money!” Jazz snapped back, feeling her glow flare out, ectoplasm sparking around her fists. “It’s a trap, Huntress! Just let Phantom go. Don’t do this.”

“Or what?” Valerie bit back. “You’ll attack me? Not good for your status as protector, is it?”

“I’m serious! It’s a trap, alright, and you won’t get the money.” Jazz darted around to block Valerie’s path. “The bounty isn’t real, some ghost put it out because he wants Phantom out of the way, I swear!”

Valerie scoffed, pushing Jazz out of her way. “Yeah, I don’t believe you. Leave, Specter, or I’ll shoot you.”

“Fine.” Jazz moved aside, crossing her arms. “Go, then, prove me right. But don’t blame me if this comes back to bite you in the ass, Huntress.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Valerie murmured, shaking her head. Her hoverboard roared to life, and away Valerie went—with Phantom captured in a Thermos.

“Ugh,” Jazz sighed, immediately dropping her stern posture. “I can’t believe— Of course she would be out here too, hunting for the bounty.”

She knew she should go out after them, should free Phantom, but… there wasn’t all that much she could do. Valerie would probably release Phantom sooner or later herself, once she discovered that it really was a trap. And Phantom wouldn’t want her to follow, either. Would want her to keep her house, and the ghost Portal, safe.

So she reluctantly turned around, flying back home.

No ghost hunters bothered her.

---

Danny had some experience with getting captured with ghost hunting devices, but the Thermos always remained one of his least favorites. The Weasel, at least, allowed him to overhear the outside, to still feel like he existed. The Thermos was… was nothing. From the moment he went in to the moment he was released again, it was like no time had passed.

It wasn’t… uncomfortable, or something. It just… didn’t exist. As long as he was in the Thermos, he was completely and utterly unaware. It was like no time passed at all; he was just suddenly elsewhere, and also it was three hours later.

He tumbled back into awareness—literally—staring right into Valerie’s mask. It was creased heavily around her brows, a clear sign of her frowning at him. And glaring, probably, knowing Valerie.

They were inside a cage of sorts, the bars made out of pink ectoplasm. Ah, yes. Danny remembered this part.

“I hate your sister,” Valerie told him, leaning right into his face. “I want you to know that.”

“Duly noted.” He rolled his shoulder, grimacing at the sound of it crackling. “She warned you about the trap, huh?”

Valerie hissed, low, and Danny raised his hands. “Chill, it’s fine. Specter can be a bit of a know-it-all sometimes. She’s clever, but she’s not great at conveying that knowledge.”

“I don’t care,” Valerie growled, then took an audible breath. When she continued, her voice was calmer. “Look, I just… I know you and Specter aren’t actively causing trouble in the city, so you’re not, like, high on my shitlist or anything. But that bounty went out and… it seemed too good to be true, but I just… wanted it to be real.” She shrugged. “My family and I… we really could’ve used that money.”

“It’s fine, Red. I get it.” Danny caught himself halfway through lifting a comforting hand, freezing in place. Valerie probably wouldn’t be receptive to that sort of thing, not from him. “I know everyone thinks that ghosts don’t remember anything from their lives, but… I know I do. And I… I remember what being poor can do to someone. How much it sucks, and what kind of weird shit people might pull just for some money.”

Valerie cocked her head slightly, her mask crunching together slightly. “Like what?”

“What, is this a cross-examination now?” He rolled his eyes, huffed for dramatic effect. “I might have sold stuff from my parents’ shed to make some money, hoping that they had hoarded enough stuff that they wouldn’t notice.”

“That’s nowhere near what I just did,” Valerie pointed out, crossing her arms.

“Well, no, but it’s not like I had ghost hunting equipment or potentially dangerous ghosts to chase down.” Danny shrugged, loosely. “Seriously, it’s fine. Not the first time I’ve been caught, and you, at least, had a pretty valid reason to catch me. If I had to get captured for this bounty stuff, I’m glad that it was you and not one of those other hunters.”

She made a face. Or, well. He thought she did. “Are those… seriously the best money could buy? Because, uh, yikes. I had no idea ghost hunting, as a profession, looked like that.”

“Yeah, you made a poor career choice.” He grinned at her. “But, hey, you’ve got plenty of time left to change stuff around. Or to better the name of ghost hunting. Either or, really. Up to you.”

“You sound like a motivational speaker.” Valerie scoffed. “Seriously, I thought you were bad during battles, but this? This is worse.”

“Aw, Red, I didn’t know you cared.” He pressed a hand against his chest, blinking lovingly. It was just… too easy to fall back into his easy banter with Val. He knew he shouldn’t, but, well. Banter was better than fighting, yeah? “But, for real, I get it. Specter and I, we try our best, but we’re not perfect. We can’t catch every ghost the moment they look like they’re up to anything malicious, unfortunately. I’m sorry it happened to you.”

“I don’t think you are,” she said, shaking her head, but Danny recognized that tone. It was her “I’m starting to acknowledge that you’re actually kind of human-like but I refuse to accept it” tone.

And, yes, Valerie had a tone like that. It was rare, but the few times he’d heard it had been memorable enough to stick.

“Well, that’s up to you.” He reached out a hand towards the bars, but they didn’t shock him. Ah, yeah, just like last time. Not phase-proof. “You want me to apologize by phasing you out of this?”

“You can do that?” She jerked her head back towards him. “I thought— It looked like ectoplasmic energy, I figured it would zap you if you tried.”

He wrapped a hand around the bar, tugging it meaningfully. “Doesn’t look like it. Besides, isn’t that why you let me out of the Thermos again? Or did you just want to vent about my sister so badly that even I would do?”

“Oh, shut up,” she grunted. “Just let me out and we’ll ignore this ever happened.”

“Sure thing, Red. The closer you are to the bars, the shorter I’ll have to make you intangible, so…” He gestured vaguely. “I’m assuming you want that time to be as short as possible, anyway.”

She inched closer, keeping her head turning towards him the whole time. “Why do you keep calling me that, anyway?”

“What, Red?” He shrugged. “Specter and I needed a name to refer to you, and, well. You’re a ghost hunter, dressed almost entirely in red. So, the Red Huntress.”

Valerie stopped next to the bars—and him—and stared him down. “I would comment on your naming skills, but I feel like that’s a lost cause, since you’re two ghosts called Specter and Phantom.”

“Believe me, I’ve heard it before.” He offered her a hand. “The worst part is honestly that we didn’t even coordinate that. We didn’t know the other had become a ghost until we ran into each other.”

“So shitty names are a family trait?” Valerie asked as she took his hand. Hers was warm even through her gloves.

Danny paused, thinking of literally every single one of his parents’ inventions. He shrugged. “Kinda, yeah.”

“I… I really don’t know how to feel about that, Phantom.”

He laughed, and used the moment of distraction to turn the both of them intangible. He stepped backwards through the bars, tugging Valerie along with him. Released both the intangibility and her as soon as they were through.

“That’s fair,” he ended up saying with another shrug. “My family was… a lot.”

“At least Specter still is,” Valerie said. Then she froze, seemingly startled by the fact that she’d just said something comforting to a ghost.

“That, she is,” he agreed with a nod. “Speaking of, I should go check in with her. Tell her you didn’t re-kill me or anything. Will you be alright from here on out?”

Valerie scoffed. “I don’t need your help. Yes, Phantom, I’ll be fine. Go worry over your sister.”

“I will. Stay safe, Red.”

He pushed off before she could answer, darting upwards too fast to hear anything she might shout afterwards. After that, however, he lowered his speed for the flight back home. Or, well. Back to FentonWorks. His dad could deal with Vlad fine on his own, and Jazz was around in this universe, too.

Still, even a casual speed brought him to FentonWorks quickly, and he landed on the same rooftop that he’d started the patrol on. He only had to wait for a few moments before Jazz appeared next to him.

Danny opened his mouth to greet her, but suddenly a body was pressed against him, chilly arms wrapping around him.

“Hey, Jazz,” he said, voice soft, as he wrapped his own arms around her. “It’s fine, I’m alright.”

“I was worried,” she admitted quietly. “I… I knew you’d be okay, but I couldn’t stop worrying.”

“I’m sorry.” He ran his hand through her hair, as strange and gravity-defying as his own. “I didn’t realize you’d be so worried, or I would’ve stopped talking to Val sooner. I promise, I’m fine.”

She huffed a breath in his neck, then pulled away a little. “You were talking to Valerie?”

Hook, line, and sinker. “Yeah. Warming her up a little to, well. Ghosts in general, I think, but mostly to us. How’d things go here?”

“They went fine. I didn’t have to do anything.” She pulled away entirely, but still didn’t look quite settled. “Dad beat up Plasmius with some of the inventions, and Mom and Danny just kind of shouted encouragements at him. I didn’t even have to do anything.”

“Good, good. That’s pretty much what happened in my universe too.” He nodded, rolling his spine and grinning at Jazz’ disgusted face. “Well, not the encouraging part, but Dad defeated Vlad on his own. In my universe, the vultures had grabbed Mom and, uh, Jazz, and trapped them in the weapon vault.”

Jazz blinked at him for a moment. “We have a weapons vault?”

“Yeah? It’s got a circular door and a keypad?” He shrugged. “It’s also not phaseproof, so it’s kind of worthless against ghosts. Well, it isn’t phaseproof now. They improved it when too many weapons disappeared but, well. Not much point to it if they kept telling me the password.”

“That’s ridiculous. How did I not know that it existed? You should show me where it is, later, just in case.”

“Sure thing.” He yawned. “Sorry, it’s been a long day. Shouldn’t you head to bed soon?”

She heaved a deep sigh. “Yeah, I… Wait a minute. You talked with Valerie! Danny!” She jumped forward, suddenly, crowding him. “You need to tell me what you two talked about!”

“Woah, chill, Jazz.” He gently pushed her away again. “Now?”

“Yeah, now!” she snapped at him. “You tried to change the topic so I would forget! I need to know what you two talked about so I know how to approach her tomorrow!”

“Alright, alright, I get it.” He shook his head. “Alright, so, it started like this…”

[hoseoksactualass]

Could we pls get a smutty IE!jk and oc drabble?

hello and YES

this is also @taespired‘s idea she be my queen since we were 16 we want the same things we dream the same dreams alright take it away zayn

where jk is in a (boring) meeting, and a homebound oc sends him v important photos during 

Jungkook has a habit of drawing T-minus doodles on torpid meetings like this. For now, he does it with a phony smile on his face and makes it look like he actually cares. The interns’ eyes are glazed. More because he looks just as young as them and dashingly handsome than how overbearingly loud the internship coordinator is being right now. 

This was supposed to be over five minutes ago. He’s in the middle of drawing cat ears when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He makes it look calculated—the way he perks his head up, draws eye contact with an intern who couldn’t take her spec’d eyes off him, and purses his lips slightly. 

Secretary sent a message:

If you need me, I can still be over.

Sent 10:19 a.m.

He doesn’t stop the way the first thing he thinks of is what you might be wearing. The coordinator makes a joke everyone fake chuckles to. 

And like everything else, you will not have his head for it. You know he thinks of you at wee hours like this, and you take advantage of it, already hiking your booty shorts up your ass like you know how it’ll feel when he does it. 

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

if you call in sick you call in sick. dw about it 

Sent 10:20 a.m.

You can hear his voice through the message, and it’s instantly something you smirk to.  

Meanwhile, Jungkook already has a mental chant about you being the perfect distraction playing like a ruined record in his head. He nods at something that went in one ear and exited the other, humming in false agreement. He lowers his phone’s brightness simultaneously. 

Secretary sent a message:

Do the interns have life in their eyes?

Sent 10:21 a.m. 

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

an amusing amount i feel sick 

Sent 10:21 a.m.

You chuckle to it, roll on your back, but before your thumbs type away, the pending screen dings again. 

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

show me what you’re wearing 

Sent 10:22 a.m.

Then you’re off your shorts like you knew nothing of them, praying to lighting and an old thong to give you something you can nod to. For now, it’s a dim snap of your stomach down, shirt lazily tossed over the skin before a perceiver’s gaze will catch the strap of your thong hugging tight atop the curve of your hip. Not Pinterest-esque, but it’s honest work; it’s like you instantly know what Jungkook sounds like groaning to the sight. 

He smiles at the coordinator before dropping his gaze to his phone again, tucked under his table and the weight of the company, but now he couldn’t care less. 

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

woa shit im never used to it 

sexy

m

Sent 10:24 a.m.

The reminder to relax your body now that a camera isn’t pointing you doesn’t cross your mind. 

Secretary sent a message:

m?

Sent 10:24 a.m.

Jungkook finds himself giving advice he’s given millions of interns before, and it’s to keep a peeled eye. This goes for his board. His peers. It’s the emergency CEO talk he pulls out of his ass, but he knows everyone fawns over it, lowering his voice like he’s building an intimate rapport with the listeners. He’s still thinking about your skin. Keeps it brief, ends his attractive ment with something the coordinator can pick up on. 

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

that was my futile attempt to ask for more while i got called for advice 

be back later, i look suspicious 

Sent 10:26 a.m.

And it’s childish, but you always have a craving to divert his attention towards you. That’s the thrill, the sparkles in champagne, and when you down it and still walk in a straight line, you’re prideful. You’re an ace. And if you can juggle work and posing in front of a mirror with your teeth biting your shirt up, so be it. He’ll receive it and do something about it. That, you know. 

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

you

you minx

pls

save that for later

not noww

Sent 10:28 a.m.

You smile at it. It only makes you take a photo with your leg propped up your desk and your free hand teasing your inner thigh, enough so he’ll see more of your curves and lines despite the dim lighting that makes you look short on hemoglobin. 

He receives it with a bite to his lip, an itch to his loins. He tugs at his dress shirt lest he wants his interns eyeing at his nipples. 

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

_____ behave 

are you gonna listen or not

Sent 10:30 a.m.

You can hear him say it, let yourself feel his baritone ring at the seemings of your inner thighs. Then you take another photo, playful with your shirt draped all over your body enough that he has to make out your parts through the translucence of it, panties dangling by a teasing pointer. You don’t put text. Leave him with that raw photo, a prelude to complete nudity you’re sure he’ll hint at asking for.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

gonna regret acting like that when i get to you baby 

if you wont let me sit through this meeting without a fucking hard on you have something coming to you 

Sent 10:32 a.m.

In his challenged unease, all he receives is a video this time. He flicks his phone’s ringer silent, and it vibrates in his palms. He clicks on it, 5 seconds of shit quality and you placing an arm over your splayed tits, shifting in bed as you had just propped yourself there. 

It’s trial for Jungkook not to make a growl at the back of his throat. But he’ll never stop to admit he fucking loves it. While an innocent intern is all eyes for him, he only has his for a secretary with a kink for hanging how hot she is over her boss’s head and making him eat it. 

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

later baby

pls

wait it out for me

Sent 10:34 a.m.

And he’s sure you won’t obey. He stares until you reply. 

Secretary sent a message:

Can’t.

Sent 10:34 a.m.

Within the span of time you know he waits for what you have in store, you fish for a box under your bed, grabbing the familiar texture you know too well of your bullet vibrator. Hot pink and all sorts of taunting when you send a clip of you ghosting the toy over your thighs and across. 

Jungkook waits a second before clicking on it, a breath held taught in his chest. 

He replays the video directly, eyes on for that second he gets a good look at your pussy. Replays it again with his thumb adjusting the player position so he could slow it himself. It’s his dick or his soul that jumps in his pants. 

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

fuck

Sent 10:35 a.m.

He’s typing, but you send a message before he can even proceed. 

Secretary sent a message:

If you’re hard, show me. 

Sent 10:35 a.m.

What you receive is a video. Rowdy with the intern coordinator’s voice and the rustle of the audio. His phone stills, and you see the strain of his thighs under navy blue dress pants, ascending enough so you see a prominent shadow bulging at his crotch. He has the audacity to squeeze at it, too, watch blinding at the sight. Your breath hitches. 

It’s nearly involuntary—how you press the vib harder, making your nerves frolic before you allow it to hover lightly over your skin again

Jungkook still has a gnawing fright for adjourning meetings he’s invited to sit through, so he sighs through the agony and makes sure no one hears. Thinking about what you must be doing to yourself. What you’re thinking. 

You have a lousy grip on your phone, a stupid front cam angle to show what you’re doing from the neck down. You huff a heavy breath and kick your hips like it’s script. 

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

fuckkkkkkk

i have to leave here

Sent 10:37 a.m.

You’re quick to play, corner him. 

Secretary sent a message:

If you don’t stay put, I’m not sending any more. 

Sent 10:37 a.m.

It’s like he hears your voice against his neck, telling him to sit his ass down and live with the shear in his Brionis. 

If Jungkook was the type of guy who would bust a nut over just about anything as much as Victorian men sexualized ankles, he’d lie to you and crawl to the bathroom of his office just to jerk it off. But he isn’t like that. Not close. He likes the tease, the tickle in his guts, the sound of your voice he conjures in his head with every text. 

Before he can get himself together, sit in a way his dick doesn’t poke at his zipper, his phone vibrates again. Another short clip. Back cam, sheets like a painting under your body, you rolling your hips against the toy. God, he wants to hear you; he feels his ears go red. 

Secretary sent a message:

Proof

You’re still in the meeting.,

Sent 10:39 a.m.

You get a selfie. It’s not proof, but he looks serious. And he looks hot. Exactly how you want him to look. Hair swept over crimson ears. Faking unfazed eyes. Then a video pops in. Same angle, but his eyes are directed somewhere in the room, scanning, reading, pretending to listen. Then a message. 

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

am i good at pretending i dont wanna fuck you so bad 

Sent 10:40 a.m.

You hum to that like a toast to the soft hum of the vibrator against you. You shut your eyes for a bit, sigh to the feeling boiling in your loins before your toes start to feel tickly and you’re kicking. 

Secretary sent a message:

So good, 

Sent 10:41 a.m.

You send a video too long. Front cam again this time. A stretch of you squirming and being unable to stay still, camera panning up for a few seconds to taunt him with the moans he won’t be able to hear, down again and showing how your hand ever so languidly motions the toy against where you’re pulsating for it. Your limbs are sweating, and it’s hotter where the sheets meet it. 

When Jungkook watches it, he presses down on his dick a bit, more unbothered than he could be about the fact probably everyone in the room has figured out his attention span is stretching nowhere towards them. He replays the part he sees your tits move with the heaving of your chest. Replays it again before replaying the part he sees how evidently wet you are. 

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

fuck holy shit

god

how good does that feel

describe it

Sent 10:42 a.m.

Secretary sent a message:

Feels

So tingly

Sent 10:42 a.m.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

god yes

stay with me 

tell me more

show more

Sent 10:42 a.m.

There’s a vivid visual in your head, of his tight fist around his cock, too listless to take off his watch, a mess. Biting the hem of his dress shirt up lest he wants cum all over it, biting to keep quiet and another tight fist around his phone, flashing a playlist of all the media you’re sending in at this blessed hour. Your insides jump, tumble, then the sparkle on the surface of your skin follows. You make sure to film this bit, show him how your head’s restless, shaking from one side to another as if pushing an orgasm away. Then a separate clip for where he craves you. Your hips rolling against the toy, coaxing. 

Jungkook tries to look for a sign this meeting’s fucking ending in the coordinator’s eyes but to no avail. He replays the shit out of that second clip, wondering how wet that’d feel against him. His dick aches. 

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

so wet 

do you enjoy this

making me harder than anyone could ever

in the middle of a meeting

Sent 10:44 a.m.

He knows what he’s doing, feeding your kinks like that, making your eyes roll into your head. You want to lose yourself in it, but it’s never as much as how much you want to stretch out the anguish of being nothing but witness to your bliss for him. 

Secretary sent a message:

Want to cum. 

Sent 10:46 a.m.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

do it

show me

gonna stroke my cock to it later

Sent 10:46 a.m.

At this point, he’s not even looking up, in heated anticipation for that One Thing he knows is coming. He feels himself throbbing, wishes he could make you feel it, but for now, he’ll let you bathe in it. 

2 minutes and nothing, leaving him with a clean slate and your previous ministrations to imagine what your body looks like. How you sound. How you roll your hips, cry his name or something along the lines of Sir and throw his last name in, how you veer the vib away from your cunt unless you want your body spasming into nothing. Laboured breathing. A smile. 

He gets the video, obsesses over it until the interns are rustling into a stand, ready to mark their thanks and congratulations before he could even take his eyes off you. 

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

motherfuck _____

fuckmeetings over 

brb

Sent 10:48 a.m.

Along with the boring connotation of a brb, you get two clips ten minutes succeeding your orgasm. First video is a lazy front cam, exactly how you pictured, bringing the hem of his shirt to his teeth, hair falling over his eyes, all the other lights but one switched off. The screen flips, and he’s undoing his belt, a palpable bulge where you know it is. 

The second video is unstable; his belt almost rattling to how hard he pumps himself, and you hear him straining. Then it’s cum and tattered breaths. 

You have a second orgasm that morning. 

[missjosie27]

Year 3 Part 4- Penny’s Revenge

Hey, guys! New chapter is up. I’m particularly proud of this one and I really hope you all enjoy. A good majority of it deals with the SQ in which Merula steals and takes credit for Penny’s potion. But it also furthers the plot in a fun, filler sort of way. I hope you guys enjoy! :)

It wasn’t that David was bad at charms but of all the core subjects it was his most inconsistent by far. There were some days that Professor Flitwick gushed with how talented he was and others where he could barely do the task he was assigned with. McGonagall seemed to think he was slacking due to a misplaced sense of pride or ego over the vaults. However, that couldn’t be further from the truth. He still felt conflicted about the vaults- his brother was the only thing that mattered to him. But with the added pressure of knowing there were four more vaults, boggarts popping up in and around the school, and Merula’s renewed vigor in finding them herself, it was becoming a lot harder to resist trying to find the next one.

The main fact were the boggarts who were popping up everywhere. Hogwarts hadn’t seen such an infestation in quite some time. Numerous students whether adolescent or young adults were frightened out of their wits by their greatest fears and the common theme was how vivid and real those fears seemed to be. Even the Head Boy of their year, a tall, proud Ravenclaw had to be given a calming draught by Madam Pomfrey after coming across what he thought was a bloodthirsty vampire.

“This is becoming too big to ignore,” David muttered to Rowan in the common room one day. They were practicing the immobilization charm and this one was tricky. Ben was usually the top of their year in charms and so he had volunteered to help out.

“Come on, Dave,” Ben told him. “You’re not a soft option in charms, you just need to try it a few more times. You’re as good as me most days.”

“Appreciate that, mate. But I meant the vaults.”

“Oh.”

Rowan tossed a pillow in the air and he fired off the spell.

“Immobulis!”

A faint purple light hit the cushion, but instead of freezing it in mid air it merely slowed to a light fall as it landed softly to the ground.

“Damn it!” he muttered.

“David, you’re clearly not focused on putting your full power behind the spell. And I know how powerful you are. Bill and Penny weren’t shy about the time you breathed fire through the chest of an ice knight.”

“Focusing is a bit difficult when you have boggarts popping up at every turn giving everybody heart attacks. Not to mention the queen Slytherin bitch who won’t stop trying to blow up every cauldron I use in potions.”

“I know, David. Everyone’s running a bit scared right now-”

“A bit?”

His best friend gave a quick sigh.

“Remember, you’re just following a lead about your brother. We don’t know anything about this next vault, nor do we want Dumbledore or anyone else to think we’re going after it. This is the ticket to getting to Hogsmeade. If you can score a perfect score on this spell, McGonagall will have to let you go.”

Rowan was right of course and David reminded himself that in this current situation he had to tame his impulse to forgo the work necessary in order to prove to his professors he was worthy of a Hogsmeade visit.

“If it makes you feel better that last attempt was way stronger than the previous five,” Ben told him. “If you can teach me not to be scared on a broom, you definitely can do this.”

Damn, he’s right

Cracking his neck, David braced himself for Rowan to toss the cushion in the air.

“Immobulis!”

The cushion exploded into a thousand different feathers, giving his best friend the appearance of a rather oversized chicken, causing David and Ben to howl with laughter.

“Okay, maybe not quite your full power,” Rowan said, blowing feathers out of his mouth. “Let’s try again.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The week leading up to Hogsmeade held more than one academic issue, however and it came in the form of a certain blonde Hufflepuff.

Ever since the incident with the boggart in Herbology, David had noticed Penny was not her usual bubbly, chipper self. He and Bill had visited her in the hospital wing afterwards and she had insisted she was fine. Madam Pomfrey discharged her later that day without incident but David sensed that all was not well within her. Far from smiling or sharing the latest gossip she became far more reserved and stonier faced, developing nervous habits such as looking over her shoulder or jumping when someone came up behind her. This was especially prevalent in Herbology.

But the issue would come to a head in an entirely different manner. And this time it involved a familiar archrival.

It started with a simple lunchtime conversation. Knowing he was welcome at the Hufflepuff table, he slipped into an empty spot and gave a kind smile to Penny, who looked very troubled.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he teased her. It was a greeting he knew she found endearing and usually got a smile out of it. This time was not so.

“David something terrible has happened,” came the response.

He knew she wasn’t lying, given that Penny was almost never that blunt nor downcast.

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s awful. This is worse than the time when I got my wand tangled in my plaits,” she said, playing with said plaits out of stress.

“You always have pretty hair,” David said truthfully, though he tried not to blush. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I lost a wit sharpening potion that I spent weeks brewing. It’s the hardest brew I’ve ever had to create and now I can’t find it anywhere.”

“We can ask around,” David suggested. “I’m sure someone has seen it. Where did you last leave it?”

“I’m pretty sure the last place I left it was in the Potions classroom before my next class. Professor Sprout needed me for a quick favor and then when I came back, it was gone! I’ve asked around and utilized all my gossip contacts. No one’s seen it.”

By this point, David was almost positive that the missing potion wasn’t a coincidence nor negligence on Penny’s part. In fact, he was quite certain someone had snatched her brew.

“Penny,” he said slowly. “When you came back to the Potions classroom, was there anyone you saw near the dungeons? Anyone familiar at all?”

Clarity suddenly illuminated Penny’s bright, blue eyes.

“Oh my God.”

But she never got to finish her thought as suddenly, Dumbledore’s booming voice overpowered the idle chatter of the student body.

“May I have your attention please?” he said. “I would just like to make a quick announcement. “As Headmaster of this institution, it is my first and foremost duty to keep our students safe. However, it is also important that academic achievement not go unrecognized.”

Those in the Great Hall strained to get a better look. Next to Dumbledore was Snape and next to him was Merula Snyde, who looked immensely pleased with herself.

“Professor Snape has brought to my attention a great accomplishment. A wit sharpening potion the likes of which has not been seen in many years. He felt such a deed could not go unrecognized and I agree whole heartedly. Miss Snyde here will be given an award for excellence in potion making. We should all aspire to match such admirable dedication and technique.”

Merula tried to appear humble but did a very poor job in hiding her obvious glee.

“Thank you, Professors! Of course, I only brewed this potion to further my education, but I will gratefully accept your generous praise.”

There was a smattering of applause, which was most enthusiastic at the Slytherin table as Merula hopped down from the podium looking quite pleased with herself. Penny on the other hand was livid. In fact, she was angrier than David had ever seen her.

“That. Phony. Deceitful. Little. Rat!” the blonde seethed, punctuating every word, causing some people around her to turn their heads. “She thinks she can get away with stealing my potion and taking the credit?!”

“It’s Merula,” David told her. “This is just a standard day for her.”

An unfamiliar look crossed Penny’s pretty face. It was…mischievous, impish, and even a little wily. Certainly not standard for the normally happy-go-lucky Hufflepuff.

“How would you like to get revenge on Merula? I have an idea on how to make this right.”

David gave a feral grin of his own.

“You had me at ‘revenge on Merula’. What’s the plan?”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The plan, as it turned out, was more ambitious than anything any Slytherin could have dreamt of. David and Penny met in the courtyard after classes were over to discuss the particulars. They were in casual clothing to be a bit more inconspicuous, Penny in her usual jumper and skirt complete with white knee socks, David in a white t shirt, red zip up jacket, jeans, and vans. Together, they sat by the fountain as the afternoon glow settled into evening.

“We can’t allow Merula to take credit for my potion. But how are we going to get her to confess?” Penny asked aloud.

“There’s only one thing she understands,” David responded simply. “And that’s fighting. We best her in a duel and get her to admit what she did. Take it from someone who knows.”

“Violence isn’t the Hufflepuff way, Dave. Besides, when you dueled her it was to defend yourself and others not the other way around. We’d look like the villains in this case.”

Much as he would have enjoyed besting the Slytherin girl in another battle, he realized Penny had a point. They wouldn’t have concrete proof of her misdeeds and as long as Merula could use plausible deniability another way was needed.

“Alright then, so what do you suggest?”

“Merula will never confess having stolen my potion to another student, but she might if her head of house found out.”

David gave a hollow laugh as he leaned back.

“Penny, in case you haven’t noticed, Snape wasn’t exactly undertaking a thorough investigation as to whether his student stole anything. You saw his face; he was just as smug as Merula. He never does anything to punish the little snakes.”

“I know. But what if she thought Professor Snape was the one punishing her.”

He frowned.

“I’m not following you.”

“Surely, you’ve heard of Polyjuice Potion, Dave?”

Yes, he had. It was one of the more notorious potions in the wizarding world and he knew it possessed the ability to change into another person for one hour.

“Yes, but I don’t see what that…” he trailed off realizing what she was getting at. “No…you mean?”

“One of us needs to pose as Professor Snape, confront Merula and get her to admit what she did,” Penny explained. “The other needs to distract the real Snape before he finds out what’s going on.”

David saw the mischievous glint in Penny’s eye reappear and knew then and there she already had him in mind for the job.

“You want me to be Snape, don’t you?” he said, raising a brow.

“Believe it or not, as sour as he is, Snape actually likes me,” Penny said with a small giggle. “I can get him to talk about the nuances of potion making for hours. Correct me if I’m wrong but doesn’t he kind of hate you?”

“He hates everyone,” David shrugged. “Except maybe you and a few Slytherins. But I see your point.”

“Excellent. Then we have a plan then?”

“Penny, one problem. Doesn’t that stuff take a really long time to brew?”

The blonde nodded. “Yes, one month in fact.”

“We don’t have a month. By then mostly everyone will have forgotten about this.”

“Ah, but that’s the beauty of taking advanced lessons. Just like you and McGonagall last year, Snape allows me to attempt more complicated potions that are O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. level. And guess what we’ve been working on for the entire month of September?”

David could not help but be very impressed with Penny’s daring and planning. Risky as this was, they just might be able to pull it off.

“So, are you in then?”

“Crazy as I must be to agree to something like this, you know I can’t say no,” came his reply.

Penny beamed at him and not for the first time David was reminded of just how pretty she was.

“Wonderful! The good news is that the potion is pretty much finished already. We just need one more ingredient and I know exactly how to get it.”

“And what would that be?”

“A single hair from Snape’s head.”

“And I’m sure he’s just absolutely dying to volunteer one of his greasy shoulder length strands.”

Penny laughed as she gave him a light bop on the nose.

“That’s why I said I know how to get it. Lizard Tuttle is going to get it for us.”

David shook his head in bewilderment.

“Lizard Turtle? Who the hell is that?”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As it turned out, ‘Lizard Tuttle’ preferred to go by ‘Liz’ and she did not resemble a hybrid of the two animals. She was a Slytherin in their year who was something of a loner but had a reputation for being obsessed with magical creatures. David might have seen her once or twice in that class, but he never paid much attention. As far as he was concerned, the Slytherins were good for either ignoring or knocking their knickers back in duels.

Reluctant as he was, Penny personally assured him that Liz was the good sort and that she would be waiting just outside the Great Hall after dinner on Wednesday to give them what they needed.

After an hour of joking and feasting with Ben and Charlie (Rowan was still in the library looking up ancient Aramaic), David pretended he was tired and wanted to go up to the common room earlier than usual. As he ducked out of the massive hall, he saw a black female standing opposite. She tied her thick braids up in a compressed bun, wore thick, round glasses and had a sweatshirt tied around her waist. Completing the ensemble was a dark green cardigan and a pair of binoculars hanging on her neck. She had an odd look on her face as though she were waiting for him.

“You must be Lizard. Penny Haywood sent me to meet you…” he began a little awkwardly. He had no idea what to expect from this girl.

“Stop right there. Billywig, bowtruckle, or bundium?”

David stopped in his tracks.

“Huh?”

It was then that Liz pulled out her wand. She didn’t aim at him but kept it aloft all the same. Her expression was unreadable.

“Billywig, bowtruckle, or bundium?” she repeated.

He was halfway tempted to pull out his own wand and hex her. But he couldn’t upset this person, not if he was to get what he needed.

Why do I always run into weirdos?

“Uh, I don’t know…bowtruckle?”

It was then that Liz put away her wand and gave a huge smile.

“So you have a very fearless, outgoing personality. I like that. Are you from America?”

“No? My mum has relatives but that’s about it. How’d you discern that from ‘bowtruckle’?”

Liz offered her hand, which he took after a moment. Her grip was surprisingly firm.

“I feel like we already know so much about each other. A lot of people make fun of me for asking that question. Sometimes, I hit those people with a bat-bogey hex.”

“Are you mad? Or just pulling the other one?”

The black teen gave a small noise of discontentment, her eyes slightly downcast.

“Ugh, I’m just not so good around people. I do much better around creatures and animals. I’m Liz Tuttle by the way. Everyone calls me Lizard because of the whole creature thing.”

“Yeah, you don’t say?”

Liz laughed good naturedly. “Penny told me you were funny. Even if it is a lot of sarcasm it’s still refreshing.”

It was then that David felt compelled to ask a certain question.

“How the hell did someone like you end up in Slytherin?”

“Do you have a problem with that?” came the ambiguous retort.

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t immediately trust people from your house. I haven’t exactly had the best experiences thus far.”

“Naturally, you’re a Gryffindor,” Liz said easily. “I prefer to think of ourselves as aspiring to be exceptional. I think it’s a good thing. Someday I want to be a world famous Magizoologist like Newt Scamander. That’s my ambition.”

Her mouth turned into a bit of a frown.

“But I acknowledge that our two houses usually don’t get along.”

David assessed the situation and deemed that Liz was no true threat nor the typical Slytherin that walked around looking for others to take advantage of. Still, he didn’t feel the need to interact with her further.

“Penny said you had the last ingredient for us.”

“Right you are.” And she produced a small bottle with a single black hair on the inside of it. “Wasn’t hard to swipe off his desk after I turned in one of my sample potions. He’s got quite the mop, he does.”

“Fascinating,” he said in a bored tone, taking the bottle and examining it.

“I really like Penny, by the way. She really cares about her potions and where the ingredients come from, unlike Snape. She also went out of her way to be nice to me when no one else would.”

“You don’t get along with the rest of your cronies in the house of snakes?”

For a second, he thought he might have gone too far with that remark, but again Liz laughed it off.

“I’m sort of an outlier even by Slytherin standards. Hanging out with Merula and her associates is not my idea of a good time.”

“It is if you like being bossed around and hearing non stop about how she’s the most powerful witch at Hogwarts. Honestly, you’d think she’d come up with a way more original title.”

Liz laughed again, but this time there was an interesting inflection to it. As though she knew something that he didn’t.

“Merula’s not all bad…well she’s mostly bad. But I know for a fact she’s had a hard life and she’s not always what she seems.”

David narrowed his eyes in confusion. Was this person really trying to get him to feel sorry for his archrival?

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not my place to say,” Liz said, holding up her hands. “You’ll find out sooner or later. But if you ever need help with something or need more potion ingredients, let me know. I’m around.”

Pocketing the bottle, David decided at the very least he could be semi-friendly with Liz Tuttle as opposed to the standard hostility he received from the silver and green.

“Thanks, Liz. I’ll take you up on that sometime.”

As they parted ways, he wondered if perhaps there were others like Liz among Slytherins? Or if he was destined to always be on the receiving end of their hexes like Merula and her crew? Was there truly more to them than their dark legacy?

All were questions not easily answered, but then again, he didn’t need to. Not when his target was the very worst of them.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Penny wanted to move as quickly as possible after acquiring Snape’s hair and so she invited David to meet her in one of the unused rooms that spanned on the corridor of the Great Hall. It was a perfect place to meet in private if one desired not to be disturbed and besides, he had used it before a few times. She beamed at him upon his arrival.

“Do you have the strand of Snape’s hair for the potion?”

David pulled out the bottle which contained said ingredient.

“Right here. Gotta say, it feels a bit weird to be carrying around the essence of that greasy git all day.”

“Well it’s about to be put to good use.”

Penny pulled out the cask of Polyjuice Potion and took the bottle from his hand. David peered over and noticed that it looked like gray and muddled with the texture of partially dried concrete.

“Gross,” he observed.

“It changes color once you add the bit of person you’re changing into,” Penny explained. “Watch this.”

She dropped Snape’s hair into the potion and upon contact it turned almost pitch black, almost like unpurified tar.

“Yeah, that’s way more appetizing.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Penny said a bit sheepishly.

“Are you kidding? This stuff is black as the man’s soul…if he has one to begin with.”

Penny laughed and gave an almost flirtatious wink.

“I know he’s difficult but he’s not that bad. Especially if you’ve shared one on one time.”

“Why is it that everyone’s telling me recently that every rotten Slytherin I come across is ‘not that bad’?”

“Well I never said that,” Penny replied darkly. “After all we’re trying to get back at one right now. Oh, you’ll need these by the way.”

She tossed him a pair of massive black robes.

“I convinced one of the House-Elves in the laundry area to lend me a set of Snape’s robes.”

“You have got to get me into the kitchens one of these days.”

“I’m sure I could sneak you in some time,” the blonde, that same mischievous glint returning to her crystal blue eyes. “But right now, it’s payback time.”

David nodded his head and tipped the cask as she handed it to him.

“Bottom’s up.”

He shuddered as he poured back the dark liquid into his throat. It was easily the worst thing he had ever tasted, and exceedingly bitter. So bitter it was, it was as though he were drinking the liquid essence of a fireplace. After managing to finish most of the potion he chucked the cask and tried to prevent himself from vomiting right then and there.

“Bloody hell that is revolting,” he managed to choke out.

But he didn’t have time to say anything more as the changes began to run throughout his body. It was a sensation similar to that of fire that emanated from the pit of his gut that spread everywhere. His skin felt like it was bubbling as though it were the inside of a boiling tea kettle. So intense it was, he fell on all fours gasping for breath, barely registering what was happening.

His body grew taller and slightly broader, given that puberty hadn’t truly set in for him yet. Hands, feet, and limbs grew bigger and elongated as his clothes tightened and then ripped from the strain of his new form. His nose lengthened considerably on his face while his dark brown hair grew ever darker and reached the tips of his shoulders. Finally, the pain subsided, and David was able to grasp everything that had just occurred.

“Whoa,” he said, looking at his hands and newfound body. Stranger still was hearing Severus Snape’s voice coming out of him. “This is way too weird.”

“I also probably should have had you change into the bigger robes before you drank the potion,” Penny said apologetically indicating towards him.

She was right of course. His set of robes were either stretched or torn completely and his feet were straining against the edge of his now too small school shoes. To someone looking at him it must have been quite comical (Penny was trying very hard not to giggle).

“I’ll turn around while you change,” she told him while blushing.

“Er, right.”

This was perhaps the most disconcerting aspect of all. Having to completely change clothes with the prettiest girl in their year inside a very enclosed space whilst in the form of their very imposing and unattractive Potions master. It was quite surreal and embarrassing. He did his best to be quick.

Once David had finally finished getting into the new ensemble, Penny sized him up.

“How do you feel?”

“Too many things come to mind,” he muttered, still unused to hearing Snape’s voice as his own. “We only have one hour to do this. Best to move quickly.”

“Right,” the blonde agreed. “Just make sure you can act the part. If the Professors or anyone else suspect anything we’re both in big trouble.”

“Trouble usually finds me,” David joked. “But don’t worry, that won’t happen this time. I’ve got Snape’s mannerisms down pretty well.”

“Speaking of, his last class of the day is nearly finished, and I’ll need to head down to head him off before he goes up to the Great Hall. Dinner is starting just about now.”

“Then that’s where I’ll go. Time to make Merula Snyde pay for what she did, and I assure you I will not be kind.” He put on a very Snape like inflection at the end of the sentence causing Penny to beam.

“Then you had best go do that Professor Snape.”

“You just bought yourself a month’s worth of detentions Miss Haywood.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Despite the good natured humor at the Potion Master’s expense, entering the Great Hall as Severus Snape was far more nerve racking then David Grant could have imagined. Though he had observed his professor many times in class, occupying a body that was not his was still highly foreign and a bit awkward. He tried not to look that way to passerbys but then again one of the benefits to being the most feared teacher in the school was that people tended to stay out of your way.

He spotted Merula rather quickly; she was holding court with Barnaby, Ismelda and a couple of other older Slytherins. The group sat on the end of the Slytherin table and so getting her attention would not be difficult when the time came for it.

Striding past the house tables, David debated whether or not to just go for the jugular and call out Merula immediately and be done with it. After all, he only had an hour in this form. He elected to confront her straight away but before he could, the giant form of Rubeus Hagrid stepped in front of his path.

“Professor Snape, sir. Don’t mean teh bother yeh but I need ter ask you somethin’.”

Under normal circumstances he would have welcomed a greeting from the gamekeeper. But these were not normal circumstances. Despite that, he couldn’t resist indulging the man. Even as Snape he couldn’t be mean to Hagrid.

“Yes. I suppose so. What is it?”

“I have some extra flobberworms in me hut. I wasn’t sure if yeh needed em for potions or fer another purpose. Do yeh think you’ll be needin more? And how many would yeh like?”

It was not something he was prepared to answer as he had no idea whether Snape needed extra flobberworms or not. Thankfully, he was saved by Albus Dumbledore.

“I think Professor Snape may need a day or so to look into his inventory, Hagrid,” the old man spoke but his eyes were twinkling. “It has been a long day and I suspect he might be interested in a hot meal.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry fer disturbing yeh, Professor.”

He gave a silent nod, but being saved by Dumbledore also had the unfortunate side effect of having to eat at the high table as opposed to confronting Merula.

“Come join us, Severus,” Dumbledore said lightly. “We were just discussing Harry Potter.”

“Perhaps that is…not the best choice for conversation, Albus,” Minerva McGonagall spoke up, her voice hesitant. “You know that he does not like discussing the boy.”

“Ah, yes you may be right. Did I offend you, Severus?”

David briefly forgot himself at the mention of Harry Potter.

“Harry Potter? You mean the Boy Who Lived? He saved us all. Why would I be offended?”

McGonagall and Dumbledore gave each other a curious glance.

“Are you quite alright, Severus?”

Uh oh. Clearly there’s something going on here I’m not aware of. But why would Snape hate Harry Potter? Then again, he hates everyone…

David tried to ease his way out of that corner.

“Uh…yes, I’m quite alright Headmaster. I meant only to say that talking of Harry Potter is redundant and not at all interesting to me.”

“He is the subject of many conversations among our kind even at age six,” Dumbledore nodded. “Indeed, I suspect Harry himself will not take to the attention well. However, we are also discussing future students here at Hogwarts that we have our eyes on. I would also like to discuss the potions curriculum with you. Please, have a seat.”

Uh oh

Faced with no choice, David reluctantly sat down and grabbed an assortment of food absentmindedly. The conversation that followed was a mix of topics, future Hogwarts students, the state of the Ministry, and the potions curriculum. Keeping up the façade of Snape was easy when discussing students or the Ministry, he knew plenty about both and just played indifferent or grumpy. But he could have sworn McGonagall was giving him narrowing looks whenever he deflected or did not know the answer to a question regarding potions. But that was not his biggest problem. He estimated he’d been in this body for about twenty minutes already and there was no telling how long Merula would stay in the Great Hall. If he ran out of time or missed his window of opportunity, he’d be in very deep trouble.

“The Weasley brothers are quite impressive, I must say,” Dumbledore continued on. “And I hear that there are five more on the way. I hope you are prepared for the challenge, Severus.”

He gave a committed eyeroll to the comment.

“If half the stories are true, then they will all be Gryffindor and nothing but trouble the moment they set foot in this castle.”

Technically speaking, this wasn’t a lie. The entire Weasley Family had been in Gryffindor for centuries, not to mention he’d heard more than enough about Fred and George’s exploits to know how much they liked to prank people.

“Really now, Severus,” McGonagall chastised. “I find it highly suspect that you are so often willing to criticize my house when there are still children of Death Eaters among your own.”

“Speaking of,” Dumbledore interrupted lightly. “It is important that we offer these children a different path than those of their parents. Severus, have you any news on that front? I hear that several still send letters to Azkaban?”

David had no idea who among the Slytherins was writing to their parents in Azkaban, but it did give him the in he was looking for. He knew for a fact that Merula’s parents were Death Eaters locked up in the horrid facility. It was now or never to expose her.

Now’s my chance

“I have nothing new on that subject, however there is another topic that I need to bring to your attention, Headmaster.”

“Oh?”

He wasted no time in calling his archrival’s name.

“Merula Snyde! Come up to the high table at once!” he barked. She complied at once, surprised but she did not dare disobey her head of house.

“What is the matter, Severus?” Dumbledore asked him, curiosity brimming over his half moon spectacles.

“Last Monday, I gave praise to Miss Snyde for an expertly brewed Wit-Sharpening potion. You even gave her a special reward for it. But in light of recent information, I have discovered she was not entirely truthful about this potion, were you Miss Snyde?”

The horrified look of being caught red handed was extremely satisfying as David had to keep himself from smirking. In the real Snape’s words she was an atrocious liar and this instance was no exception.

“Professor Snape, what do you mean, sir?”

“Do not lie to me,” he hissed, causing Merula to flinch. “Any further attempt to do so will result in harsher punishment than the one you will already receive. Admit your transgressions this instant!”

That did the trick.

“Fine! I swiped the potion off Penny’s desk when she went to do that favor for Professor Sprout right before my class started. I’m sorry!”

“It is as I suspected, Albus,” David said to the old man (it was still quite odd to say the word ‘Albus’ in Snape’s voice). “She has taken credit for someone else’s work.”

There was no twinkling in the Headmaster’s eyes as his stern gaze bore down on Merula.

“This is a very serious thing you have done, Miss Snyde,” he told her. “Plagiarism is not tolerated in any capacity at Hogwarts and I will be forced to dock fifty points from Slytherin. The award you received will be taken down from display. However, it will be up to your head of house to decide on any further punishment.”

Both Dumbledore and McGonagall’s eyes were on him now. It was also a glorious opportunity to rub salt in an open wound. Merula, for all her brashness and ego did not dare to insult the Headmaster or the leader of Slytherin house. She deserved it after all. She had been nothing but trouble and a royal pain in the arse from the minute they spoke to one another. He could call her a troll, a brat, insult her awful makeup, anything to stick the point home once and for all. But there was also more to consider than just his own feelings. Snape rarely ever gave out harsh punishments to those under his charge and going overboard would seem out of character. Not to mention jeopardizing Penny’s plan.

This is about her, not yourself he thought to himself. Penny is the one who needs closure on this, not you.

“I suspect that Miss Snyde has been adequately punished enough. She knows better than to try and fool me again.”

Merula gave a sigh of relief, her eyes still stuck to the floor.

“Thank you, Professor Snape. I knew that you would see I’m the real victim here.”

That remark almost made David change his mind about going easy on her, but he made up for it by being extremely acidic in his dismissal.

“Be thankful I have decided not put you in detention until Christmas,” he snarled. “Now be gone and get out of my sight.”

Merula complied, her body completely dejected. David held no sympathy for her, however. As far as he was concerned it was nothing less than she deserved.

“This has been an interesting turn of events,” Dumbledore spoke aloud. “Minerva, will you please tell Pomona that one of her students is the true maker of this potion? I believe she will be very proud. Fifty points to Hufflepuff and an award shall be given in recognition of such fine work.”

Professor McGonagall nodded and got up from her chair as the old man turned towards him.

“And I believe a reward is in order for you as well…twenty points to Gryffindor.”

David nearly choked on the steak and kidney pie he was pretending to eat.

“Uh….I’m sorry? Points to Gryffindor?” he said in a very un-Snape like tone.

“I would suggest you exit the Great Hall before that Polyjuice Potion wears off, Mr. Grant.”

His jaw nearly dropped.

“How….how did you know it was me?”

Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling madly now. The fact that he was somehow able to discern his true identity was mind boggling.

“Know it was who? You are obviously Severus Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House. Good night.”

David didn’t need to be told twice in order to take the hint. He bowed and took off in a very quick powerwalk from the high table down past the benches and didn’t stop until he had exited the Great Hall and into the secret corridor closet. All the while he failed to profess a very proud, distinct grin. He had done it. They had done it. He could field a million questions about tattered clothes, where had been and why he couldn’t stop smiling. The risk was well worth the reward. Penny would be compensated and very happy.

Take that Merula

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

True to his prediction, Professor Sprout and Penny were immensely pleased. Sprout was so ecstatic she was barely holding back tears when announcing what Penny had done to the applause of both the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors during class. The blonde also delivered her personal thanks after Herbology that day.

“I can’t tell you what this means to me,” she said, giving an enormous hug. “I’m sorry if I put you in an uncomfortable position, Dave.”

“Hey I’d drink black goo for you any time,” he joked. After realizing that sounded awkward he attempted to readdress her. “Ahem…what I mean is that I was more than happy to return the favor you’ve given so many times already.”

“And I’ll be ready to give it again,” she beamed at him. “I’m serious. I know I’ve told you this, but if you need any help at all, please let me know. Especially with the cursed vaults.”

“Does this mean you’re over your fear?”

“What do you mean?”

David could tell she was holding back the truth as she placed her hands behind her back and looked away.

“Come on, Penny. I’m not stupid. You’ve been acting on edge ever since that werewolf boggart popped up in Herbology.”

The blonde gave a resolute sigh.

“It’s true, I haven’t been feeling like myself lately. Madam Pomfrey discharged me after half a day but that werewolf seemed so….real. It reminded me of the one that…”

David didn’t need her to go any further. He knew the traumatic story; the one in which Penny’s best friend, a muggle, had been killed by a werewolf in her youth. It was his turn to give her a big hug.

“Thank you,” she said, wiping back a few tears. “Combine that with Merula stealing my potion, it just sent me over the edge a bit.”

“You do have to admit that plan was pretty ‘Slytherin-esque’” he teased her.

“Hey, just because I’m a Hufflepuff doesn’t mean I don’t stand up for myself,” she responded with a sniff. “I certainly wasn’t going to let that nasty little witch take credit for my own creation.”

“I would have felt the same way. Given that she’s my enemy and all. She’s got two new goons this year too- Ismelda and Barnaby. They’re intent on finding this next vault.”

Penny nodded towards him, crystal blue eyes filled with intent and purpose.

“The last thing anyone needs is for Merula Snyde and her cronies to get their hands on what’s inside those vaults. Barnaby may be slow but he’s strong. Ismelda is a follower but she’s also vicious. Whatever information Madam Rosmerta has on your brother, you need to find out.”

“It’s all contingent on whether or I pass this latest charms test,” came his response. “It’s first thing tomorrow actually. Gotta go find out whether I can freeze objects in midair.”

The blonde gave him one last huge smile.

“Good luck, Dave. I know you’ll be brilliant.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Professor Flitwick nearly fell off the top of his book stack.

“Oho! Well done, Mr. Grant. Splendid work!”

The feather he had sent a jet of purple light at was now completely suspended in place and David sported quite a grin.

“This is the best performance of this spell out of Gryffindor I’ve seen in your year. You must be very proud.”

He took a brief sideways glance at Ben and Rowan, who gave him a silent thumbs up.

“Thank you, Professor. But I can’t take all the credit. I had some pretty amazing help.”

“Help or not, you have clearly demonstrated remarkable hard work these past two weeks. Professor McGonagall will be hearing of this I assure you,” Flitwick squeaked.

David’s grin grew wider. There was no doubt now.

He was going to Hogsmeade.

[bixshits]

Lost Odyssey - A Thousand Years of Dreams - Story Thirty-Three Transcript

Note- This dream is only available through download

An Old Soldier's Legacy

Kaim spent the entire summer surrounded by a fence that towered over him.

He was trapped in a prisoner of war camp.

It was a terrible mistake - not his but the dimwitted, cowardly commander's. Kaim was a mercenary attached to the man's regiment. They were invading the enemy's main port city when the officer miscalculated at the end and the unit's line of retreat was cut off. While the troops were prepared for an all-or-nothing charge, the commander almost casually opted for surrender.

"Don't worry," he had said to his men before they were locked up.

"Whatever happens now, the ultimate victory in this war will be ours. Instead of making a stand and dying for nothing, we'll be much better off if we just quietly let them take us as prisoners of war. We'll be liberated right away in any case."

This made perfect sense.

But the officer completely misread the feelings of an enemy on the brink of defeat.

Having survived hundreds of battles, Kaim knew better than anyone how people felt towards prisoners of war after the hated enemy had taken the lives of their friends and loved ones and torched their hometowns.

To the members of his platoon at least, as they were preparing to enter the camp, he whispered,

"You'd better forget about any rosy pictures. This could be worse than the battlefield."

His words proved all too accurate.

Life in the POW camp was bitterly harsh. Day after day, the men were forced to do backbreaking labor on a diet of scraps. The sick and injured went untreated and were not even allowed to rest. To collapse on the job was to die. Indeed, several of the prisoners died not by collapsing on the job but from brutal beatings for minor infractions.

Everyone with access to the camp - both the soldiers assigned to guard duty and ordinary citizens with business there - looked upon the prisoners with hatred in their eyes. Some guards would wave swords at them and boast, "I can kill you bastards any time I like," and certain officers slaughtered one prisoner after another, disguising the killings as accidents.

Even as they tormented the prisoners, such men were suffering the deaths of their families and friends in the war, and spending their days in fear of the coming invasion. The camp was a place ruled by hatred and revenge, but also a place shrouded in uncertainty and fear of the day when the captives would become their captors. This tense, complicated atmosphere ate away at the spirits of all, friend and foe alike.

The horror of war lay not only in the mutual killing of enemies clashing on the battlefield but even more so in places such as this that were far from the front lines.

Kaim knew this with every bone in his body.

A month passed after the platoon entered the POW camp.

The enemy troops were thoroughly exhausted.

THe fall of the capital was said to be imminent.

In spite or because of that, life in the camp was worse than ever.

The tasks assigned the prisoners were even crueler than before, and their diet, which was meager enough to begin with, fell below the level needed to sustain life.

The military guards bullied the prisoners as if for their own amusement, wounding them, and mistreating them with fatal consequences. All kinds of civilians did their part, too, hurling human waste over the fence into the camp. And even if secret stashes of food might be left for them, none of the prisoners dared eat them for fear they might be poisoned.

Hatred climbed to unseen heights.

To one prisoner who moaned "Why are you doing this to us?"

a guard spat out the answer, "It's just what your country is doing to us."

And it was true.

All the young men of the enemy country were being sent into battle, where most of them were being killed. Whole towns had been burned down and transformed into rubble.

While the soliders assigned to guard duty knew that defeat in the war itself was certain, they continued to be victors where the POWs were concerned.

And while the captured soldiers believed in the victory of their fatherland and waited for the day when their comrades would resuce them, they continued to be vanquished among victors.

The moans of the POWs could be heard throughout the camp:

"When is the war going to end?"

"The war doesn't have to end. Just let them get us out of here!"

"Have we been abandoned by the fatherland?"

Kaim kept offering the same advice to them again and again:

"Be patient," he would say, "Don't give up hope."

Kaim knew everything there was to know about war, and so he realized what was happening now. The fatherland's supreme commanders were trying to bring down the capital first and leaving the fall of this military port city for later. The POWs had, in fact, been abandoned.

The commander in chief would no doubts say, "For the sake of a great victory, we cannot let ourselves be concerned by a small set back."

And he would be right.

But precisely because he would be right, Kaim could not convey this to the prisoners, who firmly believed that their side was trying their best to rescue them.

One POW after another made plans to escape, and for every one of those there was an informant who exposed his plan to the guards.

Both types of prisoner had the same thing in mind: to save himself alone. No one could be trusted. THere were even some "informants" who made up phony escape stories about perfectly innocent men just to put themselves in a little better position with the guards. The only thing awaiting such traitors when the war finally ended would be the revenge of their comrades. As much as they understood this, all they could do was ingratiate themselves with the guards so as to secure their momentary safety.

The fence was not the only thing surrounding the POWs. It was not just their bodies but their minds that had been taken captive. In addition to the ones who died from illness and injury were increasing numbers of those who ended their own lives after a period of mental suffering.

Be patient.

Don't give up hope.

Kaim's word gradually ceased to make an impression on anyone.

After the men had been prisoners of war for two months, a new guard took charge of Kaim's barrack.

In place of the young warrior who had been guarding them came an old soldier.

His name was Jemii.

When he introduced himself to the men, he remarked with a grim smile,

"Things must be getting pretty desperate if they're calling up an old goat like me."

The young guard had been sent to the front lines. This probably meant that the battle for the capital had entered its final phase.

"I tell you, this war is almost over. In another month, you young fellows will be on the other side of the fence, and we'll be locked in here. Our positions will be completely reversed."

Jemii needed no prompting from the POWs, and his vocie contained none of the hate-filled agitation of the young guard's.

"All you fellows have to do is hang in there a little longer, be patient, and not give up hope."

His words were almost identical to Kaim's, which meant that Jemii, like Kaim, had experienced many a battle over the years.

"We may be in different positions, but deep down we're the same. You men are unarmed prisoners, and we'll be under your control as soon as you come to occupy the country. I'm what you will be tomorrow, and you're what I will be tomorrow. I don't know how long we're going to go on like this, but if you stop and think about it, isn't it stupid for us to keep hating each other and snarling at each other? Let's at least try to get along."

He twisted his wrinkled face into a big grin and laughed aloud.

His smile deeply affect the mentally and physically exhausted men.

Before they knew it, they were smiling, too. THis was the first carefree smile that any of them had managed since their capture, or, rather, since their time on the battlefield.

Jemii's kindness was not limited to words. Of course, the change of a single guard was not enough to substantially improve the prisoners' treatment. The hard labor and meager food were the same as before. But Jemii would speak to them with real feeling.

"Sorry for working you so hard, but there aren't any young men left in this town to do the muscle work. We're not making you do these jobs to punish or discipline you but because the town needs your help with these constructing projects."

"I'm sorry we can't give you anything decent to eat. I really am. But everybody outside the fence is starving, too. We're all in this together, so try to put up with it."

Jemii would try to order somewhat easier jobs for prisoners who had taken ill, and he would sneak them extra food. THat is the kind of guard he was.

The prisoners started calling him "Uncle Jemii," and would even joke around with him sometimes.

"We'd be way better off if the other guards were like you, Uncle Jemii,"

said one prisoner, to which Jemii nodded sadly.

"I'll tell you what, Uncle Jemii," said another prisoner. "If I had known that there were people like you in this country, I never would have volunteered. I'm not forgetting my place as a POW, but let me shake your hand once."

Jemii allowed himself the faintest of smiles at this and gave the man his hand.

"You know something, Kaim..." Jemii said, sitting down beside Kaim during a break in the heavy lifting.

It was a clear, beautiful day, but the sunlight pouring down on them had lost its midsummer glare. The season was shifting to autumn.

"I'd say you're a little different from these other young prisoners."

"Am I?"

"I know you've seen your share of battles. I can smell it on you."

Kaim's only reply to Jemii was a strained smile. Jemii seemed to have known what Kaim's response to his remark would be, and he wore the same kind of smile as he carried on the conversation.

"Why haven't you escaped?" It would be easy for a man like you to break through the flimsy security they have here."

"You give me too much credit."

"You could make it by yourself, but taking everybody with you would be tough. Is that why you stayed?"

Kaim gave him another strained smile, saying nothing.

Jemii was right. If he decided to escape on his own, it would be easy for him to climb over the fence. If, however, he manged to gain his freedom, the prisoners he left behind would be punished or, at the very least, would have to live with increasingly harsh security measures. The young soldiers abandoned in the camp would feel only despair.

If he was going to escape, it would have to mean getting everyone over the fence. Most of the others, however, were so wasted away that they were beginning to lose even the strength to go on living. Men like that could only be a drag on his own flight to freedom.

"You're a kind-hearted fellow, aren't you?" Jemii said.

"And you're a smart one, too, I'll bet."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Any soldier with as much experience as you has already seen the handwriting on the wall. The war is over. Another three days, maybe a week, and our side is going to announce a total surrender. Right now, we're just making our last stand out of sheer stubbornness. The second the war ends, you prisoners will go free, and we'll take your place."

"Yes. And?"

"It'll just be a little longer. Really, all you have to do is hold on a little longer. You must know that as well as I do. So you're probably not even thinking of making the effort to escape."

When Kaim nodded, Jemii smiled and said, "That's fine. I'm just as fed up as you are with all the pointless fighting and hatred."

He looked up at the autumn sky, his profile marked by a number of deep wrinkles. On closer inspection, Kaim realized that some of those wrinkles were scars left by sword cuts.

"Let me tell you something, Kaim."

"All right."

"Our country doesn't have the strength left to make it through another hard winter. I knew that when summer was still here."

"I see..."

"I just wish we had given up sooner. Then there wouldn't have been so many young men killed in battle, and so many towns burned."

Jemii released a deep sigh and added, "When this war is over, we're going to have to do whatever your country tells us to do. We can't complain if we're enslaved or tortured to death by the young men who are now our prisoners of war."

Kaim could not assure him that would never happen.

As a mercenary, he would just go off seeking new employment when this war ended, but this was not true of the other prisoners of war. As the conquerors, they would now have peace. They would return to the lives they led before. But how many among them would be able to treat the vanquished people with kindness and respect?

"I think you'll know what I mean, Kaim, when I say you can be as cruel as you like to us old folks when the fighting ends, but please, I'm begging you, be decent to the young men and to the women and to the children. Don't do anything to them that will make them hate your country. Otherwise, there'll just be another war sometime in the future. Ten years, twenty years, thirty years, maybe even a hundred years from now. I don't want any more of this. Countries fighting each other, people hating each other..."

It happened that very moment.

The violent ringing of a bell began to echo throughout the camp. It was the bell in the watchtower, signaling an emergency meeting of the guards.

"Oh, well, gotta go," Jemii said, standing up. "Don't bother going back to work right away. Tell the other fellows everybody can have a little break."

He took a few steps before turning to say to Kaim with a smile, "You know, if we weren't enemies, I would've liked to have a drink with you sometime."

That was the last Kaim saw of Jemii as a guard.

The sun was overhead when Jemii left, but he did not come back even after it had begun sinking in the west.

The next time someone came into the enclosure it was to the cheers of the POWs welcoming the arrival of their countrymen.

"You're going to be all right now, men! The war is over!

It's a huge victory for our side!"

Jemii's country had agreed to a total surrender.

The guards assembled in the tower were stripped of their weapons, and anyone who resisted was killed on the spot.

"Get a move on there! Hurry up!"

The soldiers who, until a short time ago, had ruled the camp were herded into the enclosure with whips and under the threat of drawn swords.

The POWs, who until only moments ago had been under their rule, now lined up to stare at their former guards, and before anyone knew it, the guards were being cursed and stoned.

Hands tied, the soldiers could not ward off the stones, and before long they were drenched in blood.

Jemii was among them.

He started at Kaim, blood gushing from his forehead. His eyes showed no hatred or resentment. He simply gave Kaim a little nod, looking straight at him as if to say, "Remember what I asked you to do."

Kaim shouted to the men surrounding these new prisoners,

"Stop it! Stop it! They've surrendered! Leave them alone!"

But, liberated from the fear of death and from days of humiliation, his young comrades, wild-eyed and screaming like animals, went on stoning their former guards.

"Can't you see who this is? It's Uncle Jemii! Stop it!"

One of the soldiers gave him a contemptuous snort and all but spit out the words, "The old bastard was just sucking up to us for when our side won."

Another soldier - the young man who had asked to shake Jemii's hand that day - shouted, "He might act like a good guy, but an enemy's an enemy! And besides, he's just some old geezer from a country we pounded into the dirt." He threw another stone at Jemii.

Kaim's shouts did no good. He started grabbing hands that were readying to hurl stones and smashing people in the face, but no one would listen to him.

The commander of the troops that had galloped to the rescue just grinned and said, "Good! Good! Get it out of your system!" and he handed swords to the unarmed men.

"Kill them all, and raise some victory cries while you're at it! Think of the humilation you endured as prisoners. Now's the time to get even!"

"No, stop it!" Kaim shouted. "The war is over!"

"Wait, I know you. You're a mercenary.

You're just spouting a lot of nonsense. A few good sword thrusts could shut that mouth of yours!"

The commander's aides took this as a signal to surround Kaim.

"Don't waste your time on him, men! Warriors of our beloved fatherland! Kill these soldiers first, and then we can attack the town. Set fires! Take the women! We won this war! This town, this country, everything belongs to us now!"

The commander laughed aloud, but in the next moment, his smile turned into a grimace. His aides were falling to the ground. Kaim had grabbed a sword from one of them, and now it flashed in his hand.

"Traitor! Somebody take him down!"

Kaim swung around and started for Jemii.

But it was too late.

The soldiers were already slashing wildly at the former guards, who had no means to defend themselves.

Standing amid the hellish scene of human butchery, Kaim saw it happen.

The old soldier, who had been kind because he knew all too well the link between war and hatred, fell to the ground without uttering a word, a hateful blade thrust into his back.

Kaim made a break for the camp gate.

He ran for all he was worth, a soundless roar reverberating inside him.

Why did people have to hate each other so?

Why did people have to fight each other so?

And why was it impossible for people to stop fighting and stop hating?

He did not know the answers to these questions.

Saddened and frustrated by his own incomprehension, Kaim ran at full speed through the rubble of the town.

A hundred years pass by.

"This is it, Kaim," the commander says with a smile. "I am enormously grateful for the magnificent job you've done. You can name your own reward when this war is over."

The last great offensive is about to begin.

This should bring the war to a close.

It has taken a hundred years.

After all these long, long years as a vassal state, the country that lost the war the year Kaim was a prisoner has raised its banner against the ruling power under which it endured such suffering in the last war.

The defeated country has spent a hundred years nurturing its hatred for the ruling power, passing the hatred down from parent to child to grandchild. The country that won the war a hundred years ago was too filled with a ruler's arrogance and insensitivity to notice what was happening. The only things that it has handed down from parent to child to grandchild are the scorn and contempt for the "inferior country" under its sway.

This war ends with almost disappointing ease.

The results are the exact opposite of the war a hundred years earlier.

No one knows on which side the goddess of victory will smile if yet another war occurs a hundred years from now.

"All right, Kaim, name your reward."

Kaim answers the commander's question softly: "I don't need a thing."

"Why not? It's true that you're a mercenary, but you far outdid the regular troops. Our country wants to show its appreciation for your efforts."

"If that's how you really feel, I'd like you to promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"Don't make your enemy hate you."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about treating the people of the defeated country with kindness and respect."

A shocked expression on his face, the commander laughs and says,

"Aren't you the softhearted one!"

Kaim, however, is deadly serious.

"This is the legacy an old man from your own country left me a hundred years ago."

"Enough," says the commander, still looking shocked. "Dismissed."

Kaim himself has no hope that Jemii's legacy will be fulfilled. The hundred-year journey he has taken since that fateful day in the camp has shown him only the selfishness and stupidity of the human race. It will be the same from here on out as well. Indeed, nothing has changed since long before he met Jemii.

And yet.

Back at his post, Kaim grips his sword and holds his breath.

It will change someday.

They will see someday.

I want to believe that.

Unless I believe it, I can't go on with my endless journey.

You know what I mean, don't you, Uncle Jemii?

Eyes closed, he can see Jemii's face smiling sadly.

The order goes out to the entire assembled force: "Charge!"

Within the rising clouds of dust, Kaim grips his sword and starts to run.

[teecohenc]

stitch by stitch, tear apart .

WHO: Tina Cohen-Chang & Tanya Cohen-Chang with mentions of Ji-Hun Cohen-Chang, Santana Lopez, Sam Evans, Hunter Clarington & Rachel Berry.  WHAT:  Happy Holidays???? ( Not in Castleport, my dudes ).  WHERE: Tanya Cohen-Chang & Ji-Hun Cohen-Chang’s home. WHEN: Thanksgiving. WARNINGS: Mentions of parental death & hints at depression. 

“Mama?” Tina called out as she carefully stepped over the threshold and into to her old family home; a dark and barbed weight settling in her chest as it tended to do ever since his funeral.

Honestly, she didn’t know how her mother could stand to still live in a place where each room was now a crippling reminder of the sunshine presence that would never fill them again. Hell, it was only last week that she’d been able to put back up her favorite framed photo she had of her and her father ( her, sitting atop his shoulders at 6 years old with a missing front-toothed grin while he laughed and laughed and spun them around ) without collapsing into tears.

They’d both agreed weeks back that Thanksgiving wouldn’t be celebrated this year. The mere idea of it was just too hard to comprehend. Truthfully, there was nothing more Tina wanted than to just stay at home for the night, curled with Salem and a few mugs of generously spiked cider while she watched a mind-numbing series on Netflix. But her mother had asked her over the day before yesterday, and there was no way she could or would refuse.

However, the sight of the small, well-loved living room table filled with gimbap, kimchi, and soju all laid out neatly across its surface was pretty paramount in both startling and confusing the absolute hell out of her.

“What—?” but her voice cut off as soon as her mother appeared from down the short hall. For a long moment, Tina just watched her come closer, incredulous to what was happening, as a rush of blinding anger came to the forefront of her senses. Was this for real? Why in the hell would she do this? Why would she do anything that would make them remember him so soon? Too soon.

“His favorite foods from home that he liked to make,” was all Tanya offered after a tense silence, but it only made the emotions ricocheting inside of her that much worse. What was she thinking? Was she serious?! But just as she opened her mouth to shout and reprimand her mother with everything she had, she found herself beat to the punch yet again.

“Don’t. Please.” Another leaden pause thickened the air like a suffocating smog.

“You know he wouldn’t have wanted the house like this, Tina; filled with this awful silence and sorrow. You and I mourning. You know he would have hated it.”

The harsh words were loaded and like a violent shot to the chest — her breath hitching as she tried to fight back the hot press of tears that prickled at the corners of her eyes.

God, hadn’t she cried enough? Why couldn’t it just stop already? Why did she do this?

Tina opened her mouth once more — to say what, she wasn’t too sure — but the sudden and harsh bursts of fury, sorrow, and loneliness she’d felt coalescing to dangerous heights mere seconds before died out when she caught the open and earnest look reflected in her mother’s own watery eyes; something she hadn’t seen in months.

It reminded her of the days she and her mother and father spent during her youth; goofing around in the kitchen and dancing sporadically to old rock music, or camping out in the backyard as her dad made silly-voiced shadow puppets on the tent walls with a flashlight, and so, so much more. Each moment was filled with the same heartfelt and loving air that she’d always felt and cherished the most from her parents that surrounded practically everything they did. They were the memories ( and everything that came with them ) that she’d so desperately tried to shove down in the aftermath of her father’s death for fear of a complete and utter breakdown. But in that one, singular instance and whispered plea from her equally suffering mother in her old family home, she found that she now, more than ever, wanted desperately to cling to them like a stubborn, spoiled child.  

And despite vaguely wishing she’d been talked to first about the whole set up; despite being ambushed and knowing she had the right to be upset in some form or fashion, Tina looked at her mother, over to the table of food that her father always swore by for the heaviest of hearts, and felt her tight, burning muscles lose all their fight and strain. 

Fine. Fine. She was right, wasn’t she?

Wasn’t she . . .?

Nodding her head, Tina smiled a choppy, but somehow sincere smile of her own as she pushed down the niggling urge to run off and throw up.

“Yeah. Okay. . .”

&&. ___________

It was a mere few hours later, and she was on that pleasant precipice of tipsiness that came just before you fell straight into being drunk. There were only a few traces of food left in bits and pieces on the table as she watched from her place on the couch — whole body warm and uncontrollable giggles tumbling free — as her mother regaled a story about the utter disaster that was her father’s proposal. It was one that she’d heard about a million times before, and yet, it never got old.

The start to their rather unexpected evening had been difficult and somewhat stilted despite the mini intervention of sorts. But once they’d stared to eat and the more they talked and began to laugh and tentatively reminisce ( the more they drank ) the easier and more enjoyable it got. Hearing about her father like this: happy and silly and whole as he ever had been, and from the only other person who knew him so well and loved him just as much as she did was something she hadn’t realized she needed; something she didn’t think would be so cathartic after the endless sad of it all.

Tina had just poured two more glasses of peach soju for her and her mother once their mingled laughter finally died down, when Tanya slowly leaned back with a small, satisfied sigh and smiled in that seeking, motherly kind of way.

“. . . How are things with you, though, honey? You know, outside of work. You’ve had so much go on with that poor Rachel girl, and this town’s never-ending need for drama outside of themselves. I haven’t heard much from you about, well . . . any of it lately.”

Well, that was absolutely a conversation that didn’t need to be had.

“Yeah, it’s all fine. I mean, it’s been hard, of course, but I’m . . . you know, dealing. I have Hunter, my friends, and work, so I’m not lacking,” she replied airily as she waved the question off. But Tanya just stared at her daughter for a long, calculating moment, and Tina felt her stomach drop at what she hoped wasn’t coming.  

Anything but that. 

“You should know better than to try and lie to me like that, sweetheart.”

Fuck. Fuck. Of course, yet again, her mother had gone and disarmed her with only a sentence ( paired with the liquor in her system and slew of emotions and issues ) as the repressed realities of the past year came slithering like grotesque vines to grip at her heart. How exactly did one tell their mother that, besides an old schoolmate dying after months of being missing, she and her friends had also been dealing with some freak tormenting them with secrets and blackmail? How she’d been on a rollercoaster with Hunter from the second he’d gotten back into Castleport that finally seemed to be slowing down and in their favor for once, or the nasty fight she’d got into with Santana that left her feeling enormously guilty and murderously irate at the same time? And worst of all, that she’d gotten Sam’s father drunk, took him home, and took a picture of what she’d done in order to save Double C’s from being shut down ( or worse ) after a series of horrible threats?

. . . Then there was her father; the haunting, painful memory of how he’d smiled a ghost of her favorite smile at her as she held his hand tight in hers ( as though that was enough to tether him to life ) before closing his eyes for the final time.

How it felt that she was just a hollow shell — a husk of nothing important or worthy of anything, and maybe she always had been.

Tanya must have seen the clear crumbling wall of emotions falling across her daughter’s face; her own showing nothing but heartbreaking empathy as she gently reached the short distance across the couch they sat on and cupped Tina’s face in her gentle hand.

“내 작은 해바라기가 너무 슬퍼 보인다.”

That.

Hearing her mother speak so gently to her in Korean along with the nickname she’d had since birth was what broke the damn, and hard. There was no stopping it. 

Tina let out an ugly, wrenched sob as she buckled forward and into her mother’s ready, protective, and comforting embrace. Her whole body shook as she cried — cried for everything that’d been her life as of late, and to the one person she knew would just let her, without judgement, without discomfort, without fear or phony reassurances, cry.

There, a daughter curled up with her mother in a heavy home filled with old, bittersweet memories and an emptiness that was felt achingly.  

And there she stayed for a long time.  

[katahnisharma]

The Wanted Poster (Teaser)

Pairing: Tom Holland x Original Female Character

Word Count: 646

Warnings: None yet, but there will be angst in the future

AU: RobinHood!Tom

A/N: Well, it’s finally here! My first ever series teaser, and I’m so excited to know what you guys think! This is somewhat based off the old Disney Robin Hood (let’s be real that movie was the best) but it’s got some twists of its own :) Thank you to @evngelinelilly @tomsfireheart @bookishpeter @wintersparker for giving me amazing feedback!

“He came to Sherwood Forest with a feather in his cap. A fighter never looking for a fight. His bow was always ready, and he kept his arrows sharp. He used them to fight for what was right” Robin Hood by Louis Prima

“Oi Harrison, hurry up!” Tom hissed as he crouched behind the bushes, watching the road in front of him intently. There was a soft rustle as Harrison appeared next to him, breathing heavily.

”Excuse me, but we did just run five kilometers, so forgive me if I’m a little behind! And we had to change while doing it, so screw you” he panted, whacking Tom on the arm. Tom smiled apologetically and turned to look at Harrison.

“Sorry Haz, I just wanted to make sure we got here on time, we can’t miss this one.”

“Well we made it in plenty of time, the coach isn’t even here yet.”

“Yes but we still need to go over the plan again so it all goes smoothly. No mistakes, we can’t risk being caught.” Tom replied, adjusting his green hat and feeling to make sure his lucky arrow was still embedded in it. Harrison groaned.

“Absolutely not, I’ve heard the plan far too many times. Do you even know how often I heard it from Harry? And you must have repeated it ten times since we left camp!” he replied. Tom smiled, as he imagined Harry and Sam plotting furiously back at camp.

“Besides, you owe me at least that much since I have to wear this ridiculous disguise” Harrison scoffed, tugging at his heavily embroidered dress. Tom grinned mockingly.

“But you look ravishing Haz, that dress really sets off your eyes!” Tom chuckled, batting his lashes jokingly. Harrison rolled his eyes, trying to suppress a laugh.

“You’re lucky you have me, my friend. Pretty sure no one else would agree to do anything this foolhardy solely for the good of humanity” Harrison quipped, adjusting a wig he had pulled from the satchel hanging from his shoulder. Tom smiled slightly, adjusting his own wig and securing a set of fake rings on his hands.

“You and I both know you would never turn down helping me with these heists. The idiot I know is annoyingly noble and would do anything for Nottingham, so shut your face” Tom said, now smoothing down his own wig. It wasn’t a lie for either of them, he thought. They would defend and provide for Nottingham with their lives. After all, that was where they had grown up, where their loved ones were. And with the village being struck with hardship ever since Prince John had taken control of the English throne in a coup, the whole country was being gripped by poverty from increasing taxes. Nottingham was now dirt poor, and Tom and Harrison knew these robberies were essential for the village’s survival.

Except this one, this particular heist, was the most ambitious one they had ever attempted. And they knew what was at stake if they failed.

Suddenly, Harrison gripped Tom’s arm.

“What?” Tom whispered, straining to see through the bush. Harrison cleared his throat nervously.

“I can hear the wheels. It’s here.” he murmured, as he began to rummage through his satchel for a small dagger he planned to hide in his sleeve. Tom gripped his bow held in his left hand as he closed his eyes, trying to focus himself. But all he could see in that black space was her. Those deep brown eyes crinkling at the sides as she smiled. Her long black hair falling in gentle waves down her back. The soft movement of her blood red gown as she shifted to look at him. It was an encounter he replayed in his mind countless times since he had first seen her that day. And it was one he would continue to replay until he would see her again. Tom’s breathing slowed and he opened his eyes. Harrison was staring at him.

“Tom, are you ready to go?” Tom grinned and let out a dry laugh.

“Yes. Let’s go steal from the phony King of England.”

FIRST CHAPTER COMING SOON 6/22/2018

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[wolfjustdraws]

“Her Frauds” - Lockwood x Lucy

“Her Frauds” - Lockwood x Lucy

Lockwood and Co. Series

Summary: She was no more than a fraud.

————Lockwood ————

“Lockwood, could you get that call?”

The phone had been ringing for a few seconds now. I was sitting in the kitchen eating toast while George ate some donuts we bought today. Holly was just putting something in the oven and Quill was reading something in The Times.

It was a few hours after midnight, we had just come from successfully capturing a Raw Bones in, I would say, record time. Though, it would have definitely been easier if Lucy had been with us.

After we exploded the Rotwell facility and returned from Albury Castle with a good sum of money and many thankful villagers, Lucy rented a new apartment away from Tooting and retook her freelancing. When she and I were on the chain circle, surrounded by spirits and ghost, I told her of how much we all missed her and how we needed her with us. I asked her to come back, to rejoin the company, but she refused.

“I’m sorry Lockwood” She said once we were out of the Other Side “I can’t come back”

“But” I countered “We need you, Lucy. What that fetch told you is a lie”

“I want to believe it is, but I can’t be sure Lockwood, and neither can you. But this doesn’t mean we can’t work together again” She smiled at us “If you guys need any help, or just, want to catch up, you guys can always call me”

And we had. Seeing Lucy from time to time was something all of us, including Quill, looked forward to every time.

“Sure thing” I left my toast on the plate and walked out of the kitchen towards the phone, which was still ringing in its holder. I picked it up from the table and leaned against the wall.

“Lockwood and Co., Anthony Lockwood speaking”

“Lockwood?” The voice on the other line was small and a little distant, but I could tell who it belonged to with ease.

“Lucy! Hey, how are you?”

“Lockwood, I need to tell you something” Her voice sounded stained and tired, and I knew it was not an effect from the phone, since I had heard Lucy on the phone many times and she always sounded happy and energetic. Immediately, I became concerned.

“Luce, what’s wrong?”

“Are the others there?”

“Erm, yes…yes, they are in the kitchen”

“Bring them over to the phone” She sucked air sharply and groaned with a soft gasp “I need them to hear this”

“Guys!” I turned back to the kitchen and brought the phone with me. Quill had left the news and was now talking with Holly about visitors-know-what, and George was scribbling on the thinking cloth “Guys, its Lucy, she wants to tell us something” They immediately stopped what they were doing and looked at me expectantly. I placed the phone on the table and turned the speaker on “Lucy, I have everyone here with me, I've put you on speaker”

“Guys?” Her voice came as a whisper, then her throat cleared “-you guys there?”

“Yes, Lucy” Holly said from her seat. We had all leaned forward on our chairs to listen better “We are all here”

“I need to- I need to tell you something important” Her voice was strained once again, like something was pressing on her, but she continued “It is very serious and I need you to listen to me”

“What is it, Lucy?

“I lied” We stared at each other in silence, as we heard Lucy grumble something away from the phone on the other line. She lied?

“Lucy, what to you-”

“I lied guys” A sharp breath and a shaky sigh “Type Threes don’t exists”

Our mouths opened and closed without a sound coming from them, like fish in a tank.

“Lucy,” I said, a confused laugh escaping me “What are you talking about, you talk to the skull all the time-”

A laugh came from the phone. A mocking, sarcastic and satirical laugh. Like a slap in the face with a wet towel.

“The skull? Its just a bloody type two in a jar” She said through her cynical laugher “It was never able to talk and never will”

“But everything you told us” George intervened, his eyes moving frantically behind his glasses, rifling through his mind and in his thoughts “Everything it ever told you, you discussed with it daily!”

“I faked it. All of it. I lied”

George huffed angrily, hit the table with his fist and turned back to the phone like an enraged bull fixing on his target.

“Lucy, what are talking about, you proved to us type threes exist! The skull was Bickerstaff's minion, he told you so himself! Lockwood and I were there!”

“He never told me anything, George” Her breaths became raspier, but I pushed that aside and focused on her words “I made it up”

“What…?”

“I made it all up. It was never real” I had enough of this. I pushed my chair back with my legs, making it screech on the floor and tumble away, hitting other things in its way.

“Lucy, this is not a funny joke!” I uttered infuriated, my hands white from holding myself on the table in case my legs gave away “Why are you telling us this? This all can't be true! Your talents are outstanding, incomparable!”

“I- I lied, Lockwood. I lied to you and to everyone. I wanted to impress you”

My mind flew back to when I hired Lucy all those years ago. Just a girl in the need of a job coming to the smaller agency on London. I had known from back then that her abilities as a agent were beyond anything I had expected because of how well she did on our tests. And when Lucy told us about how the skull had talked to her after the Combe Carey Hall case, I had not hesitated to trust her. I had no reason to hesitate.

“That’s all I ever wanted. I only wanted you to see me as someone important”

Lucy’s conversations with the skull had always helped us in lots of cases; more times than those rememberable had it saved us from certain death.

“I’m sorry guys. I’ve disappointed you. I’ve disappointed all of you. I am a fraud”

“Lucy, stop this” I declared through greeted teeth. My body was shaking as I gripped the table. George was sitting, his face an unreadable expression as he looked at the thinking cloth. Quill and Holly both looked like they would be sick “Stop this right now!” I made my mind up and let go of the table “Where are you? We are coming for you”

“No! Stay where you are! Do this one thing for me guys, don't leave, don't hang the phone, its all am asking for!” Lucy’s voice was urgent and panicky on the other line, but somehow it made me remain where I was. We could hear her breathing still racking and she was grumbling things that we couldn’t make out.

“Lucy…”

“I want you guys to remember this” Her voice became steady for once, her breathing was profound and I could almost hear her gulping “And to tell my sisters, your families, your friends, in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you; I am a fraud!”

Then Holly finally looked up from where her hands covered her face.

“But Lucy, why now-?”

“Its my note” Another labored sigh “People do this when they leave, don’t they? They leave a note”

“Lucy, wait-!”

“Bye guys”

The phone ringed as the call was cut short.

————

“Guys!”

Holly came into the room running like a mad woman, a bundle shoved under her arms as she steadied herself.

We had spent all night pondering and discussing about the call. About everything that Lucy said and what she may have meant by it. We all knew, including Quill, that for a long time now, Lucy had been able to talk to ghosts. She could connect with them, emote with them, which in many cases could be dangerous. But now, all of a sudden, she called in, saying it was all a lie?

Without a word, Holly let the bundle she was carrying fall on the table. The Times.

Today’s edition, to be precise.

“Holly-”

“Read it” Pale faced and shaky, she opened it in front of us and rifled through the pages until she found what she was looking for. Post Mortum section.

The page had a huge headline under a photo of a body, stabbed, bleeding from wounds in its chest and stomach, but swelled and purplish-blue from ghost touch. It read;

“LOST FREELANCER FOUND”

“Just this morning, a few hours ago, a freelance agent was found dead on the streets after what seems to have been a very gory battle with more than one visitor and, probably, alive people. The body has been identified as Lucy Joan Carlyle”

I looked up from the papers. I didn’t need to read more.

After spending all night thinking about it, trying to deny what was in front of my eyes, I couldn’t find it in me to do it any longer.

She had talked for herself last night, no matter how much it hurt to listen. There would be no finding out why she decided to tell, why we had to know, why didn’t Lucy let us live in the lie. I could have happily stayed in that lie forever. But not anymore.

Lucy was a fraud. A liar. A cheat. A phony. A viper; a back-biting snake!

And that got her killed.

She got what she asked for.

And to think I had been madly in love with her for years.

[zirawrites]

How do companions react to seeing soles face for the first time and they are absolutely stunning?

Cait: Cait wasn’t thrilled about leaving her home in the cages… until she caught sight of the person taking her away. She had seen just about every walk of life come through for a fight, but Sole? Their pre-war skin was unblemished, their hair was full and clean. In fact, Sole carried themselves with so much poise that for a moment Cait wished she was a little more ladylike to impress them. “Well then,” she said, “I suppose this deal ain’t all bad. You just walk in front of me though, dear. Let me enjoy the view.” Just because Cait wished she was more refined didn’t mean she’d start acting that way now.

Codsworth: “I… I can’t believe it’s really you, sir/mum!” When Sole came in to Sanctuary, the Mr. Handy was floored. He had dreamed of reuniting with his master, but didn’t remember them looking so dashing. His tedious work of scrubbing floors and maintaining the lawn post-nuclear fallout was all worth it now that he knew Sole had kept themselves in wonderful shape. “Why, you look even more handsome/beautiful than the day you activated me, if you don’t mind my saying so. I hope your cleanliness rubs off on my old gears. I’ve managed to accumulate quite a bit of rust since we last saw each other.”

Curie: No one (or thing) was more enamored with Sole in Vault 81 than Curie. She had heard stories of people in the Commonwealth, and they were all the same. Survivors had scratchy skin that peeled from radiation exposure. Their voices were gruff, and their hands calloused. But Sole was the absolute opposite of all those tales. When they peered through the glass at Curie, she would have blushed if she were human. “My, I suppose the stories of the settlers up above were all lies. You are not scratchy or gruff.” Sole didn’t know what that meant, but they took the compliment anyways.

Danse: At first, Danse was just thankful for the assistance against the ferals that plagued the police station. He watched Sole snipe a few from afar, then close in at knife-point the remaining dozen. Both their agility and bravery impressed him. When he went to thank Sole, they took off their helmet and goggles. Danse was unable to speak; his cheeks flushing red when only stammering came out. “We appreciate the support, civilian,” he finally managed to say. He had never seen anyone in such perfect shape. Their broad shoulders, petite frame… they exemplified the entire Brotherhood appearance.  Danse found it hard to make eye contact the rest of their conversation.

Deacon: Today was the day Deacon’s baby would be born. Well, by baby he meant the vault dweller and by born he meant leave the actual vault. They had been a hard little science experiment to track, but he was excited to see the person frozen in time finally thaw out. He figured that they would need some guidance in the Commonwealth, so what better opportunity to shape a new agent?

What Deacon didn’t expect was for Sole to leave the vault early. He hid behind a tree as they rose to the surface; eyes squinting, legs trembling. Part of him wanted to burst from the shadows and help them, but he stopped when he saw how… perfect they were. Bright, hopeful eyes. A smile like on those old magazine covers. To Deacon’s horror, he was willing to follow them anywhere.

Dogmeat: Sole was not the first person to approach Dogmeat at Red Rocket. The dog had been hunkering down under the workbenches ever since his previous owner had run him off the property. Dogmeat’s first reaction was to cower. If a stranger didn’t leave him alone after that, he usually snapped. But when Sole approached him with a cheery “hey there, boy” he was instantly theirs. Sole wasn’t scary at all! Their skin was soft when they scratched him behind his ear, and their smile consisted of all their teeth. Someone as friendly-looking as Sole couldn’t possibly consider him a bad dog.

Gage: Gage had seen plenty of Overbosses come and go. They all looked the exact same. To give off a tough exterior, the raiders usually had deep scars, shaved hair, and chunks of their ears and fingers missing. It always scared off the settlers they wanted to raid, but never impressed Gage. He knew he was missing an eye, but the whole “tough guy act” needed to come from the heart, not the clothes. When he saw Sole come through the doors of Nuka World, his mouth hung open. They were the opposite of every raider and slaver he ever ran with. Their smooth pre-war skin glistened against the neon signs above them, and their healthy hair bounced as they walked towards Fizztop Grille. Gage was more than willing to introduce himself to Sole, but refrained from any flirtatious comments. He didn’t want himself actually catching feelings, and it was easy to get lost in Sole’s eyes.

Hancock: Hancock was always watching over Goodneighbor, and that night he was hanging back in the shadows when Sole walked through the gates. He noticed Finn lock on to the stranger, and figured he would have to intervene eventually. Finn was probably going to sell the poor schmuck some phony insurance, which Hancock warned him to stop whenever he came to his town.

Lucky for him, Hancock’s future damsel in distress was absolutely stunning. They had Magnolia and all the pre-war pin-up girls in the old magazines beat. Sole was staring at Finn with furrowed brows and their fingers brushed against their holster, which only made them more endearing. Beautiful and a badass, Hancock thought as he stepped forward with his knife. The first things out of his mouth after a warm welcome would definitely be a pick-up line.

MacCready: MacCready was having a freaking terrible day. After Winlock and Barnes stopped nagging him about taking their work, there was a stranger hanging around the door. He assumed it was another scorned settler looking for a merc to off their ex lover, so MacCready already had an attitude. He said something sarcastic before he even looked at them, then immediately wished he hadn’t. Sole was all dressed up from their night at The Third Rail, and he could smell their cologne/perfume from across the lounge. Sole tilted their head and asked him who the two men were who had been bothering him. Even though MacCready’s words were low and uninterested, his heart nearly beat out of his chest. They were a total knock-out, and he would be more than thrilled to be their hired gun.

Preston: Preston thought his band of travelers were as good as dead until he heard the raiders outside go down with four loud gunshots. He rushed to the balcony to see a stranger take them down, then begin to scavenge them for supplies. “Hey, up here! On the balcony!” His voice was strained, but it caught Sole’s attention. When they looked up, the sunlight hit their face just right so that Preston could see every feature. He didn’t even notice they were wearing a vault suit. When Sole asked what was the matter, Preston almost didn’t want to involve them in his fight. It wasn’t every day he met an angel.

Piper: Danny Sullivan was getting on Piper’s last nerve. She knew the kid was just following orders, but what he was doing was still wrong. He was leaving her out in the open, and Nat without supervision. She needed a diversion… and the drifter rolling up at the gates would be perfect. Piper had it all planned out. She would tell Danny they were a trader from Quincy, and the town would have his head if he made them miss out on the supplies…

That thought was quickly derailed when she got a good look at Sole. There was no way they were from around the Commonwealth. Sole’s hair was clean, their eyes were still full of innocent hope. It made Piper’s stomach do flips. She hadn’t seen the kind of warm smile Sole flashed her since she got her hands on a pre-war movie. In fact, Piper clammed up so bad Danny actually went back on the intercom to ask if she died.

Nick: Two weeks of being kidnapped in a vault never seemed so worth it until Sole showed up to save him. Nick figured someone would have to set him free eventually, and he was hoping Ellie wouldn’t put herself in harm’s way. When Sole hacked the door to set Nick free, it took every ounce of him not to compliment Sole’s look. All the embarrassment about being a damsel melted away when Sole told him about their missing son. Now he had a chance to return the favor, and get to see a little more of that pre-war miracle.

Strong: Strong was actually unimpressed by Sole’s looks. They didn’t look as menacing as the beaten humans. He suggested Sole slash their face to get a scar.

X6-88: Maybe coursers weren’t designed to perfection after all. When Sole walked through the Institute doors, the synths had never seen anyone as flawless. X6 was certain Sole could be the only heir to Father’s legacy. They matched the intricacy of the spiral elevators; the unblemished gleam of the polished floors. Sole embodied everything the Institute wanted for the Commonwealth, and it made X6 even more honored to become their companion later that evening.